#but making plans is fruitless and it just makes me feel so alone

[arsenicflame]

i keep thinking i should plan something for my birthday but i just feel so. apathetic about it. theres nothing i want to do or see or anyone i want to hang out with or.

i feel like i should care but i literally dont.

[seoulmatez]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒜 𝐹𝒪𝒪𝐿 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸

info ⭑ geto suguru x reader ﾉ 2.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ ex-boyfriend geto ﾉ band au ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ a wee bit angsty ﾉ some suggestive bits ﾉ reader is tipsy ﾉ ambiguous ending

note ⭑ hi! after writing this, i really wanna continue something with this band au geto! not sure if that means i'll be making this into a series. . . perhaps an anthology? idk! lmk if you'd be interested :3 happy reading !

the streets of tokyo during the late hours of the day are restless—especially here in shibuya. you’d think the bustling crowds, fast pace, and your slightly tipsy state would make it difficult to recognize anyone but the universe seems keen to prove you wrong recently.

because standing at the corner of the street you’re supposed to be turning at is him—the man you haven’t seen in nearly five months and didn’t plan on seeing any time soon.

the sight of geto makes you stop–or more accurately, stumble–in your tracks. you can’t help the way your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. it’s as if time slows for a couple of seconds in his distant presence. you can’t think straight and you aren’t sure if that’s because of him, too, or if you have the alcohol to blame for that.

regardless, when you finally regain cognitive function after what feels like an eternity, you’re able to tell yourself that you need to turn around and find another route home. unfortunately for you, the thought comes a second too late, geto spinning to face you just before you have the opportunity to turn on your heel. the brief moment of shared eye contact doesn’t stop you from trying to run for the hills, though you quietly curse yourself for getting caught in this predicament while you do so.

you hear the shout of your name from behind you, but you don’t dare come to a halt. your perseverance to escape is futile, made apparent by the newfound proximity of the familiar voice and the feel of fingers snaking around your wrist. you aren’t sure what possesses you to do so, but you quickly swing around to face the man hellbent on catching up to you. he seems just as surprised as you if the way his eyebrows shoot up is any evidence. 

“hey, wait—i come in peace.” geto raises his hands in mock surrender to show that he stands by his words.

you believe him. 

your fingers are cool as they brush against your forehead in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. there isn’t much you can think to say other than, “sorry, i just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“i gathered as much.” geto nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he knew this reunion–if it ever even happened–would be awkward, but the air between the two of you is so tense that he finds it a little hard to breathe. he clears his throat before continuing. “kind of looked like you were trying to avoid me though.”

“got me there,” you softly admit.

geto understands but he doesn’t relate. he’s been trying to get a hold of you since he landed back in japan last week and his efforts have been fruitless until now. running into you this way may have been a coincidence but geto doesn’t intend on squandering what just might be his one chance to tell you what has been nagging at his mind for the past few months. “look, i was hoping we could talk.”

the expression that paints your face upon hearing his request is apprehension. he can practically see the blinking red lights and hear the alarm bells going off in your head. and, as much as he hates to admit it, your worry makes sense. the last time he asked you to talk, he broke up with you.

“ten minutes—fifteen, max.” geto attempts to bargain. he hopes the limit on the time you have to spend with him will convince you to agree, to hear him out. it hurts, but after chewing on his cheek, he adds another condition that’ll work in your favor. “and after, if you don’t want to see me again, i’ll leave you alone for good.”

with as much effort as you’ve been putting into steering clear of geto since his return, you’d think his words would come as a comfort to you. they don’t, though. the feelings that surge within you at hearing them contradict your strict avoidance of geto up until this point. they make you confront the fact that you have wanted to see him and can’t stomach the thought of never seeing him again.

you’re taking a risk by doing so, but you nod.

