#Made the written part then drew the drawing to go with it. Don’t like the writing as much because it reminds me of Bella notte’s lyrics

[fi3stazo]

Two birds have flown off both together in the night,

Under the stars and moon and anything you’ll find,

During the loveliest and most divine of times

De amor

—————

Do NOT repost, edit, trace, or use my art in any way. Thanks. 

[ramp-it-up]

Best of All

Pairing: Pilot!Steve Rogers x Publicist! Reader

Word count: 3.3 K

Summary: You and Steve FINALLY make it to your suite. And the results are sweet.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY Minors, DNI. Former Enemies to Lovers, and there was only one bed, 20 yr angst, sexual frustration, A yacht, swimming,Steve sketching reader, dry humping, fingering, size kink, personal lubricant, woman on top/ in control, Captain/Sir kink, praise/degradation kink, dirty talk, sloppy oral (m/f receiving), raw p in v, breeding/lactation kink, creampie. Basically porn with plot. Not Beta’d. All errors are on me.

This is the next part in the Greatest series.

A/N: It has been just a little over exactly a year since I've written these two. Please forgive my ain't-shitness. And thank you for rocking with me. I love you all!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

You were relaxing on the bow of the yacht, staring out over an amazing view.

You’d had a delicious brunch with Aperol spritzes, and as the yacht floated on the beautiful Gulf of Genoa, the only sounds you heard were of the water, John Coltraine, and the scratching of Steve’s pencil against the paper of his sketch pad. 

He had been wonderful, and contemplative, company for you. 

Your time was spent journaling and looking at the water and the cliffs, rotating your lounger with the sun. You even dozed for a few minutes, waking up to find Steve looking at you piercingly as he sketched. 

Your sister was right.

Steve was very much into you.

You could get used to this you thought as you got up and walked over to Steve, who looked up at you and smiled.

“Can I see what you’re sketching?”

Steve blushed, and then moved so that you could sit down beside him.

“Sure.”

He put his pencils down and handed his leather bound sketch book to you. You gasped.

“Steve! These are…”

You flipped the pages, looking to him for approval. He nodded and smiled at you.

There were many images, on the boat, some very detailed from the day, some rough sketches, but they were all clearly you. You turned to one drawing of you naked, and it made you feel some kind of way.

You’d never posed that way for him.

“Drew that one from memory. Last night.”

“You make me look so…”

“Beautiful? Then that just means I’m drawing you accurately.”

“You really see me this way?”

You were gazing at the sketches with wonder.

“I can’t believe that you don’t. Y/N. You are one of the most beautiful, most desirable women I’ve ever seen. People talk about Aria, but she looks just like you.”

You turned and put the sketch book down on the table beside Steve’s lounger.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Steve’s eyes lit up.

“You can have anything you want.” 

“I want you…”

Steve groaned as you climbed up on his lap and grabbed his face. You traced his lips with your fingers before he closed the distance between you and captured yours with his own. You were breathless before he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.

“That was… nice.”

Steve shifted, sending his crotch grinding into yours and relishing the way you shivered in his arms.

“You want me?”

Steve looked back up at you. Hopeful.

“Yes. And I want to try. A relationship? Dating once we get back to the states? It will be hard. I travel a lot with what I do, go from coast to coast, and all over the world with Aria.”

You were nervously speaking in questions.

“Hmmm. Wonder how I could get from coast to coast, and all over the world? Oh right, I have two airplanes and I’m a pilot.”

Steve smirked at you as you smacked him on the arm.

“I just don’t want you to feel as if you have to chase after me. Or wait for me to get back when I need to go. Long distance can be hard.”

Steve nodded, and then gave you a quick peck on your lips.

“I know. But I would follow you to the ends of the earth. And I’ve already waited for 20 years. What’s a little longer?”

“How can you be so damn perfect?”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close.

“Not perfect, maybe just perfect for you?”

“Maybe,” you smiled into his shirt as you traced a vein down his arm. 

“But I want a do over.”

“A do over of what?”

“Of our first date.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. But first, I wonder if you will give me some? Please? Pretty please Steve?”

You reached down and grasped his hardness in your hand; Steve moaned.

Steve’s mouth was open as you begged for him.

“Oh Baby, you have no idea how much I want that.”

You whined as you moved your hips to feel more of him.

“Steve… need you…”

Your sultry whisper in his ear made him weak.

“Me too. I just … I want it to be special… to take our time…”

“I need you inside me, Captain.”

“Fuuuuuck.…I want that too, Doll. So bad… I dreamt of it last night.”

Steve moved so that his mouth was on your neck.

“You taste like coconuts right now. Why is that?”

“Hmmmm. Flavored body oil spray. It’s edible.”

“Well then, I need to taste more…later. “

You writhed against him hoping for some relief.

“So desperate. I love it when you get needy for me, Baby.”

Steve took in your face and your lips opened in desire. He grabbed the back of your neck, wrapping his hand around your face and inserted his thumb into your mouth. You sucked at it greedily which made him groan again.

“Is that what you want?”

You moaned around his digit and nodded, your heart about to beat out of your chest. Steve leaned down to whisper in your ear as he shoved his thumb further past your tongue and held your mouth open.

“I loved the way you took it in your mouth yesterday. Such a good, good throat. Such a good, sweet girl for me.”

His hand was now at the crotch of your bathing suit and your eyes rolled back into your head at his filthy words as he gagged you with his digit. His long fingers on his other hand pulled the suit to the side and slowly inserted two inside you.

“I can barely get in here, Sweetheart. You’re gonna struggle to take me …”

You grunted, both at what he was doing to you and at what he was saying.

“Yes… you’ll have to be patient just a little while longer. Tonight…”

His wet thumb was caressing your nipples over your bathing suit now. You were frustrated.

“You’re all talk.”

“And you’ll do whatever I say. Later.”

Steve’s words and his steely eyed stare were speaking straight to your pussy. You clenched down on his fingers and he moaned.

“So fucking right. Patience, Doll. Just a little while longer. Meanwhile, you and I need to cool down.” 

Steve abandoned you to take off his shirt, laughing at your lust before he reached down to gather you in his arms again while approaching the passerelle.

“Can you get your hair wet?”

“Yes, I planned on swimming, but are you really about to throw me in the water right now?”

“No. “

Steve shook his head as he stopped on the edge.

“Good.” 

You smiled as you took in the view.

“I figure we’d take the plunge together.”

And then he backed up and ran toward the edge, you squealing in his arms, the warm mediterranean water separating you when you hit the surface. Soon you felt his arms slip back around you as you found each other again and kissed in the warm Italian sun. 

You wanted this moment to last forever.

—-

You made it through the 6 hour voyage and back to the hotel to change for dinner. The meal was nice, with great wine and even better conversation. 

After the meal, Steve asked a question as you walked to the elevators.

“Does that invitation to your suite still stand?”

You pressed your back into the elevator wall as Steve pressed the button for your floor before you even answered his question.

This cocky bastard. It was so hot.

“Sure, are we gonna have a pillow fight?” You raised your arms to his board shoulders as he leaned down to your ear.

“Did you say pillow bite?”

You cocked your head at him, smirking.

“So it’s like that?”

“Very much so.”

You kissed him as the doors opened onto your floor. Steve kept his hands on you as you opened your door and immediately had you up against the first available surface once the door closed hands and mouth everywhere he could reach.

After you two almost broke what looked to be a very expensive vase, Steve stepped back from you, lips swollen from your kisses and chest heaving.

“D’you want me as much as I want you?”

You realized now that the look on Steve’s face that you’d once interpreted to be irritation with you or annoyance, was in fact concentration. You pondered the meaning of being the center of his attention as you moved toward him.

“Do you not remember the way I took your cock down my throat the other day?”

You pressed your body against his and Steve swore, growling in your ear. 

“Oh yes. That was truly.” He kissed your neck.

“Truly.”

This time the kiss was on the plane of your chin.

“Truly amazing.”

He kissed your lips softly when you decided you were tired of playing around. You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

—-

Soon, you were both naked in the bedroom, a bottle of Prosecco rescued from the honor bar and opened on the dresser. Your eyes were drawn to Steve Rogers, who was as beautiful as one of the statues in the Galleria Borghese. 

Steve was grasping his cock at the base as his eyes swept over your body. He was remembering the taste of you.

“You are so beautiful.”  

He squeezed himself harder and tried to keep from moving his hand up and down his thick shaft as you stared and licked your lips.

“Come over here, Stevie. Please.”

You lay on the bed on your stomach, showcasing your ass and looking at him invitingly. Stave moved closer, but stopped.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t going to fuck you tonight?”

You began to pout.

“Fix that face.”

That command made you whimper at the power in his voice.

“You are going to fuck me, Doll.”

“What?”

Steve reached for your hand as he switched places with you. Then he lay there and resumed stroking himself. You licked your lips at the sight and retrieved the bottle of Prosecco, suddenly very thirsty.

You contemplated the power he was giving you, and decided you liked this rush of control. 

“I like the idea of that, Steve. I’ll get to express exactly how much I want you.”

You took a swig and leaned down to kiss him, giving him a taste from your lips. He licked your mouth as you thumbed his nipples, causing him to shiver from your cold touch. You couldn’t resist tasting his cherry red lips again and again as you lightly squeezed his throat, then ran your hand down his sternum and his abs to the tip of his wet cock. 

You grazed the length of him down to his balls, then looked into his eyes and kissed his lips as you took control of him.

“Your lips are perfect,” you whispered as you caressed him.

“No. yours,” replied Steve as he sought your mouth again. 

“You like my mouth?”

As you leaned to teasingly kiss the thick cap of his cock, then took him fully down your throat 

“Oh.. Shit…”

Steve massaged your scalp as you bobbed on him

“You are so fucking hot, Doll…”

You looked up with a smile and moved to lick his nipple, then kiss him again as you stroked him. Steve was mesmerized. Your hands, your lips, your tongue, he couldn’t concentrate on any one part of you that was ruining him. 

It was sensation overload, and he needed to focus to not shoot off.

You were drunk on power. You spit on his cock, deep-throated him once, twice more, and then pulled away, causing Steve to groan as you withdrew contact, your sloppy blow job scrambling his brain.  His head was on a swivel as he watched you get up to go to the dresser. 

“May I?”

Steve nodded, eager for what was to come. You had a small spray bottle in your hand, and when the liquid made contact with his body, he jumped from the sensation. You rubbed the oil on his cock and up his body to his nipples, basking in the rapt attention he paid you as you sprayed yourself between your breasts. Steve’s cock got impossibly harder in your hand at the sight. 

“I think I’m gonna like this.

You loved to hear his sexy deep voice break.

“You like me?”

“Yeah. I…”

Steve trailed off as your hands roamed his body.

“I like you too, Stevie,” you kissed him again. ”

Steve actually whimpered as you swung your leg over his hips and sat down on his cock, rubbing your pussy along his shaft as it lay against his stomach. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep from manhandling you.

“I wanna try that sweet cunt.”

“Hmmm. Is it sweet? Wanna taste it again?”

You leaned back and circled your clit with two fingers, then inserted them into his pretty mouth. Steve’s adam's apple bobbed as he sucked your fingers and swallowed your taste. You pulled away to suck his cock again until he was moaning, at which point you kissed and licked your way up his body, settling your thighs at his shoulders. 

He gripped your ass as he turned hushed head so that his lips could kiss your thigh. His fingers reached around your leg to play in your crease as he gave your clit kitten licks and kisses. You tried to move back down, but he grasped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises that would give you daydreams the next day. He started sucking your clit so intently that you began seeing stars.

“Wanna fuck you now, Stevie. Wanna cum on your cock”

You were on the edge as Steve pulled off of your clit with an obscene slurp.

“I’m yours, Y/N.”

You reached back and grabbed his throbbing cock as you scooted your pelvis down, one hand on his neck and one hand positioning him to enter you. His shaft was large, but the head was even wider, and the stretch as you worked yourself open on him made you moan loudly. Steve grabbed your chin to make you look at him while you slid down his length, stretching yourself out so incredibly well.

“My cock looks so big against your tiny pussy.”

His eyes were riveted.

“It is big, Captain. You’re so huge.”

You grabbed the headboard while you adjusted to his size. Steve’s hands came up around your waist and held you steady as you trembled around him.

Those blue eyes looked up at you with adoration.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Are you okay, Doll?”

“It feels amazing,” you stared down into his eyes and smiled, your slick leaking down his thick shaft to collect and drip off his balls.

“Yes. Yes it does. Holy mother god.”

 He looked down to where you were connected.

“You’re wrapped around me so tight and so good, Doll.”

Steve looked up at you and licked his lips, pupils blown wide and struck dumb by lust. 

You leaned down and kissed him when you bottomed out on him.

You stared at each other as you both finally got what you wanted. You took his head in your hands and kissed him as you pounded together. 

Then you started moving. 

Steve played with your nipples and you arched backwards as he planted his feet and pistoned up into you faster.

“Oh! Steve. Feel so full. So good.”

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place as his hips moved at the devil's pace. The sound of his dick breaching your wet pussy and skin slapping on skin was everything. His thumb went to your clit and traced figure eights as you shuddered in his grip. 

“F-f-f- u-u-u-ck! I’m- I’m coming!”

“Give it to me!”

He stroked you through your orgasm and then sat up, manipulating you so that you were sitting back on your arms in his lap as he moved you up and down his cock like a sex toy.

“Shit, you feel so good!”

Steve looked down at you and then up at the ceiling, eyes rolling

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot.”

You looked down and the image of Steve’s large member destroying your hole was enough to make you cum around his cock again. Steve took control, taking your hips in his large hands and moving you at his will.

“Oh my god.” 

He ground you against the base of his cock and started grinding circles for his greedy eyes and your pleasure. You were addicted.

“Such a good little slut for my cock. Need you to give me one more. That’s it. Good girl.”

He grabbed you by the hair and kissed you as you shuddered through your orgasm and suddenly, you were on your back as Steve flipped you over, getting on his knees and folding you in half to fuck you even better. 

Steve stopped as he tried to hold back.

“You got me so close Doll… I gotta calm down.”

“I just want you to stuff me full of your cum, Captain.”

“Ooohhhhhh. Fuck.”

Steve sped up and then stopped, trying to calm down. But he couldn’t help what he said next that turned out to be his doom.

“Are- are you trying to have my baby, Y/N.”

You arched against him, shuddering at the thought.

“Nnnnnnoooooo. Fuck. Maybe.”

“You wanna be all round and full of my child, tits so full of milk…so I can suck… holy fuck!”

The image was making Steve start to shoot off.

“Fill me up, Steve–I”

“Ahhh!”

And then you keened as you felt his hot cum start to spurt against your walls. You came around his rapidly pulsing cock as he finished inside you.

You two were a hot, sweaty heap as you came down together, Steve kissing your forehead and praising you.

“You did so good for me.”

He gathered you in his arms.

“I love you.”

Steve gazed at you.

“Think I’ve been in love with you for 20 years, Y/N.”

You smiled at him.

“I love you too.” 

You said it, barely above a whisper. But you meant it. Then you said it again.

“I love you, Steve Rogers.”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close. 

“All of the bad things that we’ve gone through to get to this moment is for the best. I can see that now.”

Steve looked to you just like that little boy you met 20 years ago. Then you saw the beautiful man who loved you.

“You’re right. And this, right now. It’s the best of all.”

[aheathen-conceivably]

Long before the last note Antoine had grown aware of Zelda’s presence; but as he finished, he looked up at her with a newfound vulnerability in his eyes. As she stared at him unmoving, he absentmindedly moved his hand along the strings to fill the quiet left by the watching stars, “Was it alright, you think? Writing lyrics, it’s new. Harder than assembling notes, if you ask me.”

She looked at him in amazed silence. His original piano pieces had been brilliant, and sometimes he had written ditties for her to sing, but never before had she heard him sing his own lyrics. She had always known how much he loved it - this place that he had left but that walked alongside him everywhere he went; but it was so much clearer this way, so full of both love and hate, loyalty and disdain, longing and relief, that it was difficult for anything other than music to encompass it. 

She brought her hands together in something that may have been a clap if she wasn’t so afraid to disrupt the stillness of the desert air. On silent footsteps, she left her reverie behind and moved to sit where he had made room for her on the worn wooden bench.

She looked at him earnestly, trying to ease his fear with even just the movement of her eyes, “It’s brilliant, Antoine, truly.” And she meant it, not just because she was under his spell and not her own now; the judgmental eyes of God and her sisters were shut out when she was in his orbit. Now there was only him and his memories for her to get lost in. 

He left his hands on the strings, still playing the familiar notes as though they helped make the admittance easier to utter, “You were right, you know? When I play it’s like I can see it all laid out in front of me. Or better yet, under me. Like I’m above it, observing it all like a story. Makes me realize I loved it more than I thought I did. That house. That place. Her. I wrote it because I know it’s gone now, probably nothing but rubble under a cheap government build. I just don’t want to forget. Or maybe I don’t want the world to forget.”

