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winter-leftovers · 1 year

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Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter nine: Hazel eyes (9/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Y/n is stressed but Douxie is there.

Word count: 1992

Warnings:

(Season 1 Episodes 16, 17)

Song?: Sweet nothing by Taylor Swift

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Masterlist

Y/n lifted the hem of her blue dress and got into the creek. The water was crystalline, she could see little tadpoles swimming along her feet. The soft moss caressed her ankle making her giggle. She walked along the creek feeling the current break at her ankle.

“Don’t go far” a voice warned her.

“Don’t worry” she smiled and kept walking.

A sparkle between her feet made her stop. She lowered herself and saw something dark under the gray pebbles. With her toes, she moved the stones revealing a flat black stone with a hole in it. With her left hand she held onto her skirt and with the right she lifted the rock, it was black but when the sunlight hit, Y/n swore she could see the rainbow.

She smiled and started running back.

“Hey, look what I’ve found!” She got out of the creek. Her boots were still there marking the place where she entered the creek “Did you leave?”

Y/n was getting worried. No one wasn’t answering her call. They weren’t supposed to be that far into the forest.

“This is not funny” she screamed to the trees.

She walked and walked. The forest was getting thicker, darker.

“Hey…” her scream was interrupted by the sound of twigs breaking.

Y/n took a deep breath and started to retrace her steps but the creek seemed so far away. She ran, desperate to get to the sunlight. She turned around to make sure nothing was following her, suddenly hitting something. Someone.

“Love, are you ok?” A man grabbed her by her shoulder, helping her to avoid falling down.

Y/n looked up at him. Looked at those hazel eyes she always found herself running to. Those eyes that now were full of worry.

“Now I am” Y/n whispered and hugged him before he could disappear again.

“Sleeping with a hand on the register. What a pro” Randy’s voice brought Y/n back to Arcadia.

“What?” For a moment, she forgot where she was but the light of the computer quickly reminded her.

It took her a couple of seconds to adjust back to the light of the store. Her left hand had the markings of the register keyboard while her right held the stone.

“I’m sorry” she fixed her hair that had fallen forward “It won’t happen again”

Randy lifted his view from the paper he had on his hand and turned to Y/n “Are you ok?”

“Yes of course” she fixed the pens and forgotten tickets that were disturbed during her sleep.

“Not you’re not” Randy furrowed his brow and sat down on the stool next to the counter.

She looked back at Randy, his only friend besides Douxie and her sixteen year brother’s best friend. She wishes she could tell him everything that happened the last couple months: the dreams, trolls, the amount of times her brother almost died, the magic she may have, the sadness that filled her house and that he would understand but it was just a wish. If she said something Randy would think she was lying or worse, that she was insane.

At that moment she felt alone. She wanted someone to lean on and there he was, asking her what was wrong because he cared but she couldn’t say anything and that made her feel even more alone.

“Listen, you don’t have to say anything but know that I’m here” Randy gave her half a smile.

The dam broke. Tears started to fall and she couldn’t stop them. All the stress that had been keeping inside her ribcage was escaping through her eyes.

“It’s okay” Randy hug her making the crying worse and for the first time he thanked that the store was empty “It’s okay”

They stayed like that for a while. When Randy felt her breathing calm down he, slowly, undid the embrace.

“Better?” He held her by the shoulders.

She nodded “I’m going to wash my face” Y/n cleaned her tears with the sleeves of her cardigan and disappeared into the small bathroom in the back.

She splashed her face with cold water twice to make sure her face won’t get more swollen than it already was. She looked herself in the mirror and now she understood why Randy caught up to her so quickly. Her under eyes weren’t just dark, they had started to sunken.

The last couple of nights had been rough but she thought she was carrying it well but the mirror didn’t lie. She hadn’t. She splashed her face one more time and exited the bathroom trying to pretend that she hadn't been crying on her boss’s shoulders but it wouldn’t be easy.

When she exited the bathroom Y/n saw that Randy had taken her place at the register and he was talking to Douxie.

Y/n took a deep breath and went to the counter.

“Hi, Douxie” she smiled.

“Hello, Y/n. How’ve you been?” He smiled back.

“Oh, you know, living the dream”

He laughed. Listening to Douxie laugh made her feel better.

‘What a strange power he has’ She thought.

“Randy told me your shift just ended. Would you like to hang out before my shift starts?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at Randy.

‘Did you tell him?’ She tried to convey with her eyes.

Randy lifted his shoulders.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun” she went to the other side of the counter and grabbed her bag.

“Bye, Randy and thank you” she smiled.

“Have fun, kids”

Douxie and Y/n chuckled.

But before they could exit the store Randy called back for Y/n.

“Wait, Y/n, your…stone…thing?” The long haired man lifted Y/n’s stone.

“Oh! Yes! Thanks” she ran back to the counter to grab the stone that started to travel with her everywhere after her conversation with Al and put it back in her cardigan’s pocket.

Douxie and Y/n walked to the bookstore in silence. She wasn’t sure if it was awkward for him, her outburst had left her numb.

A little bell announced the opening of the door that was echoed by meow.

“Hello, Archie” said Y/n.

The black cat ran downstairs to greet their guest, stopping at Y/n feet. The girl lifted the cat and held him close to her chest.

“It’s nice to see you” she scratched between his ears earning a purr in response.

“He seems happy to see you” Douxie leaned himself on the stairs “He never comes to greet me”

“Don’t be jealous. I’m sure he likes you too” Y/n smiled. She knew Douxie was probably lying to make her feel better. Him and Archie seemed to have a close relationship, like Al and her’s.

“I actually went to the store to talk to you” Douxie said.

“Oh?” Y/n’s heart tightened. They had barely talked since their date. Y/n was too consumed by the chaos that seemed to be reigning her life that she accidentally ignored Douxie.

Her head started to invent all kinds of scenarios all ending with her and Douxie not speaking ever again. She doesn’t want that.

“It’s…Well…about the other day" he scratched his head “I had fun and I want to believe that you did too but… How do I say this?“

Y/n felt her cheeks warming, the embarrassment of Douxie rejecting her was heavy on her stomach.

“It’s totally okay if you didn’t” Douxie straightened himself.

“What?”

“We can keep being friends or just acquaintances that talk when they see each other on the street. I mean I would like to keep being friends but…” Douxie’s nervous ranting was interrupted by Y/n’s chuckle.

“I’m sorry” she put Archie back on the floor. Her hands holding her mouth like she could keep the laugh inside “Doux no”

The laughing had stopped. She saw Douxie’s shoulders fall and a glint of hurt on his eyes. She wishes she could go back to that night, to the porch of her house and kiss Douxie. She wishes she hadn't stopped herself all this time from getting close to him.

Douxie, the man that had lived on her mind ever since she saw him that weekend, the autumn wind making his black hair dance. The man that had received an elbow to the ribs the first time they met. The man turned boy when he realized Y/n wasn’t who he thought she was and left Y/n with feelings she thought she wasn’t able to feel.

“Of course I had fun” she took a step closer to him “I quite enjoy spending time with you. It’s…just.. that”

“If you are dating someone else I understand, really” He smiled.

“No, I’m not dating anyone”

“Nuclear” He whispered “I just thought that, maybe, Randy and…”

“No, please stop. Don’t need that picture in my head” she closed her eyes and put her hands on his chest.

Douxie sighed.

“I like you, Doux. I really do but lately I’ve been a mess. I have so many issues with my family and…life and I can’t allow you to get sucked in this chaos” Y/n looked down, trying to get her thoughts in order.

Douxie grabbed her hand making Y/n look up. His hazel eyes seemed filled with something that Y/n can’t quite describe but made her wish that he would always look at her like that.

“I don’t mind chaos. I want to get to know you and if it’s messy…I don’t care. This may sound weird but ever since you hit me in the stomach all I wanted was to get to know you” he moved a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Doesn’t sound weird at all” she smiled.

They stayed like that for a while, just looking at each other holding hands.

Y/n’s phone started ringing.

“Sorry” She took it out of her pocket and her stone fell with it, Douxie was able to catch it before it touched the floor. It was her mom. Y/n couldn’t not pick up, she didn’t want to stress her mother anymore.

“Camping? No, he didn’t tell me anything” Y/n moved a little more away from Douxie as she sensed her mother was about to cry. “Listen mom, don’t worry. Jim is a smart kid and if he gets in trouble he’ll call us” Y/n sighed. She hated lying to her mom “It’s going to be okay. I’ll call Jim and Toby to see if they tell me something else”

Y/n told her mother that she loved her and hung up. She sighed and called her brother. The trollhunters were going on a quest, as Toby kept calling it. They were going to look for the Triumbric Stones. Y/n just prayed to whoever was listening to protect her friends.

“Everything ok?” Douxie asked after he observed Y/n was looking at her phone but not doing nothing.

“Yeah, it’s just…teenagers” she laughed putting her phone back in her pocket “Jim is driving my mom mad, well, he’s driving me mad and making my mom sad” Y/n pinched her nose feeling the stress bubbling in her stomach.

“Don’t worry. He’s with his friends, they are probably hanging out in each other’s houses” Douxie put an arm around her.

“Thank you” Y/n hid her face in Douxie’s chest.

After a moment, Douxie broke the hug

“This fell from your pocket” he gave her her pebble.

“Thank you. I didn’t realize” She grabbed the stone and looked up at him. Looked at the constellation of freckles adorning his cheeks, his hazel eyes.

The bookstore door opened making them separate.

Y/n sat on the counter with Archie and watched Douxie work.

“He has such beautiful eyes” She said to herself.

She felt Archie watching her and turned to him.

“Please don’t tell him what I said” Y/n felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.

A/n: hiii!! Hope you’re doing well!! I have the flu for the SECOND TIME this year 💔 I also been dealing with the jjk nonsense gege its on fucking sight.

Also next update I’ll be sharing the playlist with all the songs to all the chapters written so far 💖

#douxie x reader #tales of arcadia #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #trollhunters #toa #my writing #Til The End Of Eternity

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namesarelikeshinythings · 8 months

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Plant names

Don't come at me for the descriptions, I know nothing of biology

tw : mentions of death and sa

Neutral :

Ash (big tree with compoud leaves)

Aspen (thin white tree)

Aster (purple "star shaped" flower)

Briar (plant that makes pink fuzzy flowers)

Cedar (conifer tree that doesn't die in winter (like a christmas tree))

Fern (plant with a bunch of "featherly" leaves)

Holly (a winter plant with prickly dark green leaves red berry)

Hyacinth/Jacynthe (purple flower that's like a bunch of small flowers bundled up together, in greek mythology he's a young lover of Apollo who was accidentaly killed by a jealous god and turned into a flower)

Laurel (aromatic plant that was used to make crowns as rewards in roman times)

Moss (small green plant that grows on rocks and trees)

Rue (aromatic herb that "is used in herbal medicine")

Rowan (tall narrow tree, red berries)

Sage (culinary herb with greyish green leaves)

Oak (big strong tree that makes acorns)

Willow (tree with longs pliant branches that go towards the ground)

Masculine :

Basil (culinary herb with a sweet scent)

Cosmos (masc leaning) (flower with broad petals, greek word for order)

Narcissius (yellow flowers with outer petals and cup petals in the middle, daffodils are narcissius, Narcissius is a greek mythology man who rejected Echo, was so self obsessed he drowned while looking at his reflection in water, and was made into a flower)

(that's it there's so little I'm sorry)

Feminine :

Belladonna (nightshades, poisonous bell shaped flower)

Clover (small plant with three leaves, four leaves symbolises luck)

Daphne (greek for laurel, tw : name of a nymph that was about to be assaulted by Apollo and asked her father (a god) to turn her into a tree instead)

Daisy (small flowers with white petals and a yellow center)

Dhalia (a brightly colored flower that's ball shaped)

Hazel (small tree that makes hazel nuts)

Heather (a purple flowered heath)

Iris (long stemmed plant with big flower, also the name of the greek goddess of rainbows)

Ivy (dark green, climbing plant with five pointing leaves)

Jasmine (shrub of small white flowers)

Lavender (small aromatic stems with tiny purple flowers)

Lily (six petaled flower, petals curve outwards)

Myosotis (a small pastel blue flower)

Phyllis (a princess who died and was turned into an almond tree)

Poppy (round red flowers with large petals)

Rose (red, pink or white flower with petals that wrap around from the center)

Violet (small purple flowers)x

#thematic names #names #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #writer #trans #queer #non binary #writing #characters

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

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Can I request a Hal x reader where she’s playing with the children of a duke and duchess and Hal watches from afar and fantasies on having children with her soon as well as the making of them.

summary: Hal wants babies, lots of them

warning; breeding kink??, Suggestive, no actual smut but 18+

paring: Henry V (Hal) x female reader

a/n: should I make a full imagine about this instead of a drabble? Idk I'm kinda inspired but it won't be until after my finals next week 😩 also I feel like these suck bc I don't have much time to write them 😑😑

Join the Hal tag list

"Once again, cousin, you are thought to be a lucky man." The Duke nods at the king, meeting his line of sight out the window. The Duke's three young children laughing and giggling as you chase them in the dewy grass.

