#because he's talented as fuck but does not roll with anyone but the Monsters and Renee
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girl help i have written 26 pages of my aftg bjj au in the span of three days
#i made a list of the foxes' belt ranking levels#my explanation for them#and what i think they'd be good at specifically#like andrew is a blue belt 0 stripes#because he's talented as fuck but does not roll with anyone but the Monsters and Renee#and his main skills are balance standup grip-breaking and space management#so you cannot knock him over and you especially cannot pin him down#and neil is a white belt with 0 stripes#because he has no actual bjj experience because he can't stay in one place long enough to get a gym subscription#he's running off pure vibes#his main skill is his encyclopedic knowledge of lore#aftg#all for the game#andrew minyard#neil josten#andreil
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STUDY OF A SCANDAL | NEUVILLETTE
synopsis: a starving journalist, the iudex of fontaine and reader, the most talented soprano of teyvat all attend a ball at the opera epiclese where one scandal follows another as a storm does not allow anyone to leave.
tags, warnings: heavy drugs (aphrodisiac, ecstasy), involuntary drug consumption, neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a talented singer, reader is secretly a water creature as old as Neuvi, MONSTER FUCKING, Neuvillette's takes reader in semi dragon form, journalist is a pos, cunnilingus, p -> v, unprotected, oh the consequences
wc: est 3.3k
It begins with a tear rolling down on the porcelain skin of the Iudex of Fontaine's full cheek.
As you stand tall all alone on the platform of the Opera Epiclese, not a shred of whisper or mumble leaves the people of the water nation - it's only your voice that vibrates in between their bodies, it crawls at the high walls and crimson drapes and threatens to never leave. You've sung these songs many times across all of Teyvat; you're considered an Honored Guest wherever you decided to set foot. But your heart belongs to Fontaine, and such is evident in the way your gaze lingers on its people ahead of you.
Then, as if it's supposed to be part of your show, as the last note of your last song bubbles in your throat, a clash of thunders shakes the building.
The Melusines are quick on their short legs to inform everyone to stay inside, and whereas there's no need to worry, it would be best if everyone waited in the Opera Epiclese until the storm ended. Curses and hisses rumble across the people meanwhile the Iudex of Fontaine leaves his seat and his noiseless steps carry him to his office. It's only you who notices how his shoulders rise and fall in the familiar motion of weeping, how his cloth napkin soaks in the tears that escape him despite his greatest effort to soothe himself.Â
âIf it's fine with everyone,â you begin with your voice exhausted and slightly croak from your show. âI have enough cakes and fruits to invite everyone for a spontaneous little ball to spend the time. I'm sure my colleagues would love to entertain you with their music, as well.â
The storm is almost like a gift to you: finally you don't have to worry about wasting all the precious food that people gift you. Usually you give the majority away for the poor, but because finding such families takes time, a good amount still spoils. Such kindness in your heart is the second reason Teyvat adores you, and that same tenderness makes you rush after the Iudex with your dress held a bit higher in your fists so you don't trip.
âExcuse me?â you hear a nervous male voice call out to you, and you reluctantly stop in your tracks to offer a smile to the journalist standing ahead of you. He's skinny, too skinny to be healthy, you think. His hair crown is already fading from the top of his head, the lilac bruise of exhaustion rests under his eyes, but you suppose that he cannot be more than thirty.
âI'm happy to give you an interview later. I'm rather busy with something right now, I hope you don't mind.â you say.
âNo, not at all. I just wanted to give you this.�� He pulls out a heart-shaped, crimson silk wrapped box from under his arm. Chocolate, more food, great. âI know what you're thinking, but this is the Iudex's favorite and the filling is the finest Valberry jam from Mondstadt. It's very hard to get a box of these nowadays.â
âOh, my,â you fill your heart sink at the thought of the trouble this poor man went through just to please you, and the furrow of your brow lets him know that you're sold before you take away the box. âI can't thank you enough. Is it okay with you if I share it with the Iudex? You mentioned it's also his favorite.â
âWell, yes, of course. Please enjoy. But I suppose you're in a hurry, so I shall leave you to it.â he bows as he takes your free, white silk cloaked hand and presses your knuckles against his chapped lips. âIt was a pleasure meeting you. You're just as beautiful and kind as the rumors say so.â
âThank you, once again.â you bob a quick curtsy to him before leaving him behind. He watches the white, lacy patterns on the bottom of your turquoise dress wash against the floor as you continue your hurried steps to one Melusine to another to find Monsieur Neuvillette. A smirk deepens at the side of his mouth as he watches you open the box and eat the first piece of chocolate while you wait to be let into his office, and he's already thinking about just how many good pictures he's going to take of you and the Iudex.
A shiver runs across your spine, gooseflesh blooms on your skin when you finally stand ahead of Neuvillette. He's facing his high windows, taking in the view of the year's most brutal storm: trees are bending and breaking, the wind carries away the flowers of the streets and he notices some personal possessions fly across the asphalt. As the Iudex, he's already thinking about how to fix this mess. But as Neuvillette, he can't stop his body from shaking.
âApologies for leaving without a word. Your show was most exquisite ⌠it touched my soul in ways I cannot find the words to describe.â The tremble in his voice is enough for you to understand the waves of emotions that wash through him.
âDon't worry, Monsieur. Knowing my music has these effects on such a great man like yourself is a compliment on its own. I will remember it for the rest of my life with pride.â Despite him having his back facing you, you can see on the reflection of the window that his usually bright gaze is darker and they're fixated on your form. You offer a slight curtsy, and you swear it's only a long second that you close your eyes for, yet when you lift your chin, he's standing closer to you with his face ahead of yours. He's so close, you can smell the lavender oil the Melusines treat his luscious hair with and the sea salt that they use to wash his clothes.
âAnd proud is what you should be,â he begins. âIt's been a long time since I've felt such an emotional turmoil. Yet, I don't think the language you sing in is familiar to me.â
âIt's a dead language,â you nod. Your fingers begin to play with the material of your dress at your sides. âMy mother taught it to me when I was little. I know phrases and words, but I can't tell you where the language is from or who used it.â
âNo one else speaks this language, yet you manage to touch all of Teyvat with it. You're a real talent, and it's been my pleasure to have you visit our nation.âÂ
âOh, it's been a pleasure more of mine, really.â You flash your pearly white teeth at him in a smile, and you swear that at the same second, from his window, you can see the storm lose its vigor and turn into a windless pour of rain. âI just wanted to check upon you, and share this box of chocolate with you at the same time if it's fine with you. A kind gentleman gave this to me saying that this is your favorite.â
âStrange, I can't recall ever seeing, let alone tasting such a dessert from Mondstadt.â He hums against the side of his index finger while musing. In the back of your mind, you already know that someone would lie about such a thing, but a strange, hurricane-like sensation washes across you as you stare at the man towering right ahead of you. The distinct color of his eyes, the ivory color of his healthy locks, the perfect pale skin are all calling to you for a touch, and you press your thighs together as your liquid desire begins to swell in between your folds. âHow was it?â
âI'm sorry, what was the question?â you shake your head and laugh a little to be able to tear your stare away from him. The heat is already rising to your head, painting your cheeks rosy with a deep blush.
âI can see you already ate one. Was it to your liking?â the vibrations of his voice are more apparent, you realize, and it pains you that you can't swallow them in a kiss right now.
âYes, Monsieur. I think it's quite nice. Has a little bit of a strange aftertaste, but otherwise it's delicious. The Valberry jam filling is extraordinary. â
âPlease, call me Neuvillette,â he returns your smile as he takes one of heart shaped chocolates into his mouth before he motions towards the couch, insisting that you sit down while he places the box on his table. âIt's delicious indeed. I suppose I can trust your judgment when it comes to sweets in the future.â
âThank you, Neuvillette.â You whisper. Sweat already begins to pearl at your hairline and on your nape by the time he takes off his cloak and his weight sinks into the couch so painfully close to you, you can feel his thigh brush against yours through your dress.Â
âIf it isn't too much to ask,â he begins. âCan you tell me what the story is behind your last song?â
âWell⌠it's a love story. A tragic one.â his colors appear brighter and clearer with each passing second, his icy appearance calling to you for a release from this burning that consumes you within. You can't look him in the eyes anymore, you realize while watching your fingers get lost in the vibrant color of your skirt. âIt's about two lovers who were washed apart by the Archons and the primordial sea, never to see each other again, forced to spend their entire lives yearning for the other. But one day, they meet, but one doesn't remember the other anymore.â
âSounds Fontanian,â Neuvillette muses as he loosens the knot on his scarf, revealing his swan-like neck to you. âApologies, it's awfully hot in here today.â
âNo worries,â you offer a smile, but the first sweat drop already begins to roll down on your temple and in your thoughts, you're mumbling thousands of curses at how tight your corset is. Yet, you do not find yourself wishing for air, but yearning to steal it from Neuvilletteâs lungs. âMy mother was from Fontaine, so it does make sense that the language originated from somewhere here.â
âMakes it even stranger that I can't recall hearing it before, however - âÂ
âNeuvillette âŚI,â you cut into his words, hesitating to continue your words, but you're certain that you're edging closer and closer to fainting if you don't get some air soon. âIt's very unethical of me to ask you, but would you be so kind as to loosen my corset for me a little?â
âOf course,â and the moment you touch his reached out hand to help you stand up, you wish you could tell him that it doesn't matter anymore and that you just need to go outside. But the rain is still pouring and the haze on your mind refuses to leave. The touch of his fingers are ever so delicate and delicious as they open the back of your dress to get to your corset. Your neck tilts and a sigh leaves your lips as the pressure on your ribs eases, and in your moment of relief, you don't notice Neuvillette's halt in his movements.
The sight of the crook of your neck invites him in for a kiss as his arms circle around your waist under your dress - at first, his touches are unsure, but as a satisfied hum leaves you, his arms tighten around you and his kisses travel from your neck to your jaw. Your eyelashes flutter when your gaze meets his, as if to give him permission to his begging eyes, that yes, he can very much kiss you. His lips feel like the sweetest sea foam: so delightful and gentle, and you can finally feel your lungs be filled with his being. You push your dress down, making it pool around your feet while Neuvillette's hands brush up on your belly to reach the front of your corset before pushing it off you and letting it fall on the dress.Â
âYou're so beautiful,â he whispers, and you feel his cock twitch against your ass as he begins to fondle your breasts. He swallows every whimper that escapes your lips when he takes each of your nipples in between his fingers, playing a rough game with them. âI adore your voice, the noises you make. The thought of making you sing in pleasure for me is driving me mad. Please, let me make you mine.â
âI'm yours, all yours,â you're ready to beg for more, but as if he can read your thoughts, he lays you across the couch before he frees you of your panties, panty hoes and shoes. For a brief second, you can hear a clicking sound from the distance, but the desire entirely engulf you both that you don't notice the barely open entrance door and the journalist with his camera. If this all wasn't for him being able to put bread on his table, he would've admitted that there is something magical about the way Neuvillette's tongue finds all the right spots in your cunt. It really does make a sensational picture: the Iudex of Fontaine devouring Teyvat's most famous soprano like his life depends on it.
But for Neuvillette, that feeling is as real as your hands holding onto his ivory hair. For a while, he wondered what got into him, but his words to you were true and the sounds that escape you makes him throw away every logical reasoning as to why he shouldn't suck on your clit or push his tongue so deep into you that it makes you cry out.Â
âRight there, hng, please -â his eyes that were fixated on you the whole time now roll back as he feels the gush of your ecstasy pour into his mouth. He can't help, but get rid of his own clothes in fast but drunken movements, and he's ready to get back on top of you before something feral awakens in him. It's the glowing of his irises that you notice first between your thighs, then you swear that you can see his tongue stretch and part into two at its tip while his suddenly longer nails rake across your sides. This time, he's eating at you with primal hunger while one of his grip finds his growing cock and strokes it in the same fast rhythm his tongue dances inside you. You scream, you squirm, but it only makes him become all the more fast and rough as his upper lip rubs against your clit.
âWhat the fuck,â the journalist mumbles under his breath, his eyes widening in terror as Neuvillette's lower body grows navy blue scales, a forked tail emerges from the end of his spine and his dick is becoming dark and enormous enough that seemingly only the tip would be enough to fill you up. With shaky hands, he takes a picture.
âSo it is you, hng, fuck-â you try to tell Neuvillette as another, but more powerful climax numbs your mind. Your heart flutters at the man standing ahead of you, and your love is the only thing that helps you think straight. âI've been looking for you my whole life, Hydro Dragon, my love.âÂ
âYou're not terrifiedâŚâ Neuvillette notes, his chest sinking with a sigh of relief before he questions what you said to him. It's an animalistic instinct that makes him kneel between your legs, rubbing his entire length across your folds to coat it in the mixture of his spit and your sticky juices. A whimper leaves your lips each time his thick head threatens to push into your entrance. âYou're not human either, are you?â
âNo,â you say simply as green scales begin to form on your thighs where Neuvillette is stroking you before they disappear again. Fighting your lavender haze of lingering orgasm, you sit up to take his tip in your palm to rub it for him as you continue. âI'm a siren. So don't worry, I can take this.â
âThe songâŚâ his brows furrow as you position his cock against your pussy, and begin to push yourself against it. It's painfully slow: he can feel every crook and cany of your insides, the blood in your veins welcoming him, the very wetness and warmth of you swallowing him so eagerly until his balls meet your ass. He shudders.
âIt's about us, my love. You forgot about me.â You moan as you feel your insides adjust to his size. No matter how many human lovers you took over the millennium, no one and nothing ever compares to Neuvillette.
âForgive me,â his lizard-like tongue dances along with yours as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up into the air. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms hold him in a sweaty embrace as he begins to slowly pull you up and down on the length of his cock. âForgive me.â
âIt was never your fault, hng, please go faster.â you beg of him as you look down at the sight of the two of you. His legs are of a dragon, his black claws digging at the wooden floor to hold himself in place as he begins to pick up the pace.
âI remember this,â he whispers as he loses himself in the feeling of you wraps around his entire being: your sound, your smell, your eyes. He remembers it all now, and his thrusts become rougher as if he feels angry at all the years you didn't spend together. Not only did they take you from him, they didn't even leave the memory of you. Tears begin to pour from his eyes as he kisses you again, his arms tighten around you and his thrusts become sloppy, but the clenching of your orgasm pushes him over his own pinnacle and he paints your walls white with his seed.
âDon't cry, my love,â you stroke his hair while his tears fall on your collarbone after he gently places you on the couch and he lays on top of you, his body slowly transforming back to human. âWe found each other, that's all that matters.â
âWhat about you? Your loneliness? Your fright?â his voice shakes, and you can hear another powerful wind jerk at the buildings outside.
âI've always known we'd find our way back to each other. When I was lonely, I always recalled nights like this or when you were crying because of a song about a fish family when my parents invited you over to their coral palace. I've always remembered the kindness of your heart, and I carried it with me as my companion.â you comfort him and a smile tugs at your lips as the gray clouds begin to part on the sky, and the sunlight seeps through. You think about asking Neuvillette if he wants to check on the guests, but you find him with his eyes closed and deep in a slumber.
As you are trapped beneath him and you can't hear music anymore, you suppose that everyone else already left and you can also rest.
Until you hear the click sound of a camera.
âNeedless to say, you're fired,â the Chief Editor of Steambird doesn't even bother to open the envelope that contains the erotic pictures of Neuvillette and you before she tears it into shreds. âDrugging the Iudex AND a Teyvat famous star? What were you even thinking? Hell, I even doubt you were thinking at all.â
âButâŚâ the journalist begins, but the Editor holds up her hand to halt his words.
âYou're to leave this company effective immediately. And if I were you, I'd be crawling on my knees to Monsieur Neuvillette for an apology and a huge thank you for not having you executed for treason.â
And with two boxes of worthless papers and without a penny in his pocket, the only mortal who knows your love story and your true being becomes your enemy.
#neuvillete x reader#neuvillette#genshin impact x reader#iudex neuvillette#header painted by Francesco Paolo Hayez#tw: monster fucking#tw: drugs#tw: smut
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qsmp ghost investigator au dump
here is everything i spitballed into my sibling's texts. apparently their discord was "thriving on it". i'll divide this into categories and attempt to format it as reader friendly as possible. god almighty i hope the keep reading below this paragraph works
CHARACTER HEADCANONS:
there's a main investigative squad formed by roier, cellbit, fic, pac, and tubbo
roier is in charge of their social media accounts
mike is their former college roommate who they constantly bring up and declare has died, except every time he comes up the way he died was different. he's actually a really successful movie producer (or something) so one time they do a live stream for a milestone celebration and in the last ten seconds mike comes flying out of the left side with ghost stage makeup and tackles pac off the side of the screen and they never address this publicly. any time someone asks what happened to pac they answer "who's pac" including pac
cellbit gets extremely disappointed when the perp isn't supernatural
roier is thrilled when the perp isn't supernatural because the peter parker in him loves taking the piss on a billionaire publicly
fit has photographic memory (Ă la canon screenshots)
pac is extremely good at breaking and entering
cellbit is an old fashioned polaroid kind of guy bc digital cameras don't capture ghost evidence as clearly
roier swears by digital photos bc he likes photoshop (he carries rolls of film with him in case cellbit runs out)
fit has an auto shop. tubbo and ramĂłn work in this auto shop. this is a headache for everyone involved but at least the auto shop was already a thin disguise for experimenting with homemade pyrotechnics so things exploding isn't a big deal
whenever the team has to do a distraction, the only two options are 1) manipulation 2) explosion
when they get caught in a bad spot, pac plays on sympathy, roier plays dumb, tubbo plays along, cellbit pretends to belong, and fit uno reverses
they commissioned jaiden for their logo. she also beta reads the scripts
richarlyson works for mike. sometimes he joins the investigation crew as a cameraman on loan. fans have learned to recognize when richas is behind the camera because the camera doesn't shake when the monster of the week appears because homeboy does not fear death. cellbit knows mike will end his bloodline if anything happens to richas (and would probably end his OWN bloodline) so he tends to be double stressed when richas is behind the camera
the team has a house, courtesy of mike, because god knows a ghost hunter's salary probably can't pay for one
bagi belongs to a "rival" investigation group. she and cellbit talk MAD shit every time they're in the same room. they are also both incredibly fucking smart and often end up working together to crack the tough cases while continuing to smack talk each other
bad is also in the rival investigative group. he is very clearly a demon. this is never commented on.
skeppy is a ghost except bad is the only one who can see him. anyone who calls skeppy imaginary is shouted down by bagi. bagi also believes skeppy is imaginary
tina is the safety net / brawn for bagi's team. she trains in hand to ghost hand combat with etoiles because she is Not Human and can punch ghosts. bagi does not know this and she just thinks tina's super cool and super talented and super badass. tina definitely thinks bagi has realized she is Not Human but they haven't like had a conversation about it but bagi's super smart sooooo
dapper is the "guy in the chair" for the rival investigation team. bad tends to ask a question into a radio (or seemingly to thin air) and immediately get the answer via text. sometimes cellbit will wonder something aloud about various ghost types or signs ("they heard scratching in the attic, so that could be caused by--") and almost immediately get cut off by bad's text tone as bad reads aloud dapper listing off three paranormal options as well as potential structural problems and rodents having an extremely fun night, at which point bad cuts himself off with "LANGUAGE" or "OUT OF POCKET"
the main team thinks dapper is just short until they realize that no, dapper is actually like 14. bad's like WHY DO YOU THINK THEY STAY IN THE VAN???
baghera makes and posts music and consults for bagi's team. cellbit is scared of her and also desperately wishes he could poach her for his own team but she only answers jaiden's calls
pomme has a ghost gun. it was a gift from etoiles. she accidentally took foolish's head off with it one time. his head grew back and that was how they learned he was Not Made of Meat. this was not particularly surprising, because bad is still her part time dad. it still scared the crap out of pomme the first time it happened because the ghost gun SHOULD only work on ghosts but foolish is in a weird enough state of undead that he qualified.
foolish was thrilled to have a spare head, hence "the first time"
vegetta is a famous architect. he calls foolish to ask which paranormal team he should consult on whether a property is haunted, because vegetta trusts his partner of unspecific relationship's judgement, considering foolish is Not Human. foolish's answer usually depends on how spiteful he feels towards tina and bad at the time of the call
bonus, i really want maximus involved in one team or the other but since he hasn't interacted with bagi yet i can't decide his role or anything concrete. but just know that's in my brain.