The stars looked down on them as his smile widened with every inch she drew closer to him. They reflected brightly in her eyes as she leveled them to his, “Would you sing it again? So I can hear it better?”

He let out a small laugh, just as much in relief as in humor. “Surely you would prefer to sing it? With a voice like yours I would hate to imagine what mine must sound like.”

She brought her knee up on the bench with them, curling as close as she could without dislodging the guitar from his arms. “Hush and sing. You don’t need me now.”

“I always will, Mrs. Duplanchier. No matter what. But as you wish….” 🎶

Part 3/3

(As Antoine is meant to have written House of the Rising Son in this universe, I’m going to leave a little disclaimer about this song and its origins under the cut, in case you are interested!)

The origins of the song House of the Rising Sun are much older and more complicated than I have presented here. Folklorist Alan Lomax has written more on it if you are interested, but it is commonly thought to have originated as an English folk song, morphing into the version we know today amongst various groups of American immigrants.

Perhaps best known for its 1964 version by The Animals, it has long formed a staple of American folk, blues, rock, and country recordings, with recorded versions by everyone from Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Doc Watson, Nina Simone, Dolly Parton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Alt-J (amongst so many others). However, I have taken inspiration from the earliest known recorded version, which was done in Appalachia in 1933.

Of course, in having Antoine write this song I have compressed much of this history into a single figure, as well as slightly twisted the meaning of the song to fit the story line. The latter is mostly based on personal interpretation of the lyrics and is purposefully meant to draw a line from this family’s musical heritage through the 1960s and beyond. It also gives a face to the very real figures behind many of the staples of American music that have come to us from the early part of the 20th century, many of which were written or played by black men and women whose songs have continued onward while many of their names and stories may have been forgotten.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Vows - Part 4 (Final Part)

cw: nightmares, consentual blood drinking, oral sex, vaginal sex, polyamory, self-destructive tendencies

male vampire x afab reader

Word count: 6k

Vows Masterlist

You had another nightmare that night.

It wasn’t exactly what you were used to, although you supposed it was still about vampires. 

Rook was on the floor. A jagged piece of wood had been thrust through his chest.

The splinters from it were embedded in your hand, drawing out your own blood, it seeping down your arm. 

Images flashed through your mind as you saw it. 

Vivian in his lap, blood soaking into her dress. 

Oliver begging for more, pulling Rook closer as some of his precious blood escaped the vampire’s mouth. 

Rook didn’t bleed. He’d been completely impaled and yet he lay, dry. The only blood on him was yours, dripping down your arm. 

You felt a wetness on your face, tears making their way down your cheeks. As you moved to wipe them you found that they ran red. 

You fell to your knees, shaking the man in front of you, pleading with him. 

“Wake up, please wake up,” you cried and yet there he lay. He looked like he’d been dead for weeks. His eyes hadn’t looked dead before, not really, you realized with a jolt. 

They may have been foggy and distant but they were full of life. 

Now they were dead, empty and boring into you, unblinking.

Something jostled you, the room swaying under your feet. 

You grabbed onto Rook, his lifeless form. Your hand drew back immediately, sickened by the thought that you’d reached for him for comfort after being the reason he lay there, lifeless. 

A distant voice echoed through your head. 

“Wake up. Come on, wake up, you’re alright.”

Your eyes shot open. 

Rook was sitting over you, concern written across his face. His hands were cold and his eyes were as distant as ever but there he was, alive. 

You wrapped your arms around him without a second thought, holding on as tight as you could, like you were afraid he might slip away. 

He pulled you into his chest, his hand holding the back of your head as he whispered comforting words. 

You could barely hear them. Guilt was eating you alive. He was sitting here comforting you and he had no idea what you were, what you’d come here to do. 

He had no idea what you’d dreamed of.

This was all fake. No matter how much pretend you played, you were enemies. 

You couldn’t keep doing this. 

You needed to find something. He couldn’t be fully good, your family couldn’t be composed of people who would hurt… what? Creatures who were just trying their best. 

If they’d told you to come here and kill him you would’ve done it. He’d be lying on the floor, just like in your dream. 

He couldn’t be this good. You needed him to not be this good. 

“I think you should drink from me.”

You blurted it out without really thinking. You weren’t certain why you said it. Maybe you wanted to sink back into that trust, that feeling of being not in control but still safe. Maybe you wanted him to attack you, to dispel this awful realization that had been slowly sinking in. 

You watched him shift the second the words left your mouth, the slow comfort he’d been giving you fade away as his body went stiff.

“Why?”

The word was strained. He pulled away from you, looking like he’d been slapped. 

“Do I need a reason?”

“I think you need to go.”

Oliver was waking on the other side of the bed and you noticed Vivian was snuggled into his side. As Rook got more agitated they started to stir. 

“I don’t understand what I did.” You winced at how unsteady your voice sounded. 

“I never should have let you in here. This has gone too far.” He ran his hands frantically through his hair, refusing to look you in the eye. 

He was practically shouting and Vivian and Oliver snapped into action. 

Vivian started to pull you out of the room, although the last thing you wanted to do right now was leave. Your thoughts were racing, desperately attempting to find what you’d done. 

He’d been fine. You couldn’t imagine what could’ve made him react like this. Oliver and Vivian knew him better than you did and even they seemed thrown. 

Vivian rested a reassuring hand on your arm. “I’m sorry I pulled you out of there, it just seemed like a bad situation.”

“It’s fine.” You knew she could tell that your mind was elsewhere. 

She tried her best to reassure you. “I’m sure it’s nothing about you, something is up with him.”

Oliver practically threw the door to the room open, it crashing against the wall. 

“What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s been weird and dodgy lately and now this? Unacceptable. He won’t even agree to talk to you. You didn’t even do anything, let alone something that would merit this tantrum! No, hold on, I’m gonna go argue with him again, I can’t fucking believe this shit.”

The images from your dream flashed through your mind and you shook your head. “Maybe he’s right.”

“Bullshit! Come on, we are going to set this straight.”

Oliver pulled you up and back towards Rook’s room and you didn’t have the heart to stop him. 

When you’d first come here, you would’ve killed him in a heartbeat. If you’d had the chance, if you’d felt cornered, there was a real chance he would be dead right now. 

He’d welcomed you in and what had you given him in return. The kindest thing you’d given him were lies.

You’d played pretend. For what? For a chance to feel safe? And after all you’d done, he’d given you that. Given you safety and comfort and his trust. 

This had gone too far. You had to tell him. He deserved to know he had a monster living under his roof. 

His head was buried in his hands when Oliver pulled you back into the room, a frantic energy entering his eyes the second he saw you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he snapped.

He was right.

You spoke quietly, knowing what you needed to do. “Oliver, I think you should go.”

He made a noise in protest but you gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile and with a final squeeze of your hand, he left the two of you alone.

You didn’t even get the chance to speak before he snapped at you again. “I think I was wrong, I think you should leave.”

“Rook, please, I-”

“Was I not clear? You should leave.”

“No, I have to tell you something,” you pleaded with him, needing to get this off your chest, although you weren’t sure if it was for his sake or for yours.

He rolled his eyes. “What, are you finally going to come clean, tell me that you’re a vampire hunter?”

He knew.

Everything here, it had been a lie. From you, from him, it was all fake. He’d probably been trying to get you under his spell, thought he could control you.

Could you blame him? You certainly weren’t guilt-free in this mess. 

He started to pace the room, the calm, in control Rook you were used to nowhere to be seen. 

“I had you pegged every step of the way and somehow you still fucked it all up! How did you…”

As he shouted, moving closer to you as he screamed you pulled out your knife, the adrenaline flooding through your body leaving you to fall back on years and years of training.  

“You think I won’t do it?” you asked, knowing the second you did that you never could. 

“You’re not running. You know I won’t hurt you, you’re not an idiot. Are you going to hurt me? God, you probably are. This was so fucking stupid.”

He really thought you’d do it.

A few days earlier and he would’ve been right. 

He got even closer, finally standing with the edge of the knife pressed against his neck. He could probably feel how much you were shaking. 

“Do it,” he said. “If you’re so convinced I’m evil, if you really hate me that much.”

“Stop it. Please, just stop it,” you cried as you tried to pull the knife away but he reached out and held it there.

He refused to draw back, keeping the knife pressed firmly to his throat. 

You did the only thing you could do. You turned on your heels, dropped the knife, and ran. 

You sprinted, out to the front door, out through his gardens, just away. 

You didn’t know where you were going, you just needed to get out of there. To stop yourself from causing any more damage. To never have to see their faces again

You ran and you ran. You refused to let your legs stop moving. You needed to be far from here, farther than you could ever carry yourself. 

You didn’t even feel the cold of the night digging into your skin, eating away at you.

At some point you may have gotten turned around, you weren’t sure. It was hard to know anything anymore, your mind sending you into a blind panic

Eventually, your legs could carry you no further, giving out underneath you. 

You just stared up at the sky, roots digging into your back where you’d collapsed but unable to find the will to move yourself. 

With a teary smile, you watched a bat swoop overhead. You’d never had the chance to see him like that.

You knew why now, why he’d never trusted you with that. Why he’d never trusted you at all. 

Everything made a little more sense now, the way he’d treated you, the way you’d won him over almost as slowly as he’d won you. 

You couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was real and how much of it was a show.

You heard some high-pitched chirping in the distance, the noise piercing right through your thoughts. 

Maybe it wasn’t even there, maybe your brain was just desperately attempting to conjure something to stop your spiraling thoughts. 

It didn’t really matter anyways. 

You had a feeling you might die out here. Better that than returning home. You could never face those people again, the people you’d called your family. 

Now you’d met the monsters they killed, you’d never be able to look them in the eye and see anything but what you now knew was there. 

You wondered how many of the monsters they’d slayed had been afraid, how many had begged for mercy, how many had just longed for friendship and intimacy. 

How many people had they executed for the crime of being hungry and afraid? 

And even when they weren’t, with willing sacrifices living happily with them, even then they were deemed heretics and condemned to a house in the woods with a handful of companions they managed to save from the world you’d held in such high regard for so long. 

The bat returned to you, settling upside down on a nearby branch. 

You gave it a weak smile, blinking tears out of your eyes. 

“Hello,” you said, your voice faint after the cold and exhaustion had been eating away at you for what was probably hours. “Sweet little thing, are you the one making those noises?”

It chirped at you, almost as if it was answering you. 

“I’d fly away if I were you,” you cautioned the creature. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to stay away from monsters in the woods?”

Its little head cocked to the side, as if it was desperately trying to understand your words.  

The sound of sticks cracking drew both of your attention. Maybe it was a wolf or some other creature, here to finish you off. It had to happen sooner or later because at this point, you were determined not to get up. 

A familiar voice banished that thought from your mind. 

Vivian was at your side before you had time to make sense of what was happening. She was dragging you to your feet, fighting to pull you along. 

“I don’t know if I can do this alone,” she called out. “They're in a bad way, they're going to be dead weight before long. 

It took you a moment to realize who she was speaking to. 

Your eyes shifted to find the little bat, moving down from his perch until, before you could ever register the change, another familiar face was at your side. 

You realized with a foggy mind that he left the grounds to come find you. Your family had been tracking his home for decades and not once had he left but there he was. You’d heard him leading her to you, you could see him in front of you, the light of the moon reflecting off his face. 

You passed out before they managed to coax you to your feet, the realization that they’d come for you the last thing you could manage before the world faded away. 

You woke up in front of a roaring fireplace with a blanket wrapped around you and two pairs of eyes staring at you. 

You focused in on Rook, remembering his part in your rescue. “I didn’t realize you left the grounds. My family is going to be really upset I’m not reporting back anymore, that is exactly the sort of thing they would want to know.”

“I don’t,” he said. “That was my first time leaving in 300 years.”

“Oh.” Your voice sounded small, even to you. 

As you gathered your bearings, a door slammed somewhere in the house and you flinched at the sudden noise. 

Rook looked back and a quiet sigh escaped him. 

“Oliver isn’t handling the news well,” he explained. “He’s mad at both of us if that makes you feel any better.”

It didn’t

“Why?” you asked, your voice much stronger now in the safety of his home.

“Well, he’s mad at you for wanting to hurt me.”

You managed a smile, although you weren’t really in the mood for one. “I’d gathered that much.”

“He’s mad at me for lying, for not telling him who you were. If I’m being honest, I think he’s angriest that I let him care for you.”

Viv chimed in, saying, “He’s just slamming doors so you remember he’s upset. He’ll be alright, just give him some time to cool down.”

“And you’re not mad?” you asked her.

She shook her head and it felt like a minor miracle, that any of them could not hate you after finding out. 

“I might have,” she said. “If you’d actually done anything. How long did it take you, before you switched sides? Did it even take a day before you started to doubt?”

You didn’t answer. 

You saw in her eyes that you didn’t need to. 

“I should let you two talk,” she said, glancing between you and Rook. “But for the record, I’m glad that we got the chance to start caring about you.”

She left the room and it was just the two of you. 

Once again you were afraid. Not of him any longer, that had long since passed, but of how he might feel. 

“How long have you known?” you asked, your voice weak once more but no longer because of the strain and the cold. 

“Since the beginning. I wasn’t planning on letting all this happen but then… do you know how irritating you are? I thought, feed the hunters some bad information, figure out what they might be planning. And then, despite everything you were so bizarrely receptive to all this, and Oliver and Vivian took to you so fast and, I don’t know, this all spiraled out of control so quickly.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure what you even could say. The word sorry didn’t even come close to cutting it. 

He spoke once more, his voice shaky. “Of all the things I thought you might do, putting a wedge between me and them was the last thing I expected.”

“I didn’t want to do that.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Rook, you freaked out on me. I didn’t expect them to side with me, I don’t think I even wanted them to side with me.”

“It was going too far, that was too far. Why aren’t you scared of me anymore? I’m not so self-centered as to really believe I turned a vampire hunter, so why are you still here? What are you doing that I’m not seeing? Are you trying to turn them against me, make them hate me too? Just please, leave them out of it. Take me if you must, but leave them out of it.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. 

“What’s so funny,” he asked, his eyes frantically searching yours for the secret plan he seemed convinced you must have.

“I just… I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“What?”

“I thought all of this, everything I was feeling might be some secret, insane plan you’d made. I think we may have both deeply overestimated each other.”

He inspected your face, searching for something like he’d done so many times before. You wondered if he’d ever found it. 

Finally he asked, “What’s vampire hunting like?”

“You really want to know?”

“Can’t imagine I’m going to get many other chances to learn so yeah, why not.”

“I guess I’m not really sure. This was my first real case. It was mostly scary stories when I was little and then a lot of training. I can actually fight pretty well, not that it ever came up here. All of my training was done at home, talking to anyone who wasn’t a hunter was too dangerous so I never really left much, just short little trips.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t let outside much as a kid either. Not that that ever stopped me.”

“I don’t think that’s the same, you can’t go out in the sun.”

“Can’t is a strong word. More like really really shouldn’t.”

You laughed. “You sound like you were a real handful.”

“I’m sure you were too.”

“Not really. I was a model student, couldn’t wait to go out and kill my first vampire, make everybody proud.”

“And now?”

“And now even the thought of leaving makes my heart hurt.”

“Does it really?” 

He asked it like it was a joke but you knew better than that. 

“It does,” you confirmed. “I’ll go though, if you still want me to. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry about before. I told you I’m not kicking you out and I intend to stand by that. You’re always welcome here. Although I would prefer if you kept the vampire hunting to a minimum.”

“I’ll try my best,” you promised with a half-hearted smile. “Hey Rook?”

“Yes?”

“I’m never going to see my family again, am I?”

“I don’t know, that’s up to you. If you need one, there’s always a family here for you. But it’s a big decision. You should think on it, be sure you want to stay, that you understand what that would mean. Until then, get some rest. You really scared me out there, I thought you might not make it home.”

He grabbed another blanket from the end of the couch, making sure you were more than warm enough. With them and the fire, you were certain you’d have to shed at least one of the blankets to keep from overheating but you let him cover you in it anyways, a desperate ploy to get him to stay just a little bit longer. 

You woke up to the feeling of being watched. 

Your eyes opened to the sight of pale blue ones staring right back at you, half obscured by curly locks of hair. 

“You were going to hurt him,” Oliver huffed at you, barely giving you time to gather your bearings. 

“Technically, I wasn’t. I was just gathering intel.”

“You were going to help them hurt him.” The semantics of the situation didn’t seem to soothe his anger. 

“I was.”

“What changed?”

You shrugged. “Just got to know him, I guess. Harder to imagine him as a big faceless monster when you’ve seen his face and its smile lines and you know him. It’s also hard to imagine you all as brainwashed victims when… well, when you’ve seen the way you interact.”

He smiled at you incredulously. “Me? Brainwashed?”