The hem of your dress is starting to soak through and staining green under the moss. The king knew this all so well, he was in fact lucky. The sight alone is enough to cause a hunger deep inside his stomach.

A fire that cannot be tamed, the flames ignite warmth in his veins and belly. A desire he cannot seem to burn out. The desire to impregnate you, fill you with his sons and daughters, many of them.

For the last few weeks all he could think about is waking up next to you with a swollen stomach, breast round with milk to nurture his children. Hal watches the way you look towards him and he's never thought you looked more free. While most women scowl at the thought of a dirty dress you welcome it, truly, one of the reasons he loves you so.

You smile at him and wave while squishing your cheek to one of the younger boys in a tight hug, picking up the toddler and rocking him back and forth. Suddenly, his thoughts are only filled with an babe in your arms that resemble all the beautiful parts of you and him but also another in your stomach, just far along to see the small bump, feel it under his hands.

"Yes, yes I am but as you as also, you have been blessed with many beautiful children."

***

All throughout the rest of the night you can't help but notice his flirty gaze, the cheeky touches along with the excessive kisses. It wouldn't be so odd, if it wasn't for the fact that he had company but he didn't seem to care any longer.

The moment you're alone in the chambers, a large hand cups your rear and squeezes softly before he turns you around to face the wall.

"What has gotten into you?" The giggle vibrates against his neck, makes him suck harsh marks with the intent of leaving them behind for days against the nape of your neck.

Hip bones pushed into the table while Hal boxes in behind you, pinning you against the surface as he continues to press kisses against any uncovered flesh he can find. Though he is behind and you cannot see him, those hazel eyes are filled with a darkening lust and it is proven as the hard line of his erection presses against your rear. "I have a confession."

The whispered words causes the hairs of your neck to stand up as the other starts to undo the laces of your corset. "What is it, my love?"

"All I can think about is you full with my babe, giving me sons and daughters, a family."

With this said you pause, stiffening almost instantly. Of course it was bound to happen, it must but it truly caught you at surprise, it came out of no where.

"Can we do that?" His hand affectionately cups your throat, using his fingers to turn your head just the slightest so you can see him out of the corner of your eyes. "Can you give me a family, sweet girl? I want nothing more then to see you around with my children, fill you with them.."

The way he talks is so filthy but loving, it dries your throat instantly, a hand comes up your skirt, hovering where you want him most. Waiting and waiting for him to make a move until a kiss against your jaw confirms he's waiting for consent, "Yes, yes, please. Want to have your heirs, Hal, please."

Tags:

@mashtoncliffin @summergirl123-blog-blog @lifetimeofadventue @sabrielka-133 @timmyslover @bbrs-princess @simpforshelby @weakling-grace @rockdrummersbae @valiantlamasandwich

#timothèe chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet character #the king fanfiction #henry v x reader #henry v #the king #timothee imagine #timothèe chalamet imagine

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

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nuttytani · 3 years

Text

The flying cat & the baker

summary: you are a sorcerer who owns a bakery in new york. one day, steve discovers your abilities when he walks in on your cat flying inside the shop on a broom.

fandom: marvel

pairing: steve rogers x gn!reader

warnings: lots of mentions of baked goods and the word "horny" just once (it's not nsfw, trust me)

a/n- heya! another fic~ this was inspired by girl in red's "fell in love in october". i know it's extremely off season but yeet i dont care + my dear friend @lorei-writes / @mllorei beta read this! *gives hug to lorey* thank you so much ;-; lorey. ps: this is a non-avengers!au

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Steve to get lost in the sea of New York streets, walking along the cobblestone paths, breathing in the scent of baked goods, spice and fresh flowers. After all, it was his most favourite part of his daily routine, discovering a new place or two. He took his time looking around the nearly empty street, for it was too early for anyone to be awake except for the store owners. They were all busy preparing their shops for opening to notice his presence.

Steve looked up for a moment, noticing the light of dawn setting upon the sky, sending small beams of yellow light like blessings cast by angels. His low breathing felt warm against his chapped and cold lips. With a silent sigh, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pea coat as he resumed strolling without a set direction in mind, eyeing the buildings- the chipped off parget, showing the reds and browns of the brick underneath while moss and vines covered most of the bottom half.

They all turned into a blur once he stood by a jade coloured bakery, the sign reading “magicae et pistoria”, a silhouette of a black cat on a broom just underneath it. He stared curiously at the displayed varieties of pastries and bread, wondering if he should buy a few- would Sam and Nat like to eat them?

With hesitant fingers, he grasped the door handle and entered, instantly greeted by the bell. Barely a few seconds passed, and Steve felt immensely at ease. His body appreciated the warm cocoon provided by the bakery- in contrast to the weather outside. The interior was rustic, with brick walls and wooden fixtures. His feet lead him magnetically towards the delicacies contained in the arched display, varieties of cakes, pastries and bread placed temptingly- he didn’t know which one to pick.

“Hello! Good morning, how may I help you, sir?” A voice pulled Steve out of his reverie.

Steve looked up to see you, your hair a mess, dust covering the black apron and your forehead, a cute smile adorning your face. You looked like an ethereal being- an angel perhaps, standing before him. Somehow, a breath got stuck in his throat, and his heart started to beat rapidly. He could hear it getting louder and louder. His clothes felt too tight, and he suddenly felt suffocated.

“Sir? How may I help you?” you said again.

Steve cleared his throat, embarrassed with himself for staring at you for much longer than necessary. He muttered an apology under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to hear.

“It’s alright, sir, happens all the time. I’ve experienced many people just gawking at the pastries and not knowing what to pick, it’s understandable! I’d be confused too,” you confessed to him.

“Right, of course, glad I’m not the only one or that would’ve been embarrassing,” Steve laughed, trying to bury his awkwardness.

Only if you knew the truth, he’d personally dig his own grave and jump into it.

Steve accepted your help instead of going down the rabbit hole of confusion. You helped him to pick out a few baked goodies- which were a rage amongst your regular customers; a chocolate mousse, Japanese cheesecake and a few vanilla custard doughnuts.

“Thank you! Have a good day,” you said, as the blonde man left the store with a wave.

“Damn, I hope I didn’t look too nervous,” wiping your sweaty palms on your apron, you heaved a sigh of relief.

You usually didn't open the bakery on the weekends, but some things needed to be done, which required your presence. You were sure that no one would come along so early in the morning but were proven wrong. Although it was your fault to leave the open sign hanging, you didn't mind the blonde-haired man and maybe thought he was kinda cute.

You flipped the sign to “closed” while locking the door from inside, as to make sure no one could come in. You moved back to the counter and caught a hand wrapping around a glass jar.

You cleared your throat and glared at the man in question.

“What do you think you’re doing mister.” You folded your arms and glared at the brunette.

“What does it look like? I’m trying to eat some cookies, obviously. You should get your eyes checked if you can’t see things clearly boss,” Rajeev replied and swiftly turned to look at you.

The brunette shrunk and transformed into a black cat, looking at you with bright doe hazel eyes while purring deeply. You groaned and picked him up, placing him on your shoulder.

“There’ll be consequences if you transform like that out of nowhere, and your sister is going to kill me because you haven't been careful. So, if you don’t want me to be skinned alive and thrown into a cauldron to be boiled, stop doing that here.” Truly, nothing scared you more than Rajeev’s elder sister- she was overprotective and intimidating, you wished to never be on her blacklist.

Rajeev only meowed back at you, which frustrated you further. You hoped that he at least understood where your concerns were coming from.

“Come on, we’ve got a lot of organising to do! New stock arrived today, we don’t want cranky sorcerers waiting for us,” you said while muttering a spell and opening a red portal to an apothecary.

By the time Steve returned home, his friends were all awake and wandering about the kitchen like zombies. They all knew about Steve’s early morning walks and didn't question him but were curious as to why he came back so late.

Sam immediately rummaged through the bakery boxes when Steve placed them on the island counter.

“So...what took you so much time, hmm?” asked Sam. “Thought you just went to get some bread, dude.” He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a box, ooh-ing delightedly once he got hold of a doughnut.

“I bet it was some grandma asking for directions,” Bucky yawned, still half-asleep as he took a seat on the chair.

Natasha stole the doughnut from Sam and promptly turned to face Steve, who lay on the couch.

“Maybe, he has a secret lover! Oh Stevie, how could you hide this from us?” she said teasingly while licking away at her sugary fingertips.

Sam was distressed by her stealing and guarded the boxes with his arms, grumbling something about him not having enough coffee for this.

“Can you guys just stop- I just went to a bakery and got stuff, nothing more, nothing less!” Steve raised his voice.

All of them just shrugged.

Nat broke the silence, “Okay...But did you see any cuties?”

“NO- I mean... yes, kinda… I mean- Stop asking me these questions!” groaning with embarrassment, Steve covered his face with his palms.

Steve started frequenting “magicae et pistoria” since then to the point he became a regular customer. Not because he wanted to see your dazzling smile or anything, but because the service and baked goods were really good and his friends wanted more of that deliciousness. He became quite close to you as a result, somedays he just dropped by to say hi and spend some time with you.

Occasionally, Sam or Bucky would tag along to his trips. Even though Steve would deny it, they could clearly see he had a crush on the baker- it was obvious by their playful banter and flushed faces. They’d often tease him about it, but Steve being Steve, would just grump away and aggressively change the subject.

Another weekend rolled in, Steve was headed to the bakery as usual. It became a part of his routine to visit it during his morning walks. You, on the other hand, arrived late to the bakery and were rushing to get the place running in no time. It was just you and Rajeev today since your other employees didn't work on the weekends- it was tough but both of you managed.

While you were busy running around the place, Rajeev was playing around in his cat form, saying you didn’t really need him until later. He levitated the spare broom in the air and jumped on it, trying to balance his paws on the handle. Like a child with no care, he flew the broom back and forth across the room with an evil cat smile.

The two of you were unaware of Steve’s presence until he spoke in a startled voice.

“Why is the cat flying on a broom- what is this!”

Everything happened in a flash, Rajeev fell off the broom with a pathetic meow and you dropped your utensils on the floor. Flour and batter splattering on your shoes and creating a mess. Your scream resonating from the kitchen.

Steve’s jaw was slack with shock, his body frozen where he stood. Should he run away? Should he go and check if you’re alright? He wasn’t sure what to do, he didn't even know if what he saw was even real.

The cat was definitely real, as it stood up and rubbed its bum with its paws. How was that possible- Did he even want to know? Was he dreaming? Maybe he is still half asleep and is seeing things.

Steve grabbed a nearby stool and flopped on it, his knees were weak from shock and needed rest. His mind was still processing the situation

You came rushing from the kitchen to the scene, the mess you created all trivial compared to what had just happened right now. You didn't know what to do at this moment, should you tell the truth? Or deny everything-

“What is that thing,” Steve finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“A cat,” you replied as a matter of factly.

“You keep a flying cat?”

You just stared at Steve with a straight face and said, “Well...firstly he’s not mine and secondly he’s not an actual cat.”