“okay, let’s talk.”

the two of you end up at some park a little ways away from the city center—one where you can see the orangey-red leaves flutter through the air once they fall from the trees and watch the fountain in the pond shoot up water that rains back down. despite how pretty the scenery is, you can’t help but look at geto instead.

it’s been practically half a year since you last saw him. you’re sure he’s changed quite a bit since then but all you can focus on are the ways he’s stayed the same, the little parts of him that you missed while he was gone—like the dragon tattoo that snakes up his shoulder to his collarbone. seeing it floods your head with memories of when the two of you were together. mornings spent tracing the delicate lines with feathery touches, kissing up the ink and coloring the creature with love bites.

you almost flinch at the reminder. your plan wasn’t to revisit the past, at least, not those moments, but seeing the tattoo on display makes it almost impossible. it’s geto’s fault for wearing that stupid sleeveless hoodie. you drag your gaze up to meet the obsidian shards that are his eyes. “strange choice of attire for such a chilly night.”

he rubs his arm at your observation, a grin gracing his lips. “yeah, i didn’t plan on staying out for long.”

you know that you agreed to come with him, but even sitting on opposite sides of the same bench is proving to be overwhelming. so, instead of regarding his innocent statement as simply that, you view it as an out. “if you have somewhere you need to go or someone you’re supposed to meet, we can do this another time.”

“no way.” geto doesn’t let a beat of quiet pass before he speaks and shakes his head. “i finally caught you and i’m not letting you get away so easily.”

the confession stuns you to silence. there are a million thoughts bouncing off the walls of your skull right now–how this wasn’t a good idea, that you weren’t obligated to listen to what he wants to say–but the one that worms its way past the others and to the forefront is that his words are… romantic. it’s frustrating that you aren’t mad at him, especially when you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you should be.

it seems as though the feelings you tried so hard to bury are beginning to resurface.

you clear your throat. “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“right,” geto starts, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. his tongue pokes out from between his lips to poke at the metal hoops wrapped around them. they’re things he does when he’s nervous, like when he first asked you out on a date or when he’d tune his guitar while waiting to go on stage. you wonder what it is on his mind that has him so on edge. though, you aren’t sure if it’s your place to ask, to show concern like you used to, so you stay quiet.

“i guess i wanted to talk about how we left things,” he finally tells you.

you should have seen this coming, and maybe part of you–a part you were trying to ignore–did. there isn’t much more the two of you can discuss. there have been a lot of unspoken thoughts lingering on your mind since that night, ones that you never planned on letting see the light of day. you’ve gone so long sitting on your feelings; what’s the point in digging them up now?

“what more is there to talk about exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms—using them as a shield. “you broke up with me to go on tour and i told you that i understood—no hard feelings.”

geto is quiet across from you, but you can tell there’s something weighing on his mind, words on the tip of his tongue. a few moments of stillness pass before he spits it out. “i don’t think you mean that. not then and… not now.”

“what do you want me to say, suguru?” you toss your hands up in frustration. your voice has been low, controlled up until this point but rises with your question, with your growing irritation. does he want to humiliate you even more than he already has? your intention of continuing to sit on your feelings, to keep them hidden, is lost with the way words unknowingly spill past your lips. “that i was dumb for thinking that i was worth a little more effort to you? that i should have let go of you as easily as you did me?”

there’s a certain level of relief that comes with your words but they also open up a wound you’ve been trying your best to close. all the emotions you felt that night feel as raw as they did then, as though you’re reliving it all over again. 

the tears return, gathering at your lash line and threatening to fall but never rupturing the dam. the insecurity comes back, too. you can feel the ghost of a knife piercing your heart as you think about how it felt like he had chosen music over you. but who were you to ask him to reconsider—to think of you before his music, his dream?

tonight is turning out to be more than you can handle.

you’re about to stand, apologize for your outburst, and excuse yourself when geto speaks up.

“i didn’t let go of you—not really,” he quietly admits. his hand reaches up to his neck again, fingers twirling the loose hairs that happened to make it out of his bun. the action makes his words carry more truth and while you can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely, hearing them has an uncontrollable effect on you.

one of the tears you were adamant about not shedding until you were out of his sight rolls down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. “you don’t have to say that, it’s not going to make me feel any better.”