You nodded. That idea had left you pretty fast. God help the man who tried to brainwash Oliver. 

“I don’t want you to go,” he blurted out.  He said it like it was the worst confession he was capable of. “I can’t believe Rook didn’t tell me. He could’ve prevented this but now I care about you and I want you to stay here with us.”

“I think I want to stay too.”

He didn’t seem able to hide his glee, trying his best to force a frown and failing. “Alright. I haven’t forgiven you yet but I’m glad you’ll be here. I would’ve missed you if you’d left.”

“I would’ve missed you too. Can you go tell Viv? I want to tell Rook myself.”

He nodded eagerly, darting towards the door. Before he bolted out he looked back and gave you a firm, “I’m trusting you. Please don’t make me regret it.”

You couldn’t even fathom it. Even apart from Rook and everything you’d learned about the monster you’d come here to fight, you could never hurt them like that. 

Before going to see anyone you walked back up to your room. Your pigeon was waiting by the window, confused as to why you hadn’t come to give him a message yet. 

If you were honest, he was probably the only thing you’d miss, the only thing this experience hadn’t sullied. Your sweet little bird. 

You reached into your pockets to see if your notebook was still in there. It was, as was your dagger, having apparently been returned to you while you slept. You’d have to get rid of that wretched thing soon. 

You quickly scribbled out note after note, the words never quite seeming right. How does one convince their family that the thing they’ve been doing all their lives is wrong? 

You didn’t.

You tied the note to his leg and sent your loyal little bird off for the last time with the last message he’d ever deliver for you. 

The message felt like it was as much for him as for them. 

It just read Goodbye. 

You wandered up to Rook’s bedroom. You knew where it was by now. The house might still feel confusing but this room you could find. 

You knocked on the door, the sound echoing in your ears.

A distant “come in” sounded from behind the black and white painted wood of his door.

He was waiting there for you, his eyes trained on the door as you entered. 

“You feeling alright?” he asked, his voice low and measured. 

You nodded. “I think I just needed some rest. I’m sorry you had to come and rescue me.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay. Why did you run?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had.”

“You didn’t hurt us. Look,” he said, holding out his arms for you to see. “Limbs all still attached. It got a little stressful there but we’re all alright. Better than we were before.”

You hoped that was true. 

“You’re staying, aren’t you?” As he asked the question, you began to understand why the thing Rook was scared of the most was people being afraid of him. Because with every word, you could tell he was afraid of your answer and it felt like a punch to the gut. 

“If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will.”

You had both been standing very still, avoiding any sudden movements, trying your best not to break the calm. 

That did it. At his words you were moving towards him, his arms wrapping around you the second you were within reach. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, beyond happy that this time, he was listening. This time, he believed you. 

When you finally pulled away you stood there, looking at each other, a silence falling over you that one of you needed to break. 

You wanted to be the one to do it. 

It felt like a risk. Last time you’d asked everything had been destroyed. But it felt like the only way to finalize it, to make yourself one of them and shed your past. 

Finally you asked, “Can you drink from me?”

You waited for the mistrust but it never came. Instead, he just cocked his head to the side and asked, “Why?”

“Because I trust you.”

“You’re still a little scared.”

“I’ve got years of stories in my head, they’re hard to shake. But I do trust you.”

“You really want this?”

You nodded, reaching out hesitantly for him.

He came to you, his hand intertwining with yours. 

“Alright, but we’re going to work up to it. I’m not throwing you in the deep end, okay?”

You nodded, already trusting that he’d make sure you felt safe. 

He walked you back to his bed, laying you down gently on the soft sheets you’d been too afraid to indulge in when you first came here. The thought felt silly now. 

He moved over you, capturing your mouth in a kiss. 

You pushed up against him, wanting to be as close to him as you could.

He seemed to sense your urge and pushed you back down into the sheets, his body trapping you against their warmth. 

And then the kissing ended as he sat you up with an urgency that made you think twice about whining about the newfound lack of contact. 

He reached up to start undoing your dress, getting both of your clothes off as fast as he could. 

“Need to feel you,” he said and you helped him along, removing your final garments as he struggled to pull off his pants. 

You smiled, helping him where his pants had gotten caught around his ankled in the rush. 

He just stared down at you, wide-eyed. 

“Come here,” he said pulling you back up to the bed and pressing you against him. His skin was colder than you were used to and you were sure you must have felt burning hot against him. 

His hands ran up and down your sides as he held you against him, feeling every bit of you he could. 

Finally, you sunk back against the mattress and were trapped under him once again. 

His hand slid down your front and two fingers pushed inside you.

You felt his sharp intake of breath as they pushed inside and saw that incessant smugness return, the worship on his face falling behind it. 

“You’re so wet, is this all for me?” he asked.

You nodded, hoping that was the answer that would get you more.

You felt yourself clench around him and he moaned at the sensation. 

“Please,” he asked, “I need to be inside you. I’ll go so slow, make sure you’re alright, just need to feel you.”

You didn’t need any convincing. 

He was so thick, pausing with every little push inside to let you accommodate the stretch before pushing impossibly further into you. 

Finally, he bottomed out, pressing kisses all over your face to distract you from the burn. 

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured into your skin, refusing to pull away even to speak.

Finally the burn settled, although the stretch never really went away.

You rocked up against him experimentally and his cock rubbed perfectly against your walls. 

You tried once more but he pushed your hips down, leaving you unable to move. 

You looked up at him with big, questioning eyes.

He smiled down at you like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. “Ask nicely,” he insisted and you were too far gone to do anything but comply.

“Please, I need you,” you cried.

“You have me. What do you need.”

He was going to make you say it. “I need you to fuck me.”

Those seemed to be the magic words. As soon as they left your mouth he started to move. 

His head was buried in your neck as he thrusted into you and there was no more fear, it had all dissipated, even the little slivers hiding in the corners of the old stories you’d been told. 

Every nightmare and monster under your bed had been replaced with his face and you didn’t have it in you to be afraid of him any longer. 

He moved gently, like he didn’t want to break you.

You weren’t so sure you didn’t want to be broken. 

“More, harder,” you pleaded.

He hesitated and so you kept begging. “Please, I want to feel it in the morning

That did the trick, his hips snapping into you with a punishing force. 

“Yeah? I can do that. You’ll be so sore tomorrow but it’ll be alright because I’m going to take such good care of you. Anything you want you’ll have. I take care of my humans, I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

The phrase did something to you. You were his human now. It didn’t feel possessive it just felt right because you knew you had given a piece of yourself to him. 

The faster pace was sending you both hurtling toward your climaxes. 

His hand snaked down to rub your clit as he pounded into you, your hips rising to meet his. 

Finally something inside you snapped and you clung to him as waves of pleasure overtook you completely. 

His pace didn’t slow as your orgasm calmed. You were sensitive and a little sore but still the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. 

With one final punishing snap of his hips, you felt him come inside of you, a strangled moan sounding from him as he left sloppy kisses across your neck and slowly rolled his hips into you until the waves of his orgasm subsided.

For a while he just lay there, half on top of you, doing his best to keep from crushing you as he panted.

“How’re you feeling?” He finally asked, rising up a little to look at you. “You nice and relaxed for me?”

If you’d been any less exhausted you would’ve rolled your eyes at him and found some retort. As it stood, you just nodded, your arms still wrapped around him, keeping him close.

“Alright,” he said, looking down at you with a soft gaze. “Human instinct means that the second I break skin, for one moment you will struggle. You’ll lash out at me so I’m going to have to pin you down, okay? Anytime after that first moment you’re free to back out but just for at the start I have to hold you still.”

You nodded. “You’ll hold me down but I say red and you’ll stop.”

“Exactly.”

He pinned your legs firmly below him, wrapping one hand around your wrists to hold them in place. The other hand drifted to your chin, gently tilting your head to the side. 

His fingertips brushed over your neck, ghosting over your pulse. You could feel it pounding and you’re sure he could too. If he could smell your fear all those days ago you couldn’t even imagine what he must be smelling now. 

His breathing was unsteady as he stared at you with naked hunger. 

He licked over the spot on your neck first, like he was marking you before slowly resting his fangs over top of your skin. 

You pulled your head even further to the side, begging him to break skin.

He finally did and for a moment, you lashed out, the pain inciting some buried instinct in you. 

And then the fight faded and all you were left with was a sense of peace. 

You were powerless beneath him. He could bleed you dry right now, pinned under him. You knew he wouldn’t.

There was something calming about being completely at someone’s mercy. He lapped your blood up, his body warming as he fed from you, and you felt more relaxed than you ever had before, as you gave this piece of yourself to him. 

The pain had faded so far away. The only way you could recognize it was by seeing it as another thing you’d feel in the morning, another thing you knew Rook would diligently take care of. 

And he’d do it with the energy and life you were giving him now, the bit of you that you were allowing him to take. 

He tried to pull away from your neck but your fingers knotted into his hair, trying to keep him close. He rejected your attempt, pulling away to send his lips crashing into yours. The metallic taste of blood seeped into your mouth as you returned his kiss, desperate and pleading. 

You felt just as hungry as he was.

The kiss finally ended as he went to bandage to wound you’d half forgotten about, settling back against your neck as soon as he cleaned the remaining blood dripping down you. 

The sheets, on the other hand, did not look like they could be saved. 

He snorted into your neck and you pulled back to get a good look at him.

“What’s so funny?” you asked. 

“I won,” he said with a smile. 

“What?”

“Our game. I think I won.”

“Are you trying to piss me off?” you asked with a laugh.

“Maybe.”

You just laid there for a few minutes, lounging against him before he moved to get up. 

You whined at him but he made no move to stop. He walked across the room and returned with a glass of water and a plate of cookies.  

“I told you I’d take care of you,” he said as he handed them off.

“My hero.”

He settled back in next to you as you started in on one of the cookies. 

“So you really want to stay?”

You nodded, barely even processing the question. “I already said yes,” you mumbled.

He shook his head. “No, I need you to listen. Do you want to stay, to join everyone here, to become mine?”

Your brows furrowed. “I’d be yours?”

He nodded. “They’re all mine, just as much as I belong to all of them. To all of you. Don’t you remember, all those promises you made before you came? I made them too, you know. To care for you all, to always have your best interests at heart, to give a piece of yourself away. All the vows, you have to mean it this time.”

“I already mean them. You want to be mine?” you asked, wiping a stray drop of your blood off of his chin.

“I do.”

[lumiolivier]

In Another Life

Series: One Piece

Word Count: 5153

Rating: T

Pairing(s): ZoSan

A party at Mihawk's (or his desperate attempt to socialize his protege) takes a strange turn when Zoro hears a piano upstairs.

(I've also never written One Piece fic before. Please be gentle.)

Zoro never saw any point in the large, lavish parties.  Nobility or not, Zoro didn’t understand Mihawk’s appreciation to peacock himself.  And for what?  To show off?  To make connections that he’ll ultimately break?  Of course not.  Mihawk had a difference reason for this particular party.  Mihawk was to hold…a flesh auction of sorts.  Not for money or anything like that.  To see his young protégé finally not mope around their villa another summer.

“Do we have to do this, Mihawk?” Zoro whined as he went through yet another suit fitting, “Can’t I just sit this out?”

“No,” Mihawk stood his ground, watching the tailor’s hands work quickly, “You’re going.  Like it or not.”

“I’m leaning toward the not part.”

“Zoro,” Mihawk groaned, “How long has it been since you even knew what a woman looked like?”

“I’ve seen women before,” Zoro rolled his eyes, beyond irritated with him, “It’s not like I’m a stranger to people.”

“Then, why do you always act like it?” Mihawk asked, “Zoro’s too good to be around other people.  Zoro’s always going to be off by himself.  Zoro would rather be alone playing with his sword than having someone else play with it for him.”

“Can we not be disgusting?”

“Can you simply humor me for the night?” Mihawk ordered, “It’s not like I’m asking you for a vital organ, Zoro.  I’m asking you to actually socialize.  Locking yourself away isn’t good for you.”

“Do I not see you every day?” Zoro pointed out, jerking at the pin prick in his hip, “Ow!  What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry,” the tailor winced.

“Don’t make it a habit,” Zoro let it go.

“I’m serious, Zoro,” Mihawk insisted, “You need to be more socialized.  You’d be amazed at what a little elbow rubbing will get you.  Consider this another lesson.”

“You teach me in the ways of the blade,” Zoro reminded him, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Then, consider it a bonus,” Mihawk did his best to hold his composure, but the thought of running Zoro through with his own blade gave him much temptation.  But then, it dawned on him.  What had Zoro so antisocial.  But he needed to guide the conversation in the right direction, “Why do you refuse to make any connections?”

“I don’t need them,” Zoro blew him off, idly staring into the mirror in any other direction but his own eyes.

And that’s when all of Mihawk’s theories made sense, “Is this about Kuina?”

Zoro’s jaw tensed up at the mere mention of her name.  The last time he ever truly got close to someone.  His grief tightened up in his stomach.  And he shot a piercing glare at Mihawk, “You had no right.  You had no business bringing her into it.”

“So, it is a Kuina problem,” Mihawk shooed away the tailor and sat at the edge of Zoro’s bed.

And without hesitation, Zoro drew his blade from its sheathe.  Even when being poked and prodded at by the tailor, he wouldn’t be caught without it on him.  He held the tip of his blade in Mihawk’s face, “I said, you have no business speaking her name.  Drop it.”

“And what have I always told you?” Mihawk lowered Zoro’s blade, “Don’t draw your blade unless you intend to draw blood.  Calm yourself.”

Zoro wanted his blade to taste blood.  To let the iron fortify the blade even more.  But he conceded and returned his sword to its sheathe, “I stand by what I said.”

“As do I,” Mihawk assured him, “You will be there.  And for a change, you will be socialized.  Do we understand each other?”

“Please, Mihawk,” Zoro begged, “Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Mihawk got up from the bed and started walking out, “I’m merely saying you’re going to be there.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“I’m not putting bamboo splinters under your fingernails, Zoro,” Mihawk started walking out, “You’ll live.  It’s just one night.”

The moment the door closed, Zoro threw himself into his bed, hoping to get in a quick nap.  Yeah.  It’s just one night.  Easy for you to say.  You’re used to this garbage.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to get in a drink or two.  Or three.  The prospects of the evening started to sound a little better.  Mihawk usually does bring out the top shelf booze for this.  Maybe it won’t be so bad.  As long as he’s not lining them up for me, we should be fine.  Zoro stared up into the gilded ceiling.  Maybe tonight won’t be so bad.  And slowly, Zoro started to drift off. 

But then, night fell over the palace.  And the staff were abuzz with party preparations, decorating, showering the palace in all the lavish furnishings and fabrics Mihawk insisted upon.  And of course, Mihawk oversaw everything.  From the colors, the textures in the drapery to the food left out for the guests to help themselves to, nothing would be put out without Mihawk’s seal of approval.  Which brought him to his next task.  Quite possibly the most important one he had.  Making sure his flight risk protégé didn’t prove himself a flight risk.  Alright, Zoro.  Where have you run off to?

Mihawk checked the gardens, the stables, the library, the study.  Zoro was nowhere to be found.  But then, he realized who exactly he had been looking for.  And the one place he failed to look.  Mihawk trudged upstairs and knocked on Zoro’s bedroom door.  And was met with silence.  I know you’re not napping at a time like this, Zoro.  At least you better not be.  Mihawk didn’t bother with the invitation and walked into Zoro’s bedroom.  Sure enough, still sleeping like a baby, Zoro continued to drool on himself, ever so slightly.

“Oh, Zoro,” Mihawk let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, “You’re lucky I don’t want you dead.  Get up.”

“Mmm…” Zoro rolled over, ignoring Mihawk entirely.

“You know,” Mihawk sat at the edge of the bed, “I have you mostly pegged as a flight risk.  But I should know better.  And truly, that’s on me.  Because why would you run from tonight’s party when you could simply sleep through it?”

“You’re letting me sleep through it?” Zoro mumbled into his pillow, “Thanks, Mihawk.  I knew you’d understand.”

“Zoro…” Mihawk growled, “If you’re not awake, alert, and fully dressed in the next hour, I am taking all of your swords and running them through different parts of your body. Do you understand?”

“Alright!” Zoro snapped, reluctantly rolling off his bed, “I’m up.  There.  Happy now?”

“Quite,” Mihawk praised, “Thank you.  Go on.  Your suit should be finished and in the closet.”

“Wonderful,” Zoro dragged himself toward his bathroom.  But he made a quick stop at his closet, noticing the garment bag hanging in it.

“You could’ve chosen any color under the rainbow,” Mihawk pointed out, “And yet, you decide to go with black.”

“It’s simple,” Zoro took the hanger and brought it with him, “Is that a problem?”

“Not what I would’ve chosen for you personally,” Mihawk shrugged, “If I had my say, it would’ve been a deep red.  It’d suit you.”