EPISODES (in no particular order:
foolish summons bad during a sleepover with tina and then thinks it'll be funny to summon paranormal investigators (bad also thinks it's funny). they decide to play a game of "can the investigators figure out who's the immortal". it is revealed to the audience in the end of the ""episode"" once all the investigators have left that all three of them are immortal. bad and foolish devolve into yet another argument over which one of them won based on a win condition they somehow came up with and agreed on without ever consulting each other. tina was actually the winner. roll credits.
NEXT:
quackity owns a casino. he hires the team to look into some demonic activity his patrons have been reporting. he spends the entire investigation and episode demanding they find the demon and exorcise the demon and generally shittalking the demon. they spend the entire episode questioning more and more how quackity's casino stays in business as everything they learn about it and him does not inspire confidence. it is revealed that ironmouse is the demon and is also singlehandedly keeping the casino in business because she fucking loves gambling. quackity immediately changes his tune.
NEXT:
antoine calls the team because he's KINDA worried by the latitude and longitude he keeps finding on the walls at the company he works at, written in what looks suspiciously like blood. unbeknownst to them, bagi's team was ALSO contacted, by baghera. they eventually discover the recipient of the messages is etoiles. after an incident at his previous employment he is half ghost and can now fight ghosts. the messages were from an entity that attacks things when it gets bored and it may as well fight etoiles because etoiles is the only one who has beat it so far. they meet in various back alleys and restaurant parking lots to go at it and get drinks afterward. the entity has no idea how to speak any modern languages but Fighting is Universal.
NEXT:
pierre is a wine baron and claims there's a unicorn who watches over his family's vineyard. it's been part of the brand since inception and it's taken mostly as propaganda and old legend until people start actually catching glimpses of a unicorn around the vineyard and the rumor starts to spread until roier "investigative journalist and old money hater" drags the team to go on a tour of the production line in hopes of blowing the case wide open. fit, pac, and tubbo are in charge of distractions while cellbit and roier sneak away to explore the vineyard and track the unicorn.
the unicorn is pierre. roier ends up finding this hilarious and while his journalistic spirit cannot allow him to NOT expose that the unicorn is fake, he ends up calling it "a white horse with a taped-on horn" instead of the face of the company in a fursuit. pierre sends the team wine periodically as thanks and also because roier still has a picture of him in a unicorn costume in the woods.
fit and pac do a wine tasting together.
NEXT:
wilbur contacts them because ghost slime has taken up residence in the guest bathroom and while his daughter insists slime is part of the family, phil is coming with his son (chayanne) to stay with them for a festival or something and wilbur doesn't feel like getting roasted by the middle schooler who is his brother because the bathroom smells like algae and wet dog so he needs the team to babysit slime until phil leaves town. slime spends the entire time going through windows and walls with no warning and scaring the piss out of everyone. one time he was in the cabinet when cellbit was going in to make his midnight coffee and his scream sent everyone in the house into emergency mode. roier would have FULLY put slime through the wall if slime were corporeal. lucky for slime, and their wall, slime is not.
NEXT:
jaiden works at an escape room and her boss reaches out to the team because he is FED UP with some paranormal entity that keeps drawing on walls and moving shit around and throwing things and tripping him and he wants it GONE. jaiden is extremely fond of bobby and bobby is extremely fond of HER, so she reaches out to the team and asks them to NOT do that and just pretend or something. so the team goes in and pretends to investigate and stuff. roier and bobby feud in the background. by the end of the episode they're besties.
the episode concludes, shockingly, with the boss and bobby gaining grudging respect for each other. somehow. the boss threatens to reveal bobby's existence to the internet at large as a publicity stunt every time bobby trips him in the hallway but never actually does. bobby stops throwing things at him (as much). the themeing of the rooms shift so the drawings and moving objects fit in. the boss is mariana.
from this episode on bobby periodically appears in the team's house, because it's my au and i make the ghost rules
END OF SEASON:
the end season villain is a guy who ran the biggest corporation in the world who died under mysterious circumstances. the corporation has a duck mascot for no reason in particular hahahaha. they're a company like nesquick or aquafina or amazon or something yknow REAL assholes.
the team is contracted by the billionaire's nephew (forever) who took over the business when he died and is extremely overwhelmed by 1) running a business on this scale and 2) all the paranormal bs happening in his office (which is where the former CEO died). he also happens to be cellbit's ex. this is highly awkward.
because i hate billionaires but like forever, let's say forever was contacted by the villain solely because the CEO does NOT want any of his immediate underlings to get the company and thus only reveals his blood relation to forever IN HIS WILL. except forever is A Good Dude and is trying to grasp the full scope of the company's corruption and dismantle the shitty practices while still keeping the employees paid, despite his only business experience being his current position of running a boardwalk/beach. this ends up being the cause of the paranormal activity: the CEO is panicking now that forever is trying to 'ruin his company'.
the episode ends with the CEO briefly succeeding in possessing forever, and the combined forces of the ghost teams bring him back and send the CEO to hell.
somehow the billionaire is involved in or mentioned during previous episodes.
#qsmp#qsmp au#qsmp paranormal investigators au#shut up vic#block game brainrot#do i tag every person who appears in this#i'll tag within reason#qsmp cellbit#qsmp roier#qsmp fit#qsmp pac#qsmp bagi#i think those are the people whose names i mentioned the most#i can think of a couple people who i'd want to spotlight in an episode (antoine) but i can't think of anything concrete in terms of plot lo#i'm setting this au free go wild#like i said earlier i can cook but i can't plate the meal#this will not be made a full length fic by my hand you must be the change you want to see#(please i ask you put my user in a note somewhere if you directly use the concepts here lol and also give me a link to it i want it gimme)#god i hope the formatting is legible i can't really send this to be beta read
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OKAY I HAVE BEEN ENCOURAGED. AND I SLEPT. Bear with me I promise it goes back to dredge. Also obviously major spoilers for dredge and the iron rig dlc, but I DO think the game will be more interesting if you go in with this in mind. But it IS spoilers.
So. We all know the roots of cosmic horror. I'm sure we're all aware. But lets do a quick rundown anyways.
H.P. Lovecraft is the father of cosmic, or Lovecraftian horror, in which things you do not understand and can't explain are Doing Some Stuff around you, and it scares you really really bad. This is a great style of horror, playing on everyones fear of the unknown.
The problem arises when you consider that most good horror is trying to Say Something Else, usually through a big scary monster that scares you real bad as a metaphor. H.P. Lovecraft, for all his talent in crafting an entire new genre of horror, did use this genre (based around fear of the unknown) as one big metaphor for why non christian religions, non white people, interracial relationships, and many other "deviant" things are bad and evil and are going to kill the world and raise it anew where theyre in charge and you (upper class white folks) are on the bottom or dead.
If you're wondering where I got all this, ive read shadow over innsmouth, call of cthulu, dagon, working my way through the dunwich horror. I am what you could call a fan of cosmic horror, and a few of these stories make the "take over the world" thing very explicit.
NOW. We regocnize, as a society, that these themes aren't great, and that the bones of the genre are built on it. However we ALSO recognize that the tentacles and the big things underwater and the unknown being scary as fuck are badass horror tropes. How are we, as people who don't like racism, supposed to contend with this?
Option one is to just keep it kind of racist, but make it more World Destructiony instead of great replacement-y. Not great. Bad option. It's still got the bad bones of the old themes.
Option TWO is keeping the cool fish gods but making them not actually evil, and just misunderstood, and the REAL horror is the guy in the suit tryna kill it. Like the shape of water. Better, but it takes away the fear around the fish. The whole point is scary fish, and while it is a great message your cosmic/lovecraftian horror is no longer a horror.
OPTION THREE is making the horror of the unknown about something that isn't minorities at all, something which the fishing video game dredge does really, really well. I have put 105 hours into this 30 hour game, I have the dlc's. Ive never seen anyone talk about the sick and epic themes.
Now. I do need to explain the basic plot of dredge. So bear with me.
You are a fisherman! You fish fish and make money. During the day the ocean is normal, but during the night Some Freaky Shit happens. A mysterious fog rolls in, and scary things come out of the fog, and they try really really hard to eat your fucking boat.
Throughout the story you find several big scary horrors, all of which come from another realm of some sort (explained by the obelisks in game.) You also find that the fog that coats the ocean at night is from this other realm, and it hasn't always been there.
As part of the story, you help a character named the collector dredge up artifacts to bring about the end of the world and get his wife back. You also find out that you are the Collector, kind of, and that he split you off of him so he could traverse the seas, because the seas don't like him too much. On account of his trying to raise Cthulu.
You may be asking how this deviates from standard fare Lovecraft stuff. Let me explain.
The typical lovecraft story is based around people with ancient religions trying to revive ancient gods, Things that have been around since before time itself, parts of nature, and the cultures that have been around with them.
Dredge doesn't do that. This horror was unleashed recently, by a few people pulling up things, cracking open the earth, to unleash something new and horrible into the world. Something that gives you power at the cost of corrupting the environment and your own mind.
Dredge, instead of being about The Other, is about pollution.
The odd fog which was unleashed by the Collector doesn't just cause external horrors, it mutates the fish you pull up to sell as well. It rots skin off flesh, it ossifies fish as they swim, it shatters them apart but keeps them living. There are quests where you give these aberrated fish to characters in the game. They all suffer ill effects, anything from headaches to being unable to speak, black fluid dribbling out of their mouth. It mirrors things like Minamata disease, where an entire town suffered mercury poisoning because a company dumped methylmercury into the nearby bay.
The scientist at stellar basin even tells you that whatever is in the oceans now is increasing mutations at rates previously unseen by the world, the thing in the basin being the source. (it has not always been there. An obelisk explains it was able to slip through the cracks between worlds and take up residence in the basin.)
It isn't all bad, at least for you. You gain power from the Collector when you bring him artifacts. Faster engines, teleportation, the ability to scare away other horrors in the ocean, the ability to instantly reap entire schools of fish. But each comes with a price. Speed and safety at the cost of sanity. Schools of fish at the cost of several aberrations being formed from your unsustainable practices, fishing spots that will never recover.
Similar to actions that cause the decline of the climate, you do benefit from your actions as much as you suffer from them.
If all this isn't damning enough, the latest dlc spells it out clearly. You are presented with a towering oil rig, hired on as a freelancer to get the materials they need to commence operations. They compensate you well, but as they drill, they find the seabed is too unstable. The ocean itself rebels against this affront, massive tentacles wrapping around the piling that holds the rig up, attempting to crush it. The workers on the ground cease the operation, the mere act of ending the destruction causing even more of it. But the head of the company orders them to continue in the name of money, of progress, of power. Not unlike the collector. Not unlike you as you play this game.
The fissures caused by the rig open up cracks across the map, causing the various bays and inlets you've spent so much time in to be covered in oil slicks, causing aberrations and bringing fish that haven't been seen in thousands of years to drift to the surface.
Similar to the base game, your hands have helped dredge up a monster.
The rig dlc ends with the workers sabotaging the rig to end the unsafe drilling practices. You grease the wheels, but it isn't your choice to make.
However, in the base game, you are presented with a choice. Gain power, get your wife back, at the cost of the entire world burning. Or, put back what should never have been brought up from the deep. clear the fog and your conscience, and let the ocean swallow you. Put the world at peace.
There is much to love about Dredge's story. Not only does it deliver a message on the effects of pollution, but it also holds up a genre with a troublesome past and an inelegant present, and gives a glimpse of a promising future. If you play any horror game, make it this one.
have we considered the themes of dredges cosmic horror. its quite interesting
someone remind me to be a nerd whn its not 2 in the moening cquse not only does dresge do cosnic horror well it also fixes something that I think keeps most traditional cosmic gorror from being particularly horrifying
#cosmic horror#lovecraftian#dredge#media analysis#whoops got Suddenly Eloquent halfway through writing this. oh well
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insidious
Hinata Shoyo x female reader (+ Miya Atsumu x female reader)
tw dub-con/non-con, yandere, voyeurism, nsfw, smut but like just a sprinkle
Atsumuâs never considered himself much of a relationship guru, but surely he canât be the only one who notices thereâs something real fuckinâ weird about your relationship with Hinata.
Admittedly, the first few times he met you, he wasnât paying all that much attention. Sure, you were hot, and heâd be a liar if he said he hadnât snuck a peek every now and then; but his focus has always been on the game, on his teammates. On himself as a setter. Itâs why heâs got a strict no girlfriends policy during the season. Atsumu doesnât do distractions.
And he likes Hinata. On the court, the little dudeâs a monster for him to unleash and heâd love him for that alone, but somehow despite being a 5â7â excitable ball of crazy intensity off the court as well, the redheadâs impossible not to get along with.Â
Thereâs a few guys on the team that have partners â fuck, Meianâs even married, his wife five months pregnant with their second kid. But it doesnât hit him until maybe three or so weeks after Hinata joins the team that heâs never seen any of them (or the ones that came before them) show up at every single training session.Â
You do.Â
Rain, hail or shine, no matter how early Hinata starts or how late he stays, youâre there, sitting in the stands, just⌠watching. Itâs not a bad thing exactly. He knows Bo thinks itâs cute, gets all moony eyed and sappy about it and Hinata certainly doesnât seem bothered by it, beaming up at you after every point scored, every successful spike, every receive.Â
But itâs justâ they train six days a week. Itâs long hours and a lot of itâs just drills and exercising till theyâre dead on the floor, and even hardcore volleyball fans would find it boring to sit through day in and day out. You donât take a book or sit there on your phone; you just watch idly as they train.Â
Day in, day out.Â
There ainât a rule against it; their practices are closed to the public but the team have a few passes they can hand around on the odd occasion. Itâs more of an unspoken understanding; you can invite who you want, so long as youâre focused and they donât make a fuss.
You never do though, quiet as a mouse as you wait for Hinata to finish up.Â
âDonâtcha think itâs weird though?â he asks Sakusa one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watches Hinata slump down beside you after practice wraps up, pulling you into a nuzzling embrace.
Sakusa makes a noncommittal noise, but dark eyes regard the two of you nonetheless. âShe moved with him from Brazil, didnât she?âÂ
Atsumu shrugs, âAnd?â
âShe doesnât have any friends or family here, no roots, no job, just Hinata,â he says â slowly, like Atsumuâs an idiot.Â
And he tries to put himself in your shoes for a minute, imagine what it would be like to follow someone halfway across the world (further actually, because heâs pretty sure you werenât from Brazil to begin with) but itâs not the same. Even without Samu, or his friends or his family, even in a country with weird customs and a language that wasnât his own, Atsumuâs always been good at finding his feet.Â
But he supposes he can understand why you cling to Hinata. Though itâs really more a case of Hinata clinging to you, âcause whenever he turns around, itâs the redhead whoâs the one all over you, pulling you into cuddles, twining his fingers with yours, peppering your face with butterfly kisses. Like heâll just die if heâs not touching you every second youâre together.
Itâs either sickeningly cute or revoltingly excessive, and for the life of him Atsumu canât figure out which.Â
Youâd think itâs his first relationship or something, that heâs stuck in some weird puppy love honeymoon phase, but from what heâs heard the two of you have been together for years now â thatâs just the way Hinata is, apparently.
He shouldnât be too surprised; the guyâs always first in line to jump on his back or try and tackle him to the floor after any successful play. Between him and Bokuto, heâs got more bruises littered over his body than a linebacker, but theyâre a tactile team, and he usually gives as good as he gets.Â
Youâre not one for excessive PDA though. You never fight against the overbearing affection, donât shrug it off or shrink away â at least, not from what heâs noticed â but Atsumu hasnât seen you initiate anything more than a quick peck to his cheek when Hinataâs got you all bundled up in his arms.
And he gets that not every relationship has to be equal in that sense, different love languages and all that crap, but while you donât fight it, you never seem⌠entirely comfortable with it either. Not in the âstop, weâre in public, please donâtâ kinda way, butâ
He canât put a finger on it.Â
You smile at Hinata, cheer when he scores, let him pet and kiss and pull you around wherever he wants, but you never seem to relax properly, and it bothers him. He doesnât know why it bothers him.
If he hadnât met you, hadnât known that youâd been with Hinata since he was dirt poor and moonlighting as a delivery boy in Brazil, heâd be tempted to think that you were only in it for the money. Itâs not a bad plan, as far as these things go â find some up and coming athlete to place all your bets on, get him wrapped around your finger before success goes to his head. And he doesnât know you all that well and has absolutely zero fucking justification to back it up, but you donât strike him as the money hungry type.
You donât strike him as anything, and maybe thatâs part of the issue.
Hinataâs like a sun; heâs gonna eclipse anyone standing too close. Thatâs normal. The team; him and Sakusa, Bokuto, the others â they have their own talents to stand on, to push through and shine on their own, but youâŚÂ
Fuck, why does it even matter?
Why does it bother him? It ainât his relationship. You never complain, you make Hinata happy â heâd have to be blind not to see how much that guy loves you â and he dotes on you, spoils the shit out of you, so why canât he shake this feeling in his gut that something ainât right there?
It ainât his relationship, and Atsumuâs not stupid enough to stick his nose where it doesnât belong.
It ainât his relationship.
Itâs not, and he has more important things to focus his time and energy on.
You arenât his problem. Fuck, youâve barely spoken more than a few sentences to him! Thereâs no reason for why he canât get you and your stupid relationship with his wing spiker outta his mind.Â
âJust admit ya wanna fuck her and stop bitchinâ about it,â Samu groans one night when Atsumu stops by the restaurant after training. âYer looking for a problem between the two of them so ya donât feel guilty about it.â
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, âShut yer trap, wouldja, Samu? I said it ainât like that!â
Heâs not gonna stand there and deny that he thinks youâre hot, but thatâs not what this is about. Never has been.Â
Itâs quiet between them for a moment, Atsumu angrily stabbing at the onigiri on his plate, but he feels it when Osamu looks at him. Really looks, dark eyes flickering across his face, reading him like an open book. Samu might enjoy giving him shit and winding him up just for the sake of it, but thereâs nobody on earth who knows him better.Â
Eventually he sighs, and the air feels different between them. Heavier, somehow. âWhatâre ya saying, Tsumu? Ya think Hinataâs hurting her or somethinâ?â
Yes.Â
No.
He knows Hinata. Well, for a few months at least, but peripherally for years. Ever since high school. And Atsumuâs had the displeasure of knowing guys like that, guys who liked to feel big and tough and strong and would gladly slap around some pretty thing just to feel all manly and shit, and Hinataâs notâÂ
He doesnât treat you like youâre made of glass or anything, but every time he touches you, so much as looks at you with those bright eyes, itâs with this kind of intense, burning love that Atsumu just doesnât understand, that honestly freaks him out a little. Heâs never seen bruises littering your skin â at least, not the kind that Samuâs worried about. You donât flinch away from Hinataâs touch.Â
(You never look comfortable though. Never happy â not like Hinata is.)
No. Heâs a good guy, he wouldnât hurt a fly, and despite the lingering unease Atsumu has about the two of you, he doesnât doubt for a second that Hinata is head over fucking heels in love with you. He wouldnât hurt you.
He wouldnât.
