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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment w/c; 3.3k a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse and @woozisnoots for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓��

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right.

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right.

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right.

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?”

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get.

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right.

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left.

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out.

Billiam has Super-liked you!

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam.

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick.

Billiam is typing…

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment.

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.”

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!”

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!”

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly.

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!”

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep.

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.”

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?”

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen.

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky.

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder.

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask.

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer.

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off.

He’s getting an incoming call. From you.

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard.

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up.

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this.

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up.

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?”

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it.

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.”

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.”

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity.

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?”

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?”

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.”

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit.

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?”

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.”

“Good night.”

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence.

The waning starts today.

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time?

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep?

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe.

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night.

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal.

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies.

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.”

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy.

“Who is it?”

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.”

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard.

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder.

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?”

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship.

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.”

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you.

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.”

Liar. He’s a liar.

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.”

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?”

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s.

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—”

“Uji?”

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm.

“Uh, hey?”

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement.

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!”

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away.

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?”

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together.

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down.

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him.

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.”

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look.

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?”

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch.

“It’s—”

“Complicated.”

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly.

“There’s things you’re not telling me.”

“Right.”

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add.

“Yes.”

“Then what are some things you can tell me?”

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.”

“Paperwork?”

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life?

“Okay,” you finally say.

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens.

“Really.”

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease.

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.”

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle.

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #jihoon fic #woozi fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios

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mrpenguinpants · 4 years ago

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Andrius, Venti, and Dvalin: General HCs [+ unhinged Venti]

Oh no, not strange at all! I love seeing the art people have done on human Dvalin and Andrius. I’m not entirely sure if you wanted a Venti x Dvalin x Andrius pairing but I’m going to assume so. But just in case, I added a few points of all 4 of your hanging out. How my desk is positioned with my window, the sun is shining directly into my eyes so I have to type in this weird position unless I want my eyeballs to melt.

Also, if any of this is wrong just look away. This took forever because holy crap there is so much lore on these 3. Not sure what exactly you had in mind so I made some general/friendship HCs

Alright, today’s appreciations post is for maagdalen. Super lovely person with some lovely emotes. Oh and your english is really good btw^^ and ty for chatting with me 💕💕💕

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz

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Andrius, Venti, and Dvalin: General HCs

Andrius

Andrius, also known as Lupus Boreas, was tasked with protecting the nation of Mondstadt under the request of Barbatos. He had a noble soul and mainly stays in the area of Wolvendom. He was strict, to the point, and never really partakes in whatever “foolish” activities Venti or Dvain get themselves into. But it’s all just a front because as soon as one of them get’s hurt or is in danger, his fangs and teeth are out. Even if it’s a cute hydro slime. Then he’ll take them by the scruff of their neck back to Wolvendom to get their wounds checked. On Venti it works, but with Dvalin’s dragon form. It’s amusing to see a pouting dragon getting dragged off by a wolf that wasn’t even double his size.

Not many Mondstadt citizen’s know but Andrius isn’t actually a wolf. He chooses to take the form of a wolf and should any of the wolves in Wolvendom be threaten, that’s the form he will appear in. But in truth, it was because Venti suggested it. If he was going to stay in Wolvendom and protect wolves then it made sense that his form would be the big bad wolf. Really Andrius just believes that Venti has a secret vendetta against cats and Andrius wouldn’t talk to Venti if he suggested that he take the form a dog.

There is a bit of discourse between Andrius and Venti due to Venti’s human-like appearance since Andrius views human society as a disappointment. Only accepting abandoned infants that have no where to go. But he does respect Barbatos and helped in his efforts to rebuild Mondstadt and protect it as one of the Four Winds.

While he doesn’t completely enjoy Venti’s extravagant personality he’s glad that Barbatos adopted the name and is living his life in freedom. Despite being the anemo archon, he chooses to live as Venti. Having fun in taverns and doing what he loves.

Venti

Venti always brings stories and sings for the two whenever he decides that it’s been too long since he’s seen his friends. He usually brings a bottle of wine even if he’s the only one that ever drinks - which is probably why he brings wine - which leads to Andrius scolding Venti to try and act civilized when he gets drunk and saying “No Dvalin, you cannot have some. The last time we let you drink you cried so much that Springvale still has a waterfall.”

It’s amusing to hear that after the war, the biggest problem Venti has right now is getting constantly ID checked. Dvalin takes this quite literally, since he still isn’t fully aware of taverns rules and regulations, that it takes both Venti and Andrius to hold him down before another Stormterror incident happens.

Venti has always been bold, never afraid to say anything, which was a trait that Dvalin and Andrius liked about the anemo archon. It was what made him the archon of freedom but sometimes Venti is a bit too bold and pretends to play fetch with Andrius wolf form. He is not amused. When he tries it with Dvalin, Dvalin will participate but he get’s confused and ends up just sitting beside Venti when the archon throws the stick. Which causes Venti to make a walk of shame to get the stick back.

When Venti acts as the Wind Archon it’s always a bit of whiplash when he talks in his philosophical state that it reminds Dvalin and Andrius that despite his childlike appearance and attitude, he was still the anemo archon. But it get quickly covered up when he says it’s time to switch back to Venti time.

It’s hard for them all to meet up in the present day. Dvalin stays in his domain while Andrius stays in Wolvendorm, all alone in their own domain. Venti prefers lively places than those quiet and solitude areas so he’s either in the City of Freedom or under the Windrise tree. But on occasions where he feels lonely he’ll swing by Dvalin’s lair and use the winds to carry their conversation to Andrius. Just so he isn’t left out.

If anyone asks where the ballads that Venti sings that are about a strict wolf and a nervous dragon, he’ll just say it was a passing tune he made up.

Dvalin

Dvalin, same as Andrius, lost his faith in humanity and the city of Mondstadt. He was released as his role as one of the four winds but continued to remain in Mondstadt. Similarly to Andrius he is distrustful around humans after being betrayed by them, chose to avoids human contact but he tries to adopt a more friendly side when Venti visits him.

Dvalin cares about Venti more and isn’t as standoffish in showing that he appreciates Venti compared to Andrius. Venti explained to him and showed him what freedom truly was he felt connected with someone for the first time. He did want to be understood and loved by the humans for who he was and what he wanted to protect. But that’s still a long road ahead.

He’s a curious but clumsy dragon. He’s pure of heart and steadfast in his goals which Venti is full-heartily cheering him on while Andrius disagrees but allows Dvalin to continue on this own path. Even if Andrius is on the other side of Mondstadt, he still tries to keep an eye out for Dvalin should the Abyss Order ever try and take his friend under their control.

However, due to how almost naïve the dragon is, he get’s into rather...interesting situations. While Andrius groans and Venti loses his absolute shit when Dvalin, still in his dragon form, lands and tries to observe the wolves. He only hides behind a thin tree that barely covers even 2% of his entire body and ends up scaring the wolves who run back to Andrius for safety. It takes a lot of consoling from Venti that the wolves didn’t like him, they were just scared and perhaps he should adopt a smaller form?

He’s still a bit sick from the aftermath of the Abyss Order and the poison of Durin so he can’t travel as far as he would like so Venti keeps him company. Telling him what the citizens of Mondstadt have been up to and playing music with his lyre.

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I love writing Venti, he’s so much fun. :) I say this but I live for Venti who hides behind this happy persona but is actually unhinged or deluded. I have many thoughts on this but I didn’t want to break the pace of the fic (plus this is getting pretty long anyways). So feel free to skip the rest of this if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m just spit balling right now.

But nervous and shy dragon Dvalin plus mother hen Andrius is canon. You cannot convince me otherwise.

This week has just turned into “what will we awaken today?” In other news, Lisa and Diluc. But it might be a bit late since this took some time to finish. In extra news, solo leveling just updated. Oh and jjk is (hopefully) getting a new episode tmr^^

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Barbatos

Andrius and Dvalin trust Venti to fulfill his archon duties should anything ever happen to Mondstadt. The same way Venti trusts the Four Winds will protect Mondstadt should anything dangerous arise. With the carefree nature of Venti making a sudden appearance after Barbatos’s year long nap, they both got a bit too comfortable with this happy-go-lucky version of their archon.

That is until Venti brings a fourth person into their trio. Someone who knew how to play the lyre and wished to fly and see the birds. Andrius and Dvalin share a quick look of anxious tension and it’s confirmed when Venti makes a small slip of the tongue and calls you by a certain boy’s name. They aren’t sure what to do or if Venti was starting to regress back into Barbatos and what that could mean for this innocent traveler.

“Barbatos defeated the previous ruler and left the city to rest because he didn’t want to become the same tyrant. But an archon is still an archon with responsibilities. Those responsibilities can be warped to the point that they believe they are helping and guiding their followers, but are actually trapping them in their cage. He is an archon that believes in freedom so his cage is just a bit bigger. Big enough that you can’t see the walls. Be careful traveler.”

Venti goes to greet you the next day you see him but his words seem to fade away when he approach's you. He asks if you’ve been talking to Andrius lately. You nod and ask how he knows. He says that you just spell like wolfhooks and that you shouldn’t worry about anything.

The next day Andrius apologizes to you about his words and that he was mistaken. There was nothing to worry about and to trust Venti. You can see Dvalin a bit off to the side looking away nervously and a bit guilty.

Venti always makes sure that Andrius and Dvalin keep an eye on you, especially Dvalin when you’re in stormterror land. It was a pretty dangerous landscape to trek through. As for Andrius, he doesn’t want you to get hurt during your weekly practice fights. It wouldn’t do you any good if you got hurt and couldn’t explore this vast world with him.

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

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After Midnight pt. 5 (Feysand)

Woooo it’s done :) Sorry it took an ~insane~ amount of time. Most the time I’m not this shitty with updating fics, but it’s been a really weird, hectic couple of weeks. Thanks for being patient and reading!

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~Feyre~

Honestly, I don’t know why I’m being so dramatic about this.

I knew it had to end at some point. I just didn’t expect to feel... regret.

I don’t regret anything that happened that night, or even the fact that I’d vastly overstepped my boundaries and paid for his cousin’s treatment.

That isn’t where the regret stems.

It comes from the fact that I left in the first place.

Six days after we were together, my skin still tingles whenever I think about his touch, the raw possession in his hands that somehow still managed to be gentle. I shiver whenever I think of his mouth on mine, his smile against my lips.

Leaving him after that hadn’t been easy by any measure, but it would’ve been much harder to do if he had been awake.

And this way, he knows it was nothing he did.

Besides be a good listener, and being more compassionate than anyone I’ve ever met, and handsome, and funny.

Nope, it was none of those reasons. It was because I, a self-admitted idiot, can’t keep my heart from wanting more. From wanting it to be real.

Like I said, I’m an idiot.

Even if... even if it sometimes felt like I wasn’t. I mean, there had to be a reason he was so unbelievably patient with me, right? A reason he looked at me with curious, attentive eyes that told me more than words ever could?

Pushing those thoughts away, I remind myself that it’s done. Over. I made my decision. Thinking about how dumb it was wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

And I had places to go.

It had been such a short time since the last appointment, but so much had changed in my life. All good change, but change nonetheless.

I’m starting over; reinventing myself. So what if I’m twenty-seven and single and have no idea what I’m doing?

So what if I can’t stop thinking about Rhys’s smile, or the fact that our last appointment was supposed to be tomorrow?

Sighing, I turn over in bed and pull the covers above my head. No small part of me wishes I had his phone number so I could call him, hear him say my name.

But I don’t, and it’s for a reason. He doesn’t get personal with clients, and I was just a client to him.

I have no way of contacting him, of telling him that I regret leaving, and it’s a good thing.

I repeat the words to myself just before I go to sleep, the lie bitter on my tongue.

It’s Friday.

Which, a week ago would’ve meant I would get dressed and go to work, not pay attention to what I was doing at all, and then meet Rhys. But I had rightfully ended things, so I didn’t need to do that.

And I don’t need to go to work.

Instead, I force myself to make breakfast and get dressed. Then I clean my entire house top to bottom, go on a run, ate lunch, and balance my checkbook.

But when the clock reads six, there's no more denying it. I'm bored. And lonely.

So I do what any clinically insane woman would do: I go to the hotel, grabbing my art supplies as I leave. Getting in the car, I laugh as I look at the faded leather bag in my hands.

It’s been ages since I’d reached for it so thoughtlessly. Once upon a time, this bag had been an extension of my arm, but I hadn’t thought about it since before the breakup. But now... I want to paint.

And suddenly, I know exactly how I’m spending my evening.

I drive to the hotel and get my key--for some reason I never cancelled the reservation--then head up to the room, frowning when I think about walking through this doorway with Rhys.

How do I miss someone I hardly know?

Although, that isn’t really true. It’s only been a little over a month, but I feel like I do know him. I know what makes him laugh, what his favorite food is. I know the feel of his skin, the way his eyes crinkle when he’s annoyed. I know him.

It doesn’t matter.

I won’t ever see him again, but maybe... maybe I can give myself something to hold on to.

I walk into the room, mess with the lights until the room is cast in soft, buttery light, and set up my art station.

And then, for the first time in years, I paint.

By the time I’ve finished the small piece, I’m smiling and feeling lighter than I have since... since last Friday. But I’m also hungry, so when I hear a knock on the door, I run over, assuming it’s my room service order.

It’s not.

My jaw hits the floor as I look up at Rhysand, who looks just as surprised to see me, even though he’s the one who knocked on my door.

For a weird moment, we just stare at each other.

Normally, I’d say something, maybe ask why he’s here, but I’m just so damn happy to see him.

He’s tall and beautiful and smells like the ocean, and I realize then how much I’ve missed the twinkle in his eye, the curve of his lips.

His eyes run over me, and then he glances behind me to where the make-shift, wobbly easel I keep in my bag still stands in front of the bed.

“You’ve been painting.”

I nod. Given the paint-splatters on my hands and clothes, that’s pretty obvious. I have no idea what to say, so I just state the obvious. “You’re here.”

It comes out equal parts question, statement, and accusation.

“So are you,” he shoots back.

True.

I have no idea why he’s here, but I know I don’t want him to leave, so I swing the door open wider in silent invitation.

He takes it and walks in, looking at the rumpled bed and art supplies, then walking over to the easel curiously.

Then I remember what I painted.

And suddenly, all thoughts of why he might have come are long gone. All that remains is the blind panic that he’ll see what I’ve done and run for the hills.

“Wait, don’t!” I shout, hauling ass to stand in front of him with my hands raised like a linebacker. “It’s... you can’t see it.”

Those violet eyes dance as his lips twitch. “Why not?”

“It’s not done.” Not true. Finished it twenty minutes ago. He’s turned me into a filthy liar, and we both know it.

“Move.”

I shake my head.

“Feyre, this is cute and all, but you weigh like a hundred pounds. Move, or I will move you.” I narrow my eyes, ready to go down fighting, and he laughs. “Please?”

The word gives me pause, and I know he’s not leaving until he sees it, so I sigh and move aside.

He sticks out his tongue as he brushes past me, but the smugness leaves his face as he looks down at the small canvas and sees the subject.

It’s him.

It’s the image that’s been in my head for seven days now. The image of him laying in the bed exhausted and ruffled, covers drawn to his waist.

His tan chest is on full display, tattoos stark against the white sheets, and his hair is ruffled. His face--which took me the longest to get right--is peaceful as he sleeps, even though there are laughter lines around his full mouth.

It’s how he looked when I left him.

Real-life Rhys looks at the bed, then me. “You painted me.”

His voice is full of light, but I suddenly realize how fucking creepy this is. “Uh, yeah. Sorry?”

He gives me a strange look but changes the subject to something even more uncomfortable without missing a beat. “Is this how I looked when you left?”

I look at the floor, suddenly finding it interesting, but a hand on my chin forces my eyes back to his.

“Yes.” It’s a whispered admission, but he hears it.

“Why?”

“I had to,” I defend weakly.

“No, you didn’t. You chose to.” His hand falls away, and his tone grows a little... irritated? “I’ve been looking for you, by the way. I went to the coffee place you mentioned liking every day this week. I even went to the museum, but they said you quit.”

A smile finds its way on my face as I nod. “I’m going to go back to painting, I think.”

His eyes are soft, even though his jaw is still set. “You can’t paint me any time you want, but I’ll expect commission.”

I roll my eyes, cheeks flushing. Rhysand grows quiet, his eyes searching mine, and I know he’s thinking of the perfect way to phrase whatever he’s about to say.

“Why are you here, Feyre?”

It’s a simple question. Or at least it should be. But there’s no one answer.

I’m here because I miss him.

I’m here because I wanted to think about our time together, however brief it was.

I’m here because I wanted to feel like how I do when I’m with him.

I could tell him any one of these reasons, and they’d be true. But they’d still be a lie, because the real reason I drove here tonight... “I’m here because I was hoping you’d be here, too.”