“Black is good, too,” Zoro brushed him off and shut the door behind him.

Mihawk rested his head on his knees, beyond done with Zoro’s reluctance.  It still seemed like yesterday this sad boy begged at his knee to teach him the ways of the blade.  Better than what anyone had ever taught him before.  And how irritating he was then.  But the fire in those sad eyes got to him.  And Mihawk couldn’t tell him no.  His raw talent was too good to just throw away.  It needed to be nurtured and cultivated into something great.  However, it was a shame Mihawk couldn’t do the same for Zoro’s personality.  At least, that was how Mihawk saw it.

“Zoro,” Mihawk leaned against Zoro’s bathroom door, grateful to hear the bathtub running, “If you need anything, come find me.”

“What about the house staff?” Zoro asked, already slipping into his bath water.

“They’re busy,” Mihawk insisted, “You find me directly.  Alright?”

“Fine,” Zoro shut his eyes again, doing his best not to fall back asleep.  But he knew sleep would elude him.  He had bigger things on his mind.  Why would Mihawk be so hellbent on me finding someone at this party?  Is he really getting that sick of me?  I thought we were good.  It’s not like he’s asking me for a kidney.  I guess I’ll suck it up for the night.  It’s just one night, right?  Unless I have to sit and deal with whoever ends up finding me tonight for the rest of my life.  Ugh…Just what I need.  I can’t just have a good night with some decent booze, can I? 

As time passed, Mihawk took one last look at himself in the mirror, appreciating what he saw.  Because there’d be no way that at the very least Mihawk would go with a cold bed tonight.  However, this party wasn’t for him.  And as he walked down the hall, he kept his fingers crossed.  Please, Zoro.  Don’t tell me you went back to sleep.  Tell me you didn’t continue your nap in the bathtub.  Tell me you’re fully dressed and ready for this party.  Because I don’t think my heart can handle you still being in shambles. 

“Zoro?” Mihawk didn’t even bother knocking.  He just walked right into Zoro’s bedroom. 

Where Zoro had come out of the bathroom, doing his best to figure out how cufflinks worked, “You call for me?”

“Thank God,” Mihawk let out a sigh of relief, getting an eyeful of his prodigy.  Although, he couldn’t help himself, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to put these damn things on,” Zoro continued his struggle, “How does anyone put these on?”

“One cufflink at a time,” Mihawk took them away and pulled on Zoro’s sleeve, “Honestly, Zoro.  Have I not taught you better?”

“In a perfect world,” Zoro grumbled, “This shirt would’ve had buttons on it like I asked.”

“But,” Mihawk stood his ground, “I told them purposefully to leave the buttons off because of the cufflinks I got for you.”

“You didn’t get those for me,” Zoro pointed out, “You won them in a poker game.  That I watched you cheat at.”

“You get my point,” Mihawk hushed him, “Is this the kind of attitude I can expect tonight?  Because I’m not canceling.  There are already guests arriving.  And you’re not going to embarrass me.”

“Do forgive me,” Zoro rolled his eyes, still wanting no part of this.  Unless it had a proof on it.

“Zoro,” Mihawk begged, “Please.  At least try to have a good time tonight.”

“Fine,” Zoro caved, already with his eye on a good sake.

“Thank you,” Mihawk finished off his cufflinks, “Now, go downstairs.  Go meet a nice girl.  Call it a night.  Will that be so difficult for you?”

“Probably not,” Zoro walked out of the safety of his bedroom with a sword on one hip and two swords on the other.  Because he wasn’t going to leave without a little piece of Kuina on him.

Once he made it to the ballroom, Zoro established a nest.  Granted, he knew he wasn’t going to be at one of the tables in the back.  Oh, no.  That meant going unseen.  The head table was where he’d be.  That didn’t mean he couldn’t still make his nest.  He had a bottle of sake for the table and his favorite bottle opener.  Carefully, he ran his blade along the cork and started drinking.  Although, the sudden pop caught some attention.  Zoro knocked the bottom of the bottle on the table, tipped it toward the ceiling and got his first drink down.  Just a little something to take the edge off.  And he could tell right then and there.

This party would be his hell.

The last thing he wanted to do was sit and listen to Mihawk talk shop with the other nobility.  He didn’t care how their businesses were doing.  He didn’t care about their personal lives.  None of that interested him.  If the goal was for Mihawk to find a lovely young lady to keep Zoro warm for the evening, the bottle of sake was a much better place to look.  No one was even worth Zoro giving them a chance.  He just wanted to spend a little time alone.  However, at the height of the party, Mihawk wasn’t going to let him leave so easily.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mihawk grabbed Zoro’s wrist.

“Bathroom,” Zoro brushed him off, “If that’s alright with you.”

“Fine,” Mihawk stopped him, “It’s funny, Zoro.  I haven’t seen you with anyone all night.  In fact, you’ve hardly strayed from my side.”

“Maybe you should’ve invited better guests,” Zoro played it off like he didn’t care, but he was bored out of his skull and he wanted nothing more than to…use the bathroom.  Yes.  The bathroom.  Just as he told Mihawk.

“Or better yet,” Mihawk growled, “Someone else should be a little more personable.  I asked you one thing, Zoro.  And I need you to come through on that.”

“So,” Zoro groaned, “Do I get to go to the bathroom or not?”

“Go,” Mihawk let him go, “Maybe you’ll sober up some.”

“Yeah,” Zoro walked away.  Wouldn’t that be a damn shame?  He couldn’t stand it anymore.  He wanted nothing more than to escape that party the second he stepped foot in it.  The ballroom was abuzz with activity, with people dancing, with people talking.  It was maddening.  And Zoro wanted nothing more than some peace.  And if he had to retreat to the bathroom to get that peace, then so be it. 

However, on his way, the faint sound of a piano caught his attention.  The band played in the ballroom, but none of them had a piano.  It was oddly soothing.  The only room with a piano in it was the drawing room and it was a rarity anyone was ever in there.  Regardless, Zoro followed the sound.  Because anything was better than the overcrowded party in the ballroom and going back to Mihawk.  And someone had to have been playing it.  Zoro would finally socialize the way Mihawk wanted him to.  And then, Mihawk wouldn’t have a reason to throw a tantrum.

The closer Zoro got to the piano, the faster it played.  He just wanted Mihawk off his back.  But he kept a tight grip on his sword hilts.  Faster and faster, the piano played on.  Zoro couldn’t even recognize the song.  But once he got to the piano, no one was there.  Zoro scratched his head.  Where the hell was that coming from?  I know I heard a piano up here.  It’s right there.  So, who was playing it?  Regardless, Zoro knew there was someone up there.  There was someone who wandered away from the party.  And no doubt with Mihawk’s treasures in mind.  So, he drew his blade.

“Show yourself,” he called out to the empty room.  And yet, silence.  Zoro looked all around the piano.  Still nothing, “I said, show yourself!”

And yet, the still silence remained.  Zoro sat on the bench, still not sure where the music came from.  He put his fingers to the keys.  Where was it coming from?  Am I finally losing it?  There was a piano playing in here, right?  Clearly, there’s a piano.  But who was playing it?  Zoro let it go and rested his head on the keys, letting out a messy chord.  Whoever it was, at least I get some peace and quiet for a change.  I told you already, Mihawk.  This party was pointless.  I need the rest more than I need to socialize.  But just as Zoro sat back up, a sudden chill ran through his head.

“Soft…” a voice echoed through the mostly empty room.

“Who are you?” Zoro stood up and drew his blade, “Show yourself!”

“Soft…” the voice spoke again, “Like moss…”

“I said, show yourself!” Zoro spun his blade, waiting for someone to show up, “I won’t ask again.”

“I heard you the first time,” the voice moaned, “I can’t help it.  I’m shy.”

“Then, tell me who you are,” Zoro looked around for where the voice was coming from and yet…There was no one there.

“I guess it’d be rude of me not to talk to you face to face,” the voice finally took form on the piano.  A man, “You’re easily worked up, mosshead.  Did you know that?”

Zoro had seen a lot in his time.  But never did he see someone apparate out of thin air, “Where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Thank you for proving my point,” he laughed, “Like I said, you’re easily worked up.  And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just saw a ghost.”

“I…” Zoro blinked a couple times, still coming to grips with what he just saw, “I…Are you a ghost?”

“Unfortunately,” his incorporeal legs dangled over the edge of the piano, “I am sorry if I startled you.  But your piano was too pretty to pass up.  Do you live here?”

“Last time I checked,” Zoro backed away, “I’m almost positive there’s a priest downstairs.  You need to go.”

“No…” the ghost begged, “Please.  I don’t want to go yet.  I heard the party downstairs and…It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a good party.”

“Who are you?” Zoro asked, “There’s no way you’re just some random ghost that busted into Mihawk’s house like this.”

“Mihawk…Mihawk…” the ghost thought it over, “No.  Sorry.  Not ringing any bells.  But you think I could see?”

“See what?” Zoro scoffed, “Mihawk’s sham of a party?”

“Sham?” he wondered, “What makes it a sham, mosshead?”

“Would you quit calling me that?” Zoro rolled his eyes.

“And I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours,” the ghost laid on his stomach, his elbows up on the back of the piano, “Deal?”

“Why should I tell you my name?” Zoro argued, “I’m not the one who lured me up here.”

“Did you like it?” the ghost asked, “It got a little heavy toward its end, but someone was coming and I figured I’d get out as much as I could.”

“Not really my thing,” Zoro brushed him off, “It’s Zoro, by the way.  Roranoa Zoro.”

“Sounds like a mouthful,” the ghost rolled over to his back, “Tell you what.  If you bring me down to that party you say is downstairs, I’ll tell you my name.”

“That wasn’t our deal,” Zoro pointed out, “You said you’d tell me yours if I told you mine.”

“So, I’m renegotiating a little,” he shrugged, “Come on, Zoro.  Please?  I’ve been up here for a thousand years and I’d love to see a good party.”

“Have you really?” Zoro asked, “You’ve been a ghost for that long?”

“Not really,” he giggled under his breath, “I’ve only been like this for the last couple years.”

“And,” Zoro started to relax a bit more, sitting back down at the piano, “What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I got stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean,” he told him, “And I didn’t have anyone to come rescue me.  It was a long few months being out there, but now, I’m free.  I can come and go through here all I want.  And no one’s going to tell me no.”

“What if I told you no?” Zoro argued.

“But you won’t.  Do you know how I know that?”

‘How?”

“Because,” the ghost smiled, “You haven’t looked away from me for the last ten minutes.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you thought I was cute.”

“Please,” Zoro shook him off, “Why would I think that?”

“Because I am cute,” the ghost retaliated, “I mean…Come on, Zoro.  Look at me.”

“Yeah,” Zoro scoffed, “I’m sure you had all the ladies swoon over you in your living life.”

“You’d be amazed,” he got up from the piano, “Would you feel more comfortable if I was more tangible?”

“What do you mean?” Zoro looked at the ghost strangely, “You can do that?”

“Of course, I can,” the ghost’s translucency went away as he sat on the bench next to Zoro and held his hand, “See?  I’m just as solid as you are.  Truly, mosshead, I’m starting to think I’m the first ghost you ever met.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Zoro got up from the bench and checked the liquor cabinet.  And came up short, “Damn…”

“What?”

“I was looking for a drink,” Zoro told him, “But it looks like I have to go downstairs for that.”

“And I could come with you,” the ghost insisted, doing a little spin, showing off his dark, pinstriped suit, “It’s not like I’m not dressed for the occasion.  Please?  I just want one party.”

Zoro wanted to go back to the party like he wanted to be shot in his foot.  But his curiosity got the better of him.  All he wanted was to know who haunted the halls of Mihawk’s mansion.  And if that meant him going back to the party, then so be it.  But that would come with some stipulations, “If we go down there, are other people going to be able to see you?”

“Just as much as you can see me now,” he nodded, “They’ll also be able to feel me, too.  I’ll be just as tangible as anyone else in the room.  They’ll have no idea I’m a ghost.”

“And,” Zoro went on, “What will you being at this party entail?”

“I just want to go to this party,” the ghost fell back over the piano, “Is that so much to ask?”

“It’s one of Mihawk’s parties,” Zoro grumbled under his breath, “So, yes.  It is.  Fine.  I’ll take you downstairs.”

“Wonderful!” he hopped down from the piano, “Let’s go!”

Zoro knew he’d live to regret this night, but if it meant him having Mihawk out of his hair, he’d be alright with it.  And so, the two went back downstairs to the ballroom where the hustle and bustle seemed to only get bigger.  Zoro rolled his eyes at the spectacle.  Great.  Just wonderful.  And yet, he looked over at the ghost, who couldn’t have been more thrilled to see such a beautiful ballroom.  The food, the string quartet, the people, the dancing.  It all completely swooned him. 

“Zoro…” the ghost took his hand, “Thank you.  I don’t think you realize it, but this is the best gift you could’ve given me.”

And in that moment, there was a strange tug in Zoro’s chest.  One that he didn’t know was possible.  But it managed to force a smile onto his face, “You’re welcome.  I’m glad I could do this for you.”

“And I know it’s making you uncomfortable,” the ghost took his arm, “But really.  It’s not going unappreciated.”

“Don’t mention it,” Zoro shook him off, “I’m going to go get a drink.  Can you do that?”

“I can,” the ghost nodded, “If it’s not too much trouble, cabernet.”

“What the hell is cabernet?”

“Oh, dear, sweet Zoro,” the ghost teased him, “It’s the one in the pretty black bottle.  Probably with a red label.  Says cabernet on it.  Maybe even Cabernet Sauvignon.  You can read, can’t you?”

“Of course, I can read!” Zoro snapped, “And now that I’m thinking about it, I brought you to your party.  You still haven’t told me your name.”

“My memory’s a little fuzzy,” the ghost sighed out, “Maybe a little red will bring it to light.”

Great.  This one thinks he’s funny.  I’m keeping you away from the actual clown here.  Regardless of Zoro’s opinions, he was still a man on a mission.  And there was a beautiful bottle of sake sitting unattended on the top shelf.  And next to it were all of Mihawk’s wines.  Zoro skimmed through the labels, hoping to find one that said cabernet on it.  Fortunately, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sat on the shelf.  He let out a little sigh of relief as he poured a glass for his new…friend.  Or the ghost that seemed to attach himself to Zoro.  And he knew the rest of the night would be miserable, so Zoro just grabbed the sake bottle.

“Here,” Zoro sat at his spot at the table and put the wine in front of him, “I got your stupid wine.”

“Mm…” the ghost picked up his glass and meticulously studied his wine.

“What?” Zoro scoffed, “Afraid I poisoned it?  You’re already a ghost.  Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a sadist?” the ghost assumed.

“I’m not a sadist,” Zoro took a heavy drink straight from the bottle.

“Fine, fine,” the ghost backed off, “But…I suppose I couldn’t trouble you for a dance, could I?”

“You said you wanted your party,” Zoro pointed out, “You didn’t say anything about me having to participate.”

“Please, Mossy?” the ghost begged, “If you dance with me, I’ll tell you my name.”

“Uh-huh,” Zoro rolled his eyes, “You also said you’d tell me your name if I brought you to this party.  And you’d tell me your name if I got you your wine.  Why should I believe you’ll tell me your name if I give you a dance?”

“Because,” the ghost rested his head on Zoro’s shoulder, “I asked nicely for that dance.  And I swear on my past life and my current one that I will tell you my name.  But you have to dance with me.”

Zoro hated his own curiosity.  But he wasn’t going to break.  Instead, he just got up from the table, “I’m going to go get some air.”

“Wait, Zoro,” the ghost called after him, “Don’t go.”

“Don’t follow me,” Zoro took the bottle with him, “I don’t need this party.  I don’t need the socializing like Mihawk said.  And I sure as hell don’t need to be jerked around by some fucking ghost.”

“Zoro…”

But Zoro was already gone.  Lost in the crowd.  He really did just need to get some air.  Something about the gardens were quite peaceful.  Zoro found himself under the gazebo and sat on the cold ground.  It’s just some damn ghost.  Why am I letting him get to me so much?  Zoro knew the reason.  Zoro knew exactly what it was.  And he hated himself for thinking it.  Because it meant proving Mihawk right.  It’s because it’s not her.  I would’ve thought if I had a ghost attached to me, it’d be Kuina.  Why?  Why does it have to be him?  I don’t even know what his name is.  Why is he getting to me this bad?

“Zoro…” a familiar voice floated through the air.

“I thought I told you not to follow me,” Zoro grumbled.

“I know,” the ghost sat with him, “Why’d you run off?”

“I had a lot on my mind,” Zoro kept cryptic, “I needed somewhere to make it all stop for a while.”

“If it was because of me,” the ghost took his hands, “I’m sorry.  I really don’t mean to jerk you around like that.  It’s just been a while since I had anyone do anything for me.  I liked it a little too much.”