âNo, âcourse not! I justâŚâ he breaks off, shaking his head. And he chews on his lip for a moment, debating with himself whether he should actually admit what heâs been thinking the past few weeks or whether Samuâs just gonna call him a pussy or something and tell him to knock it off. âI get the feeling she doesnât wanna be there. Sheâs smiling and sitting there all pretty, but itâs just⌠I dunno, itâs just weird.â
Osamu doesnât say much after that, but he doesnât really need to. He knows what his brotherâs thinking. If you werenât happy, youâd leave. If Hinata wasnât treating you right, youâd leave. Youâd tell someone. But it ainât that simple, is it?Â
Atsumuâs always had a problem sticking his nose where it doesnât belong.Â
The first game of the seasonâs a slam dunk, and while theyâre usually pretty tame during the season, beating Kageyama and Ushijima, last year's undefeated champs is cause for celebration. Heâs not surprised to see you there at the club, tucked under Hinataâs arm in some little black dress, all dolled up. You smile at him, a hollow, fleeting thing, and Atsumu hates how the sight of it makes his stomach clench.Â
Sakusa, Bokuto and Inunaki arrive moments later, a drinkâs shoved into his hands and he forces himself to think of other things. You arenât his problem, you arenât his girl, and heâs definitely not watching you dance, your back flush with Hinataâs front, the wing spikerâs hands splayed across your hips, his mouth trailing greedily along your neck.Â
And for the first time since this whole stupid thing started, Atsumu recognises the ugly feeling stirring in the pit of his gut. Itâs jealousy.
Heâs played one of the best games of his life today, his teamâs fucking amazing, the musicâs good and the alcohol is free flowing â he should be happy. And thereâs absolutely no reason he should be watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an opening.
It shouldnât make his heart skip a beat when Hinata leans down to whisper something in your ear, passing you his glass as he heads off to find the menâs. Heâs midway through a conversation of his own with Adriah and Bokuto that heâs barely paying attention to, and thereâs a voice in his head (one that sounds suspiciously like Samuâs) that tells him to just let it go, but his feet are already moving, a half hearted excuse spilling from his lips as he slips past them both to make his way over to you.
âHey,â he says. His voice is too quiet, too breathless to carry across over the music, but heâs taller than you, taking up your space and he isnât imagining the way that your eyes widen, a flicker of something passing your face before you school your features back into that same fake, pleasant smile.Â
He doesnât imagine the nervous look you dart over his shoulder in the direction Hinata walked off in.Â
You take a delicate sip from your glass, the very same one youâve been nursing since you arrived and he watches â watches â as you force yourself to relax, the tension easing from your shoulders, your posture softening. âMiya,â you greet, raising your voice just enough to be heard. âCongratulations on the win.â
Itâs so polite, so fucking fake that it makes him wanna hurl.Â
âAtsumu,â he corrects before he can help himself. Sakusa calls him Miya, but nobody else â nobody who knows him â does. He canât bear the sound of it on your lips, like youâre nothing more than strangers.Â
Heâs talked to you before, right? Surely.Â
Youâre just standing there, perfectly at ease around him and the others â if not for the finger tapping anxiously against the stem of your glass, a tic he wonders if youâre even aware of. You might be able to fool the others â admittedly, theyâre probably not paying you too much attention â but heâs used to picking up on the smallest details.Â
And heâs become real good at reading you these past few weeks.
âSo tell me, howâd the two of ya meet?â he asks instead, because heâs rushed in here with no game plan and itâs the first thing that comes to mind. He doesnât even care about the answer; now that heâs finally here, finally has you to himself for a moment, he just wants to hear you talk.Â
âOh, um,â you swallow, ducking your head so youâre not meeting his gaze anymore. âItâs a little embarrassingââ
A familiar, bright laugh cuts you off, and Atsumuâs heart hammers when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, âItâs not embarrassing, babe, itâs cute!âÂ
Deep brown eyes meet his; wide, glittering and freakishly intense and he fights the urge to recoil. Heâs done nothing wrong, he knows that, but Hinataâs staring at him like every thought heâs ever had about you is written right across his face, plain as day.
And you â you look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, like Hinataâs stumbled on you shoving your tongue down his throat rather than just having an innocent, friendly conversation with his teammate. Itâs a split second that stretches a lifetime, but when he dares to look over, youâre rigid, eyes wide and full of panic and he knows, he fucking knows that heâs right.Â
âTell him,â Hinata urges, wasting no time in slipping past Atsumu to take his place by your side.
His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing you gently, and after a single, tense beat, you comply. âO-on the first week of my trip to Brazil, I was mugged. Shoyo saw it all happen and chased after them â got my purse back for me, even walked me back home to make sure I was okay, patched me up and everything.â You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you gaze up at Hinata, âHe was my knight in shining armour.â
Hinata preens as you smile, but itâs still wrong. Atsumuâs seen what hero worship looks like, what real love looks like, and heâll hand it to you; you have the basics down pat, but you canât fake everything.Â
With bitterness and disgust eating away at his gut, it becomes suffocating, standing there trying to carry a conversation and pretending that whatever there is between the two of you is in any way fucking romanticâ
Itâs too much, like somebody has a grip on his lungs, viciously squeezing out the last of his breath, and he barely remembers to excuse himself before heâs shoving his way through the crowd, knocking Meianâs concerned hand away as he flees for the balcony.
The late summer night airâs warm and humid, but he gulps it down in big, gasping heaves, clinging to the rail like itâs a lifeline.Â
Youâre fucking with his head and he hates it. He hates that he canât let this go, canât get you out of his goddamn head no matter how hard he tries. Atsumuâs always been a selfish, arrogant bastard, why should he give two shits about some girl whose last name he doesnât even know?
He wants to despise you. He wants to forget you, to shove you aside like he has every other distraction in his life. Itâs not his problem youâve found yourself in some fucked up relationship.
But he squeezes his eyes shut, and all Atsumu can see is your face.Â
He stays out on that balcony until his body stops shaking, until the sweat on his forehead cools and he no longer feels like heâs gonna throw up. The beat of the music, spilling muted from the glass doors, wraps around him now that the pounding in his headâs subsided, tempting him back inside. Any other night, and heâd follow it, get absolutely shitfaced and party till he doesnât remember his own name.
And as he stands there alone, staring up at the Tokyo city skyline, part of him almost wants to give in â to drink himself to oblivion. Because at least thatâd be easier.
But he wonât.
Instead, Atsumu shoves his feelings down, musters up a lazy smirk and walks back inside. He has every intention of saying goodbye to at least a few of his teammates before heading back to the hotel room to crash, but as his eyes scan the crowded floor, he catches sight of something that stops him cold in his tracks.
Hinata has you pinned to the wall, his face buried in the crook of your neck, but thatâs not what makes his heart skip a beat. Itâs the way your dress is hiked up, your panties shoved to the side, Hinataâs hand between your thighs, fucking you on his fingers.
Itâs the look on your face, screwed up in pleasure â or pain â biting down on your lip to stifle your cries. It wouldnât make a difference. Nobody would be able to hear you over the music, and even if they could he doubts anyone would give a fuck.
His mouth dries out, every thought eddying from his head as he watches you cling to Hinata, your hands gripping his arms tight. Your makeupâs smudged, a tear spilling down your cheek catches the glittering lights of the club, but when your head tilts back he knows itâs a moan that leaves your lips. He can almost hear it, picture it in his mind. Youâre shuddering, shaking your head even as your eyes are squeezed shut and the only sound Atsumu can hear is the restless thumping of his own heart.
And then your eyes flutter open and find his. He watches, frozen in place, transfixed in the worst possible way as mortification flashes across your features and your lips moveâ
Whatever you say to him, Hinata doesnât stop. He just shifts a little, angles his body in a way that gives Atsumu a better view of your pussy and the attention heâs paying it. He canât look away even if he desperately wants to, utterly enthralled by the slickness coating the digits, the way your thighs tremble and quake as those fingers curl inside of you, the little jolt you give when Hinataâs thumb rubs at your puffy clit.
Atsumu watches, equal parts horrified and mesmerised as he pushes you over the edge and you cum for him, a pleasured cry drowned out by the music, shaking and breathless and beautifully wrecked in his teammateâs arms. And as you all but collapse against him, Hinata finally turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting Atsumuâs stare.
And with his eyes fixed on the blonde, he whispers something into your ear that Atsumu doesnât have a hope in hell of hearing, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and grins.
Itâs enough to rip him out of his stupor, stumbling back with a gasp as his blood runs cold. Hinata knew, he knew he was watching â put on a fucking show for him, and suddenly the nausea returns, bile creeping up his throat and Atsumu canât do a single thing but turn and flee.
Alone in his hotel room and not nearly drunk enough, he falls into a fitful sleep, the image of your face, tear stricken and beautiful as you fell to pieces on Hinataâs fingers, burned into the back of his eyelids.Â
â
He doesnât utter a word about it when Boktuo gives him shit for ducking out early the next day at training. He doesnât so much as meet Hinataâs eye, though the redhead seems no different than usual, all but bouncing on his heels when the Coach runs through the game against the Adlers set by set.
He still gushes when Atsumu gives him a perfect set, beaming up at him with that thousand watt smile. He still offers to be paired off with him when they run two-on-two games, isnât ruffled when Atsumu instead grabs Sakusa and goes up against Adriah and Barnes.
And youâre still sitting in the stands, fingers twined on your lap, smiling dutifully whenever your boyfriend glances up.
Atsumu tries his best to ignore you and focus on training. He canât afford to let you distract him any more than you already have, but in the quiet moments between sets, on their breaks, every second heâs not thinking about the game and his performance and his team his thoughts drift back to you. The way youâd bitten down on your bottom lip. Your eyes, pupils blown wide as pleasure crashed through you. Your glistening cunt, swallowing up Hinataâs fingers. The cute little noises you made â the ones he couldnât hear but spent all fucking night imagining.
And the moment those thoughts enter his head, he canât stop himself from darting a quick glance towards you, like heâs making sure youâre still there, that youâre okay. Even if you stiffen almost imperceptibly every time he does.
He canât help himself, and heâs not the only one who notices.Â
âDude, you good?â Bokuto asks, pulling him aside a week or so later during one of their water breaks. And for a second there, thereâs a flicker of indignation â whateverâs going on with his head, his performance is beyond question; heâs killing it.Â
Itâs not until the wing spikerâs attention shifts, risking a glance over his shoulder to where he knows youâre sitting that he realises thatâs not what Bokkunâs worried about.
âLook, I get it, sheâs cute and all, butâŚâ Bokuto trails off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Every ounce of discomfort is written clear as day across his face. âYou might wanna tone it down a bit, you know? For everyoneâs sake.â
The irony of it all doesnât escape him. And he probably should feel some kinda shame, because if Bokutoâs noticed then that means every goddamn one of the others has too and theyâre all just too uncomfortable to say anything, but he canât seem to muster it.Â
âYeah,â he croaks out instead.
Two days later heâs halfway through a shower when the stall beside his bursts open and he hears that familiar, sunny laugh, the sound of two bodies clambering into a space too small, and his heart stutters in his chest.
âSho, no. I-I donât wannaââ
âShh, be good for me, alright baby? Please?âÂ
A drawn out hiss followed by a breathy moan, and Atsumuâs bracing himself against the tiled wall squeezing his eyes shut.
The spray of the shower isnât loud enough to drown out the sounds of you swallowing down Hinataâs cock. And he canât move, canât make a sound for fear of making this worse, but with every lewd, messy gluck from your throat, every obnoxious moan that spills from his teammateâs lips, Atsumu feels that telltale stirring in his gut.
His eyes are closed and the image comes unbidden to his mind.
You on your knees, looking up at him with those big, wide innocent eyes. You, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cock, your tongue slowly trailing along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. The way itâd swirl around his flushed head, eagerly lapping at his precum. Fuck, his cockâs already throbbing, aching.Â
Heâs only human, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his member, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm to stifle his groan. Youâre making a mess of him, he wants it so fucking bad. Wants you; to fuck you, have you, hold you, he doesnât give a shit anymore, youâre driving him to the brink and heâs helpless to stop this.
He can see it so perfectly in his head, how youâd look with those soft lips wrapped around him, the way youâd massage his balls as he fucked your face, how youâd choke on it. Youâd be good, so fucking perfect as you sucked him offâ
Hinataâs chanting your name and Atsumu picks up his pace, strokes turning into pumps, his fist tightening as he hisses with pleasure. Distantly he wonders whether they can hear it too; his heavy breathing, the slick, wet sound of him jerking off less than a foot away.
He doesnât care anymore, canât hold himself back. Itâs blinding, the pleasure that rips through him, shaking him to his very core as spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum paints the shower walls.
His knees buckle, his cock still twitching as aftershocks jolt through him, stealing his breath. For a blissful moment, Atsumu lets himself sag against the tiles, a lazy smirk coating his face as he basks in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowly coming down from itâs racing high.Â
And yet as the warm water of the shower cascades down his toned body, his breathing returning to normal something unpleasant begins to unfurl in his stomach, toxic and cloying, seeping through his veins. All that bliss, that heady, addictive pleasure fades away and Atsumuâs left with the weight of what heâs just done.
Distantly, he registers that itâs quieter now in the stall next to his. Hinataâs murmuring something to you, but Atsumu canât make sense of it over the dull roar in his head, the disgust and shame that coils like a noose around his throat.
He should hate himself.Â
He just might, actually.
And itâs not enough to scrub until his skinâs raw and he doesnât feel it crawling anymore, doesnât matter that he stays in the shower until the two of you leave, until the water runs ice cold and it physically hurts to stand under the spray.
Hinataâs still in the locker room when he gets out, slowly gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his duffle bag. For once youâre not by his side, and Atsumu can only thank whatever godly beings might be out there for this one, tiny mercy, because he doesnât think he can bear to see you after what heâs just done.
But Hinata just smiles, bright and cheerful and all too knowing, âSeeya tomorrow, Atsumu!â
And he feels filthy all over again.
#dark haikyuu#dark hinata x reader#dark hinata shoyo x reader#dark atsumu x reader#dark atsumu miya x reader#tw non con#tw dub con#tw voyeurism#tw yandere#trying out some new tags#don't mind me
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Meet The Parents | Billy Russo
Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesnât go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]
 Word Count: 3.8kÂ
 A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.
---
The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.
"Hey sweetheart."
You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.
"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"
"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."
"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"
Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."
You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"
"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"
"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"
"She tried. Even sat on my lap."
"In front of her dad?"
"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."
You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."
He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."
"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."
Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.
You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."
"Bullshit."
"Your bullshit."
Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.
"C'mere."
"No, Billy."
"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."
"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."
"Always such a good girl."
"You like it."
"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment." Â
"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."
"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"
"Yeah."
"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"
You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.
"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."
"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."
"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."
You smile innocently. "See you later."
"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."
"Love you too Billy."
"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."
"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"
"Being you."
"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.
_____________________
"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."
Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."
"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.
Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.
"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.
Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."
"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."
"Gotcha."
"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."
Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.
Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"
Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."
The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"
"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."
"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."
Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."
"Well you know I-"
"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."
"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.
"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."
"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"
Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."
"Your fault."
"Usually is."
____________________
You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.
Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.
It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.
The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.
It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.
The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"
"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."
"I'm sorry."
Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."
"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."
"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"
You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."
Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.
"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."
You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."
"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."
"You know it's a little true."
His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."
"It is."
"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."
You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"
"Mmhmm."
He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."
"I know."
"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"
"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"
Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"
You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.
"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."
"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."
"T-thanks."
Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."
"If you can get a word in."
"I have my ways. Don't worry."
You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"
"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.
Your parents are still bickering.
"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.
"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.
Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."
"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.
"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.
You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"
Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."
Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"
"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."
"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.
"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."
Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."
You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."
"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."
"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.
Dad raises his eyebrows.
"Dad, don't start."
Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"
"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."
You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."
"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."
"Mom!"
"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."
"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"
"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."
You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.
"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.
"I'm s-"
"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.
"Thanks."
"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"
You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"
"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."
"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."
Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"
"I think I already have it."
He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."
_____________________
Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.
You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.
The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.
"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.
You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.
"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.
Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"
"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."
"Your parents?"
"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."
"Grab me a bottle?"
"Sure."
You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.
Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.
"Hey."
You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.
"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."
"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.
"Are you alright?"
"Mmm."
You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."
"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."
"Oh."
"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.
You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.
"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."
The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.
"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."
Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."
"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."
"For what?"
"Being here when I had a nightmare."
"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."
"Me too."
"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."
"Love you too."
_____________________
*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****
Header image by delicate-venus
Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A
#billy russo#the punisher series#the punisher#the punisher netflix#billy russo x reader#ben barnes characters#the punisher fic#billy russo fic#billy russo fanfic
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@themotherofmoonsâ moonieeeee my good sis thank u so much for sending this through!! im FERAL! I hope it was worth waiting for ily xxx
This is part of my Playboy Mansion event which is now closed.
Dabi x f!reader x Mr. Compress
Genre: smut
Warnings: 18+, dubcon // noncon, praise kink, oral (male receiving), fingering, pussy slapping, cum eating, vaginal penetration, spanking, degradation, humiliation, smoking.
Words: 2.5k
Your first Playboy party was finally here, and you were lost. You knew the other bunnies thought you were a little incompetent already, so you didnât want to ask them for help. They were all sweet girls, you really did like them and enjoy their company, but you had no desire to be laughed at for getting lost again.
How many times have we given you this tour?
Is something youâre sure theyâd say to you. Itâs at least three times, by the way. In your defence, the mansion is enormous. They probably used to get lost too, you havenât been working at the mansion for long, tonight was your first event after all. Instead of asking a bunny, an idea hit you. You decided to scan the crowd looking for a guest who might look like they know where theyâre going. But you didnât need to look.
They found you.
How could they resist your big doe eyes and the way you looked so helpless and lost? Theyâd be criminal to leave you to your own devices. They simply couldnât forgive themselves if they left you unattended. They approached you casually, and you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to face them, slightly startled by these two men in your personal space.
âYou look a little lost dear.â
âOh, yeah, that obvious huh?â you smiled, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.
âAllow us to help you, weâre not shy to these parties after all.â he told you, kindly, smiling at his friend. âThis is my friend Dabi,â he gestured to the raven-haired man standing beside him.
âHow come youâre lost, doll? Donât you work here?â Dabi commented as he gestured to your bunny costume.
âThis is actually my first Playboy party.â you confessed.
âIs that so?â he smirked; it would have sounded more innocent if not for that arousing rasp to his voice. âMister and I will be more than happy to show you around.â he added, turning to face his friend once again.
Mister? You were confused by the nickname but decided not to press the subject any further. You werenât about to look a gift horse in the mouth. If they were happy to show you around the mansion, why wouldnât you let them?
â â â
You walked around the mansion with them, sandwiched in between their bodies. They were extremely close to you, but youâd been warned before about guests being overly affectionate with bunnies. You didnât feel uncomfortable with them, it was a welcome feeling to have two gorgeous men fix their attention solely on you. You hadnât expected to garner anyoneâs attention in truth. There were seasoned bunnies here, bunnies that guests specifically came to these events for, to spend their time with, to pay a tip to get extra attention from. You were fresh meat; youâd half expected to just be wandering around with nothing to do all night. But here you were, trapped between the bodies of two handsome strangers.
You were having fun. They seemed to be exceptionally good friends, they had a witty banter, and their words were bouncing off each other. Your stomach hurt from laughing so hard. You didnât feel excluded from the conversation, you were just enjoying them conversing. They often said something to each other and turned to you with a âwhat do you think?â look in their eyes, and you did your best to stay neutral in their humorous conversations. All the laughter and joking was cut short when your new friends stopped walking. The three of you were standing face to face with a door. It was a door you didnât recognise, where did it lead?
âWhatâs this door?â you questioned them, accompanying your question with a head tilt.
âGod. You really are a dumb little bunny, arenât you?â Dabi hissed.