“i mean it, though, i do.” when you finally muster up the courage to meet his stare, his eyes tell you that what he said is the truth. his eyes have never lied. “i thought about you every day while i was on tour.”

the confession sends a pang to your heart. it clears up the fog of turmoil clouding your mind, although a haze of uncertainty lingers. does he mean that he missed you—the same way you’ve been hopelessly missing him?

you don’t have to aimlessly ponder, as geto continues.

“look, i asked you here because i wanted to tell you that i regret how i went about things. i thought about my choice–about you–a lot. and i realized a little too late that i owed us a chance. i was scared that we couldn’t handle long distance and that we’d both end up hurt but i never considered the possibility that it might have worked for us.”

geto unconsciously reaches for you, though when he realizes what he’s doing, he thinks better of it, letting his hand rest in his lap instead. just because he’s laying himself bare for you doesn’t mean the pain he’s caused has disappeared. besides, he still has one thing to say before you can even consider forgiving him.

his tongue glides across his lower lip, over the two silver hoops situated on either side. “i made a decision that both of us should have had a say in. i’m sorry.”

beyond the feelings of heartache and self-doubt, the thing you felt most that night was unheard—as if anything you could have thought to utter during that moment would have fallen on deaf ears. geto seems to have noticed that much, reflected on it and recognized his mistake. his apology, the acknowledgment of his fault, unchains the final weight that was tugging at your heart.  

you sniff and dab at the stray tears that have trickled down your face. “thanks for saying so. and… i forgive you.”

there’s a weight of his own that makes geto’s chest feel lighter upon hearing your words. from the minute he started rehearsing this conversation, he imagined that he’d damaged you to the point of being unworthy of your compassion, your forgiveness. this is more than he could have asked for, even if you still choose to take him up on his offer of leaving you alone for good.

“i’m glad,” geto nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though he doesn’t let the short moment of happiness overtake him. “i know that was probably a lot and if you need to take some time to decide how you want us to proceed, if at all, i understand.”

you shake your head and the corners of geto’s lips fall into a neutral line. he made a good point earlier, one that you can’t ignore if you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt the way you did before. and despite just learning about it, geto was hurting, too. if you can minimize the pain either of you have to experience, you will.

you clear your throat with hopes that your voice will come out steady. “i’d rather come to that conclusion together. since it has to do with both of us, y’know?”

geto’s shoulders slump as the tension seeps from them. “yeah. yeah, of course. whenever you’re ready.”

“we can start tonight if you have time,” you suggest, bashfully rubbing up and down your arms. it really feels like you’re starting over. before you knew his name, simply when you had a crush on the hot guy playing at the bar you were visiting for the night. “i want to hear about how your tour went.”

“okay,” geto easily agrees, the smile from earlier making its way back to his lips. it meets his eyes and the obsidian shards sparkle—with hope.

hi there, sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[marshmallowprotection]

I have a feeling I've definitely sent a similar ask years ago but if so, I am once again in need of Suit sitting on my lap. He belongs there. Let me hold this silly man pleaseplleaspeasepllsleplea

That sour look on his face couldn't hide his true desires. You knew that as well as he did. As much as he tried to pretend he was some dangerous wildcat that could bite your hand off if he wanted to, he was far from it. He was more like a feral house cat that realized the inside of a house felt comfortable and cozy compared the streets—and decided the best thing to do would be to stick around for that.

He didn't always know how to interact with other people, but what Saeran couldn't deny was the yearning in his eyes for a soft place to lay his head. You knew he wanted to be taken care of, spoiled just as much as you spoiled Ray, but in a way that validated his comfort and personal boundaries. He didn't need a one-for-one remodel of what you shared with Ray, even if that was his only benchmark for gentle affection.