“Oh,” Zoro let it go.  But there was a sense of peace in his thoughts again.  And the music drifted outside.  Zoro got back on his feet and offered the ghost his hand.

“What’s this for?”

“What else?” Zoro shrugged, “You did say you’d give me your name if I gave you a dance.”

“Oh?” the ghost managed to muster up a smile, “Alright.  But ask me properly.”

“What?” Zoro looked at him strangely, “What do you mean, ask you properly?  Do you want to dance or not?”

“Wow,” the ghost giggled a bit, “What a gentleman.  Hard to believe you haven’t been married off ten times over by now.”

“The sarcasm is not appreciated,” Zoro took the ghost’s hand and pulled him a little closer.

“Alright,” the ghost teased him, “I see someone’s not feeling shy anymore.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the ghost reveled in the feeling of someone else’s touch.  And in Zoro’s movements, “Hey…Mossy…Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Zoro started to relax a little more, the sake finally hitting his bloodstream.

“Do you think…” the ghost nestled his head in Zoro’s shoulder, “Maybe we met in a past life?”

“I don’t know,” Zoro spun him around, “Maybe.  How do you think we met?”

“I don’t know,” the ghost thought it over, “Maybe we met on a boat.  A big boat.  With a restaurant on it.”

“Maybe we hated each other.”

“But maybe…We didn’t.”

“What?” Zoro wondered, “You think we were friends?”

“I think we were more than that,” the ghost admitted, “But you have your thoughts of our past life together and I’ll have mine.  We’ll close our eyes and pretend like both are real.”

“Who knows if our past lives together are real or not?” Zoro brushed it off, “But…We got tonight, don’t we?”

“Zoro…” the ghost awed, “That’s the sweetest thing you could’ve said to me.”

“Don’t read too much into it.” But Zoro couldn’t take his eyes off the ghost’s.  So deep, so beautiful…And his face so soft and gentle…And the ghost’s slender hips against his own…And he found his peace.

In the silence, the ghost couldn’t help himself.  He knew there was no way Zoro would make a move.  So, the ghost moved into Zoro’s face, barely an inch away.  And to his surprise, Zoro pulled the ghost in for a deep, sweet, and tender kiss.  One that put everything into alignment.  And everything would be ok.  When he pulled away, Zoro still couldn’t believe it happened.  On his list of things that could’ve happened that night, kissing a ghost in the garden was not on it.

“Zoro…” the ghost’s voice broke, “You…”

“Again,” Zoro blushed, “Don’t read too far into it.”

“Fine,” the ghost couldn’t stop smiling, “Do you really want to know what my name is that badly?”

“After that…” Zoro admitted, “I don’t even care anymore, Ghost.  Tell me.  Don’t tell me.  But…I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to do that again.”

“Well,” the ghost rocked back on his heels, “What if I wanted to?”

“Then,” Zoro thought, “I guess I’d have to prove you wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

Zoro pulled the ghost back in, his kiss getting deeper, his tongue finding its way into the ghost’s mouth, “I can be a gentleman if I want to be one.”

“Is that so?” the ghost melted inside, “Why couldn’t I have met you in my living life?”

“Because,” Zoro pointed out, “Then, I would’ve had to mourn you twice.”

“Zoro…” the ghost gave him one last little kiss, “My name is Sanji.”

[argisthebulwark]

begging for the “i don’t want to admit i love you” sex to be vilkas. beg. ging.

ur so right, anon. it's obviously nsfw so it's going under a cut! minors don't read or interact, it's sexually explicit. Vilkas/Harbinger. this is the first thing i've written in like. 3 months lol. thank you!!

“Anyone could have seen us.”

“No one saw us, I assure you.”

“And how do you know this? You were making enough noise to wake the dead.”

“Is it my fault for this? When you were the one making me -”

“I am to blame for making you feel too good?” His nose bumped against mine, skin tingling everywhere it touched his. “Should I stop, then?” My fingers itched to close the gap, to draw him closer until there was no discerning between our bodies. His low voice rumbled through the chamber, heating every bit of my body. I could summon no answer - there was no point in lying, in denying the pure bliss only Vilkas could draw out of me. But what was there to say instead? Admitting how he made me feel was far too dangerous. His dark eyes simmered with undisguised lust I struggled to ignore. 

“Tell me, Harbinger.” His lips slid down my throat, stubble only adding to the intoxication of being touched by him. “What would happen if someone spotted us?” 

Long fingers wound around my waist and drew me into his chest. Every bit of sense left in my mind bid me to run from him before he broke down my walls again but he felt too good to let go. My arms rose seemingly of their own accord to wrap around his broad shoulders, feeding the need to be closer to him. 

“I would look unprofessional.” I gasped when sharp teeth grazed down my shoulder, nimble fingers undoing the careful braid of my hair. “I would appear to be an unfit leader by sleeping with my second in command.”

“Oh yes.” Vilkas practically moaned the words into my skin. “I would lose the respect of all the new recruits.”

“Yes.” He’d barely touched me but I found myself panting, begging for more of him. Clamping down on the thought of asking for more - more of his touch, his breath, more of him was easy. Practiced.

“There would be talk.” There was something exhilarating about his words. The idea of getting caught was terrifying but under the fear there was something exciting about Vilkas being mine. My skin prickled at the idea, face coloring when his fingers guided my lips so close to his. I felt every breath but hesitated. I couldn’t simply dive in, couldn’t let him see how badly I wanted him. 

“There would be rumors, Harbinger. We would lose control. And we can’t have that.”

Winding my fingers into his hair I reminded myself that our meetings were purely physical, a release from the high tension of running such a large Guild. It was difficult to remember when Vilkas’ fingers unstrapped my armor without missing a beat as if he’d memorized them. When he gazed down at me, lips parted and whispering my name I reminded myself that he wanted nothing more of me than what I wanted of him. We’d made a deal.

“This has to mean nothing.” I reminded Vilkas as his lips brushed over mine. The slightest hint of his kiss already had me weak at the knees but he couldn’t see what he truly did to me. 

“Of course, my Harbinger,” he breathed those words against my lips. “We are nothing.” 

Forgetting those words was too easy once we fell into bed, sweaty skin sticking together and desperate moans drowning out the crackling fire. All rational thought banished by Vilkas’ hands keeping me close, hips pounding into mine and praise dripping from his tongue. I grasped his shoulders, nails leaving selfish marks into the skin of his back where I clung to him. I couldn’t bear meeting his gaze. That look was in his eye, the one that taunted me to acknowledge that something had blossomed between us long ago. Each thrust, every kiss trailed down my body, everywhere he touched I fought back the words threatening to ruin it all. 

“Look at me.” He murmured, surely knowing I was on the precipice of orgasming. My cheeks were hot when he grasped my face, drawing my gaze from the ceiling to meet his. Vilkas’ smirk was like nothing I’d ever seen before, so sure of himself. “I want you to look at me when you cum.”

“Why?” My fingers tugged at his hips, desperate for him to allow me to finish. I was so close, nerves tingling and muscles tightening but his hands kept me in place. The question threw him off a bit - the muscles in his back flexed under my hold as he leaned closer. 

Refusing to answer he snatched my hips, dragging my body to his. His cock thrust deep into me but I held his gaze, never breaking. While my vision became blurry with stars and our mingled moans filled the room I watched him. Vilkas stuttered through his own orgasm and amidst the haze of lust I saw it there, that terrifying love clear as day in his beautiful brown eyes. 

Prepared for his usual exit I cleared my throat, embarrassed at the thoughts clouding my mind. Without his cock in me it was easier to recall the purpose of these visits - relieve some tension before a good night's sleep. To my surprise Vilkas did not grab his armor and make haste back to his own chambers. He remained, dark hair spread over my stomach where he rested between my legs. 

Something deep in my chest broke at the sight. Vilkas traced an old scar running up my thigh, the other hand clasping mine. That aching loneliness that always found me after his departure was banished by the sight of him tangled in my bedding and the stray kiss he placed upon my sticky skin. I didn’t dare say a word, afraid of breaking whatever spell kept him in place. 

I could not love him. 

It was unreasonable to be in love with Vilkas. Unbecoming. Inopportune. Unprofessional.

And yet, when he finally met my eyes I could do nothing to hide the hammering of my heart. When his fingers tightened around mine and offered to share a warm bath I found myself agreeing. Even as he sank into the warm water next to me, muscled arms drawing me closer I could not admit the terrible truth to myself lest I lose what little piece of him I’d gained. 

[hirayaea]

love and deepspace drabble — “partner”

—“don’t you trust me to wait for you?”

—or, alternatively: the first time they become partners

—xavier/mc

—notes: I thought this would be part of a longer fic. maybe it will be. I have a 5 page WIP with a dozen different scenarios and I don’t know where it’s going. I haven’t written in a long time, and this feels like an ‘in between the moments’ piece more than anything. I’m still in the process of moving so I thought I’d post something I already made a while back while I’m on break! it’s simple and short but enjoy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

—warning: maybe mild “shooting star” anecdote / myth spoilers

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。

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You remember sitting next to him, pencil in hand, doodling a flower in your notebook during art class.

“Do you like flowers?” you write at the top corner of the paper, tapping over it twice so he would notice. He is torn between paying attention to you or listening to the teacher, but you both have gotten into enough trouble to know what he will choose.

He glances at you, a small smile on his face, and shrugs. Then he begins writing, “It depends. Do you like flowers?”

His smile is so boyish and cute; it makes your entire face red enough that you have to turn away. Joy blooms in your chest and you have to suppress the sudden urge to smile like an idiot.

When you face him again, he is looking at you, his eyes the reflection of a clear blue sky before rain. The intensity of his gaze causes the heat to spread to your ears and neck; you almost forget yourself, but he mimics you and taps over his note.

Oh, right!

“Yes,” you reply.

He looks pensive before he scribbles again. “What do you like more, stars or flowers?”

You pretend to be deep in thought and tap your pencil on your chin. Then, “I like both,” you write; you’re aware it’s cheeky, and your grin is as wide as it is mischievous. You draw a large star around the flower you first drew, and put a comet tail so it looked like it was shooting off to space.

Xavier shakes his head in amusement. “That’s greedy,” he writes.

You wanted to retort but the sound of loud chatter stops you. Your classmates had begun to move their chairs; your art exercise was starting, and the girls of your class are quick to ask Xavier to be their partner.

You pout and watch them from the corner of your eyes as you begin to pack up your notebook. You clearly weren’t listening to the teacher, so you had no right to complain that you didn’t ask Xavier first when you didn’t even know what was happening.

You’re about to stand when Xavier calls your name.

“Where are you going?”

You pretend to be anything but upset. “I’m off to look for a partner,” you say, brushing an invisible speck of dust from your skirt.

“You’re not choosing me?”

When you look up at him, he looks like a sad puppy, and you try and pretend it didn’t make your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“I thought someone else beat me to it,” you mumble.

The breath he releases is mixed with a laugh. He looks relieved, you think, and before you can try to understand why, he leans forward.

“Don’t you trust me to wait for you?”

You place a hand on his forehead to try and push him away. “You’re too close!” you say, and suddenly everything is warm; he chuckles at your reaction, a sound low and pleased, and the vibrations of his laugh resonate under your palm. The sensation travels through straight through your chest, and your heart is feels tight enough that your head is lightheaded; you’re not quite sure if you’re coherent enough to form a witty retort, so you settle with the truth.

“O-of course I trust you.”

Xavier seems content with that.

With a small smile, he takes your hand.

“Let’s go then,” he rasps, entwining your fingers, “—partner.”

。

。

。

—end? or the beginning?

[its-in-the-woods]

Chapter Two, Life's too Short

Chapter one <- if you missed it.

Cooper howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean

Post end of season 1

No beta.. I tried to edit 🫠

Ninety five percent written just tweaking

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

There will be canonically typical violence and eventually smut

+18 only

Slow burn sorta kinda

Please be nice this my first fic in almost a decade 🫣

Will eventually post on AO3 once I can get access... or where suggested 🤷🏻‍♂️

They had made it to the outpost. An outpost that was okay with Ghouls anyway. Ghoul's kind wasn't accepted at many places, the whole going feral thing was a bit of an issue. The other issue was that Lucy drew a lot of attention. Even though Lucy had done her damnest to blend in the lack of scars, having all her teeth and most of her fingers was a dead giveaway. She made sure to keep herself close to the Ghoul as he walked into the village. There weren’t many eyes that weren’t looking at them. They made a hell of a sight, a genetically engineered dog, a pre-bomb Ghoul, and Vaultie. Sounded like a lame joke Chet would make back in the vault. 

A man stood up and moved towards them as they walked past him. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Trouble. Her brain screamed to turn around. The Ghoul had already moved, his sawed-off pointed directly at the man, men, there were at least four of them. Lucy’s hand went to her gun holster and they paused. She desperately needed to start listening to those instincts.

“I don’t know whatcha boys are thinkin' of doin', but if you don’t wanna new hole in your meat suit I suggest you. Back. The. Fuck. Up.” Ghoul punctuated the last words with a clenched teeth grimace.  The man held the gun as if it were an extension of his arm. 

The whole place was silent, the scene from when Lucy had originally met the Ghoul played out in her mind. The whole place blasted to pieces in a matter of seconds. She knew the Ghoul had zero reservations about murdering anyone who even looked at him funny.

“We aren’t looking for any trouble” Lucy swallowed, part of her hating that she was always trying to look for solutions that didn’t end in blood. 

One of them gave a near-toothless grin. “Just wanted to say hello to such a fine little thing.” His voice made her skin crawl, as the man moved towards her. “Don’t see too many smooth-skinned Vaultdwellers around these parts.”

“I am sure you’d find a better company with us then,” Another man’s eyes roamed over the Ghoul, “Unless you're a Ghoulfcker.”

The Ghoul’s face tightened, and his finger went to the trigger-

“Wait, can we please not. I don’t want company. In fact, I would actually be really flattered if you just left us alone. Because this is going to get ugly fast” Lucy sighed out rubbing the bridge of her nose. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Part of her had already resigned to the fact that these men were dead.

The four men looked in between each other and then went to draw. The Ghoul blasted the closest two without a second thought. Lucy had pulled and hit the third, the fourth went to bail and Dogmeat had grabbed his calf. He screamed trying to beat the dog off. Lucy aimed at the same time as the Ghoul and brains went everywhere. A bloody mess, it always ended in a bloody mess. 

"Oh for fucksakes. I let the Ghouls in an suddenly everyone's getting blown away." Hollered an older woman from the second story of a building. She was a tall imposing figure with striking red hair streaked with grey. Her clothes where a patchwork of various materials, boot knee high leather of some kind. She looked at the two of them, the only ones left out in the open.

"Well, I will be damned. Is that fuckin Coop?" The women yelled, peering down at the Ghoul.

Coop? That's what the Ghoul's name was, Lucy felt like she had heard that somewhere before. Her mind went over the name a few times trying to place it. 

Coop tucked his shotgun back into its holster, a sly grin turning one corner of his lips up. "Guilty as charged, Tracy." 

The women came out from a lower door and walked up to them. Her face was lined with sun damage and her eyes were probably green once. But now they are more pastel grey. She poked the Ghoul in the chest with a gnarled finger. He chuckled at her, they clearly had met before. 

"I just started letting you radiation suckers back in two days ago. Why the fuck are you shooting up my paying customers?" Tracy gestured to the very dead men. "Who's gonna clean this up now?"

Coop chuckled, patting Tracy on the shoulder. "You and I both know that the roaches, irradiated or not, will have those bodies picked clean by morning."

The woman glowered at him, her hands on her hips. "Supposed you're right, but can we not shoot up anyone else?" She cussed some more and spit something on the ground.

"Well if your customers were more respectful to my companion here I wouldn't have to blow them away." 

The woman's eyes narrowed and she looked over at Lucy. Graying eyes or not, the woman looked as if she could read her thoughts. 

Lucy immediately extended her hand, "Hi, my name is Lucy. I am so sorry for shooting up the place. They did draw on us first." She left out her last name, something the Ghoul had mentioned. Always keep important information to yourself. 

The woman rolled her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. "One less asshole, well guess four. Come on, let's get you two rooms and some grub."

They followed after her, already people were starting to emerge to come to pick over the dead. Lucy tried to not think about the fact they'd probably end up as food for some of the dwellers.

***

Despite Tracy's sour appearance she seemed to be fond of the Ghoul Coop. Happily, giving them both good-sized plates of chicken and something that looked like potatoes? Whatever it was it tasted good and Lucy for the first time in over a week actually ate until she was full.

There was also water. Apparently, the settlement had a spring nearby that they used for drinking water. Tracy was more than happy to tell the tale of how Coop had liberated the well for the settlement. 

“Nothing much was left of the raiders once he came through. Got us clean water and a little peace and quiet. Well as much peace as you can in this waste.” The lady said, patting Coop on the arm.“He can be a pretty big pain in the ass most days. But if there are some caps and moonshine in it he's not bad.”