The words stung. The change in attitude from the man youâd only seconds ago been laughing with made your skin crawl. Your flesh was decorated in goosebumps, and you backed away from the duo, opting to find your co-workers instead.
âNo.â he rasped at you as he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you towards him as he opened the door. You didnât fight it, you werenât sure what was happening or where you were going but for some reason you felt comfortable enough with him to let him touch you like this.
You looked at your surroundings in the small room, surprised to see the three of you had found yourselves inside a cloak room.
âDonât look so bewildered love, weâre happy to explain ourselves if you are wondering why we are here.â Mister told you as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. You nodded dumbly, still not understanding what was about to happen.
âWe come to these parties and fuck as many bunnies as we can, we share the first one, and tonight thatâs you.â Dabi told you, and you knew he was serious. His facial expression and speech didnât falter once. It wasnât a joke; it was a fact.
You should be scared. You should be crying. You should be scrambling to get away from them, but you arenât. Why arenât you scared? Maybe itâs because itâs been so long since you got some action. Itâs been so long since anyone has given you this much attention. Part of you hated how desperate you were for this, but the other part of you was revelling in the fact two men had chosen you to spend their time fucking. So you nodded, a little over enthusiastically, and they smiled.
âOkay. Letâs fuck.â you smiled.
âAre you sure darling? We arenât monsters, if you donât want to do this youâre free to go.â Mister alerted you, but you shook your head.
âI said, letâs fuck.â
â â â
The three of you were on the floor together, barely anything had happened and you were all panting feverishly and your skin was damp with sweat. Theyâd been kind enough to delicately help you out of your corset, although Dabi looked like he wanted to tear it to shreds. It was against the rules to fuck the guests, so if they had destroyed your costume, it would be fairly obvious what happened. Your first Playboy Party would be your last.
Dabi was still fully clothed, you found yourself between his legs on the floor. He forced your legs apart as he began playing with your pussy, the way his fingers danced over your clit made your legs shake. You did your best to control your moans by kissing him.
âDonât be shy, I wanna hear how good my fingers make you feel.â he smirked before kissing you again. His free hand grabbed and squeezed your breast, rolling the nub of your nipple between his fingers. The sensations across your body were too delicious for mere words to express. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his fingers, and you couldnât miss the way he kept smarmily smiling at how perfectly he was working your body.
Mister was sitting by your side, his cock was free from his trousers and you did your best to work his shaft while Dabi expertly fondled your cunt. You knew you could do a better job of working Mister, but you were feeling too blissful to put the extra effort in.
âDonât be a selfish slut sweetheart, make Mister cum.â Dabi instructed you and he delivered a wet slap to your poor cunt. You turned to face Mister and deeply kissed him as your hand gained more speed whilst you jerked him off. You stopped for a second to spit in your hand and rub it up and down the length of his cock, mixing his precum to properly lubricate him.
Dabi rewarded you by plunging two fingers into your sopping core, you were completely unprepared for the stretch his fingers caused. It terrified you slightly to think what his cock would be like.
âWhat a good girl she is, huh Compress?â Dabi smirked as he pounded his fingers against the spongy spot deep in your cunt that had you writhing in his hold. He peppered kisses down your neck more lovingly than youâd expected, he was trying to calm you down. âShush baby, focus. Keep being a good girl and focus on getting Compress off.â he cooed into your ear, his sultry deep voice vibrating through your whole body. His voice alone might be enough to drive you to your orgasm.
âYouâre doing such a good job darling, just a little m-more.â Mister stuttered as you continued squeezing his length. Your gazes focus kept switching between Misterâs sultry hazel eyes to his pretty cock head. The way it twitched and the veins pumped made you salivate.
âWanna suck it.â you whispered to him, feeling bashful at your comment.
The hushed tones didnât go unnoticed by Dabi who pressed another slap into your cunt, causing you to jolt. âWhat was that? Speak up doll.â he commanded, you shuddered and gulped.
âI- I wanna suck his cock.â you confessed, looking into his azure eyes. He searched your features and an almost sincere smile sprawled across his face. He nodded as he let you go. You were immediately on Misterâs cock, hollowing out your cheeks and showing them both what a talented good girl you are.
Dabi was amused by the way your little plastic bunny ears moved while you went to town sucking Compress off. He loves bunnies. Party weekends are his favourite, itâs rare heâll miss one. The no fucking rule is a load of shit, everyone fucks here. Every weekend party is just an excuse for the host to let guests fuck these gorgeous little bunnies. And he wasnât above taking advantage of that. He unzipped his jeans, and you were startled by the feeling of the tip of his cock sliding up and down your slit.
You didnât want to turn around and look at his cock, but you knew it was going to be huge. Youâd felt his bulge against your lower back while he was fingering you. And you could feel the sensation of his mushroom head running against your sopping folds, you could tell you were in for the pounding of a lifetime.
Misterâs breathing staggered, and you knew you were close to getting him to completion. He looked admirably into your eyes, almost a gaze of pride that you were taking him so perfectly.
âIâm going to cum soon sweetheart, do you want to swallow my cum?â he asked you. You didnât stop your sucking, instead you did your best to nod while you met his gaze with a lustful glare. You used your hands to jerk off what wouldnât fit in your mouth, the sensations made him jerk into your hold. You ran your tongue across his prominent veins and the slit of his cock which made him shudder. His fingers locked in your hair, it was a needless action, you had no intention of stopping. Not when he was so close.
âI hope youâre still being a good girl for Compress, doll.â Dabi warned, still tormenting your cunt with nothing more than the tip.
âMhmm!â was all you could respond. The vibrations of your throat brought Mister closer to the edge. And with a hiss between his teeth, he was finally coming undone in your welcoming mouth. His orgasm was louder than you had expected, he moaned through his high as he spurted his seed into your mouth. It was warm, but not unpleasant. You should have expected someone as well spoken and charming as Mister would have a healthy diet. His cum seemed never ending, you were worried it might start dribbling out of your nose soon. But it did stop, and you swallowed it all. You opened your mouth to show him, proving what a well-behaved girl, you are. And he smiled before pressing his lips against yours. Your tongues explored each other, almost like he wanted to taste himself on your tastebuds.
âHow was it Mister? Does she deserve to cum?â Dabi questioned. You didnât know there was even a doubt in his mind that you deserved to cum. Youâre all fucking after all. Donât you all deserve to cum? But Mister nodded, singing your praises. And with that glowing review, Dabi finally entered your desperate entrance, sucking him in as he buried himself to the hilt. âYour cunt looks gorgeous around my cock like this baby.â he told you, the praise warmed your cheeks. He was so smooth, and the way he pounded into your pussy had you head over heels for him. Compress gently stroked his cock as he watched his friend batter your walls. He was examining every inch of you. The way your pussy sheathed his cock so perfectly, the way your tits bounced with each thrust, the way your face beautifully contorted from the feeling of your gummy walls accommodating his friends fat cock.
âYouâre such a whore, letting two strangers fuck you in a closet like this.â Dabi chastised, but the words went straight to your cunt. âHeh, you get off on that shit? You get off on being a whore for me? Your pussy just clamped, slut.â he continued berating you. But all you could do was hum in approval. It was convenient for him that your ass was in the air and your back was arched beautifully, because he doesnât like being ignored. He spanked you harshly and you snapped back into reality.
âAnswer me bitch.â he instructed.
âY-yes. Dabiâs whore! Wanna be your whore Dabi.â you moaned through the pleasure of him relentless pounding your g-spot.
âSheâs so obedient, isnât she Dabi?â Compress spoke, still stroking himself gently.
âFuck yeah she is, gonna use this pussy again. Next time weâre here Iâll find you. Gonna fuck your brains out til you canât think straight.â he told you. You had no objections, youâd be more than happy to do this again. Dabiâs drawl was enough to make your pussy flutter and Misterâs cum was so tasty you could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
âD-Dabi⌠Dabi⌠Oh f-fuck.â you cried out sweetly, not being able to gather your thoughts as his heavy cock dragged across your needy walls.
âWhat is it baby, tell me.â he instructed.
âWanna cum. Wanna cum sâbad. Fill me up, please Dabi. N-need it.â you huffed, sure you might black out any minute from the pleasure.
âSuch a fucking whore.â he smiled as he readjusted himself, he was able to hit you at a deeper angle that made you emit a desperate, sinful groan that alerted him to how close you were. âGo on, cream my cock.â he told you.
Your legs shuddered and the two men laughed at your visceral reaction as you came so powerfully. Your walls had Dabi in a vice grip, and you could feel him spilling into you, filling your cunt to the brim with his seed. You were milking him for all he was worth, and his moans were a lot more squeaky and needy than youâd expected them to be. He didnât stop pounding you, dragging on the wave of your crashing orgasm further and further. You felt so full. His fat cock snuggled so nicely in your cunt as he pushed his cum further inside of you.
Not another word was spoken. You all laid back on the floor, none of you bothering to hide your intimate areas. All completely blissed out as you contemplated what you just did. It was great, it was quite possibly the best fuck of your entire life. It made you eager for the next party. They already mentioned that they wanted to do this again, so youâd be waiting with bated breath until then.
But you werenât sure if you could wait that long. You looked at Dabi, he had a cigarette latched between his fingers while he enjoyed the afterglow of his orgasm. He shared it with Compress, they both seemed more than happy with themselves.
âSomething on your mind princess?â Dabi asked.
You were shocked out of your thoughts, and you debated whether to speak.
Fuck it, lifeâs too short.
âWanna go again⌠Wanna fuck again, please.â you shyly spoke, not able to look either of them in the eye. Dabi snickered as he took his cigarette back from his friend.
âLooks like youâre up, Mister.â
Š 2021 fuwushiguro
bby thank u so much for participating! i love u the world!!! honestly ur so amazing ur my first tumblr bestie i appreciate u so wholly i hope ur having a wonderful day and i hope u enjoyed getting freaky deeky with dabi and compress, ily sista xxx
#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#tw degradation#tw humiliation#dabi#mha dabi#bnha dabi#dabi x reader#dabi smut#dabi x reader smut#toya#touya todoroki#mha dabi x reader#touya#touya todoroki smut#touya todoroki x reader#bnha touya x reader#mha touya x reader#dabi is touya#my hero academia touya x reader#boku no hero academia touya x reader#tw dubcon#tw noncon#tw smoking#mr compress#atsuhiro sako#bnha mr compress#my hero academia#Venus 200 Event đŞ
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haikyuu!! as genshin impact players
a/n: currently obsessed with genshin impact so i decided to merge it with my love for haikyuu!! this was honestly so much fun to write and i hope you guys like it !!
Hinata: heâs the one who always asks for help in the group chat when fighting bosses as well as the dragonspine quests. super thankful when you help him but you just have to be patient with him jumping and accidentally pressing âattackâ when glidingâ
Kageyama: honestly thought that collecting all the anemoculi was the first objective so he went out and found EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. loves to flex his stamina at hinata by jumping up cliffs
Tsukishima: RIP most of his characters are hydro users so he has to visit the oceanid twice every day all like 'hey, fucker. it's me again'. someone please give him fischl. hides the fact that he failed the gliding exams about twenty times
Yamaguchi: wanted xiao so bad he made 150 pcs. of almond tofu and a summoning circle in his room before wishing for him on top of wangshu inn. cried tears of joy when he got himÂ
Ennoshita: super intellectual player. takes the time to calculate the stats on weapons, artifacts, and talents before enhancing them. likes using archers to spam long-distance attacks
Tanaka: in it for the WAIFUS. wants mihoyo to add a trade character feature so that he could trade his male characters and have an army of waifus. currently saving up primogems for hu tao
Noya: BENNET MAIN !! ceo of bennett supremacy basically and loves watching his âbouken da bouken!â idle animation. adamantly believes that he should be a five-star character
Daichi: wasnât that invested in playing until he got albedo as his first five-star character because he loves the guy so much. loves bringing him when he does co-op and when the other player thanks him for the âalbedovatorsâÂ
Sugawara: klee main because he loves how chaotic she is. like, heâll literally use her to kill fish in the springvale lake and timmieâs birds. heâll use his elemental burst for destroying the training dummies for ellinâs commission
Asahi: even though he has five-star characters, he still likes using the starter team because they feel like his family. explicitly uses amber and kaeya a lot just to prove the haters wrong
Oikawa: venti main because he relates to him on a spiritual level and actually cried during his story quest. also emotionally invested in the NPC quests and actually felt bad about not finding joelâs dad
Iwaizumi: has the WORST luck when it comes to gacha rolls. always gets a five-star on like, roll 80 and when he does, he always gets the non-banner one first. doesnât know the diff between crit rate and crit damage and is too afraid to ask at this point
Hanamaki: fucking kills timmie's birds for FUN. also does livestreams of him walking from mondstadt to liyue or farming as many pieces of meat he can in a day (the most was 1126). calls the primo geovishap ârock daddyâÂ
Matsukawa: believes in traveler supremacy and invests in leveling them up, no matter what anyone says about them being a support. âyâall are going to wish you leveled them up when traveler becomes the avatarâ he says
Ushijima: very much an explorer kind of guy and takes the time to forage everything he sees. also cooks a lot and has 288 sweet madame even though he doesn't really need it
Tendou: actually enjoys being in dragonspine because he likes the thrill of freezing to death and the aesthetics. farms so much frozen meat because he can. lets ushijima co-op in his world to farm stuff
Semi: used up his fragile resin early in the game and now that he's at ar40 he has Regrets. yells a lot when he plays but thatâs whenever he accidentally presses âclimbâ instead of attack
Shirabu:Â someone told him that sucrose shouldn't be used as a main and now he's doing that out of spite. actually likes his team comps to be full of supports for the #supportsupremacy
Goshiki: he has such a hard time with boss fights but he's too proud to ask for help. knowing that, his senpais just show up in his world and ask if they could farm there to help him out
Kuroo: collects husbandos and co-op's in other players' worlds while role-playing as that husbando. he's gotten very popular because of this and is known as âthe legendary co-op playerâÂ
Kenma: an amazing player, as youâd expect. he got to ar40 in probs two weeks and started livestreaming his plays. an absolute king at clearing abyss levels and showing off those satisfying elemental reactions
Yaku: WHAAAAAALE. you can tell by the fact that he always has the battle pass weapons and so many primogems. definitely a collector who tries to get all playable charactersÂ
Lev: very chaotic player and accidentally walked all the way to liyue at ar10 while running away and dodging monsters. SOMEHOW managed to defeat boss childe without revival materials and by spamming noelle
Bokuto: has the best luck in gacha rolls, opposite to iwaizumi. he showed akaashi a pic of his first 10-wish roll (feat. qiqi, mona, and fischl) and was all âis this a good roll?âÂ
Akaashi: great at building characters so he shares his knowledge by making videos on optimal character builds and team comps. explains things super well and everyone loves watching his stuff
Atsumu: likes to turn up the volume on his headphones and making lisa climb a really high cliff if you know what i mean. also desperately tried to roll for ganyu and spent all his primogems but got diluc insteadÂ
Osamu: likes to spam genshin fan pages with dumb theories like âjoelâs dad is the missing cryo yakshaâ or âmadame ping is going to be on the next character banner.â has a soft spot for barbara though
Suna: heâs often falling off cliffs trying to farm violetgrass but he does it out of love for qiqi. shows off himself using qiqi as main dps when someone says sheâs just a support because he can
Kita: his signature literally says âcome to my world if you want to farmâ. his map is full of landmarks for ascension materials and will even help you find them. in charge of bringing a healer when you guys fight bosses
Sakusa: loves doing photoshoots with his characters, especially capturing stills of their elemental bursts. his fave character is ningguang because of beautiful and photogenic she is (even has the yellow seelie to match her)
⸠đ ââââ đ ââââ đ ââââ đ ââââ đ â
taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist):@montys-chaosâ @miyumtwinsâ @strawberriimilkshakeâ @pocuboâ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chanâ @therainroguefanfictionâ @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ughâ @charliefredbâ @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @kirakirasaku @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @atsumusdomainâ @goodfoodxoxoxoâ @ah-kaashiâ @guardianangelswings @definitely-yours @amberalisa @whootwhootâ @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballsâ @procrastination-lady @miyakiyo0mi
#haikyuu!!#hq headcanons#haikyuu!! crack#hq!! crack#haikyuu x genshin impact#hinata shouyo#kageyama tobio#tsukishima kei#yamaguchi tadashi#ennoshita chikara#nishinoya yuu#tanaka ryuunosuke#daichi sawamura#sugawara koushi#azumane asahi#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi hajime#matsukawa issei#hanamaki takahiro#ushijima wakatoshi#tendou satori#semi eita#shirabu kenjiro#goshiki tsutomu#kuroo tetsurou#kozume kenma#yaku morisuke#haiba lev#bokuto koutarou#akaashi keiji
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Bakugou HC
We know canonically Bakugou is a good pickpocket (chapter 219). Bakusquad learns about it (and some more) gradually.
(It turned out to be long af and drabble-ish, but itâs basically fluffy Bakusquad shenanigans with Bakugou being talented in yet another field.)
It starts with Kaminari who wants to mess with Bakugou a little. Theyâre studying in Bakugouâs room, but Kaminari is exhausted and wants a break, so he steals the pen Bakugou marks their mistakes with that is currently laying on the table â alone and unprotected, easy prey. Bakugou is distracted at the moment, heâs explaining something to Sero once again. Kaminari hides the pen in the pocket of his hoodie and shoots a smile at Ashido whoâs also low-key dying and has asked for break at least three times already.
âOkay, Sparky, your turn,â Bakugou says and Kaminari slides him his worksheet on the table, and then finally looks at him with an innocent face-
-and sees Bakugou marking all of Kaminariâs errors with the exact same pen he did it all this time. Kaminari checks his pockets frantically, but theyâre empty.
âSomethingâs wrong, Sparky?â Bakugou asks in a daring tone not even sparing him a glance. Kaminari just shakes his head, blurting out one nervous âno!â. Itâs too nervous to pretend nothing happened, but Sero is too engrossed in correcting his mistakes and Kirishima looks like heâs fully focused on the textbook but while his body is here, his mind is probably fifty thousand miles away, so only Ashido actually notices.
Sheâs the next one to try to stea- to borrow something without asking from Blasty. She wants to see if it were Kaminari who messed up or if itâs the case of Bakugou being insanely good at something once again. Honestly, is there anything this guy canât do? So, she decides to kill two birds with one stone. She has an agenda of stealing clothes from her boys to wear them, but she didnât try to take Bakugouâs clothes yet. Itâs a good opportunity to do so.
She sneaks into his room one day, right after school when barely anyone is back in the dorms yet; the excuse of organizing a movie night later at the tip of her tongue if for some reason Bakugou is already in his room. Sheâs lucky though, because when she enters his room, itâs empty. She opens his closet, pulls out a black hoodie with some band logo on it â itâs the softest one he has, she knows â and sheâs about to put it on and leave, when the doors to Bakugouâs room open and Bakugou himself enters. She hides the hoodie behind her back.
âWhat the hell are you doing here?â Bakugou demands, opening the closet and pulling something out of it. Ashido laughs nervously and avoids looking him in the eye. In this brief second she did, she felt like his piercing gaze reached her soul. She starts to babble â how she was looking for him and about the movie night, it would be great if he joined them â while he goes to the bathroom to change from his school uniform. When he opens the bathroom doors, heâs wearing black hoodie with some band logo on it, the softest Bakugou owns.
Wait.
âWha-â Ashido checks her hands and sees a dark red jacket sheâs not sure sheâs ever seen before.
âIâm not gonna be an easy target like Shitty Hair or Tape Face. If you want to have my hoodie, you have to put some fucking effort into it. Now get the fuck out of my room.â
Ashido leaves.
Kirishima and Sero know because Ashido barged into Kaminariâs room, when they were playing video games together. She tells them everything. Kirishima isnât exactly surprised, his bro is amazing after all.