You wanted to give him something to affirm you cared about him just as much as you cared about Ray, and his idea of comfort didn't have to be the same as Ray's. He could have anything he wanted to feel so much better than he felt when he was alone in his office with nothing to do fester in his thoughts and wait for the Savior to harass him with more fruitless plans of destruction.

Which is how you ended up in this predicament.

With your outstretched hand beckoning him forward to join you at your desk. His wild eyes were exhausted, and even if he tried to tell you off and act as though he was put together, you knew he wasn't, and he knew you knew that. You didn't want him to play pretend in this room. You wanted him to stop pretending and unclench his jaw before he returned to the lion's den.

He wasn't a lion.

He was your house cat who had to fight like a lion to survive.

"Come on, Saeran," you said, patting your lap. You weren't logged into the messenger, so he wouldn't have to worry about that. You were on the only functioning game on your cell phone, a puzzle game of sorts that kept your mind busy and focused when you didn't want to spend the rest of your day finding the CCTV cameras or staring out into the courtyard.

He huffed. His eyes leaving yours as he glanced to the side, muttering under his breath, "No way."

"Well, I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do," you told him. "I figured I'd put the offer on the table. If you want to sit in my lap and relax for a little while, my offer stands. If you want to go back out there with the guards and cause a ruckus instead, I'm not going to stop you. You're the boss, Saeran."

You listened to him pout, grumble, and groan. You weren't going to make him uncomfortable. You knew the Savior did that to him quite enough already.

People put him in predicaments against his will. He had to do things whether he wanted to do them or not, and you weren't going to put yourself amongst those who pressured him. Even if he wasn't in his right mind at the moment, you wouldn't stoop as low as everyone else in his life did.

He needed to know somewhere in his terrified life was safe, and you’d decided long ago you’d do that for Ray, and now him, too.

Saeran deserved the opportunity to take matters in his own hands. If he wanted to do something, he could do it. You weren't going to push him one way or the other. Even if he couldn't believe that, even if he wanted to believe it but wasn't sure if he could, you knew better than to push him. If he wanted to do something, he would do it. He wasn't the type to mince his words. He did things differently than Ray did in that regard.

It took a moment of silence before he acted.

Wordlessly, he strode across the room and crammed himself into your lap without a second thought. You didn't scold him for moving so fast, instead, you scooted your chair back enough so he could get comfortable against your thighs. His legs hung over either side of the chair as he did so, and you noticed how his fingers twitched against your sides as he debated with himself with whether or not to wrap his arms around your torso.

His face was buried in your throat before you could ask him if there was anything you could do to make him more comfortable. He had something in his mind, though, since the quiet nuzzle of his forehead against your collarbone showed just how badly he yearned for those gentle touches he once "mocked".

"Can I touch you?"

He grunted a half-hearted response to give his consent.

So, giving him what he wanted, you wrapped one arm around his waist and the other tangled itself in his hair. He tensed up at first, but quickly melted as you brushed your lips against the side of his head. "I've got you, Saeran. You don't need to pretend when you're with me. We can stay like this as long as you want."

He would be safe here.

You wouldn't dare let them hurt him when he was in your arms.

[carnal-lnstinct]

🫨🫨🫨🫨 scourge of the stars??? ONCE AGAIN?

Okay okay I can't even think straight. May I perhaps request Evil!! Evil evil Vegeta with Yandere vibes? X fem reader?? 🤔🤔🤔 He kidnaps her??

Please disregard if this is garbage lol I just LOVE EVERYTHING YOU WRITE

〖 VEGETA X READER 〗 ✦✦Content: frieza force!reader. unrequited feelings. betrayal. threats of murder   ✦✦Warning: implied yandere character trope, implied manipulation, canon typical violence, blood

You find yourself regarded with a cold rage you've never seen before. As you hold your throbbing cheek to nurse the pain, his eyes pin you in place. Knocked back onto the floor from the impact of his fist. This isn’t anything like the mighty Prince who delighted in the devastation he brought to planets and their civilizations. There’s no arrogant smirk or scolding words made to put you in your place and make you feel as small as you do now. He just clocked you without words, catching you off guard and knocking you onto your ass. 