As if showing a demonstration, Rajeev transformed back into his human form, which baffled Steve further.

“What are you?” the blonde asked in confusion.

“We’re sorcerers...I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to know about it, at least not in this way,” you sighed, gently placing a hand over Steve’s knee.

“But boss- we’re busted, now that he knows we gotta turn him into a toad!” Rajeev exclaimed.

“A WHAT NOW?!” Steve looked back at you with raised brows.

“We’re not turning you into anything! He’s just joking- Rajeev! Apologise to him”

The brunette sulkily grumbled an apology. He excused himself to the kitchen to clean up the mess you had made while you took a seat next to Steve.

“Are you alright? Want some water?”

“No thanks, I’m fine. Just...really really shocked- I can’t believe this is real.”

With a flick of your hand, you made two barstools twirl in the air.

“Okay- definitely real,” Steve chuckled.

Extra (few months have passed)

Steve sat on the armchair with you sprawled on his lap, tapping away at your phone while Sam, Nat and Bucky sat on the floor watching another episode of “the Bridgerton” on T.V.

“Damn kids these days be really horny huh?”

“Shh just watch the show!”

+ "-if you enjoyed reading this fic, don't forget to give a like and reblog! feedback is always appreciated

a/n-if you enjoyed reading this fic, don't forget to give a like and reblog! feedback is always appreciated + join my taglist here

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #marvel #mcu #tani writes!!

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farahs-babe · 4 years

Text

Always, I’ll Care

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Ava du Mortain x Detective (Elijah Robinson)

Word Count: 1675 words

Warning: None, its just fluff

Author’s note: So this is my first time writing for TWC fandom and gosh I’m nervous lol. Here is to hoping it shows up in the tags🤞 I hope y’all like it ❤

Title Inspiration: Always, I’ll Care by Jeremy Zucker

Ava sat in the empty common room, the night shrouding around her like a cloak.

A lone night lamp was turned on in the corner of the room, which cast against the sharp and rigid lines of her body accentuating the tense muscles and the constant flexing of her arm as she clenched and unclenched her fingers around the pen in her hand.

The others had shortly retreated to their room after the detective had bid good night. She could hear their steady breaths and that helped a bit with the growing anxiety which gnawed away at her slowly and steadily, like rust eating away at iron.

After 900 years of existence, you would think that nothing could bother Ava so much it made her stay awake into the wee hours but... It might be because of a certain blue-eyed detective.

Whenever Elijah's name crossed her mind, a flux of emotions would swirl through her. Initially, it would be an intense sense of longing which tugged at her heartstrings, followed by worry for his safety and concluded by a snort of annoyance on how easily she lets him invade his thoughts.

The entire ordeal with the pack of werewolves and the new revelation of the bounty had Ava so stressed that she had dug tracks into the common room carpet as she walked in circles before finally settling into a chair.

And Elijah being the- how could she place it delicately- the joker that he is, played it off in his usual sarcasm and jest.

But she could see.

She could see everything.

The rising panic in those soft brown eyes with a swirling green... The way his fingers threaded through his ebony black curls and tugging them, a gesture he did when he was nervous... The way he rocked on his heels... Everything.

She knows how capable he is and how determined he is, like Agent Robinson but that's the very thing that could get him killed. And the very thought of living in a world where he didn't exist...

He is more capable than you give him credit for. Mason's smoky voice from earlier, floods through her head which has her sighing.

She couldn't get herself to finish that sentence.

She leaned back on her chair and her hands went to rest behind her head, clutching her tight bun. The action caused a few strands to escape the restraints of the hairband and frame her face.

She looked out of the window to stare into the inky darkness. The sky was clear and you could see the numerous stars glittering over the treeline. Wayhaven looked so peaceful at night that you would be lulled into a sense of security.

But everyone knows, monsters come out at night.

She let out a sigh trying to relax but her muscles bunched up in tension as she heard a familiar heartbeat and the familiar set of footsteps to the common room.

The door opened slowly and the man who had enraptured her, popped in.

"Hey, isn't it late for you?" His voice rasped, which caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise in reaction.

She cleared her throat and sat straight up. "Well, I should be asking you that question. What are you doing up at 4 am?"

He chuckled. "Fair enough. I was having trouble sleeping. Can't get my mind to calm down."

"I can relate to that."

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. She could see his naked torso in the golden hue of the lamp and that made her gulp. He was not as built as Ava but he had a lithe and athletic build. The early morning runs which he goes for definitely benefit the detective.

With a huge effort, she got her emerald eyes to meet his hazel ones.

"I know that you are a vampire with amazing strength but you seriously need to sleep."

A smile played on his lips as he ignored the jibe. He walked up to the table and leaned against it. She notices the closeness and she noticed how his heart thundered against his chest.

"We don't need sleep to function, unlike you humans."

"C'mon Ava. Nat herself told me you haven't rested in a week. And I know the entire bounty thing is bothering you more than you admit to."

Guess I'm not the only one who can see everything.

She looked down at her pale hands resting on the wooden table. "It shouldn't have come to this. I was supposed to protect your identity- I am sorry I couldn't-"

His hand cupped her chin, gently bending her head backwards so that he could look down at her.

"I have said this before and I will say it again. It was not your fault. You don't have to be apologetic."

"Bu-"

"Shh…" He placed a finger on her lips and she could feel electric sparks and a steady blush rising to her cheeks. His fingers traced her cheek and continued, captivated by the feeling of Ava’s smooth skin.

Thank the gods he is human and can't see in the dark.

“It was too big an information to be kept under the wraps and it was bound to be out at some time. All we can do not is do damage control.”

She nodded her head. “Yes. That is the approach we are taking.”

His hand dropped and the loss of contact pricked her heart. "Enough work talk. Come with me."

Her eyebrows knotted. "Pardon me?"

"Come with me. I know what can help you relax."

Uncertainty coloured her features but curiosity won the best of her. She stood up and followed him.

He opened the door to Ava's room and gestured her to go in first before following her in.

"So what is your genius plan Detective?" She asked, sarcasm lacing her sentence.

Elijah wordlessly sat at the edge of the bed and pointed at the space on the floor before him.

Ava cocked an eyebrow and Elijah sighed. "I am just going to give you a massage. The knots in your neck is giving me knots. You need to relax and that will help you sleep."

She stood hesitantly by the door, her instincts begging her to just turn and march out but the genuine look in those starry eyes made her want to stay.

"Ava, do you trust me?"

With my heart and life.

Ava nodded and sat down on the ground, in the space between his legs, facing the wall opposite her bed. She proceeded to take out the combat shoes she was wearing as Elijah got comfortable on the bed behind her.

"May I?" He asked as his hands reached for the tight bun.

"Yes."

Slowly untied her hair and the golden locks cascaded down, stopping a little below her shoulders. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt his fingers combing through her hair, freeing the tangled hair. He was so gentle and Ava couldn’t help but gulp at the intimacy, something she wasn’t familiar with.

She was so lost with the feeling of his fingers threading through her hair that she almost didn’t hear him.

"Tina says that if you tie your hair so tight and keep stressing it, your hairline will recede and you will lose hair. It also gives a nasty headache."

"Well, I'm a vampire so I don't think that affects me."

Elijah hummed in agreeance as he pressed his fingertips into her scalp and massaged. Ava let out another breathy sigh, feeling her face heat up, her pulse race and goosebumps on her overly sensitive skin.

"I know the others don't apply to you but, I can literally feel your head pounding."

Well, it's for other reasons. Her subconscious snarked which had her mind overthinking again. And the closeness between the two had her senses on overdrive which didn’t help her cause.

"Ava, I can hear the gears in your head-turning... Relax. Focus on my hands." He chastised as his thumbs circled her temples, applying just the right amount on pressure.

It took all her strength to not melt into a puddle before him.

The way I'm putty in his hand is frightening... But at the same time, it feels like home.

He proceeded to thoroughly knead through the taut muscles of her neck, his magical fingers releasing the knots of tension.

These tender gestures took her back to the way her mother would run a comb through her hair before bedtime. Or how she would help Ava out when she returned from war.

"What are you thinking?" He asked softly, not wanting to break the peace.

"It's just... It's been a long while since someone has done something like this for me."

She didn't need to turn around to see the Cheshire grin on his face. The way his white teeth would contrast his dark skin. The way his eyes would ignite, a captivating mix of brown and green... As if moss were creeping on the rich soil.

"Well, I'm glad I could help you relive the experience."

She turned around and looked up at him, her eyes memorising his face and every minute detail. The freckles dusted on his nose, the curly hair falling against his forehead, the light stubble and his full lips.

"Thank you, Eli. I really appreciate it."

He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a gentle smile, something he only showed her. He reached to tuck a rebel strand behind her ear. "It was my pleasure, Ava. Get some rest, okay? Supernaturals don't take it easy on you just because you are tired."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you mocking me?"

Elijah took a faux gasp. "I would never dare to."

Her lips tilted up in a half-smile before rearranging back into an impassive mask.

"Good night Detective. See you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Good night." He said as he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Ava in a haze of rushing emotions, untethered thoughts and the regret of not asking him to stay back with her.

I hope you liked it and thank you for reading❤

Like, comment, reblog and let me know what you think ❤

Tagging: @lilyoffandoms ; @agentrebecca ; @anotherbeingsworld ; @oshen ; @nathanielhsewell ; @starrystarrytrouble

#anushka writes #the wayhaven chronicles #ava du mortain #ava x detective #twc ava #a du mortain #oc: Elijah Robinson

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curiousconch · 4 years

Text

Rose-colored Glass

Chapter 11 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: As winter began its rein in Boston, Heather finds a way to cope with her trauma, discovering the truth while remembering her past.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.8k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / emotional trauma, death

Author's Notes: This week has been hard for me, and writing this chapter was unimaginably difficult because of it. Thankfully, like Heather, I found a way to cope, and people to help me get through with it. So instead of moping around, I finished this, inspired by the hauntingly beautiful classic song La Vie En Rose (I listened to this particular version on repeat). So, this is for you Nina, rest well in heaven.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. I also do not claim ownership over the lyrics of La Vie en Rose embedded in this chapter.

Heather's discharge went smoothly, contrary to the time she spent in recovery. Her friends needed to stay behind to complete their shifts, and although Kyra offered to take her home, she refused. She needed to do something first. Heather did agree to let her bring her things back to the apartment, with one exception.

Her slimmed fingers tightly gripped on the straps of the small bag she was carrying. The sunglasses she brought along tucked on the collar of her salmon sweater, not needing it anymore due to the cluster of clouds that blocked out the sun. Although it was almost noon, the chilly weather provided some semblance of shade as the heels of her boots thumped softly against the soft white snow-covered ground.

Her gray coat was sprinkled small flakes of snow, as she navigated herself easily amongst the unmarked path, that if a spectator observed, they would readily know that she visited this place often.

Heather's steps halted as she neared a willow tree, standing in front of a moss-colored headstone, aged by the almost seven years of Boston rain.

Despite the gloom of her surroundings, Heather's lips curled into a smile, as she kneeled down to gently place the bouquet of pink roses she bought along the way.

"Hi mom," she said, as the tips of her fingers skimmed the name carved in stone. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit again. Things have been a little rough."

She went still for a moment, relishing the poignant silence in remembrance.

More than her ambition of being trained by America's top diagnostician, this was the reason why she chose Edenbrook. To be near her, to be in her mother's home city, it somehow filled the emptiness of missing her so much. To walk on the same pavements, to spend time in the same parks and places she's been to brought Heather nothing but the strength and determination to make something out of her once miserable life. Whenever she doubted herself, or when she was about to give up, the thought of her mom fighting a sickness no one should endure, gave Heather the much needed relief and energy to get back up again.

And that's the reason she stood there that cold winter morning. She needed her mom to come through her once again.

Heather closed her eyes momentarily, letting the rush of the nauseating trauma of the past few weeks resurface. Her whole being has run out dry, weakening her knees. She just felt so numb inside.