Rhys smiles, and his hand is back on my face, cupping my cheek this time. “Well that works out well, because that’s why I’m here.”

Disbelief and joy shoot through me, leaving me a little confused. “What?”

“I’m here because I thought you might com here, and I wanted to see you. So I could thank you for what you did.”

Oh.

Right.

It had taken selling an old piece to one of my longest clients, but seeing the expression on his face right now makes the hassle well worth it.

It’s nice seeing him happy, even if the disappointment in my chest is almost crushing. He’s here to thank me, because of his cousin.

I open my mouth to speak, but he presses a finger to my lips to shut me up. “I’m not done yet.”

My eye brows fly up, and he smiles. “I’m here to yell at you for leaving me in the middle of the night, with a goddamn note no less.”

Yet again, he cuts me off when I try to speak. “Who tells someone they have feelings for them in a note? Fucking Jane Austen, that’s who. The next time you have compliments and sweet nothings to shower on me, you’re doing it in person.”

My lips twitch under his finger, drawing his gaze. And his voice goes a little deeper as he continues, “I’m here to tell you it was dumb to leave, because I don’t think of you as just a client, either. You’re more to me, even though I tried to fight it.”

Oh my gods.

“And lastly, I’m here to kiss you until you believe that. I’m here to show you how much you’re not just a client to me. I’m here because I’m desperate for you, and I don’t want to spend another minute denying it to myself.”

Rhysand grows silent, the finger on my lips finally slipping away. “I’m done now.”

I don’t know what to say, really.

Everything I thought I knew was wrong. And he... I...

I may not have a clue what I want to say, but I at least know what I want to do.

So I do it.

I practically jump on him, my hands locking around his neck and bringing his face down to mine so I can kiss him.

Relief and happiness and a million other emotions course through me as our lips meet, and from the way he kisses me back, he’s feeling them too.

It’s a frenzy--a wild clash of two people determined to get closer, to take more.

We hit the floor, but I hardly notice it and I definitely don’t complain, because I’m sprawled on top of him. I’m partially aware that all the paint on my clothes is seeping into his, but neither of us seem to care.

Rhys pulls back enough to growl, “A note.”

I mumble a reply, but I don’t know if it makes any sense, because his mouth is on my neck and I can’t hold down solid thoughts.

All I can think is that I want his skin against mine, so I reach and tug his shirt off, then pull him back down to me. My arms are around his shoulders, legs around his waist, and his hips churn against mine in a way that makes us both breathless.

His hands find the hem of my shirt, then it’s on the floor next to my head and his mouth is on my beast, teasing me until I squirm helplessly underneath him.

“Rhys, please.”

Ignoring me entirely, he just kisses his way to my other breast, giving it the same treatment. I’m restless and just a little desperate at this point, but he pays it no mind as his mouth moves down my stomach.

Rough, calloused hands lift my hips, then slide my remaining clothes down my legs, leaving me bare before him.

The pause gives me enough time to realize we’re still on the floor, but then his mouth finds the apex of my thighs, and I stop caring.

I moan, hips lifting to give him better access.

He’s making it clear exactly how much he missed me, because while being with him is usually long and luxurious and sensual, it’s now... ravenous. I feel like I’m being devoured, and I love it.

My body finds release quickly, but Rhys doesn’t stop until I climax again, name falling off my lips in a breathy tone I hardly recognize.

He prowls back up my body and kisses my mouth, proving everything he said ten minutes ago once again. My legs fall open further as he pauses to remove his jeans and roll a condom on, then a hand on my hip keeps me still as he pushes into me, eyes meeting mine the entire time.

My head falls back, digging into the carpet, and he kisses my neck as he begins to move.

My body’s already fatigued and satiated, but it comes alive under his touch, reacting instantly to the indecent roll of his hips.

“You feel so good,” he groans at my ear, the words doing very little for my sanity.

If I had the ability to form words, I’d respond. But I don’t, so I stay silent.

Well, not silent, but I stay murmuring absolute jibberish as his hips move against mine. He speeds up, and I arch against him, loving the way he wraps his arms around me to keep me close.

His mouth is back on mine, tongue meeting mine in a desperate, heady way that makes me groan.

Release begins to build once again inside me, and he somehow senses it, reaching between my legs to work the bundle of nerves there. I go over the edge, legs and arms trembling from their hold around him.

Rhys follows suit, murmuring my name over and over as his motions get a little sloppy, then stop altogether.

Our breathing comes heavy and fast, and for a minute, we just lay there, both of us incapable of doing anything more.

Once I finally regain the ability to breathe, I mutter, “So, you have feelings for me.”

He grunts in acknowledgement, making me smile. “You have feelings for me, too.”

I don’t feel like grunting, so I say, “I do.”

He sighs, rolling us onto our sides. “Like I said, no self-control.”

“I blame you.”

His violet eyes twinkle as he props himself on an elbow and looks down at me. “Me and my good looks take full responsibility.”

I smile again and realize how happy I am. I’m on the floor and covered in paint, but I’ve never felt more beautiful or important. And it’s because of him.

“I don’t know how to be in a relationship anymore,” I admit, scared but knowing more than anything that I want to try.

Rhys shrugs, leaning to press a soft kiss to my lips. “I figure we’ll argue a lot and have really great sex.”

“Works for me.”

“As long as you paint me again. Preferably nude this time.”

__________________________________________________________

I am tired I apologize if I missed stuff editing. Thanks for reading!! Feel free to drop asks in the box :) I have a few I’m working on.

@trinitybailey @zukos-simp @that-other-pineapple @booksofthemoon @stardelia @awesomelena555 @queen-of-glass @whilma-warfstache @highqueenofelfhame @spyofthenightcourt @samcortlandisaginger @city-of-infernal-dauntless @verypaleninja @nikki1288-blog @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre x rhysand #feysand fanfiction #rhysand #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #acomaf #acofas #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

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thespianbooks · 4 years ago

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A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter Seventeen//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

...I’m sorry ^^;

Something wasn't right.

"It doesn't make sense," Cassian said; all of us gathered around the map laid out on the large table in the library. "I've rotated my most trusted legion across every single Illyrian camp since the summit, including the ones we know haven't sided with Kallon—just in case, and nothing."

Azriel shook his head, as equally astonished as Cassian was at the lack of intel they had been working tirelessly to achieve in the last couple of weeks.

"My spies haven't found anything either, on any front." He said, hazel eyes growing hard as they scanned over the maps and reports spread out before us.

Two months had officially passed since our summit meeting and our tenure of peace was now plagued by stress. In the months that passed, Cassian and Azriel worked together to keep a watchful eye on the traitors in our court—the latter keeping his network of spies focused on Keir and his Darkbringer army, while the former kept a strict watch on the rebellious Illyrian camp lords. As our second and third in command, Mor and Amren not only attended to their duties in Velaris, but also visited the Hewn City on mine and Rhys's behalf—a show of force and distraction while Azriel's spies lurked in the shadows. In the last few weeks, Rhys and I corresponded with the other High Lords and Eris, updating them on whatever intel we managed to gather, and them offering us any information they might have regarding the Autumn Court and promising to keep alert on their end.

But as of late, there was nothing. No movement whatsoever from Keir, Kallon, or Beron.

We initially received a report a couple of weeks following the summit that our steward had called for a stall in his plans, and because of that we assumed the trio were biding their time in order to regroup and organize new plans to strike before my due date—now a short twenty-odd weeks away, but it was taking them too long.

No, something definitely wasn't right, and we all knew it.

"Is it possible they're folding back on the coup?" Elain asked, amid the tense silence that had befallen us.

Nesta placed a hand on the back of her chair, standing just to her side with Cassian on the other. "Keir wouldn't just give up on killing Feyre, the High Lord, or their child," she said, as blunt as ever.

I grimaced and Mor threw her a disapproving stare, but Amren loosed a long-held breath through her nose.

"The girl is right. They aren't pulling back on their plans now, but they are plotting something." she said, turning her silver gaze to Rhys and me.

I sighed, an idle hand running along the line of my belly—a considerable size now that I was nearing the end of the second stage of pregnancy. The baby inside was mercifully calm in light of the topics we discussed, which I was thankful for since my other symptoms weren't; a dull headache creeping in at my temples since I awoke this morning, and my lower back muscles sore with my new weight.

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop, readjusting myself in the chair I sat in for the hundredth time since the start of our meeting. "Could Keir be plotting something on his own?" I asked as Rhys offered me a hand up, wanting to help mitigate some of the ache in my back and hips temporarily.

"It's possible," he answered as I took his hand, standing with a heavy sigh.

I kneaded a sore spot on my back as I turned to look at Cassian and Azriel—who were watching me with equal concern and glancing at my swollen stomach. "Your reports say that Kallon hasn't corresponded much lately with Keir?" I asked, addressing Azriel.

The shadowsinger cast a wary glance at my mate, something they had all begun doing recently anytime they had bad news to share—as if they were afraid the information would harm me or the baby. The only ones who didn't tip-toe around me were Amren and Nesta, and I was grateful for it. As increasingly uncomfortable as I was becoming the more my belly grew, my mood swings now tended to lean more and more towards irritation. The last thing I needed was everyone trying to handle me as if I were made of porcelain.

I sighed in frustration. "You don't need to coddle me, Az. None of you do. Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't handle reading reports or operating during the threat of a coup." I snapped, harsher than I meant to.

I felt Rhys rest a hand on the small of my back; knowing he gave the spymaster a curt nod of approval, and Azriel, Mother bless him, dipped his head in apology. "You're right. Most of the messengers sent between them with letters or verbal messages have come from Kallon but have gone ignored in the last few weeks."

"From what I've seen, the stupid sot has been feeling slighted by that bastard and he's called off sending those imploring letters to the camp lords who haven't yet sided with him." Cassian added, "He's waiting for Keir."

"Because he knows he needs them," Mor scoffed.

"The steward is definitely concocting something," Amren said coolly and motioned to my sisters.

"Tell them what you saw, girl," she said to Elain.

We all turned to her, Nesta going rigid at her side—nails digging into the wood of Elain's chair.

"You saw something?" I asked her.

She frowned as she nodded, scanning the other faces in the room. "I had a vision the other night, of Vassa. She's our ally so I didn't think much of it at first, but last night the vision came to me again and it was...different," she explained, her eyes beginning to go vacant as she recalled the details.

"What happened in the vision?" Azriel asked, trying to gently coax her back in the conversation.

Her eyes were still distant as she turned her attention to him, as if he grounded her during these moments. "I saw just her face at first, she looked distraught as she gave some kind of warning. I couldn't make out the exact words," she said, shame quivering her voice as she looked at her lap.

"That's okay, Elain." Azriel said, stepping closer to her side and to my surprise, Nesta didn't flinch. "What else?" he asked again.

Elain sighed shakily. "Then, last night...I saw her face again, giving the same warning, and then...a weeping firebird sweeping over land before setting fire to it."

My eyes went wide, turning to look at Rhys as we both recalled the connection her new vision had with the previous one from months ago. A great-winged animal sweeping over a grassy knoll. Only now we knew that animal was a firebird, one that Elain also warned us of during the war. We all must've had the same realization, because within seconds we exchanged worried glances. Silent conversations passing mind-to-mind between my mate and his brothers, as well as Mor and Amren.

"I'm sorry," Elain whispered, staring at her lap again. "For not saying anything sooner, I just assumed her warning was about the coup. I didn't get any other details until I saw it in my dreams."

"You didn't do anything wrong Elain," I said reassuringly. "We're all working with the information we have."

Rhys nodded. "Cassian and Azriel will go to the Mortal Lands and check in with Vassa, Jurian and Lucien. I'll send a letter ahead of them, and we can hope we get there before Keir does."

"You think Keir will move against the Mortal Lands?" Nesta asked, silent horror hidden behind those blue-grey eyes.

"He knows of the ties Lucien has with them. If he can take them down and sever whatever bond Lucien has with the Queen before they can ally with us against him, that's an advantage for him with the Autumn Court," Cassian explained.

"We need to monitor them as well," I added quickly. "In case Beron decides to work on Keir's behalf to sweeten the pot in whatever deal they've struck."

"I'll send my spies," Azriel said, nodding at me in acknowledgement.

"You'll both leave tomorrow," Rhys ordered them. His violet eyes were hardened, wings flaring slightly as they began detailing out new plans.

Go with them. I urged through the bond.

The hand that held my waist only tightened slightly. I can't leave you behind, Feyre, not with something like this brewing

I'll be safe with Mor and Amren here in Velaris.

I'm going to take you and your sisters to the Cabin until we get word back from Cassian and Azriel. Mor and Amren can guard Velaris

Or you can leave me and my sisters at the Cabin and meet up with Azriel and Cassian.

He gave me a weary look, but I squeezed his hand. The three of us will be safe there. No one outside our family knows of its location, and no one can winnow inside. We'll be taken care of until you three return, and you can keep me updated.

I saw the contemplation swirl in his violet eyes, knew that behind his adamant shields he saw the sense in my words but was still reluctant. His hand came to rest on my stomach carefully, earning a delightful kick from our son—who seemed to have awoken during our silent exchange.

I can't leave you. And even through the bond I could hear the strain in his voice.

I sighed, but before I could argue further, Cassian cleared his throat. "We'd be better suited if we had the High Lord at our side, since the High Lady is incapacitated at the moment."

Azriel nodded in agreement, "If there is a threat to the Mortal Lands, we'll need a more competent diplomat present to warn and ready them for the strike."

Rhys's gaze hardened again as he met his brothers urging stares. They knew as well as I did that my mate was on edge, his nerves only growing more unsettled in recent weeks, making him more protective of me and our child. He hardly left my side at all these past few months, so the opportunity to go out and perform his duties as High Lord would help alleviate the tension growing through our bond once again.

I squeezed his hand reassuringly, those hardened violet eyes growing softer as they met with mine. We'll be waiting here, safe, until you come back. Go warn our friends in the Mortal Lands, and then we can finally take care of Keir.

His eyes landed on my stomach once again before he loosed a breath through his nostrils and nodded in acknowledgement at his brothers.

XXX

"Do you think she's alright?" Elain asked.

Her quiet inquiry interrupted my stormy thoughts as I stared out the window of the sitting room. Only a couple of hours had passed since the Illyrian brothers carried us up to the safety of the cabin; Cassian holding Nesta, Azriel taking a flushed Elain, and Rhys hauling me and my swollen belly. I had made a sly comment about the burden of my new weight to Rhys in the hopes to ease his apprehensiveness and was glad when he smugly reassured me of his otherworldly strength with his trademark feline grin, before depositing me on the steps leading to the Cabin. My heart tugged at the memory of the two of us having escaped here only weeks before, but we all knew this was the safest place for me and my sisters at the moment. Mor and Amren remained in Velaris, as we had all agreed on, and moved to monitor the city from the House of Wind as an extra precautionary step.

I turned away from the window, having stared at the mountains surrounding us since Rhys kissed me and my belly goodbye. "Vassa is fierce, and well-guarded thanks to Lucien and Jurian," I reassured her.

"She's still got that curse," Nesta scoffed from her place on the loveseat across from where Elain sat.

Elain frowned and I glared at my eldest sister. "Yes, but thanks to the bargain father made for her temporary release, we've been able to extend it and she hasn't been forced into her firebird form in over a decade," I explained.

"But my visions haven't been wrong yet. What if she is forced into it?" Elain pressed.

I sighed and crossed over to where she sat, using the arm of the chair to help lower myself onto the plush seat—noting how cautiously Nesta eyed my movements. "We still don't know what your vision meant. Perhaps Vassa shifts into her firebird form in order to aid us in the coup?"

"She was weeping as she set the fire," Nesta interjected.

I sighed and pressed a hand against my temple, messaging it lightly in an attempt to relieve the stress beginning to build up. Elain leaned over to rest her hand over mine gently, "Let's talk about something else. You were right, Vassa is strong and we won't know anything until Rhysand, and the others return."

I nodded in agreement with a faint smile, moving my hand to rest on my stomach. "How have you been feeling? You've been so busy serving as High Lady that Nesta and I haven't seen you much lately," she asked.

Nesta interrupted before I had a chance to reassure her. "You need to allow yourself more time to rest. You're nearing the end stages of your pregnancy, and the strain of all of this isn't good for your youngling. Let that High Lord and assistant of yours take care of matters from now on," she scolded.

Elain and I balked at her, equally shocked that she was being so stern with me again. I had noticed fairly early in my pregnancy that Nesta was growing increasingly vigilant of me—concerning herself more with the welfare of the child I carried, and after what Cassian revealed to me weeks ago, I now understood why. Despite her brute facade, she cared about me and worried about the fate of my child; perhaps as any older sister would.

I swallowed the irrational tears and sob that built up in my throat, a reaction I now involuntarily had every so often, and sat up a little straighter. "It's not that simple," I reasoned. "I'm still High Lady and given the concerning reports and lack of intel we've obtained in the last couple weeks, I've had to work together with Rhys to reach out to the other courts and meet with the rest of the inner circle."