“Tell me, was it so easy?” Vegeta spoke up finally, his tone lacking the charm of his egotism. It was low and icy, sending a chill up your spine and leaving you speechless. Once his words do register, you answer with innocence. What did you do? Why would he sucker-punch you like that?

But he sees through your deceptions and his eyes further narrow, a scowl twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Deciding to betray me.” His words made your chest sink. The truth of your dubious loyalty made its way to him. You don’t know how or from who, but you were sure he would die before he learned the truth of your special orders from Frieza. Even if you and the small group of saiyans served under him, you had your own orders. 

The three were cordial to you since your assignment to them came from a higher place, but kept you at a distance. You even suspected they’d all purposely turn into Great Apes and neglect you in their rampage, leaving you dead. But something grew from all the time you spent on their squad. Not quite comrades, not quite unwanted company. You were content with their nature, and ever so fond of the differences in their personality as far as saiyans go.

What you could gather about their plans for their outing to Earth, prior to Vegeta and Nappa’s journey, you report their true intent back to your Zarbon. The Dragon Balls, the saiyan hiding out on Earth, and the wish for immortality for their eventual incursion on the Frieza Force. Now all reported back to Frieza himself. And somehow, Vegeta knows this too.

Now things were different when he returned from Earth, alone. 

As Vegeta’s foot slowly moved and brought him closer to you, you instinctively crawled backward to keep distance however fruitless an effort it was. The idea of his wish came to mind and filled you with dread if this was just the first action as an immortal, if you were his first victim. Your power level may surpass the other two, but Vegeta was another force altogether. He had you here alone and nothing could impede his wrath. His scowl hardened, “Tell me ‘friend’…Did you agonize over your options or simply roll over like the gutless filth you are and take Zarbon’s word at face value? Did you consider what I would do to you once I learned the truth?”

Your lip trembled as your voice became caught in your tongue, only a weak sound leaving your lips. “Answer me!”

You flinched back, gulped, and lowered your hand from your throbbing cheek. “I-I…Vegeta, you don't understand what he was going to d-”

“Answer me, coward!” 

“...I did consider your feelings, but-” Vegeta’s sharp scoff cuts you off, an instance of guilt in your chest making you wary yet defensive. “You know he didn't give me a choice!”

“You had your choice! You could have stood on your principles and died like a real warrior should! You should have chosen me!” He growled, his eyes becoming something wild as he snatched your collar, practically dragging you before dangling you off your feet. And there, in so few words, he lays out your suspicions of his longing. So farfetched in its nature that the Prince of Saiyans would harbor anything deeper than tolerance of those weaker than him. To see someone so calculated broken down into his emotional impulses…

“Vegeta…I'm sorry.” It hurt to hear him confess in this way, with nothing left to lose. In some twisted way, you did look to the saiyans as your partners. There were more little quirks you kept to yourself than reported back to Zarbon, and you betrayed it all for a nameless reward or promotion you haven’t even seen yet. Frieza was already on his way to Namek by now to find more dragon balls and unbeknownst to you, Vegeta’s plan blew up in his face the moment the namekian of Earth died. An insult to injury followed in tow with Kakarot standing to challenge him. All you can see is the frustration on his face and you feel your fate being sealed.

“If you can't devote yourself to me more than you fear Frieza, I'll do us both a favor and end your miserable existence right here and now!” He punctuated his words with another punch, the broken scouter knocked from your face as you landed on your back again. You’ve never felt so powerless to fight back or run, unable to contact anyone for help. Zarbon nor Frieza would even bother to heed your pleading for help if you could, you’re just another replaceable peon after all. 

You don’t try to soothe this punch, you simply roll over in your shame and spit out the blood. “I’m sorry…” You managed to choke out, your gloved knuckle wiping the remaining blood from your lip.