Kaminari decides they should test it. See if there is something they can steal from Bakugou and have him not notice it. Ashido agrees eagerly. Sero shrugs, says he will help if he can, but mostly will be there as a witness. And a reporter, kind of, with his phone always ready to snap a photo or record a video. Kirishima isnât sure if itâs a good idea â mostly because stealing isnât manly â but the rest convince him, arguing that they donât actually want to steal anything from Bakugou, just tease him, mess with him a little- The point is they donât have any malicious intent, just want to have some harmless fun and judging from Bakugouâs reaction when Ashido tried to steal his hoodie, he knows it and already treats it as a challenge. So yeah, Kirishima agrees in the end, sue him.
The problem is, Bakugou is insanely good at it. He notices every time and itâs almost scary â whenever one of them have their hands on something belonging to Bakugou and are ready to present it to the rest of the squad, it turns out he already pickpocketed it back. Heâs quick, and subtle, and efficient, and although two of these things are normal for him, Bakugou being subtle is somewhat surreal. They donât really give up, but they stop focusing on it. They try to gain the element of surprise back, so they have to stop for a while. Lull Bakugou into a false sense of security.
They are kinda taken aback though, when Bakugou uses his skills out of his own initiative instead of as a mean to get his stuff back.
Theyâre sitting in cafeteria during lunch break, and Kirishima gets a text that makes his face as red as his hair in a matter of a second. It doesnât go unnoticed by his friends.
âWho are you texting? Youâve got a crush on someone? Did they agree to a date?â Ashido floods him with questions, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Kaminari and Sero join the teasing, so Kirishima blurts out hurriedly:
âNo! My mom was cleaning our attic and found a photo album from my childhood. She just sent me an embarrassing photo.â He hopes it will calm them down. He forgets one thing.
âShow me!â
âCâmon dude!â
His friends are a pain in the ass, all of them.
âNo way!â he screams and tries to keep his phone out of his friendsâ reach. He picks up his bag, hides his phone inside, zips the bag and holds it close, as if it was his most precious possession. It kind of is in this particular moment.
âPlease, bro. I swear I wonât laugh.â
Kirishima knows itâs a lie. He refuses, stares down at Ashido and Kaminari and Sero (the traitor. Kirishima didnât expect anything else from Ashido and Kaminari, but Sero? He trusted him) and refuses to give in to their puppy eyes. Itâs tough, heâs gotta admit it. And thenâŚ. And then he hears Bakugouâs voice.
âI thought it would be something more scandalous given your reaction, Shitty Hair.â
No. He didnât.
Except he absolutely did.
Kirishima glances, panicked, at Bakugou holding Kirishimaâs phone in his hand.
âItâs not that bad, donât be a pussy.â Bakugou rolls his eyes and puts Kirishimaâs phone on the table - closest to Kirishima but not out of Kaminariâs reach. Kirishima sees this little smirk on Bakugouâs face that Bakugou always wears when they manage to convince him to some shenanigans he wonât admit out loud he enjoyed. Kirishima knows Bakugou will use his skills more often, now.
They created a monster.
Luckily Bakugou doesnât really use his powers for evil. Well, he doesnât use it for evil on Sero, just on Kaminari, Ashido and sometimes Kirishima, and for Sero itâs enough actually. The number of times it happened doesnât mean they know everything about his skills though, Sero discovers one day. It should be obvious in hindsight, but Bakugou has this weird talent where whatever he does, whatever new thing you get to know about him, youâre both surprised and not at all, at the same time.
Theyâre doing groceries together, and theyâre getting back to the dorms already, when a villain attack happens. The villain in question isnât really strong, luckily, but has some weird teleporting quirk that moves random people to random places. They help the hero who arrived at the scene and once the villain is arrested, the hero asks them to stay here a bit longer and help people who werenât hit with the teleporting quirk find their friends and family. More specifically help some kids, who canât find their parents now. More specifically Sero and Bakugou are supposed to babysit the kids until the hero and his sidekicks find the missing parents.
Sero sees Bakugou frown but he doesnât argue. Sero knows kids arenât exactly Bakugouâs forte, especially not crying kids, so he tries his best to calm them down quickly. Itâs not that easy. Sero sees Bakugouâs hand sparkle with mini-explosions. It doesnât really calm the kids down either.
Finally, Bakugou snaps and points at a little girl with a witch hat on her head and a dark blue cape with yellow stars on it on her shoulders.
âWill you shut up if I show you a magic trick?â
The girl doesnât look even a little bit calmer, but she hesitantly nods her head nonetheless, her lips still trembling and tears still streaming down her cheeks. Bakugouâs roar, although scaring some kids more (or, like, again; Sero actually made them stop crying and itâs all for nothing now, thanks Bakugou), brings all the kidsâ attention to Bakugou. He kneels on the ground and shows his little audience that his hands are empty, then proceeds to pull a coin out off the witch girlâs ear. He shows the coin to all the kids, rotates it holding it with his index finger and his thumb, then closes his palm into a fist. When he opens his palm once again, there are two coins â between his index and middle finger, and between his middle and ring finger. He closes his palm into a fist one more time, and when he opens it, itâs empty again. The kids gasp.
âYour other hand!â one kid exclaims.
âClever little shit,â Bakugou grins, âYou thought youâre so smart, huh? Well, not this time.â He shows the other hand too; both are equally empty.
âOnce more!â one kid demands.
âOnce more!â the Clever Little Shit agrees.
âOnce more! Once more!â the witch girl starts to chant. Other kids join her.
âFine,â Bakugou says, then pulls out the coin again. He moves it on his fingers, throws it in the air, then catches it in his fist. Once he opens his palm, there are three coins, all between his fingers, minus his thumb. He closes his fist again and once he opens it, itâs empty once more. He looks at all the kids, then at Sero.
âYo, Tape Face, check your pocket.â
Thereâs no way, is there?
Sero swears if there are coins in his pocket, heâll start Bakugouâs fanclub. Heâll build him a shrine, because apparently Bakugouâs not entirely human.
His pockets are empty. Kids moan with disappointment (and to be honest Sero doesnât know himself if heâs more disappointed or relieved he doesnât have to build the shrine after all), but Bakugouâs not deterred.
âWell, then maybe you check under your hat, brat,â he addresses the witch girl. She looks at him with doubt but also with hope and takes her hat off.
A dozen of coins fall to the ground. Kids scream â excited, full of awe. Bakugou gathers all the coins from the ground, closes them in both of his cupped hands and shakes them.
âBlow,â he says to the Clever Little Shit. Clever Little Shit does as heâs told and Bakugou opens his palms. There are candies in his palms, the ones that Hagakure likes and of which they got three packages earlier, because she asked. Kids squeal, gather around Bakugou, each takes one candy and there is just excited chatter, no wails for lost parents anymore. Bakugou shows one more magic trick before the hero and his sidekicks appear with the kidsâ parents.
The police takes Sero and Bakugou to leave their testimonies, and theyâre finally free to go.
âSo. Magic tricks,â Sero starts, once theyâre on their way to dorms again.
âShut up.â
âNo, dude, wait! It was so cool! You should do it more often.â
Bakugou only grunts something that sounds like âfuck off, Iâll do what I wantâ. Sero knows Bakugouâs just abashed, because there wasnât any of his usual bite. He smiles.
He has to tell the rest of the Bakusquad all about it.
Their class gets to know how skilled Bakugou is when one evening theyâre all sitting in the common room and Bakugou wants to go to sleep but his friends want him to stay for a movie night. Or, at least one movie. They all deserve a break after a long week full of surprise quizzes! The rest of the class tries to respectfully convince him too, some tell him to âlive a littleâ but before Iida, as the responsible class prez he is, manages to tell everyone that they should respect Bakugouâs opinion instead of flooding him with silly reasonings, Bakugou pulls out a sheet of paper, writes âall the fucks I giveâ on it, shows it to the whole class (theyâre all quiet now, curious what heâll do, although half sure he will just explode it), then proceeds to make it disappear in a true illusionist fashion.
Some of their classmates lose their shit, some stare in awe, some in shock. Midoriya smiles this soft smile of his, with stars sparkling in his eyes.
#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bakugousource#apparently only 5 first tags count for the search function on tumblr so i think i'm good now#it'll sound silly given it's my own hc but it's my general tags for hcs okay?#hc accepted#bnha
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You know, there's a thing with characters that foil each other and serve as the "good" and "bad" respectively (Toga/Himiko, Tenko/Izuku, Nagito/Hajime, Ryoko/Hajime, Atsushi/Akutagawa) but that trope felt rather annoying to write, especially in the world I am trying to write about (ALTERNATIVE's world is basically MHA X BSD but like. 1000 times more fucked up and the Specialised are always prejudiced against. A terrible lot).
The title itself, ALTERNATIVE is to symbolise Romila's POV of "infinite choices and paths present for every being" and how she starts off the story with a decisive line of,
"Many people ask me if this could have been avoided. They beg for me to tell them that things could have been better. There are others too, who try to justify that this was the only way for things to have been. If you ask me, both are living in states of denial. One can't accept the stupidity of humanity for disregarding common sense for violence and prejudices. Another can't accept humanity's choice for having better circumstances if the one with the power chose to."
The thing is, the running theme is that the story is a bittersweet one, despite there not being many deaths of the main characters, but there was always a junction where you can see it could have been avoided, that there was an "alternative" for things to have gotten better, especially in the first book.
Another reason for the title is that it's basically an "ALTERNATIVE" to this world of ours, where super powers and stuff like those exist.
The subtitles of both the books (Myriad of Colours, Colour of Death) signifies Romila's power, "Aura Tracker" which lets her view people's aura as colours (Myriad of Colours is to signify the different kinds of people she meets, Colour of Death is about what affects her the most (death) and how she's constantly seeing that colour everywhere, especially now that it's war).
The thing about ALTERNATIVES is that Romila could have chosen to be a doormat (like Koldin tends to be at the beginning (his rp self is like THAT due to circumstances different to ALTERNATIVE's actual storyline. Also because Hack's a nicer person to be around than Romila is) in order to nOt hAvE cOnFliCtâ˘) to not get into conflict and put up a super nice persona for people but she didn't. She decided to focus on hanging onto her reasons for doing what she does and using it to create a caustic personality to shield herself because she knows that she will regret being a doormat (Her Despair takes the form of Koldin Hopkins).
Now Koldin could have certainly put his hatred for society at the forefront and taken a caustic personality but instead chooses to be nice. Because he doesn't want to become as hurtful as the rest, that's how he wants to disentangle himself from society. However he, like Romila (who just took standing up for herself to extremes), takes this to the extremes causing him to gain the personality of a nice boyâ˘.
However this also goes into why they made the choices they did (which is what Romila realises during the Mansion of Death arc), because for Romila, she didn't really have the psychology for actually becoming a doormat (because a) Her mom wouldn't have it b) She hated to be called weak c) She didn't have anyone to fall back to after the inevitable consequences of being a doormat d) She felt that if she were to live with monsters, then it's easier to blend in by being one (this comes useful to her when she infiltrates into the Government) e) She saw doormats getting suicidal which frightened her) or not becoming fully caustic (since her standing up for herself wasn't. Liked. By. Anyone. And seen as aggressive and she basically went, "Well if they see me as bad, I will show them BAD" which led to her breakdown causing the incidents at the Mansion Of Death (especially a twisted hatred against Koldin for extremely understandable reasons).
For Koldin, being meek and peaceful had let him get by in the streets and his skills to difuse fights had come in handy. Later when Dr. Hopkins took him in, he was well. A member of the Radicals who were known to be extremely merciless towards the Specialised (he had defected but Koldin had a REALLY good reason to be wary) so he figured if he stayed nice, he wouldn't be kicked out of the house and Dr. Hopkins being Dr. Hopkins just assumed that it was his normal and that behaviour carried into school. He figured that it was a horrifying thing to be aggressive and then saw how Romila got treated and decided that yep, he was right, that confirmed his world view alright and it was more reason to be super nice. While Romila saw Koldin as a person who everyone took advantage of (a thing she hated. To be exploited just like that) and went, yep that confirmed hers and it was more reason to be super angry.
However the thing is that, Romila was chided for being anything, which caused her to just give up to be peaceful (because what would she do? Anything she tried to do got her scolded) while Koldin (thankfully) found a support system. It really goes to show the difference a good friend can do.....
As it is, when I first began writing this, the most obvious choice presented itself to me. Koldin is the "hope" and Romila is the "despair" (on the protagonist, deutergonist side) but that seemed stupid and boring as it wouldn't make sense. Since I am trying to make a point of showing with how Romila's world view gradually changes from "there are wrong and right choices" to the fact that it doesn't have to be rigid and that *now* she wouldn't be hurt if she used what her vulnerable side wanted (a world free of prejudices and unnecessary cruelty) with the talents she had. That kindness mixed with her usual personality won't literally kill her.
And for Koldin, being a doormat means that he got taken advantage of a lot by different people and since he refused to actually stand up for himself ("Ah...aha......it seems that I can't..." "Can't what?" "Feel angry for myself......it's always anger that comes from the ones I love being hurt" "Then love yourself too, you will feel angry again" ~ Koldin's conversation with his inverted self in the Labyrinth) he got. Taken advantage of. By virtually everyone. However he decided that if being nice would keep him keep his self and his name self then it would be fine. He did not want to be the source of grief (his actual parents tossed him out because of his Specialisation). The Mansion Of Death actually causes him to snap for that reason, because Romila literally puts him in a torture dream "for the greater good" and then proceeds to kill his dear friend. One thing Koldin HATED. Killing friends. (Due to them being run over by a car, which led to his paralysed left arm)
Now on the other side, their respective friends:
Romila:
Luja: Cynical and annoyed by people's stupidity but not to caustic extents and she wants to be a scientist and isn't haunted by the possibility of dying.
Kratanos: Full of anger and hatred against the world but not entirely blinded by it and is focused to using that anger for reformation of the world (she becomes a therapist later, to help people)
They both have her caustic parts but they also let themselves embrace another side which makes them her "balance".
Koldin:
Anand: Believes that there's no requirement for violence unless it's absolutely necessary.
Karishma: Figures it's a better idea to just listen to rules but doesn't hesitate to break them if she sees that they are bs
They both have his peacefulness, but don't hesitate to do what they think they should do, which makes them his "balance".
The point is that, the case of choosing alternatives isn't possible with a tunnel vision. Even so, there are choices that literally can't be made due to the individual and circumstances. Sometimes the choice is to choose more than one choice. Well, that's one dramatic storyline......
It reminds me of DDLC side stories since everyone has a bit of the other person's solutions and more of a opposite personality (don't take this the wrong way, there are many stories like that and it's honestly a favourite to think abt but it's just that DDLC does it well especially since it's only a school environment). Tbh, I like dramatic storylines that rlly dig deep into a character's perspective (reasons why I'm in love with Hack and Axel in particular). My whole thing is that I'd rather read a story with interesting and in depth characters than one where only the plot is good so I say you made the great call of the century with Koldin and Romila's characters.
What you thought before getting into it is rlly how every great character arc starts. You focus on one, somewhat forget the other one until you review every single character for inspiration and then BAM! PARALLELS! It's really admirable how, even in this messed up world of specializations, you didn't purely focus on the plot bc it honestly sounds interesting enough to just stick around for Romila's life and journey. You could have ended it all with just that, but no, you smacked Koldin in there and said "be my interesting on par character that can kick Romila's gut" and IT WORKED SPECTACULARLY!!!
I really love ur writing and hoping to one day read (and maybe print out) every story you've ever written bc GODDAMNIT I NEED THE FEELING OF THOSE WORDS ON WORN PAPER WITH AN ARTISTIC COVER AND AN AMAZINGLY HEAVY WEIGHT
Aka, paperback. Bc that's how I like to roll and that's how good I think it is. 1000% worthy of a bestseller
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END OF PART II - Everyone was so nice and supportive and I appreciate it so much!!! Warning, Eris has friends (soldier friends cuz I just think heâs close to his soldiers) and because I donât like the idea of him being lonely. Thereâs a time skip from the last part, but we get baby Lucien. Thanks so much, Ruchi :)
im loving this sm and YES give eris friends. love you lots ash <3
Prince of Ashes. Part II.
masterlist.
âStop that.â The words were no more than a low growl.Â
Micah let out an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head back to look up at Eris from where he was sitting on the floor, back against the couch and cheek against Erisâs knee. Heâd been leaning on Erisâs leg the whole night, tapping annoyingly on the top of Erisâs foot with pale, scar-flecked fingers. Enya, one of Erisâs hounds, was sitting by Micah, his other hand idly stroking her sleek fur.
âAsshole,â Micah mumbled, running a hand through his now messy, chestnut brown hair. With a groan and one final pat of Enyaâs back, he pushed himself up off the floor and sat on the couch right next to Eris, their shoulders touching. Lagos was leaning against the arm of the couch, his legs tucked in close to his chest so as not to touch Eris. Heâd been sitting there quietly the whole night, braiding and then rebraiding his long, dark hair.
Grass green eyes on Eris, Micah said, âJust because your little brotherâs a walking faelight doesnât mean you get to be an asshole.â Eris felt the sudden urge to hit Micah upside the head with the flimsy book in his hands, but he knew better than anyone that Micah wouldnât be too bothered by it. Having known his friend for centuries, Eris was almost positive Micah would just laugh. Eris shut the book, it was useless anyway, and settled for jolting the leg Micah had seen fit to sidle up against.
With a bare foot, Lagos kicked Eris on his thigh. âIâm telling you, this is Day Court magic. You can read a million more ancient books from your little library, and Iâd still be right.âÂ
Eris could have hit him with his book as well. âWhen I find the fucking bastard, Iâll kill him.âÂ
âYouâd kill your younger brotherâs father?â Micah was always trying to convince Eris, and perhaps himself, that Eris wasnât some horrible monster. Sometimes, Eris grew tired of it.
âIâd kill my own,â Eris said with a shrug, âYou really believe Iâd be uneasy about killing someone elseâs?âÂ
âI donât think anyone here believes that,â Lagos mumbled. Eris glared at him, no real hate in the look, but one that might convey the feeling that he regretted having befriended Lagos in the first place. Lagos simply flashed him a dimpled grin, before he turned to look at Lucien. Widge had the little runt sitting on his knee, he looked entirely relaxed.
Lucien was smiling, his red hair a mess, his tiny fists reaching out to grab the harmless little fox that Eris had made out of his flames to bounce around them. Eris had never disliked his mother more as Lucien beamed like some sort of pixie in the dimly lit sitting room of his cottage. Beron would kill them all if he saw this, Eris knew, and had practically stolen Lucien from The Forest House before anyone took notice of his new talent.
Eris scowled as he struggled to think what might have set off the strange magic. Eris had been sitting in front of the fireplace, Lucien caged between his long legs as he crawled in the small space. Eris had, in a moment of weakness, let Lucien curl his chubby fingers around one of his own. Lucien had let out a little shriek, lifting Erisâs finger like some sort of trophy, and much to Erisâs horror, had started to glow. Not even a year old, and Lucien was already causing trouble for Eris.
Widge looked at Eris then, his copper brows raised and his dark eyes wide, âDo you glow like this, too?âÂ
Eris had to stop himself from snapping an irritated âno.â Widge was always a little stuck in his thoughts and almost never paid attention to what was going on around him. Eris shook his head and Widge simply nodded, eyes going back to Lucien.Â
Lucien laughed, red curls bouncing as Eris willed the fox closer to his youngest brother. If it was possible, Lucien became even brighter.
Eris snarled, a sound that came deep from his chest, as he tried to remain calm. The little fox instantly disappeared, the book in his hands burst into flames, the fireplace flared on the other side of the room. So much for keeping calm, Eris thought, as Lagos moved his foot so that it was no longer on him. Beron had finally stopped thinking that Lucien was another maleâs son. Eris was just starting to feel like he could let down his guard, that he no longer had to hover over his youngest brother and ensure Beron didnât get his hands on the tiny thing. Eris didnât need to look in a mirror to know that there were flames dancing in his eyes, he breathed in through his nose. Eris didnât want to look in a mirror anyway, he found he looked most like his father in anger.