So without inhibitions, she recalled the recent events that turned her life upside down. She told about the threats over her life, and how close she was to her own death. She spoke about Raf and their recent fallout, how heartbreaking it was but relieving at the same time. She brought up Bryce last.

"This man, mom... I can't even begin to explain how I feel about him," Heather said as she rubbed a hand over her temple. "There's something about him that I just couldn't describe. It's been there since I've first met him, and it's still here until now..."

Her head dropped low in between her shoulders, as she remembered with fondness the emotions that Bryce stirred within her the first time they met, leading up to their frustrating confrontation. Heather irked as the thought of her failure came.

"But somehow, I messed it up. I picked someone else, because I was too afraid..." she revealed. She knew what she felt around him, but did her best to bury it. "Although I often wondered of what we could be, or what we could have been, the deep-seated fears of heartbreak, of what you and dad went through... I just couldn't act on it." she admitted.

"Yet when I was faced with the choice between life or death, all I had was his words, no one else's," she paused, recalling how she soldiered on towards her own escape, empowered by the same declaration during their day out in the trampolines.

"But now I'm afraid I'm too late, mom. I may have missed out on something great... Your daughter is a coward," she bit her lip, her eyes glistening. "Am I really too late?"

The question felt like a cliffhanger, never to be answered.

Sighing deeply, she collected her remaining energy to unzip the small bag she brought with her. She wrapped her hands around the neck of the instrument, pulling out a mahogany-stained ukelele. It was the last gift that she received from her mom, the very same she used to play her songs during their rare downtime.

She tucked its body between her arm and chest, as she tightened its strings with the tuners. With one satisfied strum, she began to sing the song that she and her mom always sang during the roughest period of their lives.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs,

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

In a rush, those simple words tingled her sensations in reminiscence from flashes of her adolescence - the late night talks, the bonding over ramen noodles, her alcoholic initiation by soju, those times that they saw a movie together, the smell of pancakes and eggs in the morning.

In the few short years they were given, Heather treasured each memory more than anything in her life. Even the tragedy of watching her mom deteriorate because of her sickness, of those last months spent in a cramped hospital ward, she wouldn't trade it even for a pot of gold. Though in pain, her mother would whisper promises that she'll always be there for her, no matter what. Until her last breath, she held her daughter's hand. Those were priceless, shared souvenirs of a life well-lived. Of a life Heather hoped she could lead.

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart, a world where roses bloom

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

Within those short verses contained the life lesson her mom taught her over and over again - to see life through rose colored glasses. Singing it reminded her that even if she was long gone, the memory of her will be embedded within, whispering that no matter what, there's a reason to continue living.

Smiling through her tears, her head tilted up to the heavens, praying that the divine could carry her thanks to her mom. For once again, in the most difficult time of her life, she did follow through.

As a sense of peace weaved itself through her, she opened her eyes and felt the clouds dissipate. With it were the frayed edges of the shadows of fear, regret and anger. And although she knew that it will still haunt her, she was content that healing has at least begun.

After a few more moments of silence, she placed the ukelele back into the bag and glanced endearingly upon the headstone. She skimmed her fingers over her mother's name, vowing to come back soon.

She swiveled herself to the opposite direction and began the path back to the cemetery gates, when her hazel orbs fell upon a pair of familiar leather shoes and gray slacks, making her stop in her tracks.

When she titled her head to see the face she expected to see, a pair of amber eyes met hers that made her breath hitch. They were filled with warmth and affection that heated the cold air and melted her inside.

"You're not too late," Bryce finally said, breaking into the quiet. His mouth formed a lopsided smile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black coat which edges reached to his knees.

"Seems like it," Heather replied, snapping out of the daze that suddenly came over her, lips curving. "Wait, you heard everything?"

Bryce couldn't stifle a chuckle as he nodded, the adrenaline that rushed through him earlier as he tried to track her down slowly draining from him. A new and overwhelming feeling took its place as he planted the soles of his shoes on the soft snow, bridging the gap between them.

Once he was near enough, he gently wrapped an arm around Heather's waist, pulling her close. The knuckles of his other hand brushed her jawline until his thumb grazed her chin. His gaze lingered down on hers, completely magnetized by the depths of the windows of her soul, begging for her consent.

Heather's palms settled onto the nape of his neck, her lips parting to grant him permission.

In a heartbeat, Bryce tenderly pressed his lips upon hers, releasing the long-running yearning they buried so well. Unspoken words no longer need to be said aloud, clarity dawning in them both as their mouths crashed. Soft moans escaped from them as they deepened their passionate kiss, unrestrained in expressing their newfound freedom.

When at last they stopped to catch their breaths, Bryce leaned his forehead on hers, understanding that his unrequited love was never unanswered, only delayed. That after a year of pining, here she was, standing in front of him, a realization of a dream that for so many times he willed to come true. After all the nights of hoping and hurting, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight of her in his arms. A thought poked into his mind as he started to recall where they were.

"Well this is awkward..." the young lawyer muttered, with a sudden shift in his voice.

"Hm?" Heather's eyes snapped open, dumbfounded.

"I know I always wanted to kiss you," he grinned as he paused, before continuing, "but never in a million years did I think that the first time I did is in front of your mom."

At first her brows furrowed, but seeing Bryce's mischievous expression, Heather couldn't keep herself from laughing.

Inspired by the music of her genuine laughter, Bryce joined in. The sound of their giggles echoing through the poignant space around them.

Heather can't remember the last time when she laughed this hard. There were so many things that hung over her head that she almost forgot how to do it. But with Bryce, it came so easily. A sense of joy began to bloom in her, and when she saw the same glint in his eyes, she knew he felt exactly the same.

With their fingers intertwined and arms around each other's, they walked the path that only earlier they trudged separately. And now with their hearts finally out in the open, their tracks carved into the thin sheet of snow, unveiling the lush greens of the grass hidden beneath, eager to leaving what's behind, together.

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #bryce lahela #open heart 2 #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #bryce x mc

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slasherholic · 5 years

Text

Originally this was an OC commission, but the requester generously gave me permission to turn it into a female!reader-insert fic. Enjoy~

Every Part of You | Brahms Heelshire x Nanny!Reader (NSFW)

The doll sat at the end of the mahogany table, staring with glossy, lifeless eyes at the food set out before it and looking very smart in its moss-green cardigan. You chose the outfit yourself. The doll was by no means lacking in outfits— it owned more than you did, in fact— but this particular sweater you had long since decided was your favorite. It brought out the vibrant hazel-green of the doll’s eyes.

“Aren’t you going to eat your supper, Brahms?” You wondered aloud, your voice soft and distant, rather lost in thought.

You knew the rules by heart. You were not to leave the doll alone. You were to put any uneaten food in the freezer. Months ago, you might have followed them more carefully; these days, the food you set out on the table is not for the doll, and so you figure no such rules apply. When you retreated to your room to bathe, you fully expected to return to a picked-clean plate. Yet here the food sat, entirely untouched, cold and collecting flies.

Your boot heels clacked along the floor as you crossed the kitchen. You ran a hand through the doll’s silken black hair with the fondness of a mother consoling a pouty child. Already you suspected the reason Brahms had not touched his supper; because earlier, when you sank down in the caress of your bathwater, as you had set about scrubbing your skin until it was raw and agitated, gradually, a feeling washed over you. A familiar feeling. One that hardly ever left you alone.

When first you’d taken up residency at the Heelshire mansion you found the odd happenings easy to dismiss. Your favorite garments went missing, one by one, and you only blamed yourself for your disorganization. Then came the sounds— occasionally, you would hear an odd creaking or faint scrabbling from within the walls, but the Heelshire mansion was old, and you supposed it could only be expected. Time and time again the discrepancies came, and each and every time you shot them down, rationalized them into neat explanations and filed them away in the corners of your mind, determined to forget about them entirely.

But then, there was that feeling— a gut-deep feeling. An ice-cold feeling. It gave you the shivers. It made the hairs on your arms and on the back of your neck stand up straight. It was always looming over you. It would not leave you alone; and sooner rather than later, when instinct at last won out over reason, you finally found yourself considering the possibility that perhaps—oh, it seemed so silly to you back then—but perhaps you were not entirely alone in this big old house.

You wondered down at the untouched peas and salmon fillet. Back when the name “Brahms” still meant nothing more to you than the doll you’d been hired to coddle, you would have expected nothing less than a pristine plate. In the present you were not so naive.

You knew that Brahms— the real Brahms— did not touch his dinner tonight, because he had been watching you bathe. The thought set off fireworks in your stomach.

You clutched the doll beneath its arms and scooped it up from its chair, holding it to your chest as if it were a real boy.

“Are you feeling tired already, Brahmsie?”

The doll stared up at you with its glossy eyes and its unchanging porcelain features, unhearing, but it was no longer the doll who you spoke to— Brahms, the man, was listening to your words then, and you could always tell because the house itself seemed to go quiet around you. Perfectly, eerily quiet. Not a moan or a creak, as if the mansion were holding its breath. Waiting. The silence sat like a weight on your shoulders and made your toes curl in your shoes, and it lit a spark of feverish desire in your chest all at the same time.

“Well come along then, Brahms.” You ordered. “It’s time for bed.”

You whisked the doll away to Brahms’ old bedroom, pulled back the scarlet bedding, and tucked the lifeless thing between the sheets. All the while, the sensation of eyes on the back of your neck lingered. Your cheeks and face began to heat— it wouldn’t be long now. You had wound the man up like a spring-loaded toy and now your finger sat on the trigger.

The man who dwelled within the walls was feral in a way you had never known before. Sometimes, just to tease a reaction out of him, you lounged atop your bed and slowly peeled every garment from your body until you sat nude, and then leaned back against the pillows and bucked into your own touch while you thought of him. Without fail, his muffled grunts would follow shortly from within the walls. Needy and breathless. Brahms’ lust for you was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you had become an addict. Hardly a waking hour passed when the man did not consume your thoughts; still, Brahms was hesitant. Skittish to a fault. He hardly showed himself. He existed as a sort of lurking presence, always felt, but rarely seen.

That wasn’t to say it did not happen. On fleeting occasions, Brahms had come lurching out from the walls like some feral thing, and all of a sudden his long fingers were all over your body and he was burying himself within your warmth, fucking you until your cunt was raw and aching, and just as soon as he had shown himself he was gone again. Just like that. It had frustrated you near to tears; and only made you crave him all the more.

You tucked the covers tightly down around the doll, folding and fussing until you thought it looked comfortable. And then it was time for Brahms’ kiss. Your hair fell in loose strands around your face as you leaned down.

A sudden squeal from behind you, like a rusty hinge swinging open, froze you.

Your lips parted in a slight gape. You listened.

Then came the quiet thud of his footsteps, stepping out from some hidden compartment, one after the other. Thud. Thud. You stood up straight. You did not turn to face him— just listened to his approach. Every step was slow and dripping with hesitance. He was coming closer. You could hear his breaths, a deep wheeze through his nose which seemed at any moment as if it would cascade into a needy whine. Then he was standing inches away from you. You felt the closeness of his body, the heat rolling off his chest in thick waves.

The unseen figure loomed, but did not touch; and so you turned at last to face him.

Brahms eyes really were so different than the doll’s, you thought, as you stared into the depths hidden behind the grimy porcelain mask. Emerald eyes glistened back, and they were wild. They flickered up and down your body as if trying to devour your form with a gaze. It made your stomach flutter and set your pulse racing.

“Are you ready for your goodnight kiss?” Your voice was breathy and hushed.

The man towering above you gave a feeble, frail grunt, one not at all matching his stature. He nodded slowly, up and down, and then reached to grip the sides of his mask, lifting it just enough to tease a glimpse at the face hidden beneath. Your eyes fell upon a pale mouth and thick curls of unruly facial hair. You rose delicately to the tips of your toes, and cupped his nape tenderly, but when you drew him down into the kiss your tenderness vanished like smoke. Brahms seemed frozen to the spot. For a moment, a moment that felt to you like an eternity, he did not kiss you back.