"They're all thinking the same thing, except maybe Amren. They want you to rest more and let them handle this situation," Nesta went on. "They're just too scared to hurt your feelings or upset you, or whatever idiotic reason it is, not to tell you."

"Oh, but you aren't afraid to do any of that, are you?" I asked a bit bitterly—beginning to second guess my earlier sentiments.

"I'm not, because I see the toll this pregnancy is having on you and unlike the others, I'm not afraid to bring it up and say what needs to be said." She argued, hands placed on her lap with striking elegance—even though her words were anything but.

I hardened my stare at her, our identical blue-grey eyes cold with contempt; hers out of unyielding concern, and mine out of...reluctant understanding. It was no secret that my pregnancy was difficult, increasingly so since the early stages. There were periods of time when I felt fine, energetic and able to accomplish multiple tasks in a day, but there were still days where the lingering nausea and fatigue left me in bed for hours at a time. That, accompanied by the new onslaught of pelvic pains, back aches, and my rush of hormones caused me to be frequently disgruntled. Rhys, being the overbearing mother-hen he always tended to be whenever I felt the least bit poorly, did his best to console me. The others did as well, to the point where I believed they were coddling me. It wasn't until now that I realized they only wanted me to remain at ease; knowing the risk of any stress on me or the baby could be dangerous. Madja had warned us of what complications could arise from that burden, and I knew now that they were all just trying to prevent it.

My gaze cracked as tears sprang back into my eyes and turned away as they burned. I took a few steadying breaths, Elain's hand coming to my shoulder to help soothe me as she slid closer to me on our shared seat. "I didn't try insisting I go with them to the Mortal Lands or anything. I'm letting them handle the situation, but as High Lady I need to oversee the operations."

"Yes, but you're burdening yourself with worry." Elain offered softly. "You've been taking on work that you could leave to your mate or the others."

"Like that meeting with Tamlin." Nesta reminded me and I frowned, remembering the toll that trip had taken on me at the time.

"Or insisting you attend all the meetings on the reports Cassian and Azriel have gathered. Rhys can attend to those and fill you in later," Elain added.

"The point is that you need to delegate more. You were off to a good start after the summit meeting, coming here with your mate and spending time with the others, but you've overloaded yourself far too much over the last couple of weeks." Nesta concluded.

I sighed, leaning back to rest against the plush seat and ran my hands over my protruding stomach, feeling my son beginning to stir from the occasional nap he took in the warmth and protection my womb offered. Every point they brought up was right; while we all had allowed ourselves a moment of peace following the summit, I had taken the anxiety of the recent reports Cassian and Azriel gathered and threw myself back into working to find a solution. Rhys had as well, but I knew there were times he wished I would retire to our room or at least sit when my aches and pains reared its ugly head.

"I know you two are right, it's just...difficult, at times. I am High Lady; my duty is to my court—alongside Rhys." I explained.

"But he isn't pregnant. You are, and your first duty is to the child you carry," Nesta insisted.

"The child who will be the heir to the Night Court," Elain said.

I nodded in understanding, but before I could agree with them, there was a frantic pounding at the door, followed by Mor's panicked voice behind it.

"Feyre, it's us. Let us in," she said.

Nesta was the first to stand and rather than take the hand I stuck out to help me up, she strode over to the cabin door, checked to make sure it was really Mor the voice belonged to and opened it. Elain helped me to my feet as Mor and Amren strode into the room with equal grim expressions. I noted both of their clothes were dirty, some scrapes and fresh cuts healing on their own that decorated their face and arms—my heart squeezed.

"What's wrong, what happened?" I asked, my voice sounding strangled.

Mor's brown eyes were broken as they met mine and she swallowed, "Vassa showed up on the front steps of the house, beaten and bruised, and crying...as she warned us to leave."

My heart nearly stopped, and I felt Elain go rigid beside me; her hand coming to cover her mouth in horror. "We tried to ask her what was wrong, and what happened back in the Mortal Lands to have brought her here now, but-" Mor began but stopped, her throat bobbing.

"She kept warning us to leave before anyone got hurt, before you got hurt, and her face went blank. She turned and transitioned to her firebird form, leaping to the skies...and began setting Velaris aflame," Amren finished bitterly.

I couldn't hold steady on my feet and I stumbled back into Elain's arms as my head began to spin—speechless. Velaris was on fire. Velaris, my home, was under attack again.

"Did you...is she...what…?" I couldn't even manage my thoughts as Elain held me upright.

Mor stepped forward and took hold of my arms, steadying me. "She disappeared after a few minutes, but not before setting many of the buildings along the Sidra on fire."

The Rainbow. Vassa had set the Rainbow of Velaris aflame.

"We sent word to Rhysand and the others but haven't heard anything back yet. I also sent word to Varian, perhaps Tarquin can help put out the flames," Amren said.

"W-What?" I asked breathlessly, my chest heaving. "The fires haven't been put out yet?!"

"It's spread quickly, we're doing our best, but without Cassian and Azriel to gather the Illyrian force…" Mor explained and our eyes met in mutual understanding.

I was the one they could turn to—rely on.

"Take me back," I ordered, still reeling. "I'll put out the flames myself. We can't wait for Tarquin or anyone else."

"Feyre, you can't use-" Nesta began but I snapped at her with a feral growl I hardly believed came from my own throat.

"This is my court. My home. I am High Lady and I demand you take me back now." I said, addressing them all.

Mor and Amren exchanged hesitant glances before the former spoke up. "I'd have to winnow you there Feyre, and you know the effect it has on you. You could faint and have to recuperate, there isn't enough time for that. Even if you could use your powers," she tried to reason.

"So we wait here and do nothing?!" I exclaimed, turning away from her hold on me and striding to the window.

I could see nothing from here, but as I closed my eyes the memories of the last attack flashed behind my lids. The screams of agony and despair as my people were attacked—ripped to shreds by the army of the Attor from Hybern. Nausea roiled in my gut as I reached down the bond.

Rhys. Where are you?

I was met with silence, and I could only guess what horrors my mate and his brothers were facing in the Mortal realm—for him to block me out. If Vassa had been here, who knew what threat had been made and who had orchestrated it all. My heart pounded as my power awakened inside of me, boiling in my veins and I tried not to tap into them as I felt the slight twinge of pain in my abdomen—until thoughts of Velaris kept invading my thoughts. The screams echoing in my head, trying to imagine those beautiful buildings now on fire. Thoughts of Ressina and our studio, of the children she was teaching, those innocents.

Everyone in Velaris was innocent, and they were on fire. I had to do something.

Dosomething.Dosomething.Dosomething

I couldn't hear whatever conversation was happening between my sisters, Mor, and Amren as I lingered by the window. All I could do was turn back to them, briefly meeting Mor's gaze before those brown eyes widened in realization. She opened her mouth to protest, but she was too late. In the blink of an eye, I became darkness—tapping into my power that had gone untouched for months, I winnowed onto the front courtyard of the estate that sat along the Sidra's edge. I stumbled forward on my hands and knees as my head spun, my ears roaring with the blood rushing to my head and it took every effort within me not to faint—to seize the darkness that threatened to overcome me and push it back.

My heart pounded, the pain thundering throughout my entire body, resounding excruciatingly in my head as I forced myself to stay conscious and I was finally able to raise my eyes to the nightmare before me. I saw the orange and red of the flames reflected in the river first, barely able to hear the screaming as I saw each and every building lining the Sidra ablaze. From my position in the courtyard, I could see the figures of citizens scrambling to put out the flames; could see the number of buildings extending backwards that were already lit. I sobbed as another painful twinge ripped through my abdomen, causing me to turn my head and vomit in the grass.

Sobbing again, I closed my eyes and felt my power simmering rather than boiling. Just enough to breathe it into my core as I raised a single hand in the air and slammed it back onto the ground with a lethal smack. Once again, as it had so many years ago, the Sidra rose in response and I summoned just enough strength to lean back onto my knees—raising both of my hands in the air above my head as I became the river. Shaking, I slowly stood, keeping my arms raised as a wall of water rose with me; expanding deep and wide before I walked forward.

Suddenly, it felt as if my abdomen was being ripped to shreds and I screamed, doubling over and sending that wall of water forward and over those buildings. I didn't have time to pray to the Mother, the Cauldron, anything in hopes that it had been enough to snuff out the flames before I was seized again with the pain that tore through my core. I gasped in breaths as I gripped my stomach with one hand and fell onto my knees—catching myself with the other.

No, no, no. Please…

I felt a trickle of liquid that quickly began to spread at the apex of my thighs and sobbed as I reached a hand under the band of my pants and touched my thigh. I screamed again as the agony ripped through my abdomen again and fell onto my side. I felt the darkness beginning to ebb around my vision, the pain going with it as I raised that shaky hand to my face. The last thing I saw before my world went entirely dark was bright red blood coating my fingers.

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horansqueen · 4 years ago

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Stuck With You - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 : Bruises

🡪chapter 1 🡪chapter 2 🡪chapter 3 🡪chapter 4 🡪chapter 5

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

You're not alone in how you've been Everybody loses We all got bruises We all got bruises I would love to fix it all for you (I would love to fix you too)

click here to be on the update list

Although I had tried to talk to Niall plenty of times during the visit, he had ignored me the whole time. I wanted to make things right. I wanted to apologize and have a talk with him, but I couldn't force him into it and I knew I needed to respect it if he didn't want to be near me or listen to my excuses. He didn't have to apologize, he didn't even have to acknowledge me, but fuck, that really hurt me.

I tried to focus on the art exposed in front of me but no matter which painting or sculpture I stood in front of, I ended up thinking it was the expression of pain, loneliness or sadness. I knew it was only my own feelings reflecting on these artists' works and it made me want to run away from here. it made me want to go back to my own painting and finish it... or destroy it, I was not sure.

I noticed Niall was scribbling something in his notebook and walked closer to him. He smelled good, I had noticed that in the car and here, despite the unique smell of the museum, his scent reached my nose and made my heart jump slightly. It reminded me of nature, something like wood or a fire... mixed with the comforting odor of the forest when it rains. I blinked a few times, realizing how stupid my thoughts where, and instead, I let my eyes roam on his neck. He was close and I knew he could sense my presence but the fact that he was still ignoring me made the hole in my stomach get even bigger.

"Thank you for the ride... by the way." I let out without thinking before mentally hitting myself for such a stupid thing to say.

He had insulted me and I had slapped him but here I was, thanking him for driving me to a place where he was going anyway, with or without me. Still, I noticed the traits of his face soften before his expression changed again. His jaw clenched and he looked mad. I held my breath, still staring at him, and he finally just shrugged.

"Louis made me."

Ouch. This confession was clearly made to hurt me and I hated to admit that it worked. I was mad that Louis would ask Niall that because it made me look like the kind of person who couldn't take care of herself. I knew Louis didn't mean anything mean by it but it still annoyed me more than I would admit, especially to Niall. I also felt genuinely embarrassed that Niall felt like he had to agree to his friend's request and somehow, I had the feeling he had argued with Louis to try and get out of that favor.

I was about to answer something but Daxia appeared and I decided that no matter what I was going to say, it was definitely not worth it. I almost forgot we had an actual paper to write and my grip tightened on the notebook I was holding. Nothing seemed to matter at that point, all I cared about was apologizing to Niall and then locking myself alone, but I knew it was impossible.

"Okay so you two can work on the second part together?" Daxia just said, her face twisting into a sorry smile as she looked at me. My eyes got bigger and I frowned, moving my head from left to right slightly.

"What?"

"Asher and I are just so used to work together I mean, we'll work together on the first part, and you guys can just write a few pages about the surrealist painters that changed the world?"

On one hand, it was an incredible opportunity to talk with Niall but I also knew he was probably going to keep on ignoring me and I wasn't too keen about that. I also felt a bit hurt that the new (and only) friends I had made were rejecting me and literally forcing me to work with someone they didn't really like.

Niall sighed loud next to me and pushed one of his hands in his pocket. I glanced at him and he looked even more annoyed than me.

"Sorry Dev, but hey I'll see you at the party on saturday?" she pointed out, making me frown even more. "We can meet the four of us next week to talk about the rest."

I stood there, next to Niall, as we both kept quiet and after a few seconds, Daxia sent me a small smile and readjusted the backpack on her shoulder before leaving.

"Looks like I'm stuck with you again."

Hearing his voice made my heart twist in my chest and I turned to look at him. He didn't smile at me, barely acknowledging me, and finally just sighed exaggeratedly.

"Alright." he gave in. "I guess we need to go to the library now."

I held my breath when he turned around and I ran a little to catch up with him, following him back to his jeep. I took a seat in but remained silent as he drove. I noticed we were going back to the campus and immediately knew where he was heading. I had only visited the library once, with Louis, a few days before, but we didn't really enter it or anything. I knew I would probably spend a lot of time here anyway so I hadn't insisted but now, I had to admit I was a bit excited to go.

I felt like a kid who didn't know what she was doing but I just followed him inside and waited as he asked for access to the basement and once again followed someone else who opened the door for us. They left us and I heard the sound of a door close behind us but I was too amazed by what I was seeing to think a about it. The couch, the table, the chairs and even the tapestry seemed to come straight from the victorian era and I've always loved how packed those kind of rooms looked. It felt warm and classy at the same time, which was, in my opinion, a rare and intense mix.

"Are you gonna let me do all the work?"

I blinked a few times and turned to look at Niall who was raising his eyebrows at me. I suddenly felt a bit stupid and cleared my throat before nodding. I don't know how long we worked in silence but when I looked at my phone, it was already late and I closed my book with a loud noise, catching his attention again. He looked up from his paper and his eyes met mine, making me press my lips hard together. We hadn't solved anything. In fact, I felt like he was even angrier with me and at that point, I had no idea what I could do about it.

"What time is it?"

I stared in his eyes for a few seconds and finally looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed without really knowing why. Or perhaps it was just him and the effect he had on me, now that he was pissed at me.

"Almost nine thirty."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Funny. Really though, what time is it?"

"I told you. It's almost nine thirty." I repeated with a frown. "Why would I lie about that?"

"Fuck!"

I watching him jump up from his chair and rush to the door. Slowly, I did the same and when I got there, he was hitting hard on the door with the side of his fist and I frowned more.

"Hey, hey, relax!" I let out, grabbing his wrist gently to stop him. "What's wrong with you?"

He turned his head to me and frowned too, shaking his head slightly. "You know this fucking library closes at 8pm, right?" he asked, staring at me and raising his eyebrows.

I felt my heart jump up so high that I felt it in my throat. This couldn't be true, could it? I couldn't be locked in a library with the only guy I knew who despised me more than anything else in the world! My face suddenly changed from confused to scared and he sighed,

"She finally gets it." he mumbled meanly before hitting the door one last time.

"I-It's okay, we can just call someone."

I searched for my phone in my pocket and almost dropped it as I tried to turn it around. When I finally opened the screen, I realized there was no signal. Once again, my heart jumped up but this time, it seemed to drop back in the pit of my stomach. It was a joke, right? I knew it was useless but I still tried to call Louis without success.

"Forget it. Nothing passes here. We're stuck."

He cursed a few times and walked back to the table, letting himself fall back on his chair with a loud sigh. I gave up and let both my arms fall on each sides of me before walking back nonchalantly to my chair, too.

"Fuck, tell me there's a bathroom."

Niall rolled his eyes and pointed a door to me, making my head turn in the direction he pointed before a feeling of relief washed over me. That would have been way too embarrassing for me.

"So, what are we gonna do?" I asked low, licking my lips.

"Starve to death, probably."

I grabbed my bag and pushed my hand inside, trying to find some food and sighed when I pulled out two sandwiches in a bag. I always kept some stuff in my bag just in case and I sighed, searching through my bag again before letting a few chocolates and a bag of candies on the table.

"So there's candies, chocolate, and two peanut butter sandwiches." I pointed out with a sigh. "We can share."

"Haute cuisine." Niall joked, making me chuckle. "Let me check if I have something, too."

He searched through his bag and I felt my lips curl slightly at his sight. He didn't seem as pissed as he was and I liked to believe he was not mad at me anymore. The problem was, Niall seemed to have weird mood swings that I didn't understand and it made him even more fascinating to me, as toxic as it seemed.

Unsurprisingly, he took a water bottle out of his bag and put it between us, on the table.

"That's pretty much it."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes before taking out the sandwiches from the bag and handing him a piece. He stared at it and then looked back in my eyes before sighing and grabbing it from my fingers. I watched him as he pushed half of it in his mouth and started chewing on it. He seemed to evaluate the taste and finally shrugged with a nod and pushed the second part in his mouth.

"I'm gonna have to work out for hours after that meal." he pointed out, grabbing a chocolate and unwrapping it quickly.

"You don't need to work out, you already look good."