Coop chuckled, “I promise to only darken your doorstep when raiders are about.”

Tracy patted his arm, “Well let me not keep yah. I have a few rooms available. Lots of folks scattered when the brotherhood knight came by.”

“When did he come by?” Lucy asked, her heart beating in her chest. It was the first time she had spoken beside, ‘Yes Ma'am’ and ‘the food is good’ 

Tracy narrowed her eyes, “Two days ago I'd say. Stole a power core from a few Traders. Bastard. Why? Are you looking for him?”

Coop cleared his throat. “Something like that. He has some information we need.”

Tracy looked between both of them for a moment. Her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to figure out exactly what they were hinting at. 

“Mmhm. Well, he was heading east.” She fiddled with an old scar on her hand. “Do you want a room with one or two beds?”

“Two beds.” Both Lucy and Ghoul reply.

*Thank you for reading and all <3 are very appreciated. *

*Chapter three *

[anotherwvba]

Family Matters, pt. 4

Part 4 - Dreams

It was late. Really late. The Omni was empty. No fans, no fighters. No crew, no staff. No one, seemingly, but a lone I.T. tech turned boxer. Niki Binary walked the concourse toward the food court, a piece of paper in her hand. Emergency lights lit her path as she walked with purpose, a look of confusion on her face.

As Niki continued at her steady pace, she looked down at the paper again. It was a torn and crumbled slip of paper with words written in a rough and heavy hand. It read, “Trouble sleeping lately? 1am by Gio’s in The Omni.”

My luck, it’s a serial killer, Niki thought to herself as the food court slowly came into view. Her heartbeat quickened as she spotted a silhouette at one of the tables. It was a large man and a t-shirt and jeans by the look of it. Please don’t be a serial killer.

“Ah,” a deep voice with a thick accent rumbled low. “You made it. Scared you wouldn’t take my note seriously. That or show up with baseball bat.”

Niki’s confusion only grew when she recognized the voice. Moving closer, eventually taking a seat at the table opposite of the man confirmed she was right about the voice. “Bull? What’s with all the Scooby-Doo stuff?”

Bald Bull, the Major Circuit Champion, smiled slightly. Reaching down beside him, he pulled a cooler up to the table and pulled out two cans of Liquid Death. “Boo. Orange or melon?”

“Orange, I guess?” Niki relaxed a little as Bull opened the can and slid it across to her. “Thanks, but seriously, what’s this?” Holding up the note, her question was obvious.

A deep breath. An exhale. A slip of sparkling melon water. Then, Bull spoke. “How your fight with Dream go?”

Orange water went spraying to the side and Niki choked a little. “How… how did you? I didn’t tell a soul about that.”

“Most people would think you crazy,” Bull smiled. “I know better. Imagine you got knocked out. What round?”

Niki was stunned. She didn’t know Bald Bull overly well, but she knew him and his reputation well enough. Bull wasn’t prone to practical jokes or teasing, but he wasn’t a severe personality either. In his younger days, he was known as “The Turkish Mad Man”, which he came by honestly. But now, that was more a persona for the crowd and less the man himself.

“Third.” Niki took a sip of her water and looked down at the tabletop. “How did you know?”

“I recommended you to him, or her when she fought you,” Bull seemed to muse on that for a moment. “Maybe I say, them. Pronouns difficult when can change form at will.”

This drew a slight chuckle from Niki, “You. You’re the one that told Dream to come to me? Why?”

“Before why, I have question.” Bull took a long draw from melon water. “How much Dream explain about what they are?”

It was Niki’s turn for a deep breath. “We talked for a while. Dream was the first WVBA Champ, not that anyone remembers it. The title match with Mr. Sandman’s what killed them. Somehow, they became some kind of strange ghost, made a wish, and everyone forgot. That’s the gist of it.”

“So, little more to it than that, at least I think.” Bull pushed an empty chair out from the table and propped up his feet. “Traditional Turkish belief called Tengri. Says there are many spirits that roam Earth. Called Körmös. Many different types. One kind called Ozor. Are souls of ancestors come to help and guide.”

“And you think Dream is an… Ozor?” Niki’s eyes narrowed. “Look, Bull, I’m not trying to be disrespectful about someone’s beliefs, but this is a little far-fetched for me. I mean, I believe in what I can touch and see.”

Bull retorted, “Dream punch you in face?”

Niki blinked and shook her head. “A lot. Fair point. Okay, let’s say Dream is an Ozor. I suppose as one of the founders of the WVBA, they are sorta an ancestor of anyone that fights here now. But, why? Why are they here? And you still haven’t told me how you know Dream?”

Bull smiled, “Second round, right before bell. Uppercut hit me just as I made charge inside. Out like light.” His hand unconsciously rubbed his jaw as if he was massaging out the pain of that punch even now. “Had long talk after. And I remembered everything.”

“What do you mean?” Niki leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Remember night Dream died.” Bull’s face softened. For the first time since Niki had known him, Bald Bull looked every bit of his 45 years of age, like a man who’d spent 27 years in the ring. “Was hard night.”

“I can imagine,” Niki leaned back, sipping her water.

Bull’s gaze fixed on her, “No. You can’t.”

“Sorry.” A chill ran down Niki’s spine, but she pressed on. “I gotta know. Why me? And what do you think Dream is doing?”

“Why you?” Bull smiled. “Good heart. Determined. Hard work. This,” he gestured wide to encompass not just the arena complex, but the whole of the campus, “you dreamed of, then you made happen. People meet you, want to be better. Inspired. Not great boxer—yet—but great person.”

Tears welled in Niki’s eyes, “Thank you, Bull. I never knew you thought that much of me.”

Bull tipped his can to Niki before taking another sip. “What Dream doing? Don’t know. But trust is important. Dream like, how you say, ‘guardian angel’? Ozor step in when needed, not when feel like. Don’t know what is need. Not sure Dream know. But, know there is one.”

“Until then,” Niki asked.

“Until then,” Bull put his feet back on the floor and took a deep breath, “we look for others. We go about life. Be ready. Is all I know to do.”

Niki drained the last of the orange water from her can, “Do you really, honestly, truly believe that Dream is some spirit come to protect or prepare us or something? Really?”

“Don’t know.” Bull finished off his own drink, crushing the can in his hands. “But do know, four years ago, when WVBA reopen, I fought ghost. Ghost beat me like rookie. Only person ever beat me like that was Dream. Not devout man, but some things can’t explain another way.”

Both Bull and Niki stood, pushing chairs back into place. As they started to walk back toward the locker rooms and, from there, to the apartments, Niki looked over at the big man. “Bull, I watched you growing up. Read articles, saw interviews. You were the ‘Turkish Mad Man’, feared, angry, and reckless. Not saying that I want to hang out in a dark hallway with that guy, but… what happened?”

An honest, genuine laugh rumbled from Bull’s stomach. “Four years ago, got ass beat by ghost.”

[bigasswritingmagnet]

With My Own Hands (Ch 2/2)

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Higgs/Zeetha Summary: Higgs meets a real tough lady with a very nice hat. By the time he finds out she's Zeetha Wulfenbach, it's too late.

Chapter One | AO3 Link

Higgs sipped his beer as all around him the evening fight raged. Sometimes he wished he was still the kind of Jӓger who enjoyed fighting for the sake of fighting. He liked a good tumble, now and again, but if there wasn’t a reason, a goal, something to be gained or lost or saved, it was hard to see the point. Hard to see the point of a lot of things, these days.

The thought made him frown. Gkika had given him the find an anchor lecture and it was infecting his thoughts. He wondered if the other generals drew straws once a decade to decide who was going to be the one to nag him. Last time it had been Zog, who at least merely said his piece and was done with it; Gkika argued.

It didn’t matter how many times he told them he already had one, they always said it wasn’t a proper anchor. Love for the Heterodynes made you a Jӓger, an anchor was supposed to keep you human. The town then, but apparently that didn’t count either, because he didn’t do anything to the town. It was just there, an idea, an ideal.

They were young. When they got to be six hundred and change, they’d understand. No, seven hundred. Eight? He’d have to find a history book and double check when the Jӓgerdraught was invented. One advantage of being among the very first—he could always keep track of the centuries, if not the decades. How old had he been when he drank it? Twenty? Twenty-five?

Someone banged into his table, causing his beer to slosh out of the mug. He looked up, startled, but instead of a Jӓger, he was looking up at a young woman. The green hair caught his eye first, it was hard to miss. The second thing was the look on her face when she looked back at him. There was a fierce determination there, the laser focus of a warrior in battle.

She shoved something into his hands.

“Hold that,” she said. With her now free hands, she picked up a chair and swung it, smashing into the Jӓger who had leapt towards her, sending him tumbling back into the fray.

“Careful,” he said. “You do that too many times, it’ll mean you’re part of the fight. And definitely don’t draw your sword.”

“Of course I won’t draw my sword,” she snapped. “This is a friendly brawl; I’m not going to stab someone. And I wouldn’t mind taking part, if I wasn’t in a hurry. It’d be easier if I didn’t have to carry that thing around, but if I put it on, I’ll definitely make myself a target, even if I don’t hit anyone.”

Higgs looked at the object in his hands, and realized it was a hat. An extremely elaborate, ostentatious hat, one that would indeed draw the envy of any Jӓger—even Higgs himself, who was abruptly filled with a sullen self-conciousness over his own unimpressive regulation headgear.

It looked a cross between a shako and a candelabra, the purple fabric caged by decorative brass arms that came together at the top in a single point. There was something written on the front, but before he could really read it, the woman snatched it out of his hands and a Jӓger came crashing down onto the table, sending Higgs’ beer flying.

He sighed.

“You need to get out of here?”

“And find my friends,” she confirmed.

“They smart guys?”

“Can be, why?”

“Then they’re probably the ones who aren’t sticking around for the fight,” he said, pointing at the group hightailing it towards the exit.

The woman’s head whipped around and she nailed him with a glare so ferocious, Higgs felt—for the first time in centuries—real, genuine fear for his safety. Higgs knew, logically, that he could take her, and easily. He could snap her neck in a second if he wanted.

But he felt that it was no solid guarantee he’d make it to her neck in one piece.

“…because they’re smart enough to know they can’t take on a room full of Jӓgers,” he hurriedly added.

To his surprise, the woman blushed. She ducked, caught a charging Jӓger in the chest with her shoulder, and tossed him backwards over her head.

“That’s sweet,” she said, as if nothing had happened. Then her eyes narrowed. “Hang on—”

“Let’s get you to your friends,” Higgs said, hurriedly.

They ducked and wove their way through the crowd. Most of the Jӓgers moved around them, knowing better than to try and take him on. His companion—the woman, he corrected himself, hurriedly—was not always so fortunate, but she had no trouble at all fending off any of the Jӓgers who came at her. In fact, he could tell she was holding back.

Higgs found himself wondering what she looked like when she put her all into a fight, how well she’d hold up if she actually did take part. She’d still be standing at the end, he was sure. Maybe he could find some way to see that—she didn’t seem Mechanicsburg born, but she certainly would fit right in. Maybe he could find a way to get her back down here on a day when she didn’t need to leave—

He ducked a chair and shook his head, wondering what in the flaming hells had gotten into him. Why couldn’t he keep his eyes on the fight and off of her? She was just so…bright. More real than the rest of the world around her, somehow.

Then they broke through the edge of the storm of Jӓgers and into the still safety of the passageway out, where the woman’s friends were waiting. He recognized some of them.

“There you are,” Vannamonde said.

“I got caught in the fight,” the woman said, defensively.

“You probably would have had an easier time if you got rid of that thing,” said a man who was, technically, not shirtless, although the leather straps covered about as much as the Jӓgerfrauliens’ outfits. 

The woman bristled and put the hat on her head.

“I earned this hat,” she said, and very pointedly turned a little handle at the top. At the point where the arms of the hat connected, a little flame burst into life. The extra light illuminated the words on the band at the front:

Zeetha Wulfenbach Clank Killer

Uh oh.

“That’s a joke, right?” Higgs asked, who had a sinking feeling he knew why he had suddenly started feeling the ground so solidly under his feet. “You’re sending me out for a crate of balloon juice.”

Zeetha Wulfenbach adjusted her hat.

“I took out two giant laser-canon crab clanks single handedly this morning,” she said, proudly, and his heart skipped a beat.

Uh oh.

He managed to salute. His only hope was that the dynamic of superior officer and soldier would force distance between the two of them, that she might be the kind of person who kept her subordinates at arm’s length.

“Airman First Class Axel Higgs of the SS Rozen Maiden, at your service, ma’am.”

She blinked.

“Oh! That’s...” She looked embarrassed. “At ease, I guess. Probably best you don’t salute or call me ma’am. I might be a little bit enemy of the state right now, what with the whole ‘actively working against my father to protect the Heterodyne from him until she can retake Mechanicsburg’, thing.”

A rope went taut and the drifting world of Axel Higgs shuddered to a halt, held firm by its shiny new anchor. 

God’s little fish in trousers, Higgs thought, I am never going to hear the end of this.

[medicalunprofessional]

I just saw that insane Sasha Nein art you did, where he’s smoking and his mom is in it. I have to say that was some of the COOLEST ART I HAVE EVER SEEN ON THIS SITE, EVER. And I saw that you said you draw on your phone?!?! I’m actually begging you to tell me what app you use pLEASE (also I have always wanted to know how to render but I don’t even know how to start is there any in progress shots you can show so I have something to go on ;U; ty)

GYAHHHHH THANKSS YOUI wwhhh… I had written more in response to this but… Tumblr crashed and deleted it so… Im trying to remember all the points i went over haha… But… Yes… I do draw on the phone with my fingers. The key? Ibispaint… Its really good. You just gotta believe in yourself…. Its rlly not that hard :)

But… On rendering, i feel like everyone renders differently… It really depends on yout artstyle… But i will gladly go over my process (again(thanks tumblr)). Ill be using a different piece as an example (the one of sasha? I didnt render that in my normal way. Just kinda Drew Shapes) -

So i always.. sketch it out. Roughly. Get the details down, yes, but this part will pretty much be invisible, so it doesnt have to be perfect. (yees there was gonna be red string but i didnt like it so. Goodbye red strintg.. Sorry boyd) In this piece (and some others) i redid the sketch a few times to get everything placed and sized how i like it…

After this..? I just put in the colors under the sketch. Here, id like to get them relatively like how i want them to be (though sometimes ill just put in a single color and choose the colors WHILE im rendering)… Its Good To Keep Them Messy I Think

And then… I put all the layers into a folder and render it all on a new layer…. Its that simple… Some people will do it on a bunch of layers to keep all the different elements separate, but i feel its confusing and youll get tripped up in all the layers… I simply use one. Sometimes ill make a new layer if im not feeling confident about a detail, but, usually, its just one. The colors i laid down? im simply colorpicking those and making them more defined, usually blockier.. And dont worry! Its easy to move things around, having to repaint some stuff isnt as bad as you think (ESPECIALLY if you dont use lineart. I hate lineart sometimes😌)

And its done after i get alll the details i want in (sometimes, you dont need to detail everything. Focus on whats important! If you like..). Well, the drawing part is, atleast. I usually run it over with some special brushes i made to make it look more scratched up and dirty. Then i do some chromatic abberation shenanigans! And some noise. Then… Its done :)

Though… if there is one thing i must say…… You can wiggle around the hue and saturation a little while rendering it makes it more interesting and flavorful… You can wiggle it around ALOT to make things look holographic…. Oh! and keep it simple… And also desaturating colors a lot combined with the context of other colors around them can do some crazy stuff… I can make orange look like green 🕴️ (Okay that was . More than one thing. And?)

But really..:: Do what YOU want. Its your art :) I cant tell you what to do! Do all of these things. Do none of these things. Just do what YOU want to. Nothing I or ANYONE says dictates what you must do or what is correct in your expressions.

Yay!

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Part three of messy breakup

Eddie Munson x gn!reader 

Read part one and part two first 

Eddie is still at war with himself over these feelings he has for you. Honestly he has never felt this way before and it’s freaking him out. He wants to talk to someone about this but the person he goes to with this kind of thing is you and well he can’t talk to you about you! 

So he goes to the only other person he can think of...Wayne. 

Wayne wasn’t expecting to see Eddie up and pacing when he got home early in the morning after his shift. “Son? Is everything okay, it’s nearly three in the morning.” Wayne looks around the trailer and realizes that you weren’t staying the night. “Where’s Y/N? Did something happen?” Eddie looks over at Wayne and Wayne is concerned by the look in his boys eyes. 

“Wayne I don’t understand this feeling I’ve been having. My stomach feeling like it’s in knots every time Y/N is around me or even when I just think of them. My heart starts racing and it goes so fast it feels like I’m about to have a panic attack but I never do, my hands start sweating and I get concerned about how I look or smell and Wayne I’ve never felt this way before and it’s really starting to freak me out.” Wayne looks at Eddie with a pitiful smile and Eddie rolls his eyes seeing it. “Don’t look at me like that you old man this is serious! I think something is like seriously wrong” 

Wayne gives Eddie a playful glare. “Son, are you really that dumb? Nothing is wrong with you boy.” Eddie looks at Wayne with his big brown eyes. “Then why am I feeling this way Wayne?” 