Oh, but it was painfully clear how much he wanted to. You could feel the tension building in his chest, could hear his shallow intakes hitching sharply as you sucked and nipped at his lips. Every fiber of Brahms’ being screamed that he wanted to kiss you, to touch you, to do so, so much more; and that, you knew, was precisely why he stood motionless. The moment Brahms allowed himself to be taken by the kiss his faint veil of self-control would be swept away, and he would lose himself to lust; he would fuck you impatiently and go crawling back to hide in the walls again.

But not this time, came your silent promise. Not this time.

When at last Brahms teetered over the edge it was nearly overwhelming; nearly swept away your fantasies of gentle lovemaking and left you aching to be fucked. His hands wrapped around your waist and he stooped forward with a shuddery exhale. His beard pricked your soft skin as he smashed his mouth to yours. He devoured your lips with an urgency that left you breathless. His scent invaded your lungs. His hands scrambled for your skirt, searching desperately for its zipper. A moan forced its way up your throat. Your head began to spin. You were losing him. You broke the kiss off suddenly, tried to pull away from his embrace. Brahms whined. His hands clamped down around your hips and he clung to you, holding you against him like a liferaft.

“Brahms—” You gasped. “I need you to behave yourself this time. Please. Can you do that for me?”

Brahms stilled, his body quaking, as his lips parted in a heavy pant. The tension was horrible. You feared it would be too much for him; you reached up and ran a hand through the man’s dark hair, stroking it soothingly.

“Can you be a good boy for me, Brahms?”

The man gave another, softer whimper.

“Mmh…” It seemed all he was able to manage. But it was good enough for you.

You moved to the bed. The doll was set on the floor and promptly forgotten about. You placed a hand on his chest, guiding him down onto the silky sheets until his head sank into the pillows. His bedraggled hair fanned out around him. You helped him shuck away his sweater and the unwashed shirt beneath. At the sight of his bare chest, you sucked in your breath.

You had not known about the scars. Brahms did not undress when he fucked you before, had only bothered to drop his pants to his knees before thrusting needily into you; but there they were, raised and pinkened and plain as day against his porcelain skin. Brahms stared up at you silent and waiting. You met his gaze with a sorrowful, compassionate look, one that said, you poor boy; let me make this all better.

Your hands fell upon his skin as you straddled him. Goosebumps prickled up on him where you traced gentle designs through the wash of black curls. Brahms’ chest heaved and quivered beneath your delicate touch, and it only seemed to worsen when you bent and pressed your lips to his hot skin. You sucked at his neck. You planted kisses all along the angular dip of his collarbones, moved down his sternum, down to the trail of dark hair on his abdomen; but went no lower than that.

A shallow whine built in the back of Brahms’ throat at that.

He wound his fingers through the bedding and held on tight, struggling to maintain some semblance of self-control.

“You’re being so good for me, Brahms.” Came your assurance. “Here—”

You took his large hands in your own, guiding them to your blouse.

“Help me take this off.”

Brahms’ fingers worked frantically to undo the delicate buttons. Your shirt fell open. You let him whisk it off your shoulders. You fiddled with your bra. The moment it was out of the way, Brahms’ hands fell upon your breasts, groping needily at your soft flesh, pulling and pinching at the buds of your nipples. You sighed into his touch.

You let him tug your skirt off too, and then your panties, and you stripped him of his pants. The two of you sat bared to each other.

Brahms was swollen and erect, a drop having formed at the tip of his cock. You sank down on top of him again, just above it, watching his dark and wild eyes as they swept across your body, devouring your nakedness. His breaths had quickened. Brahms’ patience was nearing its end; but so was yours. Everything between your legs was hot, an empty ache, demanding to be filled. You reached back and took him daintily in your hand. A shudder seized the man’s body as you did, but Brahms did not whimper this time— instead, the sound which rumbled up his chest was a growl. Low and rumbling. Dangerous.

“Hurry—” He demanded. Gone was his shyness. Brahms growled, and his voice was feral.

“Alright, Brahms.” You hushed him. “Alright... but remember— slowly.”

You guided him to your entrance, sank onto him, slowly, until you had taken all of him inside of you. A flustered sigh fell from your lips at the fullness. You leaned forwards until your nipples pressed against his chest. You wanted to kiss him again; this time, you wanted to kiss all of him. You extended your fingers slowly towards his mask— and Brahms seized your wrist in an instant.

“Please.... Brahms, please.” You begged. Now it was your turn to whine.

“I want to love all of you.”

Brahms’ gleaming eyes flit back and forth between your own. His fingers loosened, but they did not leave your wrist, and he clung to you like a frightened child as you closed the distance to his hidden face. Your fingers dipped beneath the mask’s smooth porcelain. In a fluid motion, you lifted it up and away.

You lay drinking in the features of the man staring up at you, his pale lips parted slightly, his hazel eyes unblinking. A pang of sadness tugged at your heart; you had not known about these scars, either. You traced a finger tenderly along his cheek.

“Hello, Brahms.” You whispered. “What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.”

You captured his lips again. Your fingers wound through his dark hair and you kissed him hungrily. Brahms’ own hands flew to your face, cupping your jaw and drawing you further against his lips. If your own kiss was hungry, then Brahms’ was ravenous. You moved yourself along his cock as you kissed him, and the man beneath you groaned. His thick brows pulled together. You felt his hands grabbing needily at your ass, groping your curves as you rode him at a lazy and unhurried pace— one that was not destined to last.

For a tender minute, of which you savored every second, Brahms was obedient. He lay nearly as still as a plank beneath you. He had squeezed his eyes shut tight and allowed you to pleasure yourself on his cock until your breaths shortened and your moans dribbled freely from your lips, along with Brahms’ own name; and as your orgasm rippled in a shuddering wave throughout your body, as your muscles clamped down around him, Brahms bucked his hips forward and threw his head back and let loose a feral, guttural groan, and you knew that you had done it; you had sent the man spiraling over the edge.

Brahms gripped the flesh of your hips. Hard. He thrust upwards into you. Relief replaced the pained expression on his face as his carnal lust found its outlet. He thrust again. And again. Each time he drove himself deeper. You bounced on his cock as if you were weightless; your mouth fell agape and you cried out, wound your fingers through his hair and held on for dear life as Brahms madly chased his release.

“Oh God--come inside me!” You gasped, your own restraint shattered by the man’s ferocity.

“Please come inside me!”

Brahms let out a whine. It rose into a wail. He filled you up, and it was bliss, and it made you dizzy and sent your head spinning as though you might faint.

You fell against his chest, panting and shivering, your body suctioned to his. Your mind was numb. Your thoughts were hazy and incoherent. You couldn’t move; you didn’t want to. It took all your fading strength to simply reach up and touch the man’s hair, stroking and petting. Your eyelids drooped with sudden lethargy but never had you felt so alive. A smile tugged at your lips. You beamed up at Brahms.

“I am so proud of you.” You murmured at him softly. “Doesn’t it feel so much better when we take our time with each other?”

Brahms shut his eyes. He nodded slowly.

“Mhm…” came his faint reply; and it was good enough for you.

You pressed your cheek deeper into Brahms’ warm chest. Your own eyes fluttered shut in solidarity.

“That’s my good boy…”

#brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #the boy (2016)#Slashers #writing #fanfiction #horror

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diss0nant-a · 4 years

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CONTINUED FROM [ X ] @evilsded

a sheep put it’s hand on the lion?

ashley isn’t disgusted, no, and his expression shows as much. it’s amusement. confusion too, to a lesser degree, but it’s mostly befuddlement plain & simple. like dean is some sort of child trying to stop an adult, a hopeless endeavor but naive enough to try. it’s evident in ash’s eyes that he’s thinking of tossing dean aside like a rag-doll, and quite literally so — how simple it’d be to break a man’s spine when you send him into a wall at inhuman speeds.

…. however, the vessel wouldn’t appreciate it.

‘ you are a bold little thing, dean winchester. ’

amazing how it was ashley’s voice, ash’s tenor, but not him speaking. clearly, because he’s possessed, but nevertheless the eldritch thing corrupting him and puppeting him at the moment spoke so differently. it’s cadence was calmer, reserved, but soaked and dripping with pride. it knew it was stronger, better, smarter, and faster than the little bug it was speaking to, but it spoke to the bug all the same.

ashley’s right hand lifts, gently wraps it’s fingers around dean’s wrist, and holds it. holds it with no intensity, no anger, no vitriol. it’s a guiding movement with a warning laced underneath it, obey me or face punishment.

still, with his fingers wrapped delicately around dean, ashley noses forward, his eyes bold, and narrowed, and unblinking. the warning carries on into his gaze now, no longer just contained to his physical touch.

‘ i cannot describe to you how simple it would be to remove you from this world. it takes more effort to say these very words than it would to erase you. ’

there’s the faintest smile that plays on the corners of his lips. it never truly blossoms, though, and he gently, condescendingly, moves dean’s hand off of him.

all reason to grab ash in the first place vanished when their eyes met. dean was going to try and talk him into some sort of reason; but when the hazel’s usual spark lay dull, he knew. it’d be no use. despite still having the mark of cain, he was human now. how was he supposed to gain control over the situation alone? he couldn’t blame the amusement painted on the other’s face. he’d been foolish. or at least that’s how he felt.

ashley’s voice had been played with, his expressions similar to those he’d only seen on seedy guys in bars. it made dean squirm. ash wasn’t a seedy guy. but god did it suit him. ignoring the way, the change made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks burn like a fire in winter, dean shifted his gaze to the floor beside them. that was until the other’s skin was touching his own. he wanted to fight back, pull away, do something. but he was stuck.

no words were said, but the message was undoubtedly received. dean swallowed at the lump forming in his throat, still unable to say anything. despite it being his usual approach, he couldn’t go all guns blazing. he had to be careful.

he stays. like prey, playing dead.

waiting.

moss grew on bark as he locked the other’s eyes in his sight. remaining there until the intimidation was over. feeling his wrist’s freedom was his call for places. letting a silence build while he double checks with himself how exactly to get out of this mess. his gaze returning to the floor below. luckily, this type of thing came naturally to him while he was a demon. and those memories hadn’t faded yet.

a smirk playing on his lips, head slightly tilted down. “ y’know. what ever it is you need ash for... ” lifting his head, he moved closer towards the other. “ you’d have more fun with me. ” dean was mere inches away from ash’s vessel, whoever the puppeteer was witnessing a small shrug before the hunter turns. stepping his way across the room, dean tried creating as much distance as he could.

the options were limited, not having much understanding of the shit ash had gotten himself involved in. the specifics of what was controlling him remained unknown. what he did know, ash was possessed. maybe? whatever it was could focus on him, not ash. he wasn’t going to watch another person he loved go through something like this. not if he could do something.

lifting the sleeve of his shirt, he hoped this would at least bring some sort of distraction. “ know what this is? ” he almost taunted. “ i got the blade to match. why don’t i help you out? ” dean smiled. “ or better yet, get out of him. you need a body? you got one. ” his arms flew out to the sides, hands scanning the air around his torso.

#` d w ♔ interactions #evilsded | D W #/#dean is Confused

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boogiewrites · 5 years

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Choking On Sapphires 89

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Bad Company

Summary: Genevieve begins standing up for herself and others with her new found sense of self. Alfie sits back and enjoys the show.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence.Verbal fighting.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Alfie and Genevieve were working again, and more importantly, working as one cohesive unit. Still light with his affections, trying to appreciate the subtle physical affection between them that was backed with a more mature and solid love behind it nowadays.

They focused on tone and respect, checking in on each other and being understanding of the others space and feelings. Gen found herself enjoying her time with Alfie more now that she was spending less with him. She had time to paint and think again, two things she had sorely needed more of in her life to get herself straight again. She was figuring out who this new woman was, and how she fell into place with Alfie and who he was at this juncture. It led to more confidence, better communication and a deeper intimacy outside of sex for them. Which at Alfie's age his back and hips truly appreciated.