I felt my heart skip a few beats at my words and suddenly started seeing spots. I couldn't believe I had told him something like that but instead to laugh, he just shrugged a shoulder.

"I look like that because I work out." he explained, leaning on his chair and putting his feet on the table before crossing his ankles.

I let my eyes roam on his chest, thighs and legs until it reached his blue and yellow snickers and I just cleared my throat, leaning against the back of my chair too.

"I'm sure you'd look good even if you didn't."

"Maybe, I don't know, but it makes me feel good."

I looked up at him just as he was finishing the second piece of his sandwich and I smiled. Who would have thought I'd once again be stuck somewhere with Niall Horan? It had barely been over a week since I had met him and it seemed like destiny wanted us to be locked together somewhere.

"I'm sorry I slapped you, Niall." I let out, feeling my heart beat unsteadily for a few seconds. "I really shouldn't have. And I won't ever do it again."

He started chewing more slowly and finally licked his lips with a sigh, reaching for his pen and scribbling something in his note book, his feet still on the table.

"I'm sorry I yelled all that crap at you. I probably deserved it."

"No, you didn't." I quickly argued. "Physical violence is never the solution."

He looked up in my eyes and his lips curled before he chuckled. "You're really something else, Devon Eaton."

"Uhm, thank you."

Niall rubbed his eyes and sighed and for some reason, I felt like he was about to say something important. I tried to stop moving and I even held my breath until he started playing with his fingers nervously while staring at them. His smile was gone from his face and he looked pensive.

"Look, I get pissed when you mention Louis because... let's just say I had feelings for a girl and he 'stole' her from me." he had made quotation marks with his fingers when he said "stole" and it made me frown. Was that the story Louis had mentioned before?

"Wait, you mean Louis dated the girl you love?"

"Loved. And I wouldn't use the verb 'date'."

I stared at him, noticing he was now looking at me and he finally raised his eyebrows. I immediately understood and my lips parted. "Oh."

"Yea."

To me, it didn't make much sense. He was obviously still friends with Louis and even if that was something he hadn't forgiven Louis for, what did it have to do with me? Why did me mentioning Louis had anything to do with Louis having sex with the girl he loved? I didn't understand but asking about it seemed a bit awkward and I decided against it.

"I told you a secret, it's your turn now, Devie."

I had so many secrets it was tough to pick. Not because I wanted to share them all, but because they all seemed too important yet insignificant to share. I reached for the water bottle but instead to drink from it, I started playing with it, twisting it in my hand as I stared at it.

"I fell in love with my one of my teachers at my old college." I let out with a shrug as if I wanted to prove that it was nothing. "That's why I came here."

I wanted to tell him that he had to keep that information to himself. I wanted to beg him to keep my secret, but somehow, something was telling me that Niall was the kind to keep your secrets no matter what, so I remained silent.

"Wow, okay." Niall nodded. He seemed surprised and I was not sure why. "I didn't expect that."

"What did you expect?"

He sighed low and moved intertwined the fingers of both his hands together, putting them behind his head as he leaned more on his chair. He always seemed to spread his legs and arms to get into an horizontal position and once again, it troubled me. Perhaps it was only because he looked good but I felt like there was more than that. Sure, Niall was hot, but hotness had never destabilized me like that before.

"I don't know. Unrequited love from a popular guy who didn't deserve you. Or a misunderstanding with a teacher. Or perhaps just that you didn't like the school." he explained. "Now I'm even more intrigued."

I felt my lips curl despite myself and felt my cheeks burn. I didn't know why his words had this effect on me but I couldn't help it and cleared my throat. I didn't know how to talk about something else and I glanced at his notebook, close to me on the table.

"Uhm, well, maybe we should keep working on our paper?" I let out quickly, reaching for his notebook. "What do you have so far?"

His eyes got bigger and I thought he was going to fall off his chair as he took his legs back and reached for the notebook in my hands. I only had time to read a few words but I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with our paper.

'Since we're alone, you can show me your heart.'

I blinked a few times, staring at my hands, exactly where his notebook was a few seconds ago, as the words he wrote kept appearing whenever my eyes were closed.

"That's not... that's... that's personal." he stammered. closing his notebook and putting it quickly in his bag. "I guess we can work a bit more on our paper if that's what you want."

He was avoiding my eyes and once again, I felt like I had caught him naked. Not physically, but it felt like I had seen a small part of his soul after reading what i guessed were lyrics.

"Uhm, yea, maybe an other half hour or something."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan au #niall horan enemies to lovers #niall horan story #niall horan writing #my fanfics #swy

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springsaladgaming · 3 years ago

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Progress Update 6/18/21

Happy Friday (or Saturday)!

Some real-life stuff happened to me this week, as well as the minor setback of losing a couple of hours of work on Wednesday, so I didn’t get quite as much work done as I would have liked, but let’s get into what I did get done!

This week I dedicated my time to transferring over Chapter 1 into Twine. That involved adapting the coding, revamping some choices and their subsequent scenes to match the new personality stats, writing some new scene variations, and improving the overall narrative flow (in general, but also specifically around the appearance customization).

As a result, alpha Chapter 1 a la Twine is finished! I’m definitely happy with the changes I’ve made so far, and it will only get better from here.

I’ve also put out some feelers to some artist friends I have to see if they are interested in taking a commission for the art assets that I would like. I have two people currently making some mock-ups of what I’ve asked for to see if their style is what I want. Preliminary results look great, but if I decide their art style doesn’t work for me then I will start reaching out to other digital artists.

Moving Forward...

One of the real-life things that happened to me this week was learning that the owners of the house where I rent a room are looking to stop renting. This means I need to find a new place to live. Luckily, one of the house owners is someone I have known for more than twenty years; we have a good relationship, and he was generous to give me (and the other two tenants) six months of warning, so I have plenty of time to find a new place.

However, this does mean that I may have to cut down on my work time on some days so that I can spend more time apartment hunting and, eventually, moving. It also means that my rent, which has been very affordable for me these past seven years, is going to go up quite a bit. On my current income, I technically won’t be able to afford it. Luckily, I have enough money saved up to swing it until I can make changes to my income.

So that brings me back around to the topic of my writing and the likelihood of me opening a Patreon in the future. Part of the reason I always planned to open a Patreon is so I can really practice my passion as a writer while also earning an income for it. Even before learning that I would need to move out in six months, I was planning on finding an apartment within the next year or so. Opening a Patreon with structured bonuses will help me achieve that goal.

The only thing that has changed is that the timeline will be moving up. I’ve been dedicating my time almost exclusively to transferring the project to Twine and making sure that I have a workable demo. I’ve also been considering what tiers I will have and what kind of benefits those tiers will provide people with.

I do not have an exact launch date for my Patreon, but you can expect that it will launch within the next six months. Currently, I’m leaning toward the Twine demo being a Patreon-only thing, but I may decide to have a public version that is a little bit behind the Patreon-exclusive one. If I decide to go that route, the public version would likely not go past Chapter 5, though other coding tweaks may still take place.

TLDR; I’m moving soon and need to supplement my income to afford rent, so I will be launching my Patreon within the next six months.

One of the Patreon tiers is going to be for my other interactive fiction project, which I haven’t talked about hardly at all, but I will give some sneak peaks and additional information about it before the Patreon launch. What I can tell you right off the bat: it’s a sci-fi/fantasy story set in a fictional universe. It will have some action, adventure, and (small?) horror elements to it. Similar to Ninelives, the project is adapted from something I wrote in the past. (However, Ninelives is based loosely on a short story I wrote while this other project is based on a novel.) If it sounds like it might be up your alley, keep an eye out for an announcement post in the future.

Hope everyone has a fantastic weekend. Stay safe!

#ninelives progress update #ninelives if #ninelives wip

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insomniousluci · 5 years ago

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Power Trip

-Asmo shows his new toys to MC (f) and they decide to give them a try together-

Art by @ Beelstan101 on Twitter!

I sighed as I walked down the long hall of the dorms. Class seemed to drag on extra long today, and I knew I still had a busy day ahead of me. Luckily I had a few free hours before I was supposed to meet up with Lucifer. He liked to have me come by every couple of weeks to update him on my stay in the Devildom so that he could report back to Diavolo. I decided I’d use what little time I had to take a nap.

As I made my way down the hall, the door to my bedroom came into view, and I picked up the pace, ready to sit down after a long day of walking around RAD. Suddenly I heard a door behind me swing open and before I could turn around, someone grabbed me by the wrist and jerked me backwards.

“Hey! What the—“

“Come here!” Said a sweet, sing-songy voice. It was Asmodeus. He pulled me into his bedroom and closed the door behind me.

“Asmo! You can’t just grab people like that.” I scolded him, rubbing my wrist. “At least you don’t have to be so damn rough.”

“I have something to show you!” He chirped, totally ignoring what I’d said. He walked over to his bed and picked up a pink shopping bag, turning it over to dump out the contents. All kinds of things fell out onto the mattress, and by things, I mean sex toys.

“Wow. Where’d you get all that?” I asked. I may have been surprised had someone like Levi or Beel shown me this collection of items, but this was Asmo, so I really wasn’t shocked.

“I found a cute little shop downtown! There were so many fun things I wanted to buy, but I have to save some of my money for clothes, you know. So I just got the stuff I thought you’d like the most!”

“Me?!” Now I was surprised. I couldn’t tell if I was blushing but judging by the heat I felt on my face I’m sure I had turned some kind of strange color.

“Yes! Wasn’t that sweet of me?” Asmo turned around, beaming from ear to ear. He held up a very large dildo and waved it around proudly.

“Put that thing down you maniac!” I took it from him and tossed it back onto the bed. It bounced a few times and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of it. “God, what made you think I’d want a thing like that?”

“What? You don’t like it? I thought for sure you’d love it, if not just for the sheer size of it, I mean look—“

“Yes I get it it’s big!” I looked down at the floor in embarrassment. “I guess I hadn’t given much thought to something like that...you know...I guess I’m fine with just having the real thing...”

“Oooh! You naughty girl!” Asmo giggled. I laughed too, to keep from melting into a puddle of shame. “I think I have something you’ll actually like, though. Here, have a seat and close your eyes.”

“Asmo I—“

“Ah ah ah! Come on don’t be a prude!” He wagged a finger at me. I sighed and followed his orders, hopping onto his soft bed and closing my eyes. I heard him rustling some packaging around, followed by a loud buzzing sound.

“Asmo!” I shouted. Although I was yelling at him, I still had my eyes closed. The thought of testing out some of these toys with him was a little arousing, even if I’d never admit it out loud. He stepped toward me and the noise grew louder. I felt his warm hand on my thigh as he pushed my legs apart. Suddenly I felt the rapid vibrations over my panties. “I picked a hell of a day to wear a dress...” I thought to myself as I began to shiver from the feeling of the toy against my crotch.

“Oh it looks like you do enjoy it! Good.” The first part of the sentence was said in Asmo’s normal, cutesy voice, but the last word was spoken with much more devilish intentions. He began to move the vibrator around in circles and my legs involuntarily snapped shut. I bit down on my lip hard to contain my moans. I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted that easy. He pulled my panties down and pushed me onto my back. I finally opened my eyes and saw him climbing on top of me. He placed the vibrator directly on my clit and I tensed up again, breathing in sharply and exhaling with a whimper. I tried not to squirm too much, but the pleasure was so intense I felt it throughout my whole body.

“If you like that, you’re going to absolutely love this!” He stuck his tongue out at me. “I bet you didn’t know I had my tongue pierced!” He pointed to his tongue. Not only was it pierced, but he wasn’t wearing any ordinary jewelry. He was wearing something I had only ever heard rumors about— a vibrating tongue ring. Before I could protest he pushed my legs up toward my chest and began licking me, first around the outside before teasing my sensitive clit. He flicked his tongue against it and I let out a loud groan. The intense vibration mixed with the warm and wet sensation of his tongue felt like heaven. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled it, and that only got him more excited. He pressed the toy firmly into my clit and held it there. I moaned and arched my back, trying not to orgasm right then and there. But Asmo was determined. He slipped a finger inside me and began rubbing me deep inside, moving his tongue in slow circles on my clit.

“Oh...! Asmo! Ahh I—“ I couldn’t even finish my thought before I began to orgasm, my toes curling up as I felt the wave of ecstasy overtake every inch of me. Asmo smiled up at me as I caught my breath.

“Oh you’re so perfect! I’m so glad you had fun!” He kissed my thigh and rubbed it gently. I tossled his hair and smiled. Crawling back up beside me, he placed a hand on my cheek and rubbed my face with his thumb. “Since you were so good, I’ll let you pick whatever you want to play with next!”

“Asmo I don’t—“

He looked at me angrily, a scowl overtaking his handsome face. He really was such a brat.

“Ugh, fine.” I looked at the array of different toys strewn across the bed. Handcuffs? Boring. Ball gag? Nah, I liked dirty talk too much. Some of the stuff was so foreign looking I couldn’t even begin to imagine what is was meant to be used for. But then it caught my eye, the perfect way to punish Asmo for his bad attitude. I reached out and grabbed it, a large strap on. Holding it in my hands, I turned back to Asmo, awaiting his reaction.

To my surprise, his cheeks became a little pink. But he also had the most joyful grin on his face.

“Oh wow! I knew you were a bad girl but I didn’t think you’d go for that. But I’m so happy! The one thing I haven’t tried before!” He giggled and took the toy from my hands, holding it up to study it.

“What? The Avatar of Lust has never been pegged?” I laughed at the absurdity of it all. I snatched the thing back from him and grabbed his wrist, overcome with the desire to make him squirm the same way he’d done to me. His eyes widened in surprise as I pulled him by the wrist onto his back and got on top of him, holding him down with my knee on his chest. He gave me a devilish smirk and reached up to touch me, but I pushed his hand away. I pulled my dress over my head and then went to work undressing him, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling off his pants quickly, my excitement growing every second. I fiddled with the strap until it was on correctly and I made sure it was on nice and tight. Overcome with power, I spread Asmo’s legs and started grinding against him over his underwear. His cheeks were fully flushed now, but his eyes were glazed over with lust.

“What are you going to do to me?” He asked, biting his lip. His hands ran down his own body. He was so eager to be touching or feeling something, whether it be me or himself.

“I’m going to fuck you, Asmo. I’m going to punish you for being such a naughty boy.” My own words ignited a fire in my chest and I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled his underwear off and pushed his legs upward, so turned on by the view. I spread his legs until I could see everything, his perfect cock, and his tight asshole. I went down and licked his cock all over, taking a moment to circle my tongue around the head and suck on it lightly. But I quickly moved on to my next destination, pressing my tongue against his adorable little asshole and licking all around it. Asmo gasped and let out a small but seductive moan as I teased his hole with my tongue. I looked up at him as I pushed my tongue against it, just barely managing to slip it inside. I moved it around in circles, exploring his warm and wet insides. He moaned louder, struggling to lay still as he became more and more excited.

I came back up again and looked around until I found a bottle of lube that Asmo had purchased a long with the rest of his haul. I squirted a generous amount onto my hand and started to stroke my new cock. Just the sight of it made me feel more powerful. I squirted out a little more lube onto my fingers and slowly pushed two of them inside Asmo, making sure to get him ready to take me. He squeaked a little as my fingers went in, and as I removed them I began to press the tip of the strap on against his hole. He looked at me with a depraved and desperate expression.

“Are you going to fuck me hard?” He asked, his voice was so sweet it almost made his words seem less sinful.

“Oh yes...I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming for me.” I replied, starting to slide the head of the cock into him. He was already giving me soft moans before I was even all the way in. I gave a slow but firm thrust and the cock went deeper, causing a much louder groan from Asmo. I began to move my hips in and out, watching as I inched deeper inside with each motion.

“Faster...” Asmo pleaded between heavy breaths. I fulfilled his wish, picking up the speed with my thrusts. Asmo’s mouth was open, as he was moaning and panting. It looked like the perfect place for my fingers. I pushed two of them into his mouth and he immediately started sucking, looking into my eyes as he did.

“Fuck...so hot...” I said under my breath, shoving into him harder and harder.

“Mmm..!” Was the only sound Asmo could make as he sucked on my fingers and took the pounding I was giving him. I took my fingers out of his mouth then, hungry for more of his sweet noises. I leaned in close to him, giving me more leverage to really speed up my thrusts, and I rammed his ass quickly and mercilessly as I sucked on his neck, leaving a bright red mark.

“Ahhnn...more! Don’t stop!” He whined, squirming underneath me. I was happy to follow his command, but I wanted to switch things up. I pulled out for a moment, and swiftly flipped Asmo onto his stomach. I pulled him up by the hips and shoved my cock back inside of him roughly, continuing to fuck him hard. A loud moan escaped from him each time my hips crashed into him from behind. I grabbed his ass with one hand, digging my nails into him a little, just enough to let him know I was in control. With my other hand I reached down and began to stroke his hard, throbbing cock.