The gentle hand that squeezed his arm had Eris clenching his eyes shut. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, his lips pressed together as he tried not to sneer. He wanted to tell Micah to move his hand. Almost as if heâd sensed it, Micahâs fingers tightened only briefly before he took his hand off of Eris.Â
âIs it just me, or does the runt smell like a fucking heir?âÂ
Eris might have been losing his mind.
âYour nose has been broken one too many times,â Lagos muttered. That was probably true.Â
Eris had never been more glad to have met Micah as he spoke with a confidence that could reassure Eris in the worst of his moods. âWeâll figure this out.âÂ
While Eris may not always share his carefully crafted plans with his friends, he had no doubt that theyâd have his back.
Eris faced Micah, frowning. He was beautiful, the traditional Autumn Court tattoos shining gold against the pale skin of his throat, bringing out the lighter strands of the shoulder-length brown hair that framed his sculpted face. Eris hadnât loved Micah as anything other than a friend for centuries, but he was always struck by how lovely Micah was. Not only that, but Micah was steady; One of the only dependable and constant things in Erisâs long life.
Micah flashed him a warm smile, clear green eyes on Eris, his head tilting just a bit, âSo try not to worry over it. I hear that if pretty males frown and furrow their brows, they get wrinkles.â Eris couldnât help but scrunch his nose, he couldnât care less about wrinkles. Lagos spoke again, Eris could hear the smile in his voice, âAnd if you get all wrinkled, that bewitching female youâve been trying to bed will lose whatever interest she has in you.â
âWhat female?â Widge questioned.Â
âThe one Eris canât stop talking about,â Lagos replied. Eris didnât think he talked about her that much. The face Widge made suggested that he had absolutely no idea who they were talking about. Eris felt slightly validated, but coming from Widge, that confusion meant absolutely nothing. Lagos knew that as well. âCome now, Widge, heâs been talking about her for months,â he added, his grin widening.
âBit offended, mind you, he never talked about me like that,â Micah grumbled, his shoulder knocking into Erisâs.Â
Eris scowled when Lagos leaned over him to mouth âhe didâ at Micah. Eris shoved Lagos with a hand, his friend yelping as he tried not to fall off the couch. Eris could have sworn on the cauldron that he hadnât talked about him too much either.Â
Widge just furrowed his brows, âThe last person I remember Eris talking about was that human general.â
âCauldron, heâs talking about your obsession with Jurian over 200 years ago.â Lagos sounded very pleased by this.Â
Eris could feel his ears heating. Not one of his finer moments, and not like heâd call it an obsession, but Lagos liked calling it that. âI got over him quickly,â he defended.Â
âYes,â Micah smiled, âOnly to throw yourself at a river nymph.âÂ
Eris rolled his eyes, still relatively frustrated, but feeling much better than he had before. âIâm out of ideas,â he announced.
âHow in the hells can you be out of ideas, weâve given you so many,â Lagos said, exasperated.Â
âNone of which were even a little helpful,â Eris raised his brows, looking at Lagos.Â
Lagos shrugged. Heâd had the most useless one, suggesting that Eris move to Vallahan with Lucien. âTwo birds, one stone,â heâd stated. âYou leave the throne to Cato like youâve always wanted, and you keep your vow.â Much easier said than done, but as the night wore on, Eris was finding it the most appealing option.
Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, âI should just kill him.âÂ
Micah stiffened at Erisâs side, Lagos almost snapped his neck to turn and look at Eris with wide eyes.Â
Widge tucked Lucien into his chest, almost as though to shield him from the heir of the Autumn Court. âYou wouldnât,â he said disbelievingly, âEris, you wouldnât.âÂ
âNot the child,â Eris snapped, he crossed his arms, feeling very offended that his only friends thought him capable of killing his own little brother.
It was no secret that Eris wasnât above murder, wasnât above killing Beron, but killing one of his brothers seemed to be a line he wouldnât cross. âI was talking about our well-loved High Lord.âÂ
âYes, because you were so successful the last time you tried,â Lagos patted Eris on the knee.Â
Micah eased back, âIf youâd been talking about the child, I would have been very angry with you.âÂ
âWhatever would I have done,â Eris said under his breath.
Micah and Eris had argued quite a bit when theyâd first met. It was definitely Erisâs fault for the most part, but Micah was headstrong and stubborn. Micah had spent 50 years climbing the ranks of the military only for Eris to waltz into the role of commander. Heâd been extremely irritated at having to deal with a spoiled prince in his war camp and Eris had taken great joy out of bothering the experienced general.Â
Micah smiled, âProbably sit and brood.â
âYou could always just tell the High Lord heâs been cursed by a witch,â Widge offered. He was a bit behind on the conversation, but at least he was thinking about something other than his formulas.Â
âSmartest male in all our armies and he comes up with that,â Micah muttered.Â
Eris frowned. It wasnât like anyone else had come up with something better. Perhaps he should just tell his mother, let her deal with it.
Lagos suddenly launched off the couch, nearly tripping on the edge of the carpet as he fell to his knees in front of Widge. âYou brilliant, brilliant oaf,â both hands cupping Widgeâs freckled cheeks as he shook him slightly.Â
âCare to share, Lagos,â Micah asked as Lagos placed an exaggerated kiss on Widgeâs forehead. Widgeâs eyes were wide, both his eyebrows raised, as he moved Lucien away from Lagos. Eris was glad to see that everyone else looked just as confused as he felt.
âWe can put a spell on him.â - The whole room seemed to freeze, even Lucien had stopped blathering.Â
âYouâre not going to curse my brother,â Eris thought that would have been rather obvious.Â
Lagos grinned, âNo, definitely not. I donât want your ire directed at me, ever.â
Eris scowled, reaching for Lucien. âThen Iâd advise youââ Eris took Lucien into his arms, the fireplace flaring. He pointedly glared at Lagos, âNot to curse the child Iâm sworn to protect.â
Lagos only smiled, wiggling his fingers at Eris as a warm glow radiated from his brown skin. âMy mother is from the Day Court, dumb ass.â Eris was still glaring at him, not like heâd forgotten. âShe specialized in protection spells at one of the academies,â he dipped his chin, âNot curses.âÂ
It couldnât hurt to casually ask Lady Morai some questions about the whole thing. Eris frowned as he looked at Lucien, speaking to Lagos as he gazed fixedly at Lucienâs glowing little nose.
âAnd this is normal?â Eris tried to keep the concern from his voice.Â
âHe is a bit young,â Lagos didnât look too worried about it, âI started doing that at about half a decade.â He smiled, âScared the shit out of my father.âÂ
Eris looked at Lagos again, âCan you honestly fix it, then?âÂ
âNot sure itâs something that needs to be fixed,â Widge countered.Â
Before Eris could bark an irritated âno one asked you,â Lagos raised his hands, taking a step closer to Eris.
âWe take him to my mother, she can suppress his magic, she did the same with mine.â Of course she had, Eris thought, knowing very well that being different in the Autumn Court was oftentimes a death sentence. âJust until he grows old enough to break the spell, no fixing is needed and nothing is permanent.â It sounded so very simple. Eris had always been wary of things that seemed too easy.
Eris bit his lip, thinking on this new proposal. Heâd met Lady Morai, had been to her home on more than one occasion, but he didnât necessarily want to trust the female with something like this despite the liking heâd taken to her. Telling his friends was one thing, telling anyone else âŚÂ
âBut no harm will come to the child, correct?â Micah sounded like the general he was in that moment. Eris was glad Micah had asked the question heâd been thinking.Â
âPrecisely.â
âAnd your mother wonât tell anyone?â Eris didnât want to have to kill the parent of one of his only friends. He hated himself for even thinking it.Â
âShe thinks youâre the Autumn Courtâs fucking saviour, the Mother only knows why.â Lagos raised his brows, âSheâd take this to the grave, I swear it.â
No one spoke as Eris considered this option - it was the best one he had. âAnd youâre sure she can do this -â
âSure enough,â Lagos replied.Â
Eris snarled.Â
âShe knows what sheâs doing,â he reassured.
Eris hoped that was true.Â
Lagos held out his hand, golden tattoos on each finger of spell-cleaving characters, âIâll winnow us.â
âAnd weâll be here when you return,â Micah glanced at Widge. âMaybe weâll feed the hounds.â
Lagos flashed Eris a smile, hand still outstretched, âCome on, you can trust me.â
Eris did. Lagos had been the first person Eris had ever truly befriended, having arrived at the war camps in the same year Eris had been sent there. Theyâd grown as close as brothers.
With one last look at Lucien in his arms, Eris tentatively reached out to Lagos, holding his hand. Lagos closed his eyes as the magic in the room swelled, warm and gentle and nothing like the crackling flames of the Autumn Court. Eris turned away from the bright light when he could no longer look at it, and for the first time in over two centuries, Eris prayed to the Mother.
#eris vanserra#fanfic#autumn court#beron vanserra#lucien vanserra#lady vanserra#the lady of the autumn court#helion#helion x lady of autumn#fanfiction#vanserra brothers#acotar#sjm#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#a court of thorns and roses#sarah j maas#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#a court of frost and starlight#a court of silver flames
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Astor nodded. He and paced the hall and muttered under his breath.
âI see...I never meddled in the realm of technology...but to think that Sheikah Technology could hold such a secret.â He tapped his chin, staring at the astrolabe on the other side of the dungeon bars. âI suppose it makes sense. The advanced accomplishments and feats that such technology is capable of...itâs only naturally that it is powered by unconventional means.â
Siv spun the Sheikah Core on his index finger like it was a ball. âYeeeep. Iâm guessing thatâs what allowed the super old dudes to beat the Calamity all those years ago.â He shook his head. âSo, yeah. Dick Lord Ganon is gonna use that to turn the Guardians and Divine Beasts against us. And even if the science peeps keep researching into them...well.â He looked up at Astor. âObviously, they would never figure out this crucial little detail even after a hundred years of science-ing. So this is our little secret, capiche?â
Astor nodded again. If what Asivus was saying was true (And it was) then Hyrule were truly doomed. The Calamity would exploit this secret, and use it to flip the entire war on its head. This is what Ganon would use to turn the Divine Beasts against them.
If any of the researchers found out about this aspect of Ancient Technology, and adapted to it, then Ganon would lose his biggest advantage...and it might be possible to...
The seer quickly shook away the thought. No, even if they knew, the world would be helpless all the same when the Princess fails to awaken their powers. In fact, it would probably be more brutal if Ganonâs forces were reliant completely on the bludgeoning and stabbing that came with monsters. Machines would have avoidable patterns in a post-apocalyptic world, but monsters of malice would be exceptionally harder.
So yes...We keep this info from everyone. Especially Robbie and Purah and...
âHow sure are you that no one else could figure this out?â Astor asked.
âDecently sure. I mean, itâd be pretty hard to guess such a crazy thing.â Asivus shrugged.
âAre you positive? Because I know myââ He stopped in his tracks, suddenly stumbling on his words. âIâin reference to random researchersâother non-specifiedâsheâs notâLook. There are very talented and intelligent researchers across the kingdom, surely someoneââ
âDid you say it yourself? Everyoneâs way to arrogant around here!â Siv threw his hands in the air, exasperated. âNo oneâs gonna look for faults in their perfect little war machines! They shoot lasers, and donât talk back. Itâs a generalâs wet dream. Even if someone figured out this secret, no one here would listen to them.â He waved his hand in a circle and gestured towards his half brother. âCase in point: You.â
Astor folded his arms and sighed. âAlright, fine. So thatâs how the Calamity will turn the Guardians and Beasts against us. But whatâs the actual execution of it all? The plan? Whatâs your play in this? How did the Guardians in the yard get corrupted?â
Siv was silent; thinking. He seemed to be endlessly swimming through thoughts and words and memories. The man fiddled with the discs surrounding the astrolabe, eyes drooping in misery. Interesting.
âI was supposed to make them. Thatâs what he wanted,â Asivus finally said. âBeast of water, lightning, air, and fire. Or, demons? Blights or something. Creatures that were to take on the Divine Beasts.Theyâre built slightly different than Guardians, so he needed a little something special to deal with âem.â He blew hair off his forehead with a huff. âIt all sorta just came into my head in the minutes before I fucked up those Guardians, so the details come and go, but thatâs the gist. I make the Blights, Ganon does his thing, then I wait at the Sanctum to achieve true happiness or whatever he was bullshitting.â
âBut you failed.â Astor interjected. âYou failed to make the blights, and thus todayâs calamity failed. At least, in this timeline.â Siv opened his mouth to object, but he continued to think outloud. âThe Guardians were a fluke, then. You were not capable of creating Blights, but wielded enough malice to corrupt a Guardian. Although that brings into question how you control malice to begin with...and why you were chosen specifically for the task...â
Asivus was silent again, spinning the astrolabe on the floor. Astor observed him for a moment.
âIs he speaking to you? At the moment?â The seer asked. âEvery time you fall silent is when you start looking down at that device. That thing I can correctly assume is the instigator of all this, given that you look at it every time I ask about the recent Guardians you ruined.â
Asivus narrowed his eyes at him, annoyed at being so readable.
âGanon isnât in your head, as you said you were overcome with this information in the minutes you truly held that astrolabe and walked by the Guardians.â He thought back. âEarlier before the incident you said you had a dream, and then you found the astrolabe? You leave it on your desk as a paper weight, before developing the decent moral to drop off a potential lost item to the Sheikah. But then you were holding the astrolabe in proximity to the Guardians, and subsequently are suddenly given the revelation to the Calamityâs plan...â
He locked eyes with him. âCombine that with the truth about all Sheikah Technology itself...and the fact that your eyes only change when that core is in your possession...â
Astor walked closer and gripped one of the bars, calmly. âThat astrolabe is the link between you and the Calamity. It speaking to you through it. Itâs lending you the power to control malice. Itâs a manifested vessel of Ganonâs ill intent for this world...perhaps made of whatever malice plagues yourself. Perhaps he chose you for the job because youâre brimming with his favourite substance.â
Assivus started at the seer, and blinked once. Astor took that as confirmation, but asked anyways: âAm I wrong?â
Siv bit his tongue for a moment, before sighing in defeat. âYouâve got Ligeroâs mannerisms down to the T. The perceptiveness nearly makes me wish I had actually paid attention to his parenting attempts.â
Something twisted inside Astor at that comment, and his voice grew a dangerous edge. âIâm nothing like him.â
âItâs alright, donât take it personally. I just have a love-hate relationship with smart people.â
âTsk.â The prophet stared down the corridor in thought. âDonât we all.â
âBut youâre wrong about one thing.â Siv added, and he looked up at Astor with a new seriousness. âI didnât âfailâ to make the blights.â
He raised an eyebrow. âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean, I didnât fail to make the blights, I didnât want to.â Asivus raised his voice, and rolled the astrolabe to the other side of the cell. âYou canât fail something you never really attempted in the first place.â He winked. âI mean, thatâs been my philosophy on life for the last 15 years, heh.â
Astor blinked in surprise. âBut...why? The world is doomed, and you were handed a position of life and power on a silver tray. Chosen above anyone else. Why wouldnâtâ?â
âI didnât do it because Iâm not like you, pissface!â Siv snapped. âI jump outta my socks to make a selfish decision. I donât just run away from any inconvenience in my life.â
Astor nearly laughed. âOh? And what exactly is it that you do, then? Youâre really going to preach to me, Mr. Assivus Asunder?â
âYEAH! That name is exactly why I decided this!â He waved his arms in the air, and gestured to himself as he slumped against the wall. âTaking action and fighting for anything, regardless of what, sucks ass. Initiating change? Bad. Acting on what you care about? No likey.â Siv pounded his chest proudly. âThe ideal ending for Asivus Ex-Hartell is to just chill out, and wait for the end. Drink in hand!â
He raised his empty flask, but nonetheless pretended to drink.
Astor frowned, but let the distant drip of leaking water echo in the corridor.
He watched Siv for a few more minutes, silently tapping his fingers on his elbow.
âYou still care about your brother.â
It was a good think his flask was empty, as otherwise he would have spit out his drink. Siv angrily sputtered. âThe fuck does that have to do with anythingâ?!â
âWhy are you just relaxing in there after all this time? You think you deserve this? Donât want to be a burden for others?â Astor looked him up and down.
âListen, you little shit. I know at this point it shouldnât be a surprise that my family is made up of asshole, butââ
âYou know when I first saw you around the castle, I did recognize you. The eyes, you see. But of course, I didnât see the need to trouble you with my story, but I did watch you.â The prophet sneered. âDear Asivus Hartell, sneaking into town to share a peach cobbler with his niece. Assivus Asunder, teaching his nephew to shield surf, and trying to encourage him down a more righteous path than his own. The Royal Orator Siv, who thanks his little brother for taking care of him by spending four hours making perfect hand drawn rat doodle cards.â Astor leaned down with a smirk. âYouâre not the only one who paid attention to the captainâs birthday presents.â
âAlright get to the point, fuckface.â He waved the prophet off. âWhat? I screw around with my dumb family. Whatâs it gotta do with anything?â
âIt means that for all your talk of laying down and dying and giving up, your action seems to indicate that you donât actually believe that.â He jabbed a finger at Siv through the bars. âOr at least you donât fully. Maybe you donât want to. So donât go blathering about your sorry life, only to try and insult me in the next minute. This isnât about your apathy. Youâre just scrambling at this low bar Ganon gives you as you drool the rare opportunity to unequivocally be an undeniably good person. You just want to tell yourself youâre a hero.â
Quiet.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
âOK.â Asivus curled his lip. âI didnât want to join Ganon, because Iâm still stupidly trying to not be an asshole. Iâm too much of a wuss to commit to the dickhead role I was probably meant to fulfill. Iâm pathetically trying to keep control over my imageâis THAT what you want to hear, magic man? Congratu-fucking-lations. You turned the tables, you can see how pathetic I am and can feel better about yourself. How do ya feel?â The astrolabe had rolled by Asivusâ lap, and gold speckled in his eyes.
Astor sighed and answered honestly. â...Well. Iâm envious, truth be told.â Siv blinked, but let him continue. âI havenât bothered trying to be a hero my whole life, much less have such a driven (and these days useless) hunger to be âgood.ââ The seer shook his head, staring down the hall again. âIâm envious, but I do think youâre a fool. Iâd take the opportunity to wield the future in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences.â
âYou donât know what youâre saying.â Siv chuckled. âThis malice stuff is fucked up.â
âOnly because you donât understand it.â Astor replied, offended. âIâve studies it for years, and itâs often misunderstood. Thereâs a beauty and usefulness to it, even detached from the Calamity. Youâre just not intelligent enough to get it, I understand. âLove-hate relationship,â like you said.â He snorted.
âAre you sick?! This Ancient Core thing made me walk through so many shitty memories and thoughts...I wouldnât walk through that again to end OR save the world.â
âAgain. All due to your plight of ignorance. Itâs not your fault.â
Asivus rolled his eyes. âYou know what? Why donât you explain it me then?! If youâre so excited about it? Talk aaall about how Iâm not fit to properly wield this and how pathetic I am?â
Siv dangled the astrolabe in the air between his fingers.
âGo on! Explain how great this malice is, and maybe then if youâre so eager Iâll just leave the thing in your care!â
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Selcouth
You shouldnât have come on this stupid trip. Not even if it had opened you up more to him. If anything, you felt this trip had soured the more time had passed. Alex could tell. But you two had to play it safe, play the parts that Karl thought you two assumed from his perspective. You resented that, having to stick to an image that he had formed of you, one that tried to act like you werenât so in love with him it made your heart ache.Â
Or,
You and Alex plan a meet up with Karl for a week trip, only to have your feelings for Karl be put to the test when things donât pan out how you all planned. (Karl Jacobs/Reader)Â Â
After
âStop it.â He says, voice serious and no longer joyful or even hinting at friendliness. Youâve heard Karl be serious many times but this time sounded different. This time he sounded like he was scolding a child after being annoyed by them repeatedly.Â
âStop what?â You ask, pretending to be aloof.