They talked with tea and biscuits before bed every night. A rundown of the day and the questions and concerns it brought them putting it all away with the China when no more could be done for it. In turn the lack of talking led to more tenderness, small kisses and strokes as they wound down together, Genevieve letting her guard down only for him most days now. It let her feel cared for and safe as he’d wrap her up and hold her close as she fell asleep and it gave him the protective and providing feelings he needed as a man. They were evening each other out, finding their new roles within the relationship and the pieces were beginning to fall into place.

———

With a pin-straight posture and the newest in women's business wear from Paris, a treat to herself for her recent successes, Genevieve sits perched on a wooden chair that must be as old as the school building itself for how uncomfortable it was. She sits across the long banquet table in the great hall from a man who could also be considered dated and out of fashion, the same as his surroundings. There was only one other woman in the group for instructors and heads of the art department, and she taught dance. She was older but fit and always wore her hair in a tight bun that did her frail and gaunt face no favors. Her attitude also didn’t help her seem any more approachable but that seemed to be common among the ballet type. They were all tight strung and old fashioned, strict and elitist, the same could be said for everyone else on the board except Genevieve. She was the youngest by around two decades and the only with a tailor that wasn’t an octogenarian.

“Everyone who votes for Beatrice Langston, a show of hands.” The head says as his slumped posture from being bent over a desk his whole academic life, makes him look like he struggles to lift his head to see a show of hands. Everyone but Genevieve.

“Really?” Genevieve asks with direct eye contact with each person after the count was finished.

“I’m sorry Miss Durand but majority rules.”

“You are all going to sit there and tell me with a straight face that Beatrice is better suited for the scholarship than Hazel?” No one speaks and avoids her aggressive gaze. “Beatrice is rudimentary at best. She lacks the understanding of color theory and her depth of field is just...well it’s lacking. To put it politely.” Gen speaks with an animated tone and body as she moves paintings around on the table. “Look at these Hazel has done! Brilliant use of color and saturation, everything is scaled to perfection and her abstract art evokes emotion and shows a much deeper grasp of the poetry and psychology of color and space!” Gen raises her voice and holds up a painting with both her hands, shoving it in the others faces from where she sat. “Beatrice hasn’t even DONE an abstract piece!” She tosses the paper and sorts back loudly in her chair as it scoots.

“The vote is final Moss Durand, I’m sorry you-“

“No, you’re not!” She scoffs and his eyes go wide. “I know why you’re all voting for her and you should all be ashamed. You should have your educator privileges revoked because you don’t give a damn about these children and nurturing them.” She speaks from the heart, fully upset and letting it show.

“Miss Durand that is quiet enough.”

“So you’re going to tell me you’re voting for Langston because of her skill and NOT because of who her father is?” She crossed her arms and leans toward the annoyed-looking man.

He says nothing in reply. “Our vote is-“

“Yes final!” She throws up her hands and rolls her eyes. “I am so completely disappointed in every single one of you for not voting for talent over a name. Hazel could use this scholarship, Langston has money! And no talent.” She shakes her head. “All because of who her father is! Ridiculous!” Genieve huffs.

“Like you’ve never benefited from who your father is.” One is the men say with a cold side-eye that they would soon regret.

“Excuse me, Garrett?” She stands slowly and others sink back into their chairs.

“Miss Durand pl-“

“NO!” She shakes her head and begins speaking with her hands to the head. “No, I will not sit here and be spoken to in such a way.” She trots right across from the formerly brave academic and scolds him like a child with a pointed finger. “You don’t know a damn thing about me you glorified bookend! I lost my connection to my father and his name at seventeen! Everything I have has my blood sweat and tears in it! I have worked My arse off for my successes and you, nay, no one will say otherwise because it would be a lie.” She hisses and shouts. “A girl should get this scholarship on hard work and talent, not a name! Just because you’ve never worked for anything doesn’t mean others aren’t deserving! We can’t all be born with rich fathers and cocks and just waltz into whatever sort of life we want! Some of us have to work for it! And since all you’ve done is make theories and sit on your fat arse and read your whole life you can’t relate! Doesn’t make it not true!” She shouts and throws her arms in the air.

“MISS DURAND! That is enough!”

“And YOU! You ancient fuck. You can piss off. The lot of you! You only represent the past and have no interest in catching up with the rest of the world on modernity. I don’t want any part of a board or school who doesn’t give a fuck about its students. I love art and I want to help those that love it as well.” She speaks and moves to gather her things as she keeps scolding. “And as a woman who knows the rampant sexism and abuse of power in academia, you should be ASHAMED!” She points at the other woman in her group. “I’d like to let you all in on a little advice before I part. Garret your beard makes you look like a pedophile. Quinne, your hair pulled back like that makes you look like a shaved fanny. Richard, you always smell like bloody mothballs and Turner, your cologne smells like horse piss. And you Gerald.” She scowls at the head. “ Everyone knows your poor dumb secretary sucks you off in your office. You’re a lousy liar and make noises like a dying cow when you ejaculate. You aren’t fooling anyone.” She sasss. “You’re a sorry lot and I’m sorry that these students have heartless twats for professors!” She begins to trot off, her heels clicking over the old stone floors in a hurry in her anger.

The look on her face gives away her anger before she’s even in the car to meet Claire.

“That didn’t take long.”

“I left early.” She spits out and sits and seethes.

“May I ask why?”

“I quit.” She says finally looking to Claire sat next to her.

“You bloody what?” Her voice breaks.

“They wanted to give the scholarship to a girl

Based on who her father was. Not on talent because the simple thing couldn't evoke emotion with art if her life depended on it. They just want bloody money from her family!”

“So you quit?”

“Yes. I don’t want any part of that crock of shit.”

Claire opens her mouth and then closes it. There was a paycheck lost but truly not much else. Genevieve could just paint to sell and easily make up the difference. She could set up anyway and teach just for the love of it, so Claire simply nods.

———

“She’s in a right mood.” Claire warms Alfie, setting the table for tea as he trumps into the house.

“Why?” He demands in his usual confident way.

“She quit the teaching work today.”

“Fuckin wot? But she loves it!”

“She loves it and that’s why she quit.” Claire shrugs.

“Is no one makin' no fuckin' sense in this madhouse?” Alfie barks.

“What are you shouting about?” Genevieve comes around the corner with her little glasses on that matches Alfies and a stack of papers in her arms.

“What’s this bout you quittin?”

“Come sit and I’ll explain.” She nods and puts her hand to his back. Her calmer approach caught him off guard. He was expecting a loose canon from Claire’s warning but he only saw a very present woman in her eyes and appearance.

“Ya fuckin better.” He says loudly as he sits and she ignores his needless pompous nature.

“Aggie before our meal, some chamomile perhaps?”

“Lovely idea dear.” Aggie praises and Gen sits next to Alfie in their little corner of the table. Her in her large decorative, plush velvet chair at the head.

“I quit the board and the teaching job today.”

“Yeah, I got that much.”

“Do you want to keep interrupting me to hear the sound of your own voice or do you want me to explain?” She asks with a tilted head and removing her glasses.

His chin sinks into his neck in surprise at her quick wit and he gestures for her to continue without a word.

“Thank you.” She says with a large nod. “The scholarship vote was today and in short they chose name over talent. A girl who’s father has political connections was chosen over an immensely talented girl. For the money I’m guessing. I tried to convince them and they would not listen. I expressed my disappointment in their decision and one of the men thought it wise to make a remark about me. I-“

“Who fuckin said wot love, I’ll get the bastard.” Alfie swoops in protectively, still touchy about people smart mouthing Gen with the ongoing fight over gossip.

“That’s very nice of you, Cheri but not needed. I set him straight with words. Much less mess.” She pats Alfie's arm and despite his hard brow of anger for someone having the balls to speak poorly towards her, he couldn’t help but admire the unbothered face she held. “I don’t want to be a part of an organization that runs in such an unfair and uncaring way.”

“I never liked those wankers. Always acted betta than me.”

“And you are smarter than any of them could ever aspire to be, I assure you.” She praises and begins laying her papers into piles.

“Fuckin right I am.” He grumbles in agreement but feels the compliment make his chest warm. “You seem to be takin' it well.” He remarks, seeing her put her glasses back on.

“I was well miffed at first. But turns out Spite is an excellent motivator.” She says with an amused smile.

“That it is.” He nods. “And what is it motivatin'?”

“I am going to start my own scholarship.”

“Oh! Lovely idea that.” He nods approvingly. “Total control or no control I always say.”

“You do say that.” She remarks, thumbing through a stack.

“Where exactly ya gonna get the money for such a thing?” He flatly asks. “Ya kinda lost a source of income there dinnit ya?”

“I did but I can manage. I did it because I loved it, not the money.” She shakes her head. “I plan on selling some pieces, then gathering funds from the community in support. I’m going to make it one, especially for Jewish girls. I plan to give Hazel the first.”

“Hazel?”

“The girl that should have gotten the scholarship to begin with. Sweet and inwardly little girl. Bright as the sun and so much promise.”

“And Jewish?”

“And Jewish.” She nods.

“Well, that’s lovey then, yeah?”

“I certainly hope so.” Gen glances over to him. “Lots of paperwork involved in such a thing of course. I’ll have to go by the lawyers later in the week to set it all up. But I’m the meantime I can sell and do private lessons for a price. Perhaps portraits? Be far less time consuming for me anyway.”

“And make a hell of a lot more money.”

“Yes. That as well.” She huffs out a laugh and nods.

“Where ya gon sell at?”

“Nothing in mind yet. Places. Pieces I do have a few landscapes that are easy sales I believe. Once I had all the legal pieces in place I Was moving onto that next step.”

“How’s about me club?”

Gen stops and looks up at him. “Really?” She says with narrowed eyes of disbelief.

“Sure. Can be a little coming out party for ya. Invite all those posh cunts and take their money.” He grins.

“You’ll have to come up with a new name for them if we’re going to be asking for money.” She smirks.

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I just won’t say it to no one's face.” He promises and they share a mutual smile of hopefulness for both endeavors.

——————

His club would be full of what half his usual clientele was on this particular evening. The usual ruffage replaced with the wealthy that Genevieve had invited not only to get money from but to put any rumors to bed about how she might be now since the whispered about incident. It was easy enough to show she wasn’t pregnant, especially in the tight dress she’d chosen. Which was purposeful.

“I can’t help but feel a bit fat in this.” She mutters, smoothing over her well-rounded hips where she was now carrying most of her weight gain.

“You’ve gained weight but you look healthy again.” Claire insists. “Which is what you want. You look well fed and cared for. No signs of weakness or poverty.”

“That’s all well good but what happens when I slap some twat for calling me a cow.” She snaps back.

“Ya first have to get over me slappin’ ya for sayin’ such a thing bout yaself.” Alfie says loudly as he enters the room in his usual dark suit.

“But I have gained weight.” She insists on her correctness.

“Yes and what of it? Who the fuck cares? Not me. You shouldn’t. Ya look lovely. Gorgeous. Green like money and soft like royalty.” He declares with his hands on her bare arms.

“But I have-“

“Shut your perfect painted mouth love.” He shakes his head and tsks her. “I won’t have you speakin' of yaself in such a way. Not with me round to hear it and not when I’m away, yeah? You are a dream in the flesh, Genny. Always have been, always will be.” He kisses her blushed cheek.

“Yes, Alfie.” She sighs.

“I know ya can lie betta than at!” He grins and puts his arms around her in the emerald dress. “You are confident. You are in control.” He says with a squeeze to her. “Now you.” He nods his head forward.

“I am confident. I am in control.” She tries to put forth some faith in her voice.

“You will get the money you need tonight and you will charm the pants off everyone.” Claire adds supportively.

“Thanks.” Gen says with her hands resting on Alfies around her. “Last time I tried this it went miserably and I believe it’s getting the best of me.”

“You are a different woman now.” Alfie declares proudly. “I have total faith in you. As should you.” He kisses her cheek and gives her bum a light pat before pulling away. “And you do look stunnin’ love. You know I’d tell ya if I thought otherwise.”

“And I don’t know yet if that’s a blessing or a curse.” She smirks.

“There She is, right?” He laughs and pinches her cheek, smiling proudly.