Oh this boy is really clueless...

“Son... you’re in love.” Eddie’s eyes widen. Holy shit he’s right.

After Eddie’s conversation with Wayne he realizes what he needs to do. The next day when you come over he is going to show you how you make him feel...some how. 

You came over to the trailer before either one of the Munson’s were home to clean up and prepare dinner for them. Both of them were at work so you had a few hours to get things done before they were to come home. You started by playing music and cleaning the living area and kitchen. After the dishes were done and everything was back in their correct location you went to start on Eddie’s room. 

You made his bed and collected his dirty laundry when you found his D&D notebook open on his table. You didn’t think anything of it, so you walk over and go to close it before putting it on top of his bed so he can see it when he gets home but something catches your eye. 

There was a new drawing in there that she has never seen before. Taking a closer look at it you see that it’s an elf prince(ss) that looks extremely like you. Flipping through the plans he had written out you see that the club will need to save the new character and whoever saves them first wins the heart of the prince(ss). In parenthesis Eddie made a small note, (No one can truly save them but me). Y/N smiles at the note. 

“What are you doing here so soon?” Hearing Eddie’s voice makes you jump and drop the notebook. Eddie figured you didn’t hear him come in due to the music playing so loudly but he didn’t mean to scare you. “Oh shit sorry sweetheart” he leans down and picks up what you dropped before noticing that it was his notebook and when he does notice his eyes widen. “You weren’t suppose to see that!” He starts to panic “I know it’s probably weird for me to have a drawing of a D&D character that looks so much like you” you try to cut him off “Eddie honey-” but there is no use as he keeps rambling. “but I won’t use it if you aren’t comfortable with it and I-” “Eddie!” He finally stops his ramble and his eyes snaps back up to you with a dark blush across his face. 

You give him a soft, kind smile. “Sweets, you have no reason to apologize truly I’m honored you would make me into a character.” 

After hearing your reassurance Eddie starts contemplating on if he should confess. He decides that he needs to, this seems to be the perfect time. 

“Y/N...there is a reason I drew it to be like you. And before you cut me off I want you to just listen. I...I think I love you. At least Wayne tells me that’s what I’m feeling. All I know is whenever I’m around you my stomach turns into knots, and my hands get sweaty and it gets hard to focus on anything but you but this feeling doesn’t leave when you leave it stays. I go to bed and I think of you and I wake up thinking of you. I can’t focus on anything without you coming to mind and I have never felt this way. Not with Chrissy, not with anyone I’ve been with before and it’s really scaring me. I can’t lose you.” 

Listening to everything Eddie has to say makes tears form in your eyes. You never thought Eddie would return your feelings especially after the whole messy breakup with Chrissy...”Eddie..” You’re at a lost for words which really worries Eddie. 

Did I mess this up? 

Before Eddie can try to back track you walk over to him and pull him into a deep kiss. Pulling away you rest your forehead against his. He is now the one at a lost of words. “Eddie I think I love you too.”  Eddie breaks into a huge smile before kissing you deeply on more time. 

I really hope you all enjoyed this little series! If you did please consider liking, reblogging, and commenting. 

Also if you like my work please consider following me <3 

Taglist: @sinczir @lokiofasgard616 @harrys-tittie @saramelaniemoon​

[ilovewhiteroses]

Window To The Soul Part 1.

Pairing: The Corinthian x GN! Reader   Genre: Fantasy, horror, drama Warnings: mentions of violence, some curse words Rating: 18+

You never believed in urban legends, but when you needed an idea for your next screenplay, you met a mysterious, strange man...

You looked into your fridge and sighed heavily. There wasn't much in it, just a carton of milk, a leftover slice of pizza and some fruit. You took out the milk, you saw that it was still good so you drank it. You've been at home for days and didn't know what to do with yourself.

Unfortunately, the curse of screenwriters has overtaken you: the writer’s block. Your previous works have been loved by both critics and audiences. You loved to write, but hated the attention, so you always wrote under a pseudonym to protect your privacy from the paparazzi and fans. You didn't even go to premieres, instead, when the film made from your script came out, you watched it in the cinema together with the civilian audience. You loved this because you could see the honest reaction of the viewers there.

Your works were all about human, down-to-earth topics: they were comedies or dramas. But this time you wanted to try something new that would push you out of your comfort zone. So you decided to try writing a horror film. The thought was there, but the idea did not come easily. You went to shower, put on your pajamas and fell into bed, hoping that the idea for your new script would come to you in your dreams.

A few days later, on your way home from shopping, you noticed the comic book store across the road. You've never been there before, but you thought you'd drop by tomorrow to see if you could get some inspiration.

 The comic book store was just like what you imagined: shelves full of comics, superhero posters on the walls. You went straight to the salesman, whose name was written on his name tag: David.

"Hello David. Can you help me?" you asked him politely.

"Of course! Are you interested in something? Maybe a classic, Batman or Superman?” and with that he already reached over to the shelf behind him to show you said comics.

"Thank you, but I had something else in mind. You know, I'm a writer and I want to write a horror story, but I need inspiration or something interesting." the salesman thought for a moment before realizing you weren't there specifically for the comics. He leaned closer to you and whispered.

"I don't know, how interested you are in urban legends?" you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, I don't really believe in them, but I'll listen to them if they're interesting."

"Well, listen to this. There's a mysterious guy living here in San Francisco called The Corinthian. He is rumored to have murdered people decades or even centuries ago and then eaten their eyes. Those who saw him said he had teeth in place of his eyes and that's why he wears sunglasses." you rolled your eyes at what you heard.

Did he really eat their eyes? What kind of Hannibal Lecter bullshit is this?

"Who did you hear this from? Don't say you believe this!”

"From a friend of mine. I think there may be some truth in it." the man said, you rubbed your forehead.

"Look, you may believe in this, but there is no such thing. I think that guy must have paid a few people to spread the word about him. Anyway, whether it's true or not, I think an interesting story could be written out of it. Do you happen to know where this Corinthian lives?”

"Yes, I checked it out once, he has a classic style mansion, I don't know the exact address, but I'll draw it for you." David took a pencil and paper and drew you a map. "Of course, he may no longer live there, but if you decide to visit him, be very careful!"

 In the afternoon, with the help of the drawn map, you went by car to see where The Corinthian might live. The mansion where he supposedly lived was just like the ones you've seen in the movies. It was surrounded by green hedges and a black iron gate. You were wondering what to do? Ring the bell? Rather not. You noticed that he had a mailbox, so you decided to write him a letter and give him your number. You wait a week, and if he still doesn't call, you go back to David and ask him for some horror comics. You took your notebook out of your bag, tore out a page and wrote to him who you were and why you wanted to meet him in person, and at the end you wrote your phone number. Fortunately, there was an envelope in the glove compartment of your car, in which you put the paper and then dropped it in his mailbox. You didn't see much chance that he would call you, but you tried anyway. Especially if it really was just an urban legend.

 Two days later, your phone rang, it was an unknown number. Other times you cancel it, but you had a feeling... you picked it up and said your name.

” Hello! So, you wrote to me." said a deep male voice on the other end of the line.

"Y-yes. You know, the situation is that I heard about you and liked your story and thought, if you allow, I would do an interview with you."

"We can do that. If you want to, we can meet, say, tomorrow afternoon?”

"Okay." You agreed with him on the exact time and then hung up.

Hmm, that went fast. You were a little weirded out that he didn't introduce himself. Did he stick to the legend thing that much?

When David's words were running through your mind, you felt anxious. Be very careful. You put your taser in your bag in case something goes wrong.

 The next day you arrived at Corinthian 's home on time. You got out of the car and approached the gate with shaky steps. You rang the bell and became even more nervous. I’m out of my mind! What if he really is a murderer, and I willingly walk into his trap! But then again, if he really was, he would be in prison a long time ago, you reassured yourself. Still, what's the worst that could happen? If you see that the situation is not good, you go to the bathroom and jump out of the window. At most you would break your leg and arm, but at least you would survive.

You saw a tall, blonde man in sunglasses from afar. You remembered what David had said about them…you took a deep breath, hoping it would clear your head. The man reached the gate and opened it.

"Hello! Are you Y/N?” he asked and shook your hand.

"Yes. You must be The Corinthian.”

"That’s right." he said and invited you inside, a driveway led you to the house itself. On the way, you looked at the many green plants and colorful flowers.

"I bet you have a gardener, because it would obviously be difficult to maintain such a beautiful garden alone." Your voice trembled a little, but you tried to hide your nervousness with the statement. He didn't say a word, just smiled kindly at you.

You entered the house. Towering staircase, tall ceilings, and a massive fireplace. From the inside, his home reminded you of Meryl Streep's house in ' Death Becomes Her'.

"Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

"A glass of water will do, thank you." Corinthian went to the kitchen, while you sat down on the sofa in the living room, put your bag next to you and took off your leather jacket. You looked around and realized how tastefully the home was decorated. He returned with a glass of water and handed it to you before sitting down on the couch across from you. You took a quick drink, as your mouth was always dry when you were nervous, and placed it on the coffee table.

"Do you mind if I take out my voice recorder?" you asked and Corinthian shook his head. You took out the recorder and pressed the record button.

"First of all, let's start with the name. What is your real name? Where did The Corinthian come from?”

"Believe it or not, I don't have a real name. I got the name ‘The Corinthian’ from my creator, The Sandman. Do you know who he is?” he leaned back on the couch as he asked you this.

"Well, I know the song Mr. Sandman. All kidding aside, I know that he's responsible for dreams.” you said crossing your legs.

"Basically yes, but he actually puts people to sleep by sprinkling sand onto their eyes."

"What do you have to do with Sandman?"

"As I said, he is my creator. You know, Sandman, or as we call him, Dream or Morpheus, is the ruler of the Dreaming. There he created dreams and nightmares. He created me, for example, as a nightmare.” What vivid imagination he has! you thought to yourself. Of course, you didn't believe a word he said, but you listened patiently, because your new script might depend on it.

"So you're saying you're not human?"

"Yes. I’m made of sand.” You almost laughed out loud at this point, but you tried to stay serious, though you had to admit that he told you about "his life" with such conviction that you almost believed it.

”Wait, what sand? You look like any other flesh-and-blood person!” you said in disbelief.

"This is only the surface. I am a physical manifestation appearing in the image of a man.”

After this you wanted to talk about something else, so you asked about his alleged murders.

"I heard that you used to kill people and eat their eyes. How old are you, then, and why did you do it?" you were drinking again. You never thought that one day you would want to talk with a strange man about his alleged murders. Corinthian ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

"Let's just say that I've been around for quite some time. The reason why I did it it’s because I wanted to see the world through other people's eyes. They say that the eye is the window to the soul – that’s very true."

You talked a little more about him, and then about you, because he was interested in where you got the idea of writing screenplays. Although you couldn't see his eyes, you felt his penetrating gaze on you so intensely that you got goosebumps.

When you noticed that it was getting dark outside, you ended the interview and arranged to meet again so he could give you ideas.

 You finally got home. You managed to remain calm throughout your conversation, although you still thought everything he said was a huge hoax. Poor man must have a boring life if he had time to invent all these crazy stuff.

It reminded you of the first time you saw him. Well-dressed, well-groomed, polite, handsome...these are not exactly the characteristics of a killer.

That word again. Killer. You still believed that he must have gotten his acquaintances to say that about him. He told a nice, fabricated story about himself, but at least you had an interesting afternoon.

 The next morning, you couldn't wait to have coffee, because you had, well, quite an interesting dream last night. You were lying in your bed when Corinthian appeared in the dim moonlight. You, instead of being scared, invited him to your bed and started kissing, then made passionate love, although you found it strange that he left his sunglasses on the whole time. You realized that you must have dreamed about him because you hadn't been with anyone for a long time and you were subconsciously attracted to him. It's true that he's a good looking guy, but you're only meeting him to get ideas, you convinced yourself. What would you want from him anyway? You didn't even know his real name, moreover he made up this impossible, "I'm a murderer and a nightmare" story.

 The day of another meeting has come. You rang the doorbell and when you saw Corinthian, you took a good look at him. You had to admit, there was something in his aura that grabbed you, and by that you didn't just mean his appearance.

“Hello Y/N! How are you?" he asked cheerfully as he let you in. He again looked impeccable.

I dreamed about you last night.

"I’m okay, thank you." you answered and followed him.

"How about we talk outside now? The weather is so nice, it would be a shame to sit inside at this time." he said and looked at the sky. You agreed with him and sat down at the garden table by the pool, where a couple of salty snacks and refreshments were already waiting for you. You chose a peach drink, which he poured for you in your already prepared glass. He also sat down and you took out your notebook to write down what he was telling you

"How's the script, have you started writing yet?" Corinthian inquired.

"Yes, I've already written a few pages." you said and ate some chips.

"That's great. I came up with some ideas, I hope you will like them." he said and you both smiled. When you saw his nice set of teeth, you again, unintentionally, remembered that there were those in place of his eyes...

He began to tell you his ideas, which you diligently jotted down like a student.

"Hm, these are good, I think I can get some exciting and creepy scenes out of them."

"Really? I thought you would say it’s too much.”

When you talked through a few scenes, Corinthian’s smile suddenly disappeared and he changed to a more serious tone.

"Can I ask you something?" the way he asked the question made you feel like the air was almost frozen.

"Of course."

"You know, you look like someone who wouldn't hurt a fly, but tell me...you never wanted to kill anyone?" he asked. You laughed to yourself for a moment and thought he was just being silly, though when he didn't laugh you realized he was serious.

"Only in my mind, when someone annoyed me, but in a normal situation, of course, I wouldn't even think of such a thing." you said. You felt the same uneasy feeling again as when you first met him. You started to get scared, but the thought of the taser in your bag calmed you down.

He is just provoking me, you thought to yourself.

"I guessed that. I see you're scared, but don’t worry. I would never hurt you.” he tried to reassure you, even though deep down you were still frightened, but then you thought that if he dared to ask you that, then you could ask him for something too.

" Corinthian, do you really have teeth eyes?" you asked softly as he nodded. "I want to see."

"I can't allow that. Believe me, it's better if you don't see them.”

"Well, I'm only asking because if you really are who you say you are, I'd like to see proof." you said and gently caressed the top of his hand. He looked away for a moment.

"I’m dead serious. I only take of my sunglasses rarely, in certain situations. But if you really want proof, I can show you something. Come, let's go to the kitchen.” he said and stood up, then you went to the kitchen together. You couldn't even imagine what he might want, but you were curious.

He took out a knife from the kitchen drawer and faced you.

"Jesus, what the hell do you want with that?" you cried out in fright.

"Relax! I don't want to hurt you! Remember when I said I was made of sand?” he asked. He was also nervous about what he was about to do. "I want to prove to you that I told the truth and I really don't bleed when I cut myself."

“O-okay.” you said with a trembling voice. Corinthian took a deep breath and stabbed through his palm as you screamed. He didn't even say a word, he just raised his palm with the knife in it and showed it to you.

And he was right. He really wasn't bleeding.

He pulled out the knife as if nothing had happened and his palm stayed intact. You were trying to breath, gasping for air, suddenly not knowing what to do. You held your head and felt nauseous. Not from what you have just seen, but from the thought that this meant that he really was who he said he was...

TO BE CONTINUED…

 Tags: @thecorilove86, @e-dubbc11, @harlekin6, @jessamydreams, @destiny-rahl, @merryandrewsworld, @i-like-the-eyes, @drowningnikki,  @delicateteenagerunaway, @imjustmessy, @zealoussaladsublime, @lilithsdreams, @cloudsofcondensation, @blondehotbrook, @enkelimoonstone, @bakerstreethound, @amidalasruby, @kittycat-kai, @hopeless-07, @miss-wednesday98

@littlewierdalien, @littlefoxgirl-13, @dahlinq, @dayleis, @idealai

@icytrickster17, @belladiaz, @smileymissbee

@foodlover123456789, @lazy-queen26, @yellowwithalisp,  @onehundredyearsofyearning

@constantron, @violentviolet88, @strudelbug07, @hiraet-h-blog,  @underwater-garden, @translat0r, @mirandkimy​

[katieqnmr]

Camera for St Cats 😵‍💫😁

As I’ve said before, I was really nervous about doing camera for the first time ever (basically) I had made Orla promise me a beautiful camera team, and now I had to do the work. The thing is, I was scared that even doing all the preparation I possibly could wouldn’t ensure that I would feel ready to film…

But I had to get over the fear and once I instead began to be excited about what the project would look like I was able to delve into researching what I wanted the camera to tell about the characters I’d written. I almost think camera and writing is a god-level combo, it’s perhaps too much power(?) but I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy having so much input into the characters I had spent so much time with the previous months. Also orla kept me in check ;)…

In part of my preparation for camera, I browsed a ton of film stills on shotdeck, which I had to get a free trial for. Shotdeck is really great. The stills are super high-quality and feel like they pulled from a range of films. I still think they’re lacking a few but for what I needed, it did a great job. Even though I love drawing, I’m not a huge fan of storyboards, because I feel like I just get lost in all the details and take so long to do them that they don’t serve as a useful reference point anymore. I can’t seem to be able to hand in half completed work, and stick figures would never satisfy the desire I have for detail.