“You like that Asmo? You like it when I fuck you and play with your cock?” I teased him as I rammed my strap on into his tight ass again and again.

“Yes! Ahh..yes! Oh I...I’m gonna cum! Please don’t stop!” He begged, barely able to speak between his submissive groans. I continued to fuck him as hard as I could, giving his cock a firm squeeze as I rubbed the length of it, and then massaged the head. He was finally sent over the edge, and he shouted out in pleasure as he came, making a sticky mess all over my hand and the sheets below. I slowly pulled out of him and he collapsed onto his stomach before rolling back over onto his back. He smiled up at me, and the starving look in his eyes settled into a satisfied one.

We lay on the bed, Asmo clutching me tightly to his chest. He played with my hair and kissed all over my face.

“That was sooo fun! I can’t wait to do it again, and plus there’s still all those toys we haven’t tried yet! Now that I know what you like we can...”

As Asmo rambled on I caught sight of the clock on his wall behind him and gasped in horror, jumping out of bed quickly.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath.

“Huh? What’s the matter with you? Where are you going? Don’t leave me, I’m not done with you yet!” Asmo pouted as I raced to get dressed.

“I’m late for my meeting with Lucifer. Dammit, Asmo. If I get in trouble it’s your fault!” I scolded him as I attempted to quickly fix my hair in the mirror.

“That’s okay, causing trouble is what I do, after all!” He giggled.

“Yeah whatever, you demon. Listen don’t come knocking on my door tonight, or tomorrow. I’m very busy and I can’t be held up like this again. I have to focus and—“

“If you keep talking you’ll never get there, silly.” He was mocking me now. I didn’t even bother responding and I quickly ran out the door. I knew I would be thinking about what had just happened for the rest of the night, if not the rest of the week.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #fanfiction #smut #obey me asmodeus

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purplehairedwonder · 4 years ago

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Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 4

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3532 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Diamante, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Jean Bart, Ikkaku, Clione, Uni, OC Heart Pirates Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Thank you to @ninhaoma-ya for this incredible piece of art featuring Law and Violet, inspired by this fic!

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he’s 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law can’t help but resent Monkey D. Luffy for offering a glimpse of something he’s repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Law was on his feet before he even realized he’d moved, barely hearing the Colosseum erupting into cheers at Gatz’s announcement over the blood rushing in his ears. So, this was the true punishment Doffy had come up with for Law’s insubordination…

It was always an affair worthy of attention when members of the Family fought in the Colosseum, and every member of an executive’s crew fighting would be the event of the season. Law could feel Doffy’s and Diamante’s eyes on him.

“Is there a problem, Corazon?” Doflamingo’s voice was deceptively calm.

“This is—”

“The consequences of your actions.”

Law shook his head. “It’s too far,” he rasped. They could be killed. This wasn’t their agreement.

“No.” Law stiffened at Doflamingo’s frigid tone and forced himself to look at the other man. “The stunt you pulled at Marineford was too far. If you were anyone else—” The king cut himself off abruptly. He shook his head. “Consider this a mercy, Corazon. After all, this way your crew,” he said, sneering the word, “will be in control of their fates, not me.” His features tightened. “Now. Sit. Down.”

Law hissed as strings pulled him back into his chair, wrapping around his chest and wrists, securing him in place. His hands were pressed tightly into the armrest, preventing him from opening a Room. He clenched his jaw, furious.

“What’s wrong, Corazon?” Diamante mocked. “Afraid they’ll lose? The crew of the Family’s second-in-command shouldn’t be so weak as to lose to some common criminals.”

“Fuck off, Diamante,” Law snarled.

Doflamingo chuckled. “Now, now. Let’s enjoy the show, shall we?”

Law was able to do little more than stew in his impotent fury as Gatz announced the first pairing, much to the crowd’s delight.

-----

Bepo stood next to Shachi and Penguin in the preparation room, eyes on the projection from the video Den Den Mushi. Kurage had just gone out for the first match. The video feed, as it waited for the arrival of the fighters, panned around the Colosseum, pausing on the king’s box.

“Captain,” Bepo exhaled when he saw Law sitting next to Doflamingo and Diamante. Though Law’s features were carefully neutral, Bepo had known Law long enough to recognize the tension in his rigid frame and the murder in his golden eyes as he glared out from the box.

“The way he’s sitting,” Penguin said as the feed moved away. “It looked off. Like…”

“Like strings were holding him?” Shachi replied.

Penguin nodded, and Bepo considered this. They all knew they were being forced to fight in the Colosseum to punish Law for his actions at Marineford; their lives were the collateral Doflamingo kept to ensure Law’s good behavior, so when Law acted out, the Hearts faced the worst of the consequences. But they also knew their captain and trusted him.

Law had saved Bepo all those years ago on Swallow Island (ironically from Shachi and Penguin) even when he had his own problems, and Bepo had loved his friend ever since. He knew Shachi and Penguin felt the same after Law had rescued them not long after Bepo. Law had saved all the Hearts in their own ways—Jean Bart wasn’t the only freed slave on their crew—and had their love and loyalty as a result.

They all knew Law had a good heart and felt things deeply, though he’d prefer others think he had no heart at all. So, if he’d been compelled to save Straw Hat by something he couldn’t explain, well, Bepo wasn’t going to question that. As a mink, Bepo felt connected to the earth and knew better than to ignore messages from her. (It had been a similar type of compulsion, one tugging at his chest in a way that he couldn’t explain, that had pushed Bepo to go looking for Zepo; but once he’d found Law, he realized he’d found where he was supposed to be all along.)

No, Bepo didn’t have a problem fighting for his captain, in the Colosseum or anywhere. None of the Hearts did.

“Doflamingo won’t let him interfere in our matches,” Bepo said.

“He needs to be careful,” Penguin said with a sigh. “He’s on thin ice already. If he pulls anything else…”

“We’ll just have to make sure he has no reason to do anything stupid,” Shachi said determinedly. Bepo and Penguin nodded in return. They’d win their fights and make sure their captain didn’t have to worry.

-----

The first couple of matches ended fairly quickly, with Kurage and Masu taking only a few glancing blows before putting their opponents down for good. Their opponents had clearly been overmatched, though Law wondered whether Diamante was underestimating his crew when he set the matchups or if he had something else up his sleeve. The crowd cheered for Law’s men, though some jeered in the hope of seeing members of the Family brought down.

Ikkaku was next, and Law glared daggers at Diamante when her opponent was revealed as a burly man who’d been charged with domestic violence. Diamante’s smirk in reply told him that had been entirely on purpose—because he was a son of a bitch.

Law’s engineer hadn’t come into the crew as a fighter, so Penguin had been teaching her to fight with a bo staff, which she now twirled expertly in the ring. She used the speed and agility her smaller stature allowed her to elude her opponent, striking him sharply with her staff, driving him toward the edge of the ring. Ikkaku swung her staff again at her opponent, but he grabbed it in midair and yanked, pulling Ikkaku off-balance. She yelped in surprise.

Law inhaled sharply as Ikkaku took a glancing blow to the cheek as she stumbled. She hit the ground but quickly rolled and kicked her opponent in the shins. He stumbled but lashed out, kicking Ikkaku in the gut. Ikkaku doubled over; Law momentarily surged against the strings holding him, feeling their sharp edges digging into his skin, before realizing she was feigning her distress as she grabbed her staff from the ground with sure hands. Once her opponent lumbered within striking distance, she swung her staff at his ankles. He stumbled, and Ikkaku jumped to her feet, smashing him hard in the back so he went over the edge of the ring into the moat full of carnivorous fish. The water turned red moments after the man went in. Law let out a relieved breath, relaxing back into his chair, as Ikkaku left the ring.

The crowd roared at a woman defeating an abuser, amped up by Gatz’s dramatic commentary to that effect. Doffy, for his part, smirked approvingly at the bloodshed. He always considered the bloodiest matches to be the best.

Kani fought next, a sword-fighting duel against a rebel against the Family. Kani was stronger, but his opponent was faster, so Kani took several superficial wounds as well as a deeper cut to his arm that bled freely before he dispatched his opponent with a stab to the gut.

Ashika, whose weapon of choice was a spear, took on an accused thief who fought with two short swords. Theirs was a match of agility, both fighters moving quickly around the ring, stabbing and parrying, parrying and stabbing. Ashika eventually slapped one of the thief’s swords out of his hand, leaving him with one blade. The thief slashed out in a growl, cutting Ashika’s chest and stealing the air from Law’s lungs as he watched.

Ashika dropped to a knee, one hand going to the bleeding wound. The thief took the opportunity to retreat and recover his lost blade from across the ring. That was a fatal mistake, as Ashika hurled the spear, taking the man in the throat and sending him toppling over into the water.

“Your men are doing the Family proud,” Doffy commented to Law as Clione made his way into the ring.

Law contemplated ignoring the comment but decided not to push it. They were fighting well, as Law knew they would. He was proud of his crew. “Thank you.”

Clione fought another thief, his sword against the thief’s. They traded blows as they circled the ring. Clione took a nasty gash to the thigh but dispatched his opponent after a few more frenzied exchanges, ducking a swipe at his head and slashing the thief’s neck. The thief crumpled, gurgling blood.

Iruka came next, quickly defeating his opponent with his short sword. Like Kurage’s and Masu’s opponents, Iruka’s was clearly outmatched. Law knew Diamante wouldn’t make Law’s crew look good on purpose, so it was likely he was underestimating them—which was serving to make them look even better to the gathered Dressrosans. Law, despite his fury and concern, took a small measure of satisfaction at that.

Uni took to the ring with his staff against a man convicted of multiple assaults. The man countered Uni’s staff with a spear, and the two tested each other at first then clashed more seriously. Uni gave better than he got, though when he dodged a jab, the assaulter stuck a foot out and knocked Uni off-balance. Uni stumbled and took the spear to his shoulder. He cried out, and Law’s grip on his armrests tightened.

But the assaulter took too long pulling the spear from Uni’s shoulder, and Uni pushed through the pain to swing his staff and catch the man in his midsection. He gasped and doubled over. Uni rose to his feet and swung his staff overhanded, sending his opponent to the ground with a loud crack. Uni hobbled out of the ring after his victory, trailing blood.

Jean Bart caught the crowd’s attention as the newest addition to the Hearts. Even Doflamingo leaned forward in interest at Law’s latest recruit. Jean Bart entered the ring without a weapon, clearly preferring to use his size and strength to his advantage. Diamante had clearly underestimated Jean Bart, as his opponent was utterly dwarfed by the former pirate captain. He was outclassed too, as Jean Bart easily disarmed his opponent and knocked him out in two blows.

Doflamingo chuckled as Jean Bart left the ring, crowd thundering in approval, and turned to Law. “And you found him on Sabaody?” Law nodded. Doflamingo knew Law had more than one freed slave on his crew, but Law had never made a point of mentioning his tendency to free Celestial Dragon slaves when the opportunity arose, and Doflamingo never asked despite his heavy presence in the slave trade. “Impressive. He certainly lives up to his reputation.”

Shachi followed, and Law felt a sense of foreboding as it was time for his original crewmates to fight—the ones he’d known since he was 13. Diamante would give them the biggest challenges because of that.

Armed with his favorite katana, Shachi eyed his challenger—another rebel against the Family forced to fight in the Colosseum—with some wariness, since he was much larger than Shachi and also wielded a blade. Still, Shachi knew how to handle his sword, and he was clearly confident as the match started.

Shachi and his opponent traded experimental strikes, seeking out one another’s styles and weaknesses. Despite the size difference, Shachi evenly matched his opponent’s strikes without too much effort. They circled each other, and Law tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as the sword exchanges became more serious, had more lethal intent behind them.

Shachi drew first blood, nicking his opponent’s arm on a passing sweep. His opponent growled and redoubled his efforts. Startled, Shachi was initially pushed several steps backward toward the edge of the ring, but he used his smaller size and greater speed to duck under his opponent’s next strike and move back to the center of the ring. They exchanged additional strikes, swords clanging their challenge over the cheers and jeers of the crowd.

Shachi continued to dance around his challenger, much to the other man’s obvious frustration. After another dodged swing, the challenger snarled. He said something then, and it had an obvious effect on Shachi, who balked. The larger man took advantage and swung his fist, punching Shachi in the face.

Law cursed as Shachi stumbled. The opponent raised his sword as he advanced toward the staggering man. Shachi barely had time to throw up an arm defensively as the sword came down—

And tore through his left arm above the elbow.

Shachi screamed as he fell backward while his severed arm dropped, bloody, to the ring. His sword clattered to the ground next to him. The sound ran Law through as effectively as a blade. The crowd howled its approval, but Law could barely hear them as his wife eyes focused on his fallen friend. No no no.

Diamante was cheering while Doflamingo hummed, clearly entertained by the bloody spectacle in the ring at the expense of one of Law’s oldest friends.

Shachi writhed on the ground, his remaining hand wrapped around the gushing stump. He needed medical attention, and he needed it now. But the match continued as Shachi’s opponent advanced on him. Law pushed against the strings holding him to his chair, helpless. He froze as Shachi stilled, and for a moment, Law thought he had passed out. That would get him killed.

The opponent raised his sword to bring it down on Shachi, but as he lunged forward to take the killing strike, Shachi moved with a ferocious cry, grabbing his sword with his remaining arm and stabbing upward, halting his foe’s downward momentum with the tip of his blade. The other man spasmed and dropped his blade before going limp and falling against Shachi’s side.

Law slumped back into his seat, heart hammering in his chest.

Doflamingo chuckled. “Well, now that was exciting. Your crew definitely has a flare for the dramatics, Corazon.”

Law remained silent, eyes tracking the medics who took both Shachi’s and the challenger’s bodies out of the ring on stretchers. They grabbed Shachi’s amputated arm as well. Law wanted nothing more than to form a Room and meet them in the infirmary; he was his crew’s doctor, after all. And with his Fruit, he could reattach Shachi’s arm. But that wouldn’t be allowed until all the matches were done, Law knew.

Penguin entered the ring, clearly shaken by what had just happened to his best friend. He swallowed and glanced up at the king’s box. Despite the distance, Law knew Penguin was looking at him. Law clenched his jaw, tamping down on his own panic and guilt, and nodded. Just fight. Look after yourself. We’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of him.

That seemed to be enough for Penguin, who nodded in return and twirled his staff expertly, spinning it twice before bringing it to rest alongside him. The rest of his body stilled in preparation for the fight. His opponent was twice his size but lasted about as long as Jean Bart’s opponent had. The moment his opponent hit the ground with a crash, Penguin had marched out of the ring back toward Shachi.

Bepo, as Law’s first mate, was set to fight last. It was clear he was just as disturbed as Penguin by Shachi’s fall. However, he also knew it was time to prove why he was Law’s second. He, like Penguin, looked up at Law and nodded in determination. He needed nothing but his own claws and mink electro to quickly dispatch his own challenger. Like Penguin, he marched out of the ring immediately after felling his foe, ignoring Gatz’s excited commentary about his unique abilities.

-----

“See to your men, Corazon,” Doflamingo said once the commotion had died down, flicking his wrists to retract the strings holding Law to the chair. His message had been sent, so there was no point in extending this, after all.

Shakily, Law pushed himself to his feet. “Young Master,” he said with a small bow, doing his best to keep his tone even and deferential. Message received.

Law raised a hand and opened a Room, sending it down below the Colosseum. Once he found the infirmary, he cast about his Room for an appropriate object until—

He switched places with a roll of gauze, popping into the infirmary. The nearby staff yelped in surprise, but the Hearts just looked up wearily and nodded in greeting at their captain. Law took a moment to assess the situation. His crew—who Law made sure had some working medical knowledge in case he was ever out of commission—was spread around the infirmary, and some of the less injured members like Ikkaku and Iruka were helping others. Nurses were stitching more serious wounds, like the gash on Clione’s thigh and the stab through Uni’s shoulder.

They were hurt, but they were alive.

At the far side of the infirmary, Bepo, Jean Bart, and Penguin stood alongside a doctor and a nurse around a cot that Law could only assume held Shachi.

“Captain!” Bepo all but wailed once he caught sight of Law.

Law marched over to the cot. Shachi was unconscious, likely having passed out from pain and shock. The doctor was wrapping up the stump on Shachi’s arm while the nurse hooked him up to a drip of pain medication. The wound had already been cauterized and stitched up. Shachi had also been hooked up to an IV for a blood transfusion.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault, Law’s brain accused as he stepped up next to Bepo. Swallowing against his guilt, he summoned a Room. It might have been his fault that this happened, but he could also do something about it.

“I’ll take over here,” Law told the doctor hoarsely. “Look after the others.”

“Yes, Corazon,” the doctor said, bowing away from the cot. The nurse finished setting up the drip then left as well.

Law looked down at the cot, and for a moment he was 13 again on Swallow Island, trying desperately to repair Penguin’s severed arm. He’d been working blindly then, barely recovered from a terminal illness and still learning his Fruit, but he’d done it. Penguin had an impressive scar on his arm but other than some stiffness when they were on winter islands had no issues with mobility.