——

Genevieve did muster up the hutzpah she needed before exiting the car with Alfie opening the door for her. A gentlemanly hand out and waiting patiently as he heard her measured breathing to set herself. When she emerged, she was a fully evolved woman of means who didn’t give a damn about anyone she didn’t deem worthy.

He loved watching her now, not like he hadn’t before but now in public there was a hardness that wasn’t there before. Even though she was looking for money from these people, she wasn’t kissing any arse. She stone-faced bad, sexist jokes and when turned to see what was wrong with her, Alfie would give them no reaction as well. Solidarity and that. She didn’t clutch her chest and bend and laugh like an angel for them, she spoke clearly and in an informed way like the well-educated businesswoman she was. She wasn’t boozy and lusty and playing up her chest or hair. She wore it pulled back with a lovely bejeweled comb, her dress perfectly tailored and her jewels classic and expensive. She only

wore kitten heels, concealed under the long hem of her gown instead of her usual height giving ones since the healing had left her back a bit worse for wear. But she didn’t look any less put together for it. Alfie rather liked the shorter stature for her as he got to put his arm around her easily and whisper how proud he was of her for not giving in to their expectations of her. Everything was going swimmingly, money being signed over, appointments for teaching sessions filling up on the list. But a woman, for whatever her reasons were, decided to make a spectacle of herself. And Genevieve was happy to oblige her.

“Yes I’m doing very well.” Genevieve nods and gives a polite tone. “The new contracts with Fortnum and Mason as well as a large yield

This season for both honey and fruit. Soon I’ll be adding my hat to the gin game with my high-grade juniper.”

“I heard you got fired from the school.” The wife of the man who was being a gentleman and speaking to both Gen and Alfie equally chirps into the conversation. “So with that monetary loss

You can’t be doing as well.”

Genevieve narrows her eyes at her but keeps her cool. “I stepped down from the board and quit my teaching position. I was not fired. I didn’t believe in how they were running the school. Since I worked there out of love for the arts and the students, not the money, that is why I am starting my own scholarship and offering lessons. Which is why you are here tonight.” She clarifies.

“Gen has been very hands-on with the building of it, suited the work helps fund that of others. She’ll be having her bat mitzvah soon and with these new business endeavors I could not be more proud.” Alfie adds to help cut the tension

“Thank you darling.”

“Well good thing everything has lined up so well for you both now, yes?” The man gives a polite smile.

“It is a blessing, surely.” Gen nods graciously.

“Especially after all that….” the man shakes her head. “All the bad sort of things that transpired for you. Well good that you have recovered so well!”

“Yes, a product of hard work I assure you.”

“Hard work will get you whatever you desire,

I always say.”

What a capitalist, Gen muses.

“Rather, suspicious though isn’t it?” The wife turns as if she’s only speaking to her husband.

“Uh...what is dear?”

“Or rather ... convenient that all this happens around this time? right after your supposed incident..”

“Supposed?” Genevieve’s voice shows bite and the man is clearly made uncomfortable by it.

“Yes if it was so bad you don’t seem to be bothered now.”

“I am a businesswoman. I try not to mix personal and professional.” Alfie could see Gen's eyes dilate and change. He watched her closely with great interest.

“I’d heard no one saw you for months and then you pop back up just fine. Seems like if all that happened like I’ve heard you’d still be at home. Not out working. Like a man.” She shoots her eyes at Alfie who gives her a quirked brow and a snort at the audacity to come after his masculinity.

“Besides taking care of her when she was first home, my business wasn’t affected.” Alfie speaks in a cold and calculated way.

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” She looks Alfie up and down. “But funny how this all cleared right up when it was time for you to ask for money. Yes? When you would require others kindness?” The hairs on the back of Genevieve’s neck stand up as he watches her brow lower and her eyes go black. “People in your sort of...business…” she drags out and looks to Alfie for a moment with clear disapproval on her face. “Are known to, shall we say, over-exaggerate the truth? And as I said, awfully coincidental on the timing when you needed people to feel sorry for you.”

Genevieve moves so fast Alfie doesn’t have time to do much but scoff out a laugh after she has the woman by her neck and against a wall.

Genevieve sinks her nails into the unmarked skin of the woman’s weak throat. Her hand squeezing as she holds her up as sputters, eyes wide showing she didn’t expect to get what was coming her way.

Gen leans in close, nose to the woman’s cheek and ghosts over her skin and ears as speaks low and slow so only she can hear. The rest of the room falls silent and turns to watch the altercation, disgustingly interested to see if the rumors of Genevieve's ruthlessness were true.

“The things I went through would’ve killed an ordinary man.” She hisses and the woman kicks her feet. “You would’ve died one day in.” She growls. “If you lasted that long.” She spits venomously. “I owe you nothing. But I will tell you the horrors and trials I have gone through are something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Torture. Rape. Mental and emotional manipulation. I’ve moved past all of it. My body and mind have healed so I can make a better life for myself. Cunts like you make it so I Have to push forward, be better, be more and prove myself time and time again to make it in this world. You prove nothing with your accusations. Only that you are a weak, soft submissive lemming, a pathetic excuse for a woman for those of us who have known true oppression. A judgemental miserable old hag with nothing better to do than talk about others because you have nothing of any substance to say. You are nothing. You aren’t worth my time. I am only using you as an example. Because I know others think like you. And I will continue to be better than you. To thrive despite your disapproval. To be happy and fulfilled in ways you could never imagine.” She lets go of her throat, her feet full on the floor again as she gasps and holds her neck. “That is my revenge. A life more fruitful and whole than your small mind could ever hope for. And if you ever think to even insinuate that I am a liar again. I will not use just my words against you, you rotted gash.” Genevieve stands like a snake watching its venom take down its prey slowly.

The woman does not respond. The blood under Gen's nails and the energy around her speak enough.

The husband looks to Alfie while this all happens, who only shrugs and watches with fully entertained eyes. This old horse got what was coming to her as far as he was concerned. He was only disappointed Genevieve didn’t slap her at the first insult. But this was well worth the wait.

“If anyone else has any remarks about my abduction and the events around it I suggest you keep them to your fucking self. No self-respecting person would ask someone about such a horrible thing. And they won’t if they want to keep their tongues in their mouths.” She stands tall, proud and strong in the face of all eyes gazing upon her. She speaks from the gut, and only truthfully. She held no question as to who she was in that moment as she boldly met the eyes that stared at her with mixtures of fear and interest.

Alfie stood as tall and proud as she, solidarity with his love. He gave her an approving nod when she met his eyes across the room. The deep rich brown so black when she tapped into that killer instinct now. This was a power move, strength and control. The restraint but an expression of her feelings showing growth beyond what he could’ve hoped for her. She was truly one of his own now. His warrior queen, his panther wife and hopefully the fearless and just mother to his children one day. He was overtaken with emotion, his heart hard thumping in his chest as she moved back towards him in the crowd like a snake in her green dress. She was brilliant, everything he needed in a companion. She wasn’t taking shit from anyone now, for any reason. Gone through hell and lived, came out the other side stronger and smarter and more ruthless. Same as him. She was a gangster now. Worthy to carry the Solomons’ name. He couldn’t wait to make her his own.

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

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homesoutofhuman · 6 years

Text

Roses fall - Hannibal/reader

Fanfic trope request: Hannibal x reader with the "blind date" and "florist" trope- thank you so much I always wanted to write something for this beautiful man.

Warnings: brief mention of blood

The sun is shining and you hope that’s a good omen for the day ahead. You spend the morning cleaning your apartment, appreciating the light wood and simple white walls. Eventually though you must leave your sanctuary, you have a mission. The shop from the outside is baroque and almost gothic, still the windows are stuffed with gorgeous flowers so you know its the right place. Walking inside the smell is exotic but not overpowering, and you immediately relax, sensing it is a place of taste and quality.

Seeing the shop is almost empty you take the opportunity to wander up and down the aisles, stopping to admire a gorgeous vase of tulips, letting the scent the lovely rich lilies drift over you. Whoever has arranged the flowers has an amazing eye for detail, adding certain unusual features such as a gilded bee resting on one of the petals, a bunch of heavy moss contrasting perfectly with the orchid pink.

A man appears behind one of the tall ferns and you almost scream, letting out a small cry of surprise despite yourself. His footsteps were quiet and stealthy, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times at your reaction, a frown creasing his handsome face.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” he says, his voice a rumble of low gentle thunder. It has a beautiful accented lilt that calms you instantly.

“No, I know I’m sorry I….” you trail off as the man moves nearer, staring at you closely with hazel eyes that are at once gentle and sharp. “I’m a little jumpy.”

“There is no need for you to apologise but I appreciate it anyway.” he gives a wide smile then which is just as alarming, showing sharp white teeth. Despite yourself you lean in, he reminds you of the big cats in the zoo, they always were your favourite.

Seeing you unafraid the man offers his large hand for you to shake, almost engulfing your own when he does so. God, what those hands could do - your thoughts betrays you, and you try ignore them. Almost as if he can read your mind, you catch a smirk playing across the man’s face “Hannibal Lecter.” he introduces himself and you whisper your name back.“How can I help you?”

Taking a deep breath you feel the urge to apologise again “It’s not much, I just need a single red rose.”

Hannibal doesn’t appear to judge you for the request, he inclines his head for you to follow him as he moves deeper into the shop. “An interesting choice, it has romantic connotations of which i’m sure you’re aware.”

Flushing you nod “It’s for a date tonight.”

Hannibal looks down at you, his eyes trace a path from your face to your neck, but his face remains a mask, friendly and calm “A lucky individual if I may say so. Your partner?”

Shaking your head you feel embarrassed but the urge to confide in him is strangely strong. “I never met him before, it’s our first date.”

Hannibal reaches his destination, the rose section, which is cool and dark and close with heavy scent. He cups the petals of a blood red rose with long delicate fingers, displaying it for your approval. “And you thought to bring a flower eternally associated with love and passion, a bold choice...”

“It’s so we can identify each other.” Feeling yourself blushing again you are grateful for the shaded cool of the shop, you’re not sure why you are telling this man everything but you don’t seem to be able to stop. Hannibal regards you, seemingly with fascination, his eyes narrowing slightly, his elegant finger brushes his lip as in thought. Then he turns, with the liquid movements of a dancer and picks up a large pair of scissors, bringing the blades to the stem of the rose.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, his words swimming with double meaning. It almost pains you to nod, everything in you is screaming to just forget your date and someone ask Hannibal out for a drink instead, but you know you’re too shy, too awkward to do such a thing.

“Yes.” you squeak, and hear him sigh quietly as he easily snips the rose and carries it to the counter, wrapping it in paper.

“It’s to protect you from the thorns.” he explains, handing it to you gently.

“Thank you Hannibal.” you say, genuinely touched, bringing the flower to your chest, hugging it tight. The man takes a deep breath in his hand darts out to grasp your wrist. Stunned, you look down at where his fingers encircle your wrist like a bracelet, then back up into dark auburn eyes.

“I missed one.” he murmurs, sounding half regretful and half pleased somehow, reaching out a thumb he presses it to the hollow of your neck where a thorn has pierced your skin, leaving a small pin-prick bead of blood. He stares at his scarlet tinged thumb for a moment as if in a trance, then moves to find you a tissue. It is too dark to tell properly and you’re distracted by the shock of slight pain, but you swear you see him suck his thumb into his mouth for a moment and moan.

He dabs at your skin with the tissue and suddenly it all feels so intimate, you skin is shivering and you’re wet and throbbing. You sense with one movement in the right direction he would kiss you. Hannibal looks up at you sharply, as if sensing the change in atmosphere, which is suddenly heavy with heat. His eyes drop to your mouth and you see his tongue dark out for a moment to wet his own lips, as if in anticipation.

Then the bell on the shop door rings, indicating the arrival of another customer. Hannibal looks towards them angrily, and if you didn’t know better you’d fear for the safely of the intruder. It’s a rush then, to pay, to get your flower and get out of the door before anything else occurs. It’s only later, when you’ve dressed for your date and are slipping your money into your purse you find Hannibal’s business card amongst your things, he must have handed it to you with your change. You push it into your purse, just in case you tell yourself, just in case what? A flower emergency?