âStop acting like a child!â
âIâm the one acting like a chil - since when was doing something I want, acting like a child?!âÂ
He makes a hmpf sound. âWhat is this supposed to be, payback? Is that what youâre playing at?â
âIâm not playing at anything here, Karl. I donât know what you want me to say.â
He scoffs. âOh yeah? So you just suddenly developed an interest in Dream overnight, is that it?âÂ
âHonestly, why do you care so much? My love life isnât up for debate here.âÂ
âOh and mine was?â He retorts.
You knew he would bring it up, you just knew. It was perfect ammo right now. You stutter to find the right words.Â
âWhat - what do you want from me Karl? I donât need to explain myself to you. Have you considered that maybe I just finally got tired of being alone? That maybe I just needed someone?âÂ
Karl tries to not let this dig push him over the line but his frustration and jealousy wouldnât let him stop seeing green.Â
âIs this what you do? You like playing with people's feelings? Do you think screwing my friends is going to help you or is this another one of your phases?â
It feels good in the heat of the moment but he knows heâs messed up as soon as he says it.Â
Your mouth drops open. Incredible. In-fucking-credible. Â
You laugh bitterly, trying to put up a strong front but your voice betrays you by cracking. âThatâs low, Karl. Thatâs - really fucking low.â
Instantly regretting it, he tries to make amends but canât put words together properly. His mind reels, heart races, palms suddenly feel sweaty and all he can manage is your name. â(Y/N)......I -â
You canât bear to hear another false apology spill from his lips. If thatâs how he felt, then there was no changing his mind. No matter how badly you wanted to.Â
âNo youâre right. Youâre right. You made your choice and so have I. Goodbye Karl.â You conclude and hang up, throwing your phone across the room. You stare at it until your vision becomes blurry with tears.Â
Where do you go from here?
Before
You didnât think that when you first started streaming that youâd end up at the point you were now. You just wanted to have fun with your friends, maybe meet some new people, share your interests along with the loads of games you found amusing. Interestingly enough, your personality and content seemed to resonate with a lot of people.Â
Pretty soon youâd become one of the top streamers on Twitch behind the other big talent that once dominated your dashboard.Â
Youâd made your way into the big leagues with names like GeorgeNotFound, Dream, Quackity, Nihachu, and even Karl Jacobs. Though youâd met the latter two years ago, youâd become quick friends with Quackity, or Alex(is), having bonded over having similar backgrounds and interests.Â
He was more like a brother to you than anything, much to the chagrin of many in the chat. You believe it had to do with growing up in a family with mostly girl siblings.Â
Your collabs with Alex garnered lots of views, with people tuning into the streams to watch you two yell at each other chaotically while playing odd games or attempting to bake things.Â
Of course, while he did your side of content, that meant you had to hold up your end of the bargain. Minecraft wasnât your strong suit at first, but as time went on and with some help from both Alex and Karl, you became a little more proficient.Â
Karl was no stranger to you, not anymore. Alex had introduced you to Karl a little after he started streaming. Youâd only really known him from a couple of Jimmyâs videos.Â
He seemed kind, goofy, friendly, and all around a pretty fun guy to be around. Which is why when you started to fall just a little bit for him, you were surprised. You came into this Twitch thing with one rule. Donât fall for people.Â
Things could get messy, it was always a given. The fandoms would tear into you or them, people were unpredictable. It was just better to keep everyone at an arm's length when it came to shipping.Â
You were thankful nothing had come to fruition from your friendship with Alex. If anything, all you saw were people shipping you platonically. Though you two would often tease each other if one had a crush on someone.Â
Your dynamic with Alex meant that you had countless ridiculous and outrageous moments together, often documenting them when he would visit you in LA from Mexico or you going to Mexico to see family and stopping by to visit him.
It was starting to become a thing you two did a few times a year. This year was no different. Even when the pandemic seemed to sour your plans, you both promised to stay safe and healthy and limit the trips. So far, this was going to be the first trip you two would be taking anywhere.Â
Your phone buzzed next to you as you scrolled mindlessly through your discord server. You laughed a bit here and there, looking at memes and chatting with people.Â
Alexâs text ringtone was him rage quitting during a game where you absolutely obliterated his ass. You either cracked up at the sound of it or jumped in sudden fear when it bounced off the walls of your apartment in the middle of the night.Â
A: Hey wiener, are you packed?? I know you take like three business days to get ready.Â
You rolled your eyes. He was supposed to be coming to visit you first before you both made the flight out to see Karl in North Carolina.Â
Y: Me??? Iâve been packed since last week. I thought you were supposed to be on the flight here already đ
A: I may or may notâŚ...already be out. đ
Your eyes widen. You abandon the chat and hit the FaceTime button. He lets it ring for a good five seconds before he accepts it and greets you with a close up of his face.
âWhat am I looking at?â You ask, feigning disgust.Â
âMy beautiful face, what else?âÂ
âReally? I thought it was a dogâs asshole.â You chuckle.Â
He guffaws. âFuck off! First I get stranded here in LA, then I get some shitty chicken nuggets and now youâre calling me butt ugly! Why does life hate me so much?!â
âMenso! You were supposed to call me when you - wait did you say chicken nuggets?â
âYeah, I still have the rest but I canât finish because every time I chew I think of the pink slime.â
âUgh donât talk about Supersize Me, Iâm still having nightmares about it. Who shows that to little kids??âÂ
âYeah well itâs shit, Burger Kingâs better.â He admits, munching down on the nuggets. He chews obnoxiously near the phone speaker to annoy you so you tap at the screen in retaliation.Â
âHey, I was supposed to record you trying out American McDonaldâs! Why are you taking sweet sweet content away from me? Now no one gets to see you lose your McVirginity!â
He sputters through a mouthful of nuggets and does a combination of coughing and laughing.Â
âAnyways,â he says, finally nugget free. âYou coming or not? I donât think I wanna sleep on the airport floor.â
âYeah yeah, Iâm coming. Iâll text you when Iâm outside.âÂ
The airport was a forty five minute drive, thirty if you stepped on it and committed several traffic violations.Â
Maybe that would make good content.Â
You grabbed your keys and rushed out of your home, fully prepared to go fast and furious. You put your windows down, connected your phone to the aux and blasted Tokyo Drift as you merged into the freeway.Â
Half an hour later, youâd arrived at a packed airport pick up area and texted Alex to let him know youâd arrived. He replied that he was starting to feel the effect of the chicken nuggets but that he would push through people to get out of the building before he caught anything from anyone.
Once you could make out his figure up ahead in front of the other cars, you got the bright idea to switch your music to something more interesting. You pulled up one of his videos where he was fully invested in a rendition of Hey There Delilah and honked excessively once you got closer to him. He looked around and pulled his beanie down lower to hide his face in embarrassment.Â
You and the prerecorded Quackity sang in off key unison with the volume up as much as you could before he threw his luggage and bags into your backseat, hopped into the passenger seat and put the volume down.
âNever do that again.âÂ
âHey, that was your welcome salute. I donât do that for other people, youâre special and I like it.â
âCould you try liking me a little less? I could do without all the cringe covers.â He laughed to himself as he buckled up.Â
The ride home consisted of a mix of very poor and impressive impressions of characters that wouldâve annoyed nearly anyone else except you. Alex alternated from a gruff impression of Squidward to a raunchy Mickey Mouse that left you doubling over and gripping the steering wheel. You competed with him, doing your worst impression of Cookie Monster and Goofy.Â
Your impression competition was interrupted by a phone call, Karlâs photo flashing flipped a panic switch in you as you scrambled to grab your phone. Alex takes your phone and extends his arm far from your reach.Â
âAh, ah, ah! No texting and driving! You want to kill us or something?!â
âI need to answer! What if he thinks Iâm ignoring him?â
âI got it, I got it.â He assures, sliding the bar to unlock the phone and meet Karl face to face.
Karl makes a surprised sound, greeting Alex almost immediately.Â
âHey bub!â You chime in, keeping your eyes on the road but getting a glimpse of Karl in his frog outfit.Â
âHi! Sorry, I didnât know you were driving.â
âNo itâs okay! Iâm just coming back from picking up this idiot.âÂ
âWho you calling idiot, dumbass?â Alex suddenly burst into his Mickey Mouse voice from earlier, ending it with the iconic Mickey laugh.Â
Karl seemed to eat it up, breaking into laughter. It was infectious enough to make you chuckle.Â
âYou guys excited for the trip? Itâs looking really pretty here this time of year. I canât wait to show you around.â
âYou mean show us your sweater collection?â Alex jabs.
You nudge him roughly to the side as a warning, glaring at him when he glances at you.Â
Youâd hoped that the change of scenery would do you some good. LA was an endless heap of heat that you never could seem to escape. Not even with air conditioning. It was October already, which normally would mean Fall, orange leaves, pumpkins everywhere, a complete shift in temperature, right? Nope.Â
It was the devilâs asshole all year round, something Alex could attest to.Â
âDonât mind him, I think he was dropped as a kid.â
âHow dare you! There is nothing wrong with me, Iâm perfect.â
âHa! Sure. As if you donât have a lot of things wrong with you.â
âOh yeah? Like what?â
You tap at the time on your screen, âWe donât have enough time to get into it.â
You turn your attention back to Karl, very attentive to your bickering, small chuckles here and there. It wasnât until he made eye contact with you that you felt your hands falter on the wheel. You were lucky enough that it didnât make you stray away from the road.Â
âUm - you know what? Weâll call you later, weâre almost home anyways.âÂ
âOkay! Be safe! Goodnight. â Karl bids you both goodbye and poses his phone in front of him in order to hug it from afar, as if to hug both you and Alex.Â
You groan to yourself, pretending to bang your head against the steering wheel as soon as you pull up to your complex. Alex laughs at your misery.Â
âOh man, you really are down BAD.â
âShut up! I regret telling you things sometimes.âÂ
âNo one said you had to! I guess I just have one of those faces.â He Chad swipes at his chin and squints at you.
âYeah, punch able.â You remark with a quirk of your brow, slipping out of the car and heading to your front door.Â
Alex follows, grabbing his things in a hurry before you can get the chance to lock him out and leave him to sleep with the coyotes.Â
âDonât leave me out here! Iâm too delicious to die!â He cries.
Youâre awoken by the feeling of warm sunlight on the left side of your face. You hesitate to move, feeling tired already even though youâre sure you slept longer than you shouldâve.Â
You prop yourself up by your elbows, shielding your face from the sun with your hand. You get out of bed groggily, staring at the floor for a second before making your way to the living room and finding Alex sleeping in a weird position.Â
Amused, you rush back into your room and grab your phone to document this moment and post it on Twitter. However when you return, heâs gone. You lean over the couch to check if heâs hiding behind it but heâs nowhere to be found.Â
Youâre about to crouch to check for his feet or any sign of him when you feel fingers dig in your sides. You yelp in fear and surprise, smacking your attacker until he starts to yell in a shrill voice.Â
Alex pushes you over the couch making you fall on your ass.Â
âWHAT THE HELL?!â You scream.Â
âThatâs what you get for trying to take pictures of me!â
You try to stand, rubbing at your sore ass. âUgh, what are you, a cryptid or something? The people have a right to see!â
âNo one gets to see me in the morning! No one! I need my beauty sleep more than you.â
He extends a helping hand for you to take in a moment of truce but you take advantage and pull him down with you to land on his back. He groans when he hits the ground and curses at you in Spanish.Â
âPlay timeâs over, we gotta get ready. The plane leaves inâŚ..one hour????!âÂ
Your phone says itâs only nine in the morning but you hazily remember the tickets reading ten thirty.Â
âNo way! I have to take a shower, I have to order foodâŚ.â He begins, counting on his fingers the various things he suddenly had to do but you stop him by running into your room and getting your bags.Â
âNo time! Brush your teeth, get dressed, Iâll buy us something at the airport.â
âNOOOO! Airport food is disgusting! Canât we stop somewhere?âÂ
âLike I said, no time! We gotta be out of here in thirty minutes.â
He grumbles under his breath.Â
âI heard that!â You yell behind you, grabbing a towel and turning on your shower.Â
After Alex rummaged through your kitchen, stuffed himself with some snacks and an alarming amount of frozen food, you urged him to shower in the little time span you had left and ordered a ride to take you to the airport.Â
You had to basically pull him away from putting on his finishing touches with his beanie, with him complaining that his hair wouldnât settle under it the way he wanted. You rolled your eyes and shoved him and your stuff into the Uber and kissed California goodbye.Â
You two started planning what youâd do in NC as soon as you landed, besides getting food. You could practically hear Alexâs stomach grumbling the whole drive to the airport and even after the Uber gave him some snacks.
There was a sense of urgency that made your stomach twist in knots until youâd arrived at the drop off section. You stuck your tickets in your pocket as you hurried Alex, dragging him and urging him to run faster than heâd ever imagined to catch the plane.Â
With only minutes to spare, you didnât realize you were holding your breath until you panted and tried to regain it once you were at the gate. Alex makes a joke about you being out of breath to the pretty attendant that you make a note of later, just in case he tried to flirt with her.Â
Alex followed the attendant like a puppy while you popped your phone out from your pocket and snapped a photo of the plane. You debated sending it to Karl, not sure if wanting your boarding to be a surprise or not. You relented to posting it on Twitter and sending it to Karl.Â
Big things coming ;)Â You tweeted, exiting out of the app as quickly as youâd posted it, knowing youâd be flooded with notifications.Â
You switched over to message, sending it to Karl but unsure if he would be awake right now. Maybe it would make his day better.Â
On our way! See you soon! :))Â
You ran to catch up with Alex, finding him still talking to the attendant. In the most bitchy voice you could muster, you hugged him from the side and nestled your head into his shoulder.Â
âIâm so happy weâre going on vacation babe, thank you!âÂ
His face fell, the attendant suddenly losing interest and suggesting the two of you find your seats. You intertwine your hands with his and hold it up, making a joke about how you two were inseparable.Â
He suppresses the urge to fight you and instead screams internally, whisper yelling to you as you both sit. âYou couldnât let me be a Chad once? Just once!âÂ
âThatâs what you get for slamming me on my ass earlier.â
#karl jacobs x reader#mcyt#yes I am aware that alex and karl might be a little OC#but I really wanted to get this chapter out of the way#myct fanfiction#myct imagines#dream smp
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Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15
Hey to anyone reading!
And welcome to my fave lookbook Iâve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, thatâs partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for âresearch purposesâ, but I promise, that statement wasnât made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. Itâs been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because letâs be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.
The âwhat I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]â TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when youâre making a reel or a TikTok I thought itâd be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you arenât familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand Iâm attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we canât ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesnât makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought Iâd take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didnât cost a shit tonne of money :-)
-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I donât think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-
1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)
-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-
I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesnât really make much sense anymore given the brandâs name change in 2012, but Iâll always think of it as that in the same way Iâll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock nâ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasnât done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, itâs rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldnât wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge weâve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.Â
2. Alexander McQueen
-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-
Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burtonâs more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didnât attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarahâs blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like itâs definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook itâs cute.
3. Brock Collection
-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-
Brock isnât as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldnât pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this womanâs work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.
4. Marc Jacobs
-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-
If thereâs one thing Marc Jacobs always does, itâs COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.Â
5. Miu Miu
-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamantĂŠ belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-
We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.Â
6. Vera Wang
-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-
Vera Wangâs RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs sheâs known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Veraâs collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.
7. Burberry
-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-
Now Iâm not gonna lie, Iâm not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years Iâve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought itâd be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didnât predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.
8. Etro
-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-
Like with Brock Collection, Etro isnât a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etroâs designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brandâs winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.
9. Dolce & Gabbana
-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-
D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I donât include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I donât want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we havenât seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given thereâs a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if weâre honest, but I donât think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we arenât engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling thatâs made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as theyâve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, letâs be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.
10. Gucci
-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-
Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldnât read me either) youâll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!
The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesnât matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesnât design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what theyâre putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobodyâs going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless theyâre talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but Iâm sure said brand will survive-to be fair, theyâve been included in every other What Iâd Wear to Sit Front Row At video Iâve seen so although Iâm always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think itâs totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Micheleâs work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.
Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know Iâm super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, Iâm gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me Iâll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!
Lauren x
#front row#frontrow#fashion#fashioninpo#fashion inspo#style#style inspo#designer#gucci#vera wang#burberry#label#miu miu#runway#fashion week#mood board#ysl#saint laurent#runway trends#ss21#lookbook#vintage#outfit#marc jacobs#Alexander mcqueen#runway fashion#high fashion#haute couture#trend#collage
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Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]
A/N:Â Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for âsexy undead Italian manâ Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. đ
Series Summary:Â Potentially a better love story than Twilight?
Chapter Title Is A Lyric From:Â âTil I Dieâ by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)
Chapter Warnings: Language.
Word Count:Â 7.7k.
Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE
Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecsâ
Mercy
We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.
The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with meâher large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pityâand braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like itâs a name I canât quite remember, like itâs a transitory moment of dĂŠjĂ vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away. Â
I donât want to be with Cato. Itâs painful for him to be around me, I can see that. Itâs painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. Itâs even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkinâs study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.
Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swanâs side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isnât checking on them, heâs with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkinâs study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that weâll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldnât want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.
I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that Iâm irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That Iâm as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But theyâre wrong. Itâs a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I donât.
My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I canât silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?
The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldnât place, and yet it sounded like home: Youâre in a dark place right now. But you donât have to stay there.
That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I canât find my way out.
Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swanâs daughter  wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, thatâs what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I donât know how to tell Lucy that Iâm afraid I donât have it in me to love this girl, that I donât have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yetâcompliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have becomeâI follow her.
The door is already open to the Swan girlâs room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.
Itâs Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)
The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restoredâlike defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addictâs bloodâand our two worlds can coexist side by side once again. Â
The oceanâs arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desertâs but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.
Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.
âBuon appetito!â Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.
âGrazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!â
âI know, right?! Iâm on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I canât let that little green owl dude down.â
âIâm impressed, Iâll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Whyâs the GrubHub driver so cheery?â
âI tipped him $500.â
I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. âAww, really?â
Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. âNo. I lied. Weâre actually having a torrid love affair.â
I laughed, shaking my head. âHow could you possibly have time for all that?â Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.
âIâm so glad you asked. Iâm very speedy, if you recall. And thatâs just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make peopleâs wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?â Â
âYou are the fastest,â I said, winking.
âOh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!â He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. âThatâs not what I meant. Iâm not the fastest at everything.â
âWhatever you say, mob guy.â
He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.
âJoeâ!â
âYou have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.â
âPublic indecency? Thatâs illegal, sir.â
âOkay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. Itâs extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. Iâm almost a hundred years old, you know.â
âAlright, I guess youâre not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.â
He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.
âWhat?â I asked, worried.
âNothing,â he said. âIâm just really glad weâre a thing.â
âYou better be. Youâre kind of stuck with me now. Youâve stolen my virtue, youâve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, youâve forced your torturous immortality upon me. Iâm not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.â
Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. âItâs absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. Itâs embarrassing. Youâre the wimpiest vampire ever. Youâre a disgrace to the coven.â
âI eat animals!â I objected.