Law knew far more about both his Fruit and medicine now.

“Where’s his arm?” he asked, already mentally calculating the steps he’d need to take to reattach the limb when it had been so long after amputation. He’d seen the medics take the arm from the ring.

Penguin blinked and exchanged a look with Bepo, who shrugged. He looked back at Law. “I don’t know.”

Narrowing his eyes, Law whirled on the doctors. “Where’s his arm?” he demanded.

The doctor Law had chased away looked up from examining Clione’s wound and took a nervous breath before speaking. “T-the king ordered any severed limbs be disposed of immediately.”

Law’s stomach dropped. Of course he had. There had been two matches after Shachi’s, so there would have been plenty of time to get rid of his arm.

“What did you do with it?”

“B-burned it, sir.”

Law saw red, fury burning hotly in his chest, but he reined himself in with effort; attacking the infirmary staff would be pointless. They were just following Doffy’s orders. He knew Law’s skills were good enough that he could reattach a missing limb—but not if there was no limb to reattach.

Law dropped his Room, realizing there was nothing he could do.

Doffy intended this to be a permanent reminder of Law’s failure—as a subordinate, as a captain, as a friend.

A feeling of helplessness settled over him like an old, familiar cloak; it pulled on his limbs and settled under his skin, curling around his insides. He sank into the chair next to the cot and dropped his face into his hands.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

-----

Bepo kept a careful eye on both Shachi and Law as the afternoon bled into evening. The entire crew had wordlessly agreed to stay until Shachi could be safely brought back to his room, and the doctor wanted him to regain consciousness to assess his state of mind first. The Hearts milled around the infirmary, the wounded members resting while the others read or played cards quietly.

Shachi was completely senseless from the pain medication, but Law…

The moment Law had realized Shachi’s arm was gone with no way to repair it, Bepo had watched something behind his eyes shutter. Law had dropped, boneless, into a chair by Shachi’s cot, face in hands. The next time he looked up, Bepo’s hackles went up; Law’s expression was just… empty.

Just like it had been when he’d shut down after they’d first gotten to Dressrosa seven years earlier.

“C-captain?” Bepo hazarded. And that was when he noticed the bruises around Law’s neck. Oh no.

“What?” Law croaked.

“Are you okay?” Bepo asked, gesturing to his own neck in lieu of explaining.

Law’s face was blank as he replied, “Fine.” Then he closed his eyes and slumped in his chair.

Bepo and Penguin exchanged worried looks. Law wasn’t fine, and they all knew it.

Next chapter

#Caitlin's fic #Y'all this chapter was a CHORE #I don't even know if I like it #but the events were necessary to move the plot #Trafalgar Law #Heart Pirates #One Piece #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece fanfic

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arch-venus25 · 4 years ago

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The Head and the Heart, Part 3

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1….You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online– or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly–I created the title art–LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go…

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies– or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair– you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 4200

Part Three: Delmar Hospitality

Antha slowly raised her hands in surrender. It was the best she could do in this unforeseeable situation. Beads of sweat rolled down her chest and back. The searing chill sobered her instantly. “We—we—” She found her mouth desert-dry and unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, are you trespassing or are you lost?” The silken voice demanded.

“We’re—we’re lost.” Antha panted. A light tumble sounded in the wooded brush as Tessa’s mouth fell open with a gasp, only her teeth could be seen. She fainted.

“Oh.” The voice sighed. Before Antha understood what was happening long cool fingers wrapped around her wrist and brought her up to stand. “Here.” Those same fingers handed her the gun. She violently shook, her nails impulsively tapping against the metal of the barrel.

The clouds shifted intermittently, splashing eerie washes of light across the blackness. Long, ethereal white arms appeared out of the dark as the stranger pushed up his sleeves. These bodiless limbs wrapped about Tessa. Am I watching Fantasia? Antha thought—it didn’t even occur to her that she was now armed and could defend them, though she was hardly capable in her muddled state. She stepped back to see him lift her unconscious sister.

The moonlight poured over something akin to a roman statue come-to-life, with a long column neck and limbs. It frightened Antha to see this otherworldly man peer down from his full height—his great silver-colored eyes burning amidst the night. Despite logic, she had the distinct feeling that he could see more of her than she could of him. “I presume you’ve spoken to the police?” He asked calmly.

She patted her legs instinctually and realized her sundress had no pockets. Somewhere far, far away her cellphone was nestled in her messenger bag, in the back of Tessa’s car. She shook her head ‘no’ as she was still at a loss for words. “Well, come along then,” replied the stranger. His accent was clean; obviously he wasn’t born of this slower-lower side of the world but seemingly mimicked their colloquialisms.

Like a white knight he led Antha from darkness and into a comfortably lit yard in the middle of the woods. The well-kept grass stretched in front of them toward a darling little house. There were candle lights in every dormer window, a white-slatted porch with rocking chairs and a sign that said “No Vacancy” to greet them. The stranger turned, “Welcome to Hollow House,” he stated neutrally, not exactly instilling hospitality. Antha clutched the gun in her arms, scanning her surroundings when she could manage to tear her eyes from him.

Tessa looked like a beloved ragdoll, her long braids swinging peacefully with every step. The stranger held her tenderly as if an appendage of himself, her head cradled to his chest. Why couldn’t I have fainted? Why am I always the one to sort everything out? Antha thought. He carried her with ease up the porch steps and hesitated. He hovered over Tessa’s face for a moment as if he was going to plant a magical kiss that would awaken her from slumber. Then he turned to Antha, brows knitting together for a brief moment.

“You’re twins.” He chuckled to himself as if something about that was charming. “Would you please?” He motioned to the screen door. She stood frozen in place as if the simple instruction was too much to fathom. “Antha,” he crooned, “when I take you inside, I will lay your sister down, get you cleaned up, and then we will call the authorities. I will help you sort everything out in no time.”

Thick waves of auburn hair tucked behind his ears and one errant curl falling in his eye line drew her in. His excellent hair aside, he seemed normal enough. Given the monsters she encountered thus far, the normalcy of the house and this stranger were beyond comforting. Additionally, the fact that he held Tessa to his chest made him simply irresistible to deny.

She shook as she reached for the screen door and held it for him, then he swooped Tessa over the threshold into a lovely foyer. A lean spindle-legged table held brochures for Hollow House Bed and Breakfast. The simple cottage layout and plate of cookies at the door all confirmed for her that she was in fact standing in a bed and breakfast. She followed slowly and watched as he laid her sister down in the Hibiscus Room, right off the foyer and overlooking the back patio. The peach tapestries, brick fireplace, and mahogany wooden furniture framed Tessa, making her nothing short of a sleeping beauty with her mane cascading across the crisp pillows.

Antha paced backward as he turned to her, leaving the guest room door cracked open. “I assure you she is fine. How about we set this down?” He carefully approached her to take the gun but she clenched it as if she suddenly couldn’t imagine parting with it.

She didn’t like how he filled up the foyer, frame blocking the dim ceiling light the way an oak tree does the sun. “I’m very sorry about how I approached you before. I heard you two stomping through my woods—and you alarmed me.” He said coolly, not an ounce of excitement in his eyes or face, not even a flush in his cheeks. “Tell me what happened.” When he asked she strangely felt beholden to him. She couldn’t help feeling that he was reading her mind—she knew that was a stupid thought—but something about the way those big eyes held her in place.

“There was a fight, and, and Tessa ran and so I chased after her—we fell and you found us.” She spilled all of the highlights as if she were reading a teleprompter. The prying feeling lessened when he broke eye contact.

“I see. Well, please come sit down, allow me to help.” His voice dripping like honey down the back of a spoon. He went to the small dining room off the foyer, pulled out a chair and politely beckoned her to sit. She wagered the risk for a moment but ultimately leaned the gun against the table—within reach—when she accepted the offered seat.

Feeling naked without the weapon, she held herself as he explained he would bring water. He did everything he said he would and within seconds she found herself staring bewildered into a glass of tap water. Antha felt more at ease when he finally removed the gun from the table and promised to put it away. The kitchen was right off the dining room and she listened as he retreated to the phone, setting the gun down. “…two young women—yes, here at Hollow House. Yes, this is Mr. Smith… Mmm-hmm… No one is harmed. Yes, of course, I understand. Thank you.”

Antha heard the click of the landline phone being holstered and thought about how long it had been since she had heard such a noise. Since her grandmother’s house she supposed. Her eyes continued their investigation as she waited. Trying to remind herself that she was just on-guard from the hellish night Tessa had put her through.

The cottage was fine, everything in place. A fruit bowl on display, frills on every corner, the carpet vacuumed. He did everything he said he would, she reminded herself again as she sat on her shaking hands. She was fine. They would wait for the police. They would be fine, she convinced herself.

He returned to the table with a plate and towel in hand. The plate was placed in front of her and then he bent with a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. For a moment Antha found herself quite overwhelmed, quaking in her seat, the adrenaline threatening to keep her on the run until her heart gave out.

“I believe your story checks out Miss Antha,” he said humorously, “the police said that there was an awful scuffle at the bar out by the road. Once they’re done cleaning that up, they will come to get you two.”

“Mr. Smith, how did you know my name?” She asked, just over-hearing his from the phone call.

“I could hear you calling to each other.” He explained. “You two created quite the ruckus out there.” He was leaning closer than Antha would have preferred. She never recalled Tessa calling out for her. She also didn’t think she told him about the bar either—stop being stupid Antha, the police told him about the bar, obviously, she chastised herself, her paranoia getting the better of her.

After pulling the twigs from her braids, wiping the dirt from her forehead and neck he bent to one knee to clean her hands. She sipped her water and stared down at him. His hair was a bit longer than how most men would wear it now, wing-tipped behind his ears and lending to the romance of an Edwardian fashion. The long bridge of his nose and well-placed lips made him truly worth staring at, like the classical paintings in her textbooks. When he wrapped the cloth over one of her palms his nostrils flared. “That’s a nasty scrape.”

Antha didn’t realize she was bleeding from when she caught herself on the pavement of the parking lot. Before he sat, she observed his dark button-down shirt partially tucked into slacks; his musculature was not consistent with his occupation. This guy works out for serving cookies and delivering extra pillows, she thought and continued sipping her water. Those great nocturnal eyes never left her, even as he reached toward a bowl on the table, his eyes stayed with her.

“Here, you must be starved,” he showed his hand to reveal a whole pomegranate. Before she could deny the fruit he tore it open between his large hands. The leathery skin shredded apart as the sanguine juice dotted his pale fingers, the table, and the plate in front of her. Antha could hear herself swallow as the little massacre happened right before her eyes. “Eat, Persephone, and never be released from my palace.” He laughed.

“I know that myth,” she forced a scoff despite how anxious she felt. She was compelled to be still, attempting to plan her next moves. She wasn’t sure if she was still out of fear or if he was willing her to sit. There was this scratching at the back of her mind again, like a dog at the backdoor, relentlessly trying to get into her subconscious.

“I had a feeling you would.” He replied knowingly. He leant into his palm on the table, as if fearing she would be too far from him. His offering seemed forced as if he had just read a beginner’s manual of cordiality. Nothing felt organic or friendly. Everything is fine, was what she thought, but something in her gut told her, but not safe. As if an ocean could not quench her thirst Antha finished the water and jolted upward from her seat.

“I need more water,” she stated blatantly and made her way to the kitchen before he could offer. She felt she could breathe for a moment without those curious gray orbs on her. The kitchen was outdated, but appeared older due to the orange cast of the overhead fan light ticking away, struggling to cool the space. She clutched the sink as if it was her last anchor to the earth. Her eyes kept shooting upward to the dark window in front of her. All she could see was her reflection and the open doorway to the dining room behind her; she was trying to watch her back, making sure nothing suddenly moved.

While the tap poured foggy water into her glass her eye caught a picture on the counter with a little old white-haired man and woman, their wrinkles holding their sunglasses in place, with Rehoboth Beach in the backdrop. “When are the cops coming?” She called weakly, trying to appear conversational and unsuspecting.

“Realistically tomorrow morning, not long from now.” His voice carried. He was still at the dining table. Good, stay there, she thought.

“Oh, we couldn’t trouble you for that long!” Her voice broke against her will, unsure why panic was suddenly rendering her immobile, holding white-knuckled to the sink. Why was there an empty room for Tessa? The sign said ‘no vacancy’.

Staring at the picture, she saw it said The Smiths 2016. The water was streaming over her hand, overflowing from the already full cup. Her eyes found the reflection of the gun leant up against the ancient landline phone on the wall in the window; it wasn’t the phone itself that made the blood drain from her face, it was the severed phone line dangling from the receiver like a noose. Her heart plunged into her stomach as she pieced together the clues—they were in very real danger.

“I insist you stay,” the rich-timbered-inflection was too close, and cold breath trickled down the back of Antha’s neck. There was no reflection of the man behind her in the window, all she could see was the terror on her face.

Glass shards and water exploded against the sink as her hand lost her cup. Her feet left the ground as she found herself turned, and lifted to the counter, her back against the cabinetry. “There’s no possible way we can stay—you see—I, I have misplaced my wallet!” She stammered, attempting to rationalize the situation.

“I’m positive we can agree on an alternate arrangement.” He wedged himself between her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the counter, his nails growing and sinking into her lower back like meat hooks. She had never seen someone so malevolent and beautiful in equal measure as he loomed over her mouth.

“—Please, I must take my sister home—” she begged, not knowing what was to come. “I can’t leave her—we have to go home!” Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to pull away from the stranger, but found herself latched to him with nowhere to run. His hands held strong as his lips reached the shell of her ear.

“I wouldn’t dream of separating a pair—she will follow you shortly.” He promised. “Stay.” He told her as if commanding her soul. She found herself unable to fight, her muscles waning as if under a spell. The cold of his cheek dragged across hers as he pulled back to look over her face, his feral irises dilating, impersonal and hungry. His grin displayed a mouth-full of pearly teeth as he sunk to the floor and splayed open Antha’s legs. He hummed gluttonously when he kissed the inside of her knee. His canine teeth grew outward, revealing pristine fangs the closer he drew to her apex. This isn’t real—what is he doing? Her mind raced, her fingers searching blindly on the counter for aid. He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and Antha mustered the last of her will to kick him in the face before she could find out.

She launched herself from the counter clumsily as the stranger recoiled, her muscles waking up from their enchantment. After snapping his broken nose back into place, he caught a second wind and lunged for her neck. Instinctively, her wrapped hand shoved the stray piece of glass from her broken water cup into the corner of his mouth. He leant against the counter, retracted his fangs and smiled through it, as if he had been pleasantly surprised.

She snatched the gun as she darted to a nearby door in the kitchen. Her hands frantically locking the door and then searching for a light. Rickety wooden stairs bowed under her feet as she followed carefully forward, her gun-hand sliding down a railing and the other on its mission for a light switch. She could hear him groan as he pulled forth the glass and the blood spilled to the linoleum floor. “Antha, darling,” that same penetrating voice hummed above her as he gathered his bearings, “stay and fight me off—I do so enjoy this.” She could hear him gagging and spitting—she could only hope the glass shard spliced his gums.

Finally, as if her prayers had been answered, her hand found what it had been seeking. She flipped the light switch on to find one lone dangling bulb above her. For the third time of evening, Antha’s feet left the earth and she toppled over a pile of laundry at the base of the stairs. She saw nothing to defend her, no place to hide. When she scooted back from the heap, she saw fuzzy white tufts. To her horror she recognized old Mr. Smith crumpled atop other bodies, their throats and wrists torn out, blood pooling across the floor.

Antha covered her mouth to stop from screaming. Her tear ducts working hysterically as she distanced herself from the carnage. How did I end up here? This can’t be happening! The cautious twin thought to herself, why me? The rattle of the door knob broke through her shock as the perpetrator tried to gain access to the basement. The foundation shook as he began ramming himself into the basement door—BAM—BAM—BAM—the door and frame failing under his inhuman force, the wood splintering and the drywall crackling.

Searching again for anything to save her, as if she was swarmed in answers that her brain could not comprehend in its panic—Antha finally noticed a cellar door. Rushing to it, she undid the inside latch and pushed upward to get out. She could hear the basement door explode, the skittle-like bounce of nails and screws as it finally gave way under his might. Throwing the door back down she jammed the handle with a nearby shim.

Scrambling through the backyard she hid behind a tree, knowing that it was only a temporary delay for him. The stranger was much too keen for her to outrun she guessed, she definitely couldn’t fight him—perhaps hiding would give her a moment to develop an escape path back to Tessa, an element of surprise—or anything—against him. Antha’s pulse hammering, the vein in her neck thick like an anaconda as the adrenaline coursed through her. She cocked the gun blindly, praying she did it right—worst case scenario she was going to go out swinging the damn thing. How will I get to Tessa?