Your nerves distract you from any further thoughts of Hannibal as you sit at the bar sipping your wine, waiting for your date. Half an hour later and no one has shown themselves. Feeling like an idiot you drop the rose onto the bar, letting it sink into the remains of a spilled drink, marring its delicate beauty. Grabbing your jacket you head for the door and collide with a very solid chest, Hannibal.

“Leaving?” he asks, his voice taking on a lilt of sadness.

Staring at him, you’re not sure if it is some strange coincidence so hold back from interrogation. “I was stood up. So yeah I’m going to go home, take a bath and never leave the house again.”

“I had a premonition.” he replies, as if that was a response “or lets call it hope, that your date would not work out quite as planned.”

“How did you know?” you ask, still a little suspicious.

“A single red rose?” Hannibal’s voice takes on a mocking quality that makes you smile “any man worth anything would have come up with something more original than that. Still, it let me meet you so for that I’m grateful.”

“I’m grateful too” you whisper, feeling bold as he leads you to a table and orders a bottle of the wine you’d just been drinking.

When you leave the bar after hours of talking Hannibal turns to you and, giving you a minute to push him away, finally brushes his mouth on yours. It feels strangely familiar, as if you’d kissed before, and pulls you closer, wrapping his coat around you so you won’t be cold.

You look up, feeling small and vulnerable in contrast to his size. Hannibal smiles, kisses your nose fondly, the corner of your lips, then the hollow of your throat which is slightly bruised from the roses thorn. You shiver down to your bones, making him hold you even closer, and you can feel him smiling against the side of your face as you give in completely, to the silken touch of his fingers, the heady scent of his skin.

Roses fall but the thorns remain - Dutch proverb.

#this was fun #i kinda love hanni and he's so creepy it makes me love him more?#i'm a weirdo #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #fanfic trope challenge

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cortexifansquint · 5 years

Photo

matching pairings & annotations under the cut!

Youtube (x) Spotify ( x)

Buffy / Cordelia / Willow

* Cloud 69 // Lowell

I'm like dynamite / need a cheerleader / let me throw you down / while I look at her / I'm like "Oh my god / I think I need a girlfriend"

* Crazy // Au Revoir Simone

you knew me, wanna love to lose and to lose again / seems we're either giving up or giving in / but, uh, you girls, you drive me crazy

Willow / Tara

* There’s a Girl // The Ditty Bops

there's a girl that you might know / she's a friend at least I tell you so / but it might surprise you to find / there's something going on behind the door

* Horizon // Luna Blake

you tower over me / you are sky and I am sea

* Truthfully // Lisa Loeb

truthfully, I really can't explain / I'm floating, I'm smiling again

* Room // Palehound

she comes over / growing like a clover / in my room / in my room

* Sugar in a Pie // Erin McKeown

love me sweet like a sugar in a pie / kiss me deep with a dreamy little sigh

Faith / Buffy

* Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover // Sophie B. Hawkins

that old dog has chained you up, alright / give you everything you need to live inside a twisted cage / sleep beside an empty rage / I had a dream I was your hero

* Hologram // Katie Herzig

I'm gonna let you down / gonna toss you around / gonna make you want everything you haven't found / I'm gonna hold your hand / then ask you to stand / ten feet away

* Buy her Candy

she's a famous / she's the best / I cannot lay / my heart to rest / she is selfish / she is kind / no one can say / she is mine

* Nights with you // MO

I'll take you out tonight / leave it all at home / don't care about your boyfriend waking up alone

* Portions for Foxes// Rilo Kiley

'cause you're just damage control, for a walking corpse like me, like you (S6 Fuffy edition)

* Last 2nd Chance // Vaughan Penn

this is the last second chance I’ll ever need / this is the last time you’ll hear sorry from me

Buffy / Cordelia-

* More like you // Hazel English

I could waste all of my time / thinking up ways to catch your eye / and I tried but it just didn’t feel right / and besides I'm just trying to get by

* She // Dodie

and I'll be okay admiring from afar / cause even when she's next to me / we could not be more far apart (late S1 - mid S2 coffy, either pov)

* Can’t / Naaz

in my mind / I can be what we choose / but in life / we can't stand in those shoes

* Midway // Bad Bad Hats

the shadows you were casting nearly swallowed the night / but god, I could have kissed you (I imagine this as the night Cordelia drops Buffy home in Helpless or sometime in mid-late S3)

* Touch // Shura

I wanna touch you but I'm too late / I wanna touch you but there's history / I can't believe that it's been three years / now when I see you, it's so bittersweet (if either had showed up in L.A or Sunnydale after Buffy was resurrected)

Tara / Buffy

* If I Could // Sophie Zelmani

If I could help you with / this part of life you've got to live / you could load your weight on me

* Our Eyes // Lucy Rose

I'm alive / I feel it now / I never knew I'll find it on you / out of line we got ourselves / in a look, wait we are not fine / wait, you are not mine

* Wire // Alessi Ark

I'm tired of walking this wire / it keeps me awake for heaven sake / I was made for this girl / I feel lonely / my friends don't seem to know me / like i thought they did

Willow / Cordelia

* Upper West Side // King Princess

I can't stop judging every thing you do / but I can't get enough of you

* Then If I’m Weird I Want to Share // Tender Forever

people told me / that you're too sexy / you're too sexy for me / but actually I just don't care / I think it's bullshit everywhere

Buffy / Willow

* Loners // Maddie Ross

one night alone in the bookstacks / summer to make all the kids sad / next fall we're back in the corner / nice girls love kissing the loners

* Ray of Sunshine // Go Sailor

yellow hair, fiery stare / nothing's right, 'cause she's not here tonight

* Explosion // Zolita

it's a mindless love affair / one hot mess of bleach blonde hair / I could kiss her but your lips taste better / you could kiss him but my words are sweeter

* Sweet Moon // Sundarta

when the world is big and I’m alone / I call you and I am home

Faith / Tara

* Will You Be My Girlfriend // Alanis Morissette

I guess I fall and you stay intact is that right? I guess you hear me and won't attack me, is that right? guess I reach out and you reach back, is that right?

* Not gonna Get Us // T.at.u

soon there will be laughter and voices / beyond the clouds over the mountains / we'll run away on roads that are empty / lights from the airfield shining upon you (teenage runaway mehane)

* Love you Anyway // Jil Nisson & Marlene

I know what you've been getting / coz I sure got it too / don't, don't you forget it / the damage they do

* Walk The Line // Halsey

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine / I keep my eyes wide open all the time / I keep the ends out for the tie that binds / because you're mine, I walk the line

Willow / Amy

* Wherever We Are // Human Life

after the day we're chasing the sun / farther away the faster we run / feet on the ground our head in the stars / finding the sound wherever we are

* When We’re High // LP

let’s swallow the moon and the stars / let’s wallow just right where we are

Amy / Faith

* Whiskey & Black Leather // Sapphic Lasers

some they want a girl next door / but that ain't what I'm looking for / I first saw your lips across the room / red like a blood moon

* Her Lover // Ally & Stevie

she is like a cat in the dark / and then she is the darkness

* High Enough // K Flay

don’t try to give me cold water / I don’t wanna sober up / all I see are tomorrows / oh, the stars were made for us

Cordelia / Anya

* Only a Girl // Gia

soft touch, warm skin / nothing like my ex-man / slowly falling, I don't want my next man

* I Don’t Do Boys // Elektra

I don't do boys, I just do girls / just do girls with style and class / I don't do boys, I just do girls / just do girls with kissable ass

Fuffy / Radison

* One More // Elliphant

stay with me tonight / we can count the street lights / stay with me alright let's bring it all back to life (bad girls & smashed shennanigans)

Dark Willow / Anyanka + Darla / Drusilla + Lilah / Cordelia (Jasmine possessed version)

* Glory & Gore // Lorde

delicate in every way but one, / God knows we like archaic kinds of fun / chance is the only game I play with / baby, we let our battles choose us

“ Your Lips are Red // St. Vincent

this city's red / this city's red from riding us into the ground / this city's black / this city's black from all the ashes in downtown

Willow / Anya

* Wishful Thinking // The Ditty Bops

when the cold and lonely hours put your heart to the test / maybe I'll be the one that you like best (S7 Rosekins)

* The Happy Song // Kate Miccuci

'cause isn't it nice to have the friends that you do? / and isn't it nice that the sky is so blue? / and isn't it nice to say "I love you"? (the cheery & matter -of-factly style of this song reminds me of anya)

Faith / Willow

* So-Called Str8 Grrrl // Gina Young

I think you want me / you know you want me / so why do you talk shit about me

* She’s so Lovely // The Butchies

she's a rocker dressed like a killer / she's got lips like wine not sugar

* Sum of your parts // Mary Lambert

I didn't know I was a phoenix till I learned how to speak / even with ashes in my mouth I was still born to breath / I wonder are you like me

* All I Want is To Be Your Girl // Holly Miranda

Well there's ghosts in the night and ghosts in my mind / and if we quit changing we'll be left behind / but I won't take another chance of screwing it up / so I stay where I am / but all I want is to be your girl

Buffy / Satsu

* Cliff’s Edge // Hayley Kiyoko

you turn me on / you lead me on / you got me on / a cliff's edge (satsu’s pov)

* One Night // Charlie XCX

you are somethin’ special / twenty carats, solid gold / what we had was precious / but I had to let you go

Cordelia / Lilah

* Short Skirt, Long Jacket // Larkin Poe

I want a girl with a mind like a diamond / I want a girl who knows what's best I want a girl with shoes that cut / and eyes that burn like cigarettes

Fuffy + Willow / Kennedy

* We Might be Dead by Tomorrow // Soko

give me all your love / ‘cause for all we know / we might be dead by tomorrow

Kendra / Buffy

* Eleventeen // Kimya Dawson

you may feel strange, well, you are an angel / stuck in tight pants stuck at a high school dance / stuck doing people things not knowing you have wings

* Supergirl // Anna Naklab

you can see in her eyes / that no one is her chain / she's my girl / my supergirl

Cordelia / Faith

* Can I Say Baby // GIRLI

can I say baby? / I don't wanna be soppy / but I like your style / think you're kinda cool / I'm sort of into you

* Rebel Girl // Bikini Kill

rebel girl rebel girl / I think I want to take you home / I want to try on your clothes

* Flowers and Rope // Princess Nokia

voices in my head, monsters under my bed / I'm alone again, I lost all my friends / wanna play pretend? hope this never ends

Fred / Faith

* Whiskey // Nicole Reynolds

you accept that i talk too much / i accept that you talk too little / but it's fine / i like a good riddle

In the Margins // Ani Difranco

you are a rare bird / the kind i wouldn't even mind / writing in the margins of my books

Willow / Kennedy

* Pretty Girl // Hayley Kiyoko

I can tell you’re real smart / world class piece of art / I can see you in the dark / all we have to do is start

* Let it Go // Allie Moss

darlin' you see / the fear in me / and how I'd finally be / if I were willing to let it go

Buffy / Anne

* Annonymous Club // Courtney Barnett

let's start an anonymous club / I'll make us name badges with question marks

* Hideaway // IVY

under stars and satellites / a thousand miles / from where we've been

Willow/Fred + Buffy/Tara

* I Was Made for Sunny Days // The Weepies

I was made for sunny days / and I was made for you

Faith / Kennedy

* Crimson and Clover // Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

ah, now I don't hardly know her / but I think I can love her

“ Honey // Kehlani

I like my girls just like I like my honey; sweet / a little selfish

Cordelia / Fred

* Genius // The Murmurs

she's kinda weird / she's kinda freaky / but I don't know / I think she's a genius

* There she goes // Sixpence None the Richer

there she goes / there she goes again / racing through my brain / and I just can't contain / this feeling that remains

#BTVS #btvsedit #mine #btvsfemslash #click to expand #lmao this has been in my drafts for 2 years #but I kept coming across more music #and trying to find a fit for the really rare pairs #my personal ships are completely obvious as they have nearly a playlist of their own

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