âYeah, when you have to.â And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. âWe only have one more of these left,â he said at last, a little sadly. âOne more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.â
âWeâll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.â
Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. âIt wonât be hard for you to leave Forks?â
âIt will be. Once upon a time I didnât think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and Iâm sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesnât mean itâs not the right thing to do.â
Joe nodded introspectively. âEvery new beginning comes from some other beginningâs end.â
âDonât quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.â
âYou love my mixtapes,â he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. âAnd that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.â
âDonât tell me heâs still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.â
âNot to my knowledge. Although thatâs an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess itâs possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.â
âIs it not enough that theyâre already cursed with student debt and global warming?â
Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. âYou ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect weâre expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.â
âIâm ready,â I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.
The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forksâ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.
âWait,â I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Leesâ driveway. âThey still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?â
âUh, I think so, why...?â And then he remembered. âOh, yeah, letâs check!â
I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.
âOh my god!â I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.
âYou want to be the one to give it to him?â
âAre you serious?! Yeah, can I?â
Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!âs Last Christmas.
âBen?!â I shouted.
âHi, honey!â Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlettâs gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.
âOh wow,â I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. âYouâve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.â
âOne day Iâm going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,â Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlettâs waist.
âYeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.â
âBitch,â Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.
âLanguage, dear,â Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlettâs gown.
Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. âScarJo, I almost didnât recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?â
âWhy do you have like no eyelashes?â Scarlett replied. âSee, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.â
Joe frowned, wounded. âWhatâs wrong with my eyelashes?â
âLucy, darling, I think itâs just a tad uneven on this side,â Mercy said, showing her. âMaybe by half an inch...?â
âNo, seriously, whatâs wrong with my eyelashes?!â
Mercy replied distractedly: âNothing, honey, youâre perfect just the way you are.â
âMom!â Joe groaned.
âIt really is gorgeous,â Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. âAnd so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and Iâm so sorry for doubting you. Iâd just never heard of a red wedding dress before.â
âMom, itâs not a fucking wedding!â Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. âItâs a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that itâs not a wedding?!â
âYes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,â Mercy conceded dreamily.
Joe pointed to Archer. âIsnât he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?â
âWhat a great question!â Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. âYou see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, Iâve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.â
Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. âThere you have it.â
She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldnât be doing this if she didnât want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasnât doing it for herself. She wasnât even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.
The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didnât resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldnât speak of Gwil, wouldnât listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.
And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long timeâignoring Lucyâs attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concernsâuntil she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: âI think we should hang it in the living room, donât you?â
Things had been better since thenâvery, very gradually, and yet unmistakablyâand Gwilâs portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercyâs continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercyâs burden a little lighter these days.
Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snowâpowdered sugar? flour? baking soda?âfrom his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. âThe sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isnât that great?! Cuts down on dishes!â
âWhy, yes, I suppose it does!â Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.
Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. âWhatâs burning?â
âNothing should be burning,â Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasnât so unlike her first husband Arthur. âNot yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.â
âWait, 350?!â Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. âI thought you said 450!â
âOh, this is tragic,â Scarlett said. Â
âI can fix it!â Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlieâs perilous baking attempts, but he didnât know them. Now the record player was belting out Queenâs Thank God Itâs Christmas. Â
Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. âHey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?â He nodded to Rami. âThis is criminal. Itâs nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time Iâm about to toss a banana peel.â
Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.
âDo you mind?â I asked him.
âNot at all,â Rami replied. âI want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.â
âRude!â Archer cried.
âSo rude,â Scarlett agreed, smiling.
âOkay, here we go.â I sat down beside Rami, still holding Benâs envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Ramiâs cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbnessâlike instant peace, like milk-white Novocainâpass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire Iâd met so far.
âWhoa, trippy,â Rami murmured. âItâs still weird, every single time.â He peered drowsily around the room. âItâs...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now Iâm alone with my own thoughts, thatâs actually worse!â
âHurry up and beat him while heâs all freaked out and vulnerable,â Scarlett told Archer.
Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. âYes maâam.â
âAny good mail?â Lucy asked Joe.
âYeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so thatâs cute. Oh, and hereâs one from our favorite Canadians.â
Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldnât name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.
Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:
âMerry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)
- Cato Douglass Freemanâ
âThat bastard,â Scarlett muttered.
Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. âYou want a turn?â
âNo, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?â
Rami shrugged ruefully. âI would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.â
Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. âI think heâs out in the hot tub.â
âCool. I shall return.â
Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Ramiâs controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.
I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercyâs calla lilies didnât bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.
âWhat flavor is that cartridge?â I asked as I approached. âGummy bear?â
âClose. Strawberry doughnut.â
âOhhhh, yum!â Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. âSo. Guess what I have for you.â
âUh.â He glanced at the envelope. âJury duty.â
âBetter.â
âSomeone I hate has jury duty.â
I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.
âOh god,â Ben moaned.
âDonât you want to see what it says?â
âNot really,â he admitted, grimacing.
âCome on, Ben. Open it.â
âNah.â
âWhy not?!â
Ben sighed. âLook, if I open it and itâs bad news, itâs gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. Theyâll all know. Theyâll all feel bad for me and itâll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just donât tell anyone else yet.â
âItâs not going to be bad news,â I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.
âYou have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucyâs had a vision Iâm unaware of.â
âShe hasnât. You know she never sees anything important.â
âShe saw you coming,â Ben countered.
âShe saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So Iâd say there were at least a few minor details missing.â
âThereâs no way I got in,â Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. âWe canât all be geniuses like you.â
âThatâs an unfair accusation. Iâm far from genius. Iâm just obsessed with the ocean.â Iâd written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.
âI fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.â
âAnd their median score is a 519, so Iâd say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.â Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwilâs foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. âNow open it.â
âYou do it,â Ben relented finally. âMy hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.â
âThat wouldnât work,â I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.
â...Well?â Ben pressed, vaping frantically.
I looked up and smiled at him.
âNo way,â he whispered.
âI hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.â
And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that heâd gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasnât Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.
âGoddamn,â he said, watching me. Venom doesnât just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. Itâs an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.
âGwil would be so proud of you, Ben.â
âI hope so. I really do.â
The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. âBenny!â he shouted, elated.
âI know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.â
âThis is going to be so fun!â Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Benâwho was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection businessâin a hug from just outside the hot tub. âWeâre going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldnât assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.â
Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. âSounds like a plan, pagliaccio.â
âOh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.â
âI will,â Ben agreed, with some trepidation. âIâll wait until after Christmas.â
âItâll be hard for her,â I said. âBut she knows itâs what you want. She knows itâs whatâs best for you. So sheâll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didnât get in, if she had to see you unhappy.â
Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. âSheâll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.â
âEspecially Charlie,â Joe said, grinning.
Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldnât be far from the sea. But Mercy couldnât bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.
In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicagoâs law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwilâs death, and it had grown from there. If it wasnât romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we werenât like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: âYouâve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.â
âCan I talk to you upstairs?â Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.
âSure,â I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. âBen, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. Itâs pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other peopleâs kitchen-related accidents.â
âI do enjoy your company a lot more now that I donât want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,â Ben said. âYeah, give me a few minutes and Iâll be there.â And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that Iâd left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.
In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loafâs Iâd Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroomâwhich, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlieâs house had become Joeâs as wellâand closed the door.
âYouâre in luck,â he said. âYour dad totally ruined our song. Now I canât hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.â
âItâs the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so youâre aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.â
âCool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and thatâs why we canât visit them in Florida?â
âYup.â
âSpectacular. Also, can you please tell me whatâs wrong with my eyelashes?â
âTheyâre just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.â
âWell, I am only moderately attractive, you know.â Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldnât believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. âSo I get that weâre doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so donât worry about that. But thereâs one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.â
â...Okay...?â A secret gift? A naughty gift? âI hope itâs a new vibrator.â
âShut up,â Joe begged, laughing. âHere.â He reached into the drawer of his nightstandâour nightstandâand produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasnât a ring, I was sure of that; I didnât feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.
âWhat is this?â I asked, amused but puzzled.
âAre you not college educated? Itâs a plane.â
âWell, yeah, I can see that. But itâs also like two inches long.â I scrutinized the plane. âAre you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.â And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.
âWeâre going on a trip,â Joe said, grinning. âThe day after Christmas. Itâs just a short trip, nothing huge, donât get too excited, weâre not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think youâll still like it. But I donât want you to know where weâre going until weâre there.â
âHow will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.â
âScarJoâs going to fly us.â
âReally?!â We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. âWhatâs in it for Scarlett?â
âShe found out that Archerâs never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.â
âOh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.â Â
âObviously Iâm gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.â
âSo itâs somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...â I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.
âStop,â Joe pleaded. âIâm sorry. Iâve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.â
âI hate to disappoint you, but Iâm rather indestructible at the moment.â
He smiled wistfully. âI wouldnât want you to be any other way.â
There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago dĂŠcor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joeâs bed. Our bed.
âHow real is it, Joe?â I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. âSeriously. The wishes thing.â
âThe world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldnât be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...â He shrugged, grinning craftily. âKinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.â
âI am alarmingly glad that youâre real, mob guy,â I said, abruptly somber. âI never thought Iâd meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And itâs miraculous. And itâs terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.â
âItâs the scariest thing there is,â Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.
Joseph
Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But sheâs not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. Sheâs ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and thatâs exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped togetherâivory on bronze, snow on sunâwith matching sprigs of holly in Scarlettâs hair and pinned to the jacket of Archerâs suit, reciting truths but no promises, I canât help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now canât fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isnât something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.
On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. Itâs much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then itâs still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. Thatâs not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where weâre going, too.
Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: âItâll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...â He wiggles his black eyebrows.
âBring it on,â I reply casually. âFake wedding are my jam. Itâll be ocean themed. Or Roaring â20s themed. And weâll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.â
âMercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,â Baby Swan adds.
âYeah. With pineapple.â
âNo. Not on potatoes.â
âYes on potatoes.â
âOver my dead body.â
âToo late,â I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.
We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.
âPhoenix,â she whispers, smiling like a child.
âBut wait, thereâs more!â I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.
âI know what itâs like to have to leave home,â I say. âYouâve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon youâll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. Youâll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.â
She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didnât know it yet. âJoe...how did you...?â
âWhatâd I tell ya? Iâm a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.â
She laughs. âOh no. Hard pass. I donât dance.â
âWhen weâre alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend weâre alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.â
âFine. But only because Iâm willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.â
She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. Sheâs still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasnât lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasnât somewhere Iâd ever been. The scent that drifts from her poresâthe scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghostâis sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.
Now sheâs mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. âSo what, you think youâre Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? Thatâs the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chanceââ
âYeah,â I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. âI love you too.â
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Yours (Vampire!Ivar x reader)
A/N: This is my entry to @geekandbooknerdââs Birthday Challenge. Happy Birthday, Hayley đ
The prompt We are all someoneâs monster (Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows) is in bold.
@bluearchersstuffâ - Thank you for beta reading this for me đ It was the first time, it wonât be the last đ
Let me know if you want to be tagged đ
Moodboard made by the talented @gearhead66 âĽď¸
Summary: You hate Halloween and of course you hate Halloween parties. But whoâs this handsome guy whoâs looking at you?
Warnings: not my best work, Iâm sorry.
Words: 1821
You roll your eyes, sighing at your own stupidity. For the umpteenth time tonight, you're wondering what you were thinking about when you agreed to come. Of course, Sofia is your best friend, and she is the one who asked you to go with her.
 Yet, you should have known better.
 You dislike Halloween. Scratch that. You hate Halloween and everything about it with a passion. You hate dressing up. You hate cobwebs, fangs, zombies and skeletons. You even hate squash soup, and that's saying a lot!
 But yeah, your friend can be convincing when she has a mind to be. And that's why you're here â almost against your will, so to speak â at Ben's house. Ben with whom Sofia slipped away over an hour ago. Probably upstairs. You don't even want to think about what they're doing right now.
 Anyway, you're here, and that's all that mattersâŚ
 The pounding music is too loud, the people too drunk, the place too crowded. If it wasn't for the handsome stranger who hasn't stopped looking at you since you showed up, you wouldn't be here anymore.
Nervously pulling and tugging on the little black dress borrowed from Sofia â oh no, not a simple black dress, a black dress with fucking skeleton print â you make up your mind and head toward the makeshift bar. You need a drink if you intend to stay. Something strong, possibly.
 A 'Vampire Cocktail' in hand, you slowly cross the room. With every step, you can feel the stranger's gaze upon you; and you know with unsettling certainty that if you look back at him, he wouldnât lower his eyes.
 He was apparently alone, does not talk to anyone, or dance, and didn't look at anyone but you.
 You should feel embarrassed, or even upset, but you arenât. Knowing that his eyes are staring at you like that is surprisingly pleasant. And you can't help but feel hopelessly drawn to him, almost magnetically, or magically. Because strangely, wherever you are in the room, the man is there, never more than a few steps away from you.
 The room may be dark, but you still can see the otherworldly blue of his eyes. You're entranced, fascinated, mesmerized.
 Giving him a shy smile, you quickly avert your gaze, blushing. As you raise back your head, the man is gone, but when a gloved hand brushes against yours, you know it's his, without a doubt.
 "Shall we go out?" He asks with a sultry voice that sends shivers down your spine. Even if he gives you a questioning look, his hand gesturing toward the large patio door, you know it's a rhetorical question. You don't have a choice and you don't mind it. The stranger wraps a strong arm around your waist, leading you toward the backyard.
 You follow him willingly, almost obediently, a small smile playing on your lips. He leads you without saying a word, and as soon as the patio door closes behind you, the only sound you can hear is the thud of his cane on the gravel.
 "Better here, right?" He takes a seat on a porch swing, inviting you to do the same.
 "I have been dreaming of this moment for so long." His voice is hoarse as he slightly leans toward you, boldly resting a hand on your knee.
 Confused, you want to ask him what he means. After all, you met for the first time less than two hours ago. But you don't get the chance, since he speaks again. "Very nice dress, by the way."
 Scrutinizing you in the bright moonlight, he looks at you shamelessly, his gaze stopping first on your neck, then your cleavage, your breast and finally your fishnet stocking-clad thighs.
 Intimidated, you blush and say the first thing that pops into your head. "Your⌠your Halloween costume is a piece of art. It's so⌠realâŚ"
 "My⌠what?" Quirking a brow, the man looks at you in disbelief.
 "YourâŚ," your shaky voice gives away your nervousness, "Your Dracula costume is⌠magnificent."
 You're not lying. His clothing is stunning. From his three-piece suit â obviously made of luxury fabrics â to his silk cape of extremely high quality, everything suggests that his complete outfit is undoubtedly very expensive.  As for his cane, you're willing to bet that its snake-shaped handle is made of⌠gold, no less. In any case, it's impressive and the handsome stranger makes a vampire truer than nature.
 Visibly taken aback by your last assertion, the man just stares at you with wide eyes. It's as if what you just said didn't make sense to him. When an icy wind swirls suddenly around you and makes you shiver, he eventually speaks sternly, almost as he were scolding you, his jaw tight. "This is not a costume."
 You're baffled, puzzled, confused. 'This is not a costume?' What does he mean? Â
 "What⌠I don't⌠Whaâ" You sputter, unable to gather your thoughts. Your heart hammering in your chest, you feel a knot growing in your stomach. Something feels wrong. Something feels very wrong.
 His piercing blue eyes staring into yours, you want to avert your gaze, overwhelmed and slightly scared. But when he speaks again, it's with a velvet like voice that soothes you immediately, erasing your discomfort. "Shh⌠It's okayâŚ"  You wonder for a brief moment how someone can change their mood so quickly. You don't dwell on it though, because when he gives you a closed-lips smile, gentle and sweet, it melts your heart and you realize that, as if by magic, your fear is gone, replaced by desire and attraction.
 What strange power does this man have over you?
 Slowly, one finger at a time, the stranger takes off his gloves and places them on the swing next to him, while staring at you the whole time.
 As he reaches out, his hand just inches from your face, you can't resist, and you don't want to. The pull is too powerful, the longing too strong. You want him to touch you. You need him to and so you lean forward, craving for his skin against yours.
 But as soon as his fingers graze your cheek, you freeze, bemused and appalled.
 They are cold. Abnormally cold. Ice-cold. Colder than⌠death. You swallow loudly and then get up hastily. "I⌠I sh⌠should⌠goâŚ" You stammer, panic flooding your body. You want to run away but the man doesn't give you the chance as he grabs your wrist, squeezing it tight. " That would be extremely rude when we've only just met, don't you think?" His voice is a whisper, his tone soft but you know you don't really have a say, nor a choice.
 Slowly getting up, he leans on his cane, wraps his free arm around your waist and draws you closer. He's so unnaturally strong, you can't even move as a cold wave washes over you. "I'll be gentle if you do as I say." He mumbles, his mouth against your ear.
 Questions plague your mind suddenly. Why is he so pale? Why can't you feel his breath on your face? Why are his eyes bloodshot? Why didn't you notice anything earlier? You're terrified now, aware of the danger with absolute certainty.
 "Who⌠Who are you?" You don't even know how you manage to babble those words. You feel weak and unsteady on your shaky legs. If it wasn't for his firm grip, you would certainly have fallen down by now.
 "It's okay, Y/NâŚ" He says once again, and you want to believe him, despite your fear, despite the⌠cold. A little voice in your head whispers that you never told him your name, but it doesn't matter, not when he's looking at you with so much tenderness.
 What is he doing to you?
 "I'm Ivar." His reassuring voice is gentle, as is his smile. "Ivar Ragnarsson." He doesn't say anything else but it's enough. That's all you need to know. You're relieved. He's Ivar. Of course. Who else â what else â could he be? You've been so silly. All those strange things⌠The cold, his eyes, his breathing â or his lack of â there is necessarily a pragmatic explanation for each of them. The truth is you don't care. He's Ivar. A handsome and very considerate stranger that you want to get to know better, and that's enough. Everything is fine. It's okay, he's right.
 "IvarâŚ", you eventually repeat softly, and you love the way his name rolls off your tongue. Chuckling, you can feel yourself relaxing in his embrace. "You're going to think I'm dumb, you know? I wondered for a moment if you weren't aâŚ", you gasp, feeling shy and embarrassed, but Ivar just looks at you, patiently waiting for you to carry on, and that's what you do. "⌠A vampire, you know. But obviously you're not. You're just a guy my age, with a fantastic Halloween costume, and it seems that I can't think properly, because who would think you're some kind of monster? That's insane, and I'm so sorry, and now I'm going to shut up because I'm pathetically rambling and if I continue I'm sure you won't want anything to do with me and that would be a shame because Iâ Oh my god, sorry!!" Covering your mouth with your hand, you blush as you realize what you were going to say. 'Because I'd love to kiss you, touch you, feel youâŚ'
 What is he doing to you?
 Ivar keeps quiet, a semi-amused smile on his face. Eventually, he closes his eyes and then tilts his head back. "So, you thought I was a⌠how did you say?... a monsterâŚ" You can almost hear his grin.
 "I know," you say shamefully, "that's stupid! You're allowed to laugh at me, you know? I won't get mad, really. I don't know what went through my head. A monster! What a ridiculous thought!!"
 Ivar giggles while keeping his eyes shut. "Maybe not. You know what they say⌠We are all someone's monsterâŚ"
 And then, he opens his eyes. And everything goes faster.
 His eyes turn black. A feral growl escapes his lips. His smile is a predatory one.
 You can clearly see his pointy fangs.
 And you feel weirdly calm. You're not surprised, and you're ready. You need him, all of him.
 "I don't know if it's trueâŚ", you don't recognize his voice, hoarse and raspy, but you don't mind, as you don't mind when he pushes your hair away, his teeth already grazing the delicate skin of your neck.
 "However,â He mutters as you arch against him unwittingly, "there is one thing that I can say for certain. I'm definitely yours."
 And right after that, sharp fangs piercing down into the flesh of your neck, a burning pain lances through you, fading soon into an aching pleasure. You release a gasp, bucking your hips.
 "Please, unravel me, Ivar."
 What did he do to you?
đĄâď¸đĄ
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