Antha pressed her back into the large tree, her gun readied. Trickles of blood ran hot down her legs from his vicious claw marks. She tried to control her breath, but his fury found the cellar doors faster than she wanted. The slamming began again until one of the cellar door’s peaked upward, his elbow bending it as if mere tinfoil. Seconds later the door flew into the yard, mangled.

“I imagined Tessa to be the runner!” He laughed as he emerged from the ground, taking his time. “Antha, come back to me.” His voice fell into a low growl as he scanned the yard. Her hands shook with resentful readiness.

Then there was silence, abrupt and oppressive. Her ears strained but could not hear his panther like steps. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping it would aid her hearing—but she was met with complete nothingness. She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and the faint hiss of her exhale trumpeted amongst the stifling stillness. It must have given her away as the lean, wiry fingers found her throat and ripped her up from the ground like a dandelion.

She shoved the gun tip to his chest, ready to take out his heart. But to her unfathomable dread, the gun failed her. The dead click of an ammo less shotgun became nothing more than a toy prop in her dire moment. She did what she could to wield it like a bat, but was unsuccessful as he caught it and crushed it in his other hand. Suffocating in his grip she tried to break free.

“You’re insufferable,” he sneered, his mouth growing its tissue back and reconstructing the damage he endured moments prior. “Did you think I would leave it loaded?” His bright steely eyes scouring over her struggling frame. “As enjoyable as this was, our time is unfortunately over. I will make you a promise.” He pulled in closer, “I will take my time with Tessa.”

Without cue a wet, meaty sound cut through the woods. The stranger gasped, full of horror and rage as he reached to his chest. A fire iron pierced through from his back. His eyes, nose, ears, and mouth began to bleed. Antha pushed out of his grasp when he lurched forward to the ground. She was on the brink of unconsciousness as she wheezed for breath. She found Tessa was the great impaler. “I’m—not done with—you foolish girls…” He hissed like a deflating tire, his immortal sinews collapsing like a bowl of spaghetti dumped onto the lawn.

Tessa skirted the rapid decay and pulled Antha into her arms. Stock-still they watched. They bared witness as he writhed, his porcelain skin dripped with taffy-like stretch and slid off his bones. He melted into a puddle, with nothing recognizable left except lumps of clothing and two silver eyes. Tessa reached toward the eyes, but her sister stopped her.

All that could be heard was their panting and the fizzle of a creature dissolved. They looked to each other, wordless and beyond repair. After a moment or two they drug themselves around the side of the house and toward the driveway. Hearts still punching against their ribcages, the girls numbly followed the long-wooded drive.

When they finally made it to the main road they found the next street lamp was another mile off. All that could be heard was the rustle of the surrounding crops. They followed the road back toward the light of civilization. Antha couldn’t shake the horror of the Smith’s being slaughtered by that thing. She shivered again, feeling the stranger’s eyes on her. She tried to push the thought down. It’s dead, she thought.

After sometime Tessa began to speak, “I woke up and saw a little old lady on the side of the bed. Her neck was covered in strawberry jam,” she paused strangely, “but I knew it wasn’t jam Ant.” She whined.

“I know, I know.” Antha stopped to soothe her. Tessa buried her head into her sister’s neck and they held strong for barely a moment before weeping. Antha had never been so relieved to have her sister. She couldn’t believe Tessa was the one to save them. From now on she would abandon her role as the babysitter. All of her safe-keeping and methodical avoidance of danger had failed them both. It was Tessa’s wild heart that saved them.

“I couldn’t believe you kicked him in the face.”

“You saw that?”

“I almost lost my shit—hey, what was he doing down there?” Tessa finally asked.

“The femoral artery is—well and when you factor in gravity—” Antha’s analytical side kicked in but then quickly dissipated from the stress. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” She finally sighed, unable to comprehend the fact that she was almost drained by her crotch. Both of them smirked but within a breath were crying again.

“I’m so tired.” Tessa grumbled and then called for Zoey three times, wishing she would appear to take them home.

“Doug… Doug… Doug…” Antha whispered to herself.

Just as they thought the night would never end and their blood-stained clothes would never dry, they heard the familiar wheeze of Doug’s old Buick.

After a deluge of crying, embracing, and the erratic retelling of the whole evening, the twins found themselves buckled in the backseat on their way to the emergency room. Tessa finally sighed when Doug stopped looking at them in his rear-view mirror. He must have mumbled to himself “…vampires?” at least a dozen times as he drove. She sidled into Antha, holding her hand with an iron-clad grip and closed her eyes. Antha couldn’t relax. Her nerves were beyond frayed and she grew uncomfortable under the weight of her sister’s weary head. Something blunt was stabbing into her backside and she shifted in her seat.

The bright lights of the emergency room entrance burned the teary-eyed passengers. Doug pulled up and jumped out of his car, opening the door for them. “What the hell is in this car—you got rocks back here?” Antha sassed him about cleaning his Buick as she dug out the troublesome object in her seat. Tessa did the same, unbuckling herself and wriggled in discomfort.

“I just vacuumed, like last year,” he defended, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In the commotion of the two digging around and shuffling old coke-a-cola bottles and vintage DVDs, they suddenly ceased. A strange silence fell between them. “What is going on back here?” He stared anxiously at them.

Each twin opened a hand to find one silvery, gleaming eye.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn @plastic-heart @confusednerd09

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years ago

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Mama Bear Drabble 46

Drabble prompt: "I just karate chopped your neck a little. Please don't tell Mom!"

By: @strangermoons20 (posted with permission).

Arriving home after school, the first thing Peter, Harley, Thomas, and William notice as they step off the elevator is how unusually quiet the family floor is. With worried glances at one another, Harley asks FRIDAY where their parents and sisters are.

“Boss will be in meetings for the next few hours, Mama Bear took Diana to Kamar-Taj for magic practice after school, and Nat finally took Val to have an actual tea party like she’s been begging for,” FRIDAY rattled back.

A mischievous glint replaced the relief on the boys’ faces faster than Thomas can run a mile. The boys sprung into action depositing their backpacks in the living room before bolting to the kitchen to grab as much junk as their hands could hold before cramming back onto the elevator and heading down to the lab.

The boys had been working with their father to create a program that integrated knowledge of thousands of styles of martial arts into the AI of their suits—allowing their suits to predict enemy moves and suggest counters during combat. It would also allow the suit to defend an incapacitated wearer in the case of emergency.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Dad before we try it out?” William shyly offered.

“Nah,” Harley replied nonchalantly, “I’m certain our last update got rid of the bugs.”

Integrating the martial arts knowledge into the AI had been easy, but Tony and the boys had been struggling to make sure the suit didn’t start acting on its own when the program was running.

“Besides, we can set it to defensive mode only. That way it will only block and parry attacks instead of returning them,” Peter assured his brother as he and Harley activated their suits.

The program worked perfectly for the first few minutes as Harley and Peter took turns advancing on the other. The suit was only deflecting strikes, stopping punches, and dodging, not striking back. Eager to test the limits of the program, Thomas wonders, “How fast can the program respond? Do you think it could stop attacks from my speed?”

“It should be able to,” Peter responded. “Come take a few swings and let’s find out. I’m wearing my suit so even if you get some strikes in, what’s the worse that could happen?”

Famous. Last. Words.

At first the suit matched the speed of Thomas’ rapid blows, and he steadily built up speed. Moving as fast as he could, Thomas sent a right hook as fast as he could towards Peter’s head. Peter’s pleased grin as his left arm nimbly deflected the blow and stepped in towards Thomas instantly turned to horror as he realized his right hand was shooting up towards Thomas’ neck. Thomas was caught off guard, but still managed to move back enough to avoid the worst of the blow, but it still left him reeling for breath as he hit the floor.

“OHMYGOD THOMAS! Are you okay?” Peter squawked, the guilt of hurting his brother already filling him up. William and Harley rushed over to make sure Thomas was alright, but he was already shooing them off insisting that he was fine and that it was not Peter’s fault but the program’s, albeit in a somewhat hoarse voice.

Peter’s fear that he had hurt Thomas was quickly swapped out by the fear of what would happen when Dad or Mom found out what happened. The boys knew that they weren’t suppose to be working on this program without their father. Mom would probably ground him for the rest of eternity.

“Please don’t tell Mom! I only karate chopped you in the throat a little!” Peter begged.

“Are you kidding? I’d rather be throat chopped by you a hundred times than deal with Mom and Dad if they find out what we were up to,” Thomas assured his brother.

“Thankfully,” Thomas continued, “I don’t think you did enough damage to trigger any of the automatic alerts from FRID—“ The sound of a portal interrupting him as Stephen appeared in the lab with an anxious look on his face.

“Peter, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said a confused Peter.

“Victor notified me of a sharp spike in your heart rate and I—“ He trailed off as he noticed Thomas still sitting on the floor with a bruise starting to form along his neck.

“Damnit,” Peter thought, “Ratted out by my own suit!”

Stephen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose feeling a headache form. Victor alerted him of a call from Tony which he answered with a quick “Peter’s fine,” before rounding on the boys. “Explain.” He demanded.

After the boys filled him in, Stephen had to hang up the call with Tony to stop the endless string of expletives from his husband.

Stephens approach was much quieter and much worse. He let the boys stew in silence while he healed Thomas bruise before turning a stern, tired gaze on the group.

“I can’t believe you boys would do something so stupid. You could’ve seriously been hurt! I’d expect this kind of think from Harley, but—“

“Hey!” Harley interjected before quickly adding, “William did try and stop us.”

Stephen held up a small hand to quiet his son.

With another sigh, he pointed to the elevator and sent shivers down the boys spines when he added, “Just go sit in the living room and wait until your father gets home.”

Stephen portaled back to Kamar-Taj to get Diana, and left the boys to spend the longest forty-five minutes of their lives blankly staring at their open textbooks until their father finally returned home.

In the end, all four boys were banned from the lab for a week and grounded for good measure. Harvey had to hide a small sigh of relief when he realized the punishment would be a much bigger pain for Thomas, Peter, and himself than it would be for William.

#ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #supremefamily #mama bear stephen strange #mama bear au #harley keener #thomas shepherd #peter parker #william kaplan #drabble

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chaseagainstonision · 4 years ago

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A personal call out post

Let me preface this with having y'all not send her hate. I just wanted to bring awareness to this on Twitter as well as here becuaes I'm agitated and fed of with people who are constantly toxic to those around them and having stans/simps who back them up at every turn and enable them.

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I wanted to talk about @babblingartblog @naughtybabs and the drama I have surrounding her. I want to cover some of this: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/17c7F4GZXCVtqVqKPXNc4lWHS0T9pHZz2 and touch on some of the bigger things in each folder since I didn't quite do that last time since I was pissed.

Note that these folders will constantly be updating. I still have some caps that I have not tossed in these folder as I have not edited out usernames for privacy reasons. I have a folder on my desktop that is also uncensored for my own reference.

Starting off with Art and Caps (https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1J_dwVDk396Cx-gZROZqK1dCB2ih5LJ6E?usp=sharing), this should be pretty straight forward. Some videos I have here are of her blatently tracing or stealing images from Google or elsewhere. I have tried to find sources for as many of these as I could. No true artist worth their salt would actually trace for a piece, especially not for commissions. Some of the other images are just some critiquing and stuff. The critiques are just personal gripes about her art that I feel could be improved upon.

For Facebook (https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/11-374WefqZaE4YWVC3HNpsyWLrnkF6Or?usp=sharing), a few things stand out more than others. The first thing is something that happened at a larp she attended. She claims that she didn't do this, but multiple other people attest otherwise. It's an incident where she tried to break up a married couple and call the man's wife a bitch and what have you. She's also expressed some rather NSFW kinks/fetishes in these larp spaces that have made others uncomfortable. She had even gotten temporarily kicked from one larp group due to these actions. Another thing that stands out more than others is her promise to change and then falling right back into old habits. There are several of these posts and I think also a few tweets, but I'll touch of tweets further down. Anyway, there are countless times that people have told her that she needs help and needs to be a better person and she basically just shrugs it off and keeps up with her toxicity.

The final thing that I'd like to touch on in this section that's a red flag is how she treated her former place of residence. Without going into too much detail as I don't want to involve her former roomies in this more than I have to. She's claimed numerous times that her former residence was abusive when it wasn't anywhere near what she's said. She was the one creating a toxic environment and people were getting tired of her shit. Between her quitting jobs with no good reason, to not paying rent and spending what should have been rent money on larps and fast food and other such luxuries and accusing a former roomie of something heinous, she brought down the mental health of everyone in that house.

There are various other things that you can look through that I haven't even touched upon that set off more red flags. There were also some DMs that I had omitted that I won't release but can summarize if need be later. Also, I realize that some of these caps are ant sized, so if you need me to transcribe them, feel free to ask.

For Tumblr and Misc (https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/152bkOkTiH4ZfWk3t9g3JhHMwSz2J-YjT?usp=sharing), there's not much there. Just some asks about the larp things I mentioned in the Facebook section, her GoFundMe, which I'll also touch upon in the Twitter section, and some caps from Youtube about her tracing.

For Twitter (https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1pGqz6qTFuvKZDYPuxQTk6CLxGgJokYa8?usp=sharing), there are a ton of caps. There are only a few things that stuck out to my with these caps, too. Outside of the Hazbin Hotel drama, that is, since there are quite a bit of caps there.

The first is the most recent and the thing that kicked me sharing all of this originally. It relates to a Slenderman series creator names Adam Rosner who was outed as a piece of shit who did some unsavory things with a few people underage, as well as some other horrible, heinous shit. She claimed to be friends with him and that she "still can't believe that [she] ignored [her] gut" about how much of a creep he actually was. I called her out the two times that she spoke out about this because I knew, from personal experience and from also knowing Adam and interacting with him at a limited capacity (I just thought he was kind of a snob originally and was fame hungry), that she had been lying and had only really been an acquaintance, much like myself, and also had limited interactions with him.

Touching on the GoFundMe that I mentioned earlier, though, and she admitted that she, herself, donated her $1400 stimulus check from 2020 to inflate the amount she received from her GFM. The GFM was taken poorly from some former friends as she owns them money and she, instead of trying to pay some of that back, dumped her money in the GFM to inflate it.

She's also brought up a few times where she would like friends who wouldn't crucify her and that calling her out on her bad behavior and holding her to a standard means that you're stalking her or being mean or something. This piggy backs off of the point from the FB section about her saying she'll get better then doesn't.

For Videos and Caps (https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vukA5KmVvbF56pC91GGD4s-FCZaXwW6W?usp=sharing), there are uhh... some questionable things in here.

The first is stuff that I had transcribed since it's in parts. This, against, cycles back to her attempts at fundraising for herself. She had gotten angry about various BLM protesters had gotten money for bail and lawyers and what not and that no one was, essentially, donating to her cause donating to small creators isn't "trendy" or "popular" or some such nonsense. Then, tried to back peddle by saying that capitalism sucks and how she shouldn't had used her GFM to compare to BLM but that the poor, LGBT+, black, etc aren't accessories or something but really still giving a nonapology.

Which brings be to a related but not really point about the stutter that she had. She's done this weirdly forced stutter in a few videos and I asked around if it was a thing that she had done before and it wasn't and is, indeed, a forced reaction to garner sympathy.

Swinging back around the the fundraisers she posted on FB and the bit about her roomies, there was a video that she had made accusing one former roomie of some nasty things, as well, when it never happened. The actual story, without getting into too much detail, was that she had pined after this roomie for a bit and was enamored with him but he had (and still has) a girlfriend.

As for the other videos, there's just a lot of depressed posting and what not. Like, a lot of depressed posting.

Some general statements: Normally I wouldn't dump on some of these things if it were anyone else, but knowing her personally and talking to some former friends and what have you and knowing how she is after all of this observation, there have been a lot of red flags that popped up. Like, I'm not here to victim blame or laugh at someone over mental illness or any of that shit. But I also know that she siphons personality traits and whatnot from the people around her.

#artists #artists on tumblr #art theft #art #digital art

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seyaryminamoto · 5 years ago

Photo

If you're caught in the shadow then turn around Lost in the darkness, you will be found If you hear my voice, follow the sound 'Cause I'm here to guide you home

Gladiator’s Seventh Anniversary

March 26th swings by once more, and this time I’ve been celebrating this milestone for nearly a whole month :’D We have twenty Gladiator-arcs-themed artworks by now, and here’s our grand finale! A little more grand than every anniversary up to date, I hope!

This particular entry comes in two forms, however! And here’s the second one:

youtube

Say hello to the FIRST GLADIATOR ARTWORK VIDEO! :’D

Yeah, it wasn’t always meant to be the first xD I have two other videos in the works, and one of them is at least over halfway done (with rudimentary animation in it too :’D). Still, this occasion demanded it! And so I decided to go for a video this time, hopefully the next videos won’t take too long to finish!