So? The solution is to find as many screenshots as can explain what I was thinking. My first port of call was Normal People, because Orla had found some shots of it when we were discussing the moods of each scene, and I was just taken immediately. It had the exact kind of realism but beauty that I wanted to capture. I loved the use of lens lengths too. It felt really personal but didn’t stray into documentary territory.

Confession: I still haven’t watched Normal People (neither has Orla!) but I don’t think I had to to understand the shots. The fact that I didn’t know what each scene was saying, yet I could feel so much and get so much character depth means that they did a really good job.

I used stills from other films as well, especially scene 3 I was always referring back to this 4 shot from Waves, (DOP Drew Daniels). ^ but Normal People formed the bulk of my inspiration for this exercise specifically. There were also plenty of scenes where I came up with shots with no inspiration, except for the medley of whatever stuff is in my brain (hard to find a source for that). I was able to visualise exactly what I wanted without having to storyboard it, and it also gave me a really good idea for the lighting of each scene. I could adapt each to be personal to what I wanted. There were no shots that were exactly mirrored in Saint Catherine‘s, because I obviously wanted to use my own creativity. There is one shot (6.1) that is very inspired by normal people, but we changed the focus to be on her other eye in Saint Cat’s.

Seeing the shots already existing made me feel less nervous, and I think as a beginner allowed me to begin to be confident in what I was going to create. I also found this incredibly specific shot from a music video that had the softness of light that I wanted from Scene 7.

I also really enjoyed the chats I had about lighting with Alex who is clearly the most passionate and talented gaffer I’ve had the pleasure of working with haha - he had such good ideas about how we could achieve each shot. When I had questions about where we would light from or what kind of light we would use, he had an answer. Alex is just incredibly knowledgeable and adaptable, and I felt like I was in very safe hands.

As the shoot went by, I felt like I was able to really imbue the film with my own creativity and perspective. I feel so happy that I was given the freedom to explore what I wanted to. The shoot itself was so calm and days just flew by…we were finishing early or on time every day, and everything felt like it was going a very easy pace! The Saint Cat’s shoot is definitely the one I felt most at home and most inspired by. :) I loved doing the cinematography for Saint Cats, and I wish I had found the confidence to do it earlier.

[gunsli-01]

So I have a qustion for you bestie, do you really think mu was in love with her victim or was the queen off milgram pulling a victim card

TL;DR: Yes, all the things that have come out regarding Mu supports the framing that she was romantically interested in her victim. After Pain, Otome Dissection, and MKDR paint a firm picture of this being the case when watched and considered in conjunction with one another. So, barring any huge world-shattering bombshells coming out in the mv for It's not my fault this is more than likely the case.

It’s not even that I want to believe it is. I tend to be harsher on Mu than any of the others. Because honestly...I find her personality grating and she’s not the type of mean girl I tend to view favorably. That would go to Yuno.

Mu, just isn’t harsh enough for me. Plus, I hate people that pretend to be weak when they’re strong the most. That’s just my personal bias. She could be colder, and I actively like the way she’s behaving now more than how she was in trial one. Even if it’s still not as mean or the sort of meanest I prefer it at least feels honest and I like that.

However, I’m not going to ignore the facts just because they don’t validate my feelings. In this case Mu’s own songs and her covers tell the story of a teenager who fell in what they believed to be love and tried to do everything to keep that. Even if the behavior they exhibited to do so was toxic.

Honestly, I thought Mu would be getting Chimera just because of how fake she came off to me. I have zero reason to defend her, but her romantic feelings seem genuine and what the information provided is leaning towards. She doesn't seem good at lying about her emotions outside of omitting them entirely.

I did a post on Mu and Futa going over everything I thought about them before. Though Futa got more attention than Mu given I was more interested in him at that time.

However, in that post I mention that I believe Mu’s mv is out of order. That her music video is the first one to start messing around with time distortion and my belief that her victim was dead before her bullying ever began. In her first interrogation she answers the question, “What do you dislike?” with-

“Scary people and ghosts. Oh, and right now, school.”

The hourglass Mu is stuck in throughout After Pain breaks from falling off her desk at the beginning of her music video. The flower shown at the end of After Pain is firmly planted on the desk next to hers, presumably the one belonging to her victim. Implying she was dead while Mu was still in school. Despite her claiming she doesn’t remember what happened after her crime the writing on the blackboard at the end of After Pain tells a different story alluding to people wondering if it was a murder or suicide.

We know the wording on the blackboard at the end of Mu’s mv isn’t referring to her since one of the things written on it translates to,

“Reeks of poverty.”

And the Milgram team have made it abundantly clear that Mu was born financially well off. Her classmates would also know this, given that she’s texting her old friends about giving them expensive lipstick as gifts during the mv. So, she was someone who did show off her wealth to the extent that this insult wouldn’t be lodged at her. Meaning these are not the same instances of bullying.

Also, where it says drew a picture of you on the board the drawing looks nothing like Mu but weirdly resembles the girl she killed. The final nail in the coffin on this one is, “Thanks for all the fun times we’ve had! The flowers are a present for you!”

As we see, the flowers are not on Mu's desk but on the desk right next to hers. Her standing in front of the board holding one of the flowers is even more suspicious cause that means she’s either a part of the bullying or the instigator of it. More than likely the instigator given this line that can be found on the board as well, “Acting like the heroine.” Along with this line in her music video “If you’re going to make me the villain it’s ok to ignore me.”

This is vastly different from the board that we see at the beginning that is full of things directly targeting Mu specifically. If we take into consideration that her classmates have reason to believe that she killed someone else then these things shown on the board at the beginning make more sense, “You should go to a reformatory” “Criminal” “I did nothing wrong←huh?!”. The first board also includes jokes about Mu’s name specifically. So, we know all this bullying is towards her.

When it comes to her being romantically interested in her victim I feel what matters the most is what Mu didn't say. She wants to appear like a victim certainly, but she wants to do it on her own terms. I don't think she'd be okay with any of us knowing someone found her undesirable. This is possibly one of the other reasons she doesn't want the guards looking as close as she wanted them to before anymore.

Because honestly it would be embarrassing having people know a thing like that. Which is why she remained so vague about how her victim hurt her during her first interrogation and why we never see her victim partake in bullying her during After Pain. Also, why she says this when being bullied by her former friends, "If you’re going to make me the villain. It’s ok to ignore me. If it’s endurance, I’m used to it. It’s just having another taste of it."

She's already been ignored by someone who meant far more to her than her former friends probably did. So, she should be used to it but being ignored by her victim was so unbearable she had to kill her for it. That's odd. The girl she kills is rarely shown outside the hourglass she’s trapped in. In fact, the closest the victim ever gets to Mu's bullying is when she just so happens to be leaving the bathroom the same time Mu is being bullied in it.

Which is suspect because the lines that transition us into that scene are, “But I see it in my dreams even though I erased it maybe I’m done. Just one more time before saying goodbye. I’m just kidding, please forget I said that.” So, she very well may be flashing back to the crime in this moment not committing it after.

I wrote this in that first post, “Conveniently overlooking that the hourglass Mu is stuck in is revealed to be filling with the victim’s blood at the end. Showing even more that Mu may not give a fuck about her actions effect on this person but how the mere thought of them continues to inconvenience her.”

As though despite them being dead and gone the mere concept of them lingers haunting her like those ghosts she dislikes so much. Her classmates seemingly carrying on her will by holding her accountable bringing her behavior back around to her. She erased it but she still sees it. It’s gone but things aren’t the same cause sorry won’t reach anyone because the people who used to listen won’t.

I wrote something going in depth about Otome Dissection and how it ties into this but then tumblr glitched and deleted it. Though overall it was a happy accident because I found a better way to articulate my point through rewriting this. However, I still want to try to touch on what I had before briefly.

Otome Dissection and MKDR both allude to a relationship growing sour while someone tries to hold on to it despite that. Otome Dissection looks at the toxic ways a person tries to get attention from the one they want affection from. For example, as we reach the hook of the song for the second time in Otome Dissection the lyric leading into it is, “You know you’ve been so cold lately.” Before going into playing a game of girl dissection highlighting that need to get affection but focusing in on the manipulative or detrimental way the seeker goes about getting said affection.

After this even stating, “How stupid. Your unwillingness is irresistible to me. I wonder if our misunderstanding will be resolved.” People tend to be very gracious when interpreting the lyrics of Otome Dissection. However, when taken from the most unflattering angle it can come off as someone threatening self-harm to keep a lover around. Even having the lyrics, “You know I had a dream where you fell in love with someone else. I hope you deny it. Love me, please?”

While MKDR can be considered a healthier progression. Since it at least recognizes the love had problems.

It’s just funny and cruel that Mu gets praised, showered with never ending excuses, and dotted on for being the way people suspected and vilified Mahiru for possibly being. This woman almost dies because people created a story in their heads about her being so clingy, she drove her lover to suicide or that she never had a lover at all and was a yandere. When really the chances are she poisoned her cheating fucking boyfriend.

Especially given the two people that feel bad for her the most are implied to be notorious fucking homewreckers. Kazui who we all know cheated and Yuno who was probably fucking people’s husbands given her stance on how the public views adultery. Kind of weird that they both feel really bad around the one person who abhors cheating and may have had it done to them. Like I feel sorry for her and you’re too nice to be here. The two gold medalists in the Cheating Olympics specializing in stealing your man and breaking your vows feel bad for her.

If that’s not a sign her murder was a crime of passion due to a relationship failing, I don’t know what is. Yet, for Mu this is used as an excuse for her actions, a means to validate them. So, yeah during trial one I was pretty much confused to hear that this was being pushed forward as a defense. Not only because it was hypocritical but because it makes her look worse.

I was actively hoping that this wouldn't be the reason because to me that would make this an incredibly open and shut case. Like a person would just have to love Mu to vote this act forgivable or innocent at this point in my opinion. Because regardless of whether a person is in a same sex relationship, or a heteronormative one this sort of treatment isn’t okay.

Of course, Mu’s first cover was actively ignored and now people want to say the covers don’t really mean much when they very much do. Mahiru didn’t get that treatment though she got dragged through the mud for Psychogram she wasn’t given any benefit of the doubt. People even speculated that Mahiru would be getting MKDR before Mu got it. Now Mu wants to be like don’t look too hard cause the entire story is coming together, and some people will certainly go I do not see it.

[hurt-comfort-lover]

Mirabel AU / Mirabel Angst / Mama Mirabel / Part Seven

She walked in and Senora Gabriela excitedly hugged Mirabel.

“Hola Mira, how’s your day been so far?”

“It’s been good, Tonito and I went to the forest after breakfast.”

“Well I’m glad, I made you a special pastry to have with your lunch today.”

“You didn’t have to Senora Gabriela.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” She said as she pinched Mirabel’s cheek. 

“Did you make me one too?” Antonio asked excitedly.

“Of course I did Antonio!” Gabriela said as she hugged him as well. 

“I’m going to finish the project that I started yesterday,” Mirabel said as she set down her bag.

“No no no. Not today. Today you’re going to rest and have a good time. I won’t let you work on your birthday.” Gabriela said with a cheeky smile. Antonio’s face dropped.

“W-wait, I forgot your birthday?” he asked with sadness written all over his face. Mirabel bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“Of course not silly hombrecito. You’re too little to remember dates like that. Yes though, today is my birthday.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t even have a present.” He said defeatedly. 

“It’s not too late Tonito, if you want I can help you,” Gabriela said while booping his nose.

“Gracias Senora!” He said while jumping.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Mirabel asked Gabriela.

“Si, why don’t you just sit on the couch and relax. Maybe you could sketch out some dresses or crochet a bit.” Mirabel nodded and plopped onto the couch, while Antonio and Gabriela went into the back.

“Would you like to see what I got Mirabel?” she asked.

“Si!” He said, and she took him towards her closet where she pulled out a lacey blue dress. It puffed out at the bottom, and it had butterfly designs surrounding the bottom of the dress. 

“Did you make this Senora?”

“Si, but don’t tell Mirabel yet. It’s a secret.” She said while putting her finger up to her lips.

“I promise.”

“Ok, why don’t you try thinking of what she likes.”

“She likes butterflies!” he exclaimed.

“What if you drew her some butterflies?”

“Yeah! I could make them blue like her dress.”

“Smart thinking Tonito, you can color over here in the back while I go talk to a client, si?”

“Si Senora.” He said while pulling out one of his notebooks.

The day went by quickly, and Mirabel graciously thanked Gabriela for making her a special pastry on her birthday. Though Gabriela insisted that it was her pleasure. By the time lunch was over Gabriela had wrapped her present, and then helped Tonito wrap his present. The wrapping paper was dark blue, and they both put a white bow on top. Gabriela and Tonito brought their gifts out and Mirabel smiled. 

“Open mine first!” Tonito pleaded.

“Of course hombrecito.” She said as she gently tore off the bow and ripped the paper off to reveal a drawing of blue butterflies in a meadow that said Felix Cumpleanos. 

“This is beautiful hombrecito, gracias.” She said as she gave him a big hug and littered kisses on his face.

“Miraaa!” He whined as he wriggled out of her grasp. Gabriela and Mirabel both laughed as Gabriela handed Mirabel her present.

“Gracias Gabriela.”

“Shush, don’t thank me yet, you haven’t even opened it.” Mirabel chuckled and tore the bow and paper off to reveal a white box. She opened it and pulled out her beautiful blue dress. It was like a dress only a princess would wear. Tears welled in her eyes as she smiled. She gently folded the dress back into the box before jumping onto Gabriela, crying in her arms.

“Muy gracias Senora. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for your kindness.”

“You never have to pay me back Mira, you are growing to be a beautiful young woman, I see it in you every day. I love you as if you were my own daughter.” She tried it on, and it fit perfectly, the dress puffed out as Mirabel spun in it. She took it off so as to not ruin it, and then they had to head home for dinner.

“Feliz Cumpleanos Mirabel.” Gabriela said as they headed home. Mirabel held the white box tight, it was better than anything she could’ve asked for. When they arrived home Mirabel tried to go straight to the nursery but was stopped by her mami.

“Lo siento Mirabel, it’s been a long day.” She said as she gave her youngest daughter a hug.

“What are you holding?” Antonio answered for Mirabel,

“It’s her present from Senora Gabriela!” He exclaimed. 

“Oh that’s so nice of her, what was the special occasion?” she asked. Mirabel put on the best fake smile she could muster as Antonio was shocked. I mean he was little, which is why Mirabel told him it was fine that he forgot, but her Mami? How did she forget? 

“Did you for-”

“It’s nothing. She was just being nice.” Mirabel interrupted him.

“Ah, well te amo Mirabel.”

“Te amo Mami,” she responded as her mom walked away.

“Why didn’t you tell her it was your birthday?”

“It’s ok Tonito. On my birthday when I was younger something bad happened and so we don’t really celebrate anymore. She’s busy anyway, I don’t want to bother her.” She didn’t deserve to celebrate her birthday. 

“Ok..” he said as they walked to the nursery. She put the white box underneath her bed.

“Aren’t you going to wear the dress?” He asked.

“I don’t know hombrecito. I don’t want to ruin it, and we need to eat dinner.”

“Can you wear it after dinner?”

“Anything for you Tonito.” She said as she kissed the top of his head. They sat down for dinner. Mirabel acted normal, though her smile was merely a facade to how she felt on the inside. The thoughts that plagued her, held her captive. Antonio looked expectantly at everyone, waiting for someone to tell Mira happy birthday. Even if they don’t celebrate, they should still wish her a happy birthday, right? To Mirabel's surprise, fate would have something in mind for her. As everyone finished eating they went to their separate rooms, that is everyone except Dolores who lightly tapped Mirabel's shoulder.

“Si?” Mirabel asked in a quiet voice.

“Um… Feliz Cumpleanos Mirabel. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“Gracias Dolores.” She said as she walked with Tonito to the room. Her insides bubbled with happiness. Even if Dolores didn’t remember until Tonito said it, she still appreciated the sentiment. She put the dress on and Antonio and Mirabel danced together until Antonio began to yawn. Then they got into their pajamas and went to sleep. Mirabel got a good night's sleep that night. Though her thoughts still plagued her, she didn’t let them ruin her happiness. She had the best fifteenth birthday.