This hasn’t been an easy year for me, despite I’ve certainly written a lot of things I’m reeeally happy about (that you guys will be seeing later this year). Quite often I’ve found myself losing traction, hope, faltering against many obstacles in my life. I’ve made big and small mistakes here and there, and I’ve had low points, even if none quite as low as the one I hit two years ago...

Still, at the end of the day, this story has always had my back in its own way. I’ve been able to find peace by writing it, even in the darkest of moments. Going over all the progress I’ve made with it, and looking ahead at everything that’s yet to come often fills me with the willpower and strength I need to keep going, no matter what. So, after a year of blackouts, water shortages, internet collapses, countless setbacks with my real-life plans and now even a pandemic, Gladiator has always been the safest harbor I can find refuge in when everything else fails.

This big finale is, of course, meant to encapsulate the growth of Sokka and Azula’s relationship throughout the first half of Part 2. At first I had wanted to draw scenes from each arc I had skipped... but that didn’t quite work out as well as that after I revisited a certain movie, which features a BRILLIANT OST, and it had two songs that I’ve now poached outright for Gladiator purposes :’D Strange Sight is a song that really works well for Sokka and Azula in general (from Sokka’s POV), but the bulk of the song really sounds more like it fits these two in Part 1 xD yet the very conclusion of the song changes its tone... and that’s the part that inspired me into making this video/artwork set!

The first scene depicted is Azula’s “blunder”, when she nearly admits she loves Sokka despite not being ready to say it out loud. He is thrilled, but she’s very flustered, so he gives her space while she blushes stubbornly in her Barge’s cabin (?). The second artwork comes from a scene I always wanted to depict in art, even while I was writing it: Azula watching Pohuai Stronghold at a distance while Sokka is enthralled, looking at her (even blurts out she’s beautiful because he’s a goofball like that xD). The third scene comes from their escapade to the healing hot springs, on the same chapter Sokka gives Azula her secret betrothal necklace. The fourth scene is the crazy kiss these two steal in the airship factory, when they lose sight of Ozai’s retinue and make out amidst the factory equipment, steam and whatnot rising around them... because that’s just the stuff they like to do xD The fifth scene is taken from their chaotic anniversary arc, once they had already patched things up and were drying each other’s hair with towels... Azula dried Sokka, his hair was a disaster afterwards and she laughed her ass off while he did his best to take revenge xD the sixth scene depicts a much darker moment, Azula using her gold fire to fight back against Seethus, underground (not sure if it shows, but clutching Sokka’s hand is what allowed her to use gold fire properly in the midst of such a desperate situation. And the seventh scene is meant to portray Azula in that arc too, after she has rebelled against her father and takes off with Sokka, putting more distance between herself and Ozai than ever before...

The final one isn’t really derived from a particular scene of the fic, instead it’s the image I always get of these two when I hear the end of that song. “You’re not alone” is definitely one of the most important things Azula needs and deserves to hear. Though it’s not only for her to hear it... it’s for her to know for sure that it’s true, that she has a partner who will stand by her through thick and thin, to the ends of the world if need be. That no matter how bad things can get, she knows he’s on her side and always will be.

It has taken quiiiite a while to develop their bond and relationship to this extent, but I have to say it has been such a wonderful process for me... as I’ve said in the past, Gladiator’s Part 1 was the story of how they get together, but Part 2 is the story of how things work now that they are together. There’s a strange, general perception of romance storytelling, and it even expands into IRL relationships, I’d say, that suggests, whether intentionally or not, that relationships stop developing, evolving, growing once they’re consummated. I don’t know if the fairytale “they lived happily ever after!” is to blame for that, but personally, I don’t see the point in watching a relationship be built up from the ground only to witness a brief glimpse of how it works before the curtain falls. That’s why Gladiator’s Part 2 has been the exact opposite of that. Both Azula and Sokka had a lot left to grow and develop after Part 1 was finished, their partnership did too, and there’s like a gazillion plotlines, new and old, that will be crucial in building up the biggest, baddest climax of the story so far. Therefore... I’d like to think my point has been made? You CAN tell a story about this side of a couple’s life together. Whether people stick around to read it is another subject, but if you’re working with a couple as dynamic as these two, getting them together is barely the first part of the journey.

I make it no secret that Part 2 is definitely my favorite chunk of the story, especially the chapters that are being published nowadays (and those that will be published in the future), so part of the reason why I went all out here is because I really, REALLY wanted to cherish everything this part of the story embodies for me and, hopefully, for everyone who has read and enjoyed it.

I deeply thank everyone who has stuck it out with me through this journey, no matter if you were here from the first moment or if you’re a newcomer who hasn’t even caught up yet. I’m also really grateful if you don’t know the story at all but still took your time to even drop a like on any of these posts. It has always been scary to be a creator on the Internet, both because of the potential backlash against what you do and, perhaps even worse than that, the indifference of people who don’t really care much about what you create, regardless of how much work you’ve put into it, and how much you’ve grown so you can make new ideas a reality. But there’s people out there, really wonderful people, who have always been supportive of my crazy creative efforts, always sticking by me no matter how difficult it could be (and no matter how long this story gets :’D). I’m far from a perfect content creator, and sometimes I get discouraged by the stupidest things... but when you guys show interest in what I do, when you say how much the story means to you, it never fails to revitalize me and get me going once again.

So this big celebration is for those of you who stick by me, who support me, who encourage me at my lowest and highest alike because you believe in me and the story I’ve been telling for SEVEN YEARS NOW :’D It’s also for those who may yet return to see what mayhem I’ve crafted for these two in the years since they stopped reading. And it’s, without a doubt, for myself... because now I’m certainly far more confident with my art than ever before, and because everything I make for these two gives me all the right feels just when I need them. Finally... it’s for Sokka and Azula, most of all. The two sides of my beloved OTP, who have been by far the most inspiring characters I’ve ever worked with, and who deserve the entire world, as far as I’m concerned. Granted, I’m a jerk and I won’t make things easy for them in the coming years... but we all know they can be stronger and prevail! At least, I hope you all believe that as well as I do xD

So, as always, here’s to you, my supportive readers, to these wonderful protagonists, and to the story that chronicles their many adventures on their way to changing the world, as they always have meant to! Thanks to all of you for your support, and keep an eye out for Gladiator’s next update, dropping tomorrow!

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skythealmighty · 5 years ago

Text

A girl in a spider costume zooms through the sky on webs strung from her hand, whooping. A narration cuts in of a sassy teenage girl.

“All right, let’s get this part over with. I’m not the first, and I’m certainly not the last. Cut to backstory!” she said, then snapped. The scene changed.

The girl, outside her costume, is eating a bagel. She has blond-brown hair in a messy bob, blue-green eyes, and pale skin. She’s wearing simple clothes. “My name is Skye King. In my universe, I’m one of two spider-people, though I’m the only Spider-Girl. Spider-Man is in New York. My business is in Seattle. One day, during summer break, I was bitten by a radioactive spider after my 15th birthday. You get the jist, right? Then I had spider powers, yadda yadda yadda. We’ve all heard it before. Well, the thing is, not really. That spider was from another universe (at least I'm 99% sure).” While she said all that, in the cutscene, a spider bit her on the hand and she threw it outside. “I could tell something was wrong, so I decided to cancel my hangout with my friend the next day, telling her I was sick. I couldn’t have been more wrong, but it was a good call. I absolutely trashed my room that day.” It showed Skye in her room, sticking to the bedcovers and the ceiling and her books. “Needless to say, my parents were kinda, okay super mad. Oh well, small price for a little superpower! I discovered during the next few days that I could create portals with my webs, and the first one led to the universe with the graffiti Spider-Man, Miles Morales.” Another scene showed her fistbumping with Miles, masks down on their spider costumes as they sat on top of a building. “There, I officially got my suit from Aunt May with some help. I wanted a little piece of everyone I met, so I asked Miles to decorate my costume a bit. He got the left arm, and I gotta say, it looked pretty sweet! Over the next week, I visited other universes and added to my suit a little at a time. You name them from Miles’s movie, I’ve probably visited them. Peni Parker (got a robotics upgrade from her), Noir (the guns were cool, but he also got a bit of space on my mask), Gwen (I stole her hoodie idea and went to gymnastics), Peter B. (not much, his suit’s the same as the original), and even Peter Porker (got a cartoon hammer, I love Looney Tunes)! They were all really cool, but my story isn’t about meeting them. Way too cliche, and probably done before, too. This little mini story takes place in the universe where that spider came from. So why don’t we finally get started, now that you know who I am?” The scene returned to Spider-Girl swinging from the Seattle Space Needle. She winked at the camera, and the screen turned black.

Skye yawned, sitting up in bed as her alarm went off. “Hey Google, alarm off,” she said tiredly, getting out of bed and getting dressed off-camera. She ate her breakfast, said hi to her family, packed up her backpack (not forgetting her Spider Suit), and jogged out the door to her bus stop. She napped on the bus until it arrived at school, where she was woken up by her Spidey senses. She got off the bus. “Hello again, Edison High,” she sighed, walking into the cafeteria and sitting down at a table full of older students. The narration starts. “This is my average, everyday high school, Edison High. These are my art club friends, Olivia, Jack, Darth, and.. well, they’re important to me, but maybe not to you. My other friends are Sofia, Haylie, Mitchell, AJ, and Micheal. At my high school, nobody apart from Sofia, AJ, and Haylie know I’m Spider-Girl, even though she’s the main topic of gossip. School’s boring, so I’ma skip it.”

The scene of a high school day is fast forwarded until the very end, where she goes to the bathroom. “I’ve long since made a secret exit, and most girls don’t check the bathroom mirror, so I get dressed in my onesie there. It’s really not that hard, and I have a drone get my backpack home. That does mean I have to do my homework in class, but I’m pretty smart, so I can do it most of the time.” Skye, in her Spider-Girl suit, exits the stall and opens the mirror like a door, walking inside. She drops her backpack into a carrier drone, then opens a secret door from the inside and webs to the top of the school. “All in all, a pretty normal day. No crime at the moment, so I decided to visit another universe again. I mean, why not?” She spun her web in a circle, creating a portal, which she swung into. “I wanted a little something to add to my outfit. But that day? Fate didn’t like me one bit.” She looked around at the other portals, which had markings on them, the logos of the different Spider-Men she’d met. One of the portals was unmarked, and that was the one she swung into. As soon as she did, she attempted to make another web, but failed. “Aw, what? Talk about bad timing..” the Skye in the scene said, before yelling and slamming into the ground. “I think I’ll stop the narration now, so you can focus on the story.”

The screen was black, but then Skye opened her eyes. In front of her was a rainbow Spider-Man, upside down in front of her. She yelped and scrambled backwards in surprise, bonking her head. “Ow..” she muttered, rubbing her head. She flicked her wrist, trying to spin her web. Nothing happened. “Damnit!” she cursed.

“You okay?” the rainbow Spider-Man asked, letting go of his web (which was unsurprisingly rainbow as well) and landing on the ground. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

Skye grinned under the mask. “I’ve had worse. I mean, when you’re Spider-Girl, you gotta be able to take a few hits, right?” She got up, standing in front of the walking rainbow and looking him up and down. “I like the sugar glider wings,” she complimented. “I bet those come in handy a lot, huh?”

He smiled too (though only shown with the eyes of his mask). “Yeah, they do. So, how’d you get here anyway? Super collider?”

She shook her head. “Nah, got here on my own. Part of my powers include going to other universes, weirdly enough. My webs aren’t working, though,” she flicked her hand for emphasis, “so I’m stuck here for the moment. I don’t think that’ll last for more than a couple days, so no need to worry.”

He sighed in relief. “Good, I’m already taking care of four Spider-Children, so I don’t need more.. why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, after seeing her starstruck expression.

“There’s more!?” she said, sort of high-pitched. She covered her mouth. “Oops. Um, basically, when I run into another Spider-Person, I want a way of remembering, so I add to my outfit.. I was looking to upgrade mine for a while, so this is perfect!”

He laughed. “Alright, I’ll take you to them. Be warned though, they’re all pretty extra in their own way.” The scene cut to him swinging her up to an apartment, setting her down.

“Thanks for that,” she said, embarrassed. “If I had my webs, I wouldn’t need you to do that, though..”

“Nah, it’s fine!” He took off his mask, grinning. “I don’t mind. I’m Thomas.” He held out his hand.

“Skye,” she said, taking it after pulling her own mask off. “Now if you don’t mind, you got some thread and needles?” He pointed her to a room. “Sweet!” she said, running in. “I’ll be back!”

After a few minutes, she came out with the same sugar glider extensions he had, but they were the bi flag instead of the gay flag. “Ta-daa!”

“Nice,” he nodded in approval. “There’s some spare clothes in the closet if you don’t mind sweats and t-shirts.”

She grinned. “That’s what I usually wear anyway!”

The screen showed a Spongebob ‘one hour later’ cutscene, then showed Thomas and Skye watching a movie. She was wearing a blue t-shirt and purple sweats. There was a knock on the door. “Come in, guys,” Thomas said, not taking his eyes off the movie. Skye, however, looked towards the door to see four different Spider-Men come through. One wore a royal outfit with flowers, hair uncovered, one wore a pink outfit with hearts and a baseball cap, one wore an outfit similar to Gwen’s with a V, and the last one wore a blue outfit that had a tie design on it and four robotic spider legs on his back. Her eyes widened.

“Okay, now I definitely need to update my outfit again!” She grinned, dashing into the room she’d been in before where her suit was. The others looked at her.

“Uh… who was that?” the one in the royal outfit asked, looking perplexed.

“You’ll see,” Thomas answered.

After a half hour, while everyone was on the couch with masks down, she came out with the suit on and mask up. The hoodie was up, and on top of it, there was a gray V like the Gwen lookalike’s mask. One of the legs had pink hearts and red flowers, and the other had the same design as the tie design but only up to below the knee. She was grinning, until she realized something. “Oh, right, I never introduced myself. I’m Skye, Spider-Girl!” she said, pulling her mask down and bowing.

“Virgil,” said the Gwen lookalike.

“Roman!” introduced the royal one.

“Hi, I’m Patton!” grinned the pink one.

“Salutations, my name is Logan,” said the one in the tie.

“Nice to meet all of you!” said Skye, grinning and sitting down with the rest.

A timelapse showed the day going by, nothing super interesting. The timelapse stopped at the next day during lunch, because that’s where the action is. Besides, this is supposed to be a short story, so I won’t bore you too much.

Everyone was having pizza. “Mm, they do not make pizza like this in Seattle, let me tell you,” Skye said after finishing her first slice. “I almost wish they did, but then I’d never cook for myself!”

Suddenly, everyone froze, Spidey senses going off. “Oh no, why in the middle of lunch?” Roman groaned, setting down his slice and going into one of the stalls in the corner. Everyone but Skye followed him, her going into the suit touch up room. One by one, they all emerged in their Spider suits. Thomas and his gang swung out, while Skye took a deep breath and glided after them using the addition she’d just added yesterday, since she still couldn’t use her webs. They arrived in Times Square to see the Scorpion causing trouble with the Tinkerer, again.

“Peter always has to deal with these guys, why don’t they ever quit?” Skye asked, perched next to the others on top of a building.

“Evil never rests?” Logan offered.

“Nah, these guys are just really annoying,” Thomas sighed.

They all jumped down, standing in front of either the Tinkerer or the Scorpion. Virgil, Logan, and Skye were in front of the Tinkerer, while Thomas, Patton, and Roman were in front of the Scorpion. “Time to kick some ass!” Skye said, crawling up a building and launching herself at the Tinkerer. Soon after, Virgil and Logan swung at him in turn, Logan knocking the Tinkerer out of his own vehicle and taking control, which he then used to stun the Tinkerer while Virgil tied him up. Thomas swung and glided onto the Scorpion’s face, blinding him. Patton and Roman tied the Scorpion up, then Thomas kicked the Scorpion over and over in the face, temporarily stunning him. As if it was second nature for her, Skye swung using her webs and tied the Scorpion up some more, knowing her webs were stronger than the others’ by nature. As she landed on the ground, she looked at her hands and smiled. “Looks like I can go home now,” she grinned to the others. “Sorry for overstaying my welcome.”

“Nah, you’re fun to hang around with. Come back anytime,” Thomas said, waving goodbye. She nodded and made a portal, swinging through as it closed behind her. She hung in place in the middle of all the universes, making five webs above the top of the portal she just came in from. The middle one was a rainbow spider, and the other four were a gray V, a red rose, a pink heart, and a blue tie. She grinned and swung through the portal labeled ‘home’, swinging above the city. She was lucky it was Saturday, so she didn’t miss any school. But how would she explain it to her parents? She shook her head to clear her thoughts as she spotted a robbery. Good never sleeps, she thought, webbing one of the criminals with a sigh. The scene faded to black.

“Hey, don't get mad, I told you it’d be short. Cut!”

@ask-spiderverse-virgil

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