Every part of his being pulsed with the desire to blow you away with one big blast, air out the entire ship with everyone on it. Vegeta extended his hand out, palm pointing towards your back. A culmination of all his humiliation and suffering channeled through him, appearing as a crackling ball of ki in his hand. Cutting his ties with Frieza was always going to be bloody, but this was not in his vision. He’s supposed to be smarter than to end up doing it this way. He’s supposed to be stronger— he’s supposed to be immortal!

He cursed to himself and the ball of ki grew bigger, burning with his wrath. Your head lowers in defeat with the inevitable at your back and your hands start to tremble in anticipation. 

“Prove it.” The words hit your ears and make your breath hitch, looking back over your shoulder toward the dying ball of ki.

Vegeta clenched his fist tightly once it dispersed, lowering his arm back to his side. Inklings of a festering want he fights to suppress, holding him back. But he’ll lie to himself. It’s anything but an act of leniency, more of a recalculation of his plans. You may know something that Zarbon wouldn’t want him to and he needs every piece of information to keep the element of surprise on his side until he can get his wish. He needs to get to Namek soon and you’re coming with him. You didn’t choose him, but despite everything he is choosing you.

“You desire my mercy? Prove it. I have no reason to trust you, but I’ll allow you to keep breathing for a time. So from now on, you serve only me.” Dumbfounded, you sit up further, slowly turning on your knees to face him.

“Vegeta, you…”

“Don’t go getting any ideas. You have a lot to make up for, filth.” He huffs, turning his bitter glare elsewhere. “You belong to me now.”

Your loyalty can come with a price and Vegeta gave the biggest offer for now. You adjust yourself on one knee without hesitation, lowering your head and crossing a fist over your chest. “...I’ll do whatever it is you need.” Your life over dying doing Zarbon’s dirty work was better than dying here and now. Even if he only needed you for a while longer, Vegeta will keep you close.

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season one, part three

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @medeima @spectacular-skywalker (last two pls reach out to me if your names are incorrect so we can fix it)

Masterlist

You sat by Dale’s RV, silently stewing in your anger. No matter how much thought you gave it, you couldn’t think of a way to convince Rick to stay back at camp. Ultimately, you know it was fruitless. If Lori couldn’t convince him, you certainly couldn’t.

Rick exited the tent, now wearing his old Sheriff's uniform. As if on cue, Shane and Yourself matched over to him.

“So that’s it, huh?” Shane asked. “You’re just gonna walk off? To hell with everyone else?”

“I’m not saying to hell with anybody.” Rick sighed. “Not you, Shane. Least of all Lori, Carl and Y/N.”

Shane pointed to where Lori sat. “Tell her that.”

Rick turned around, tilting his head. “She knows.” He responded, turning back around and continuing towards the cars.

“Well, we don’t.” You argued. “Can you just explain it to us?”

“Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?” Shane questioned.

“Hey,” Daryl called out. “Choose your words more carefully.”

“No, I did. Douchebag is what I meant.”

“Shane-”

“Merle Dixon—” Shane continued. “The guy wouldn’t give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst.”

“What he would or wouldn’t do doesn’t interest me. I can’t let a man die of thirst—me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal in a trap. That’s no way for anything to die, let alone a human being.”

Lori joined the conversation, her hands folded across her chest. “So you and Daryl, that’s your big plan?”

Rick turned, looking at Glenn. “Oh, come on.” The man responded.

“You know the way.” Rick pleaded. “You’ve been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself. It’s not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I’d feel a lot better with you there. I know she would too.” His eyes landed on Lori.

Glenn eyed the woman for a moment, contemplating if he really even had a choice at this point.

“That’s just great,” Shane responded. “Now you’re gonna risk three men, huh?”

T-Dog raised his hand. “Four.”

You took a deep breath, raising your hand as well. “Make that five.”

Rick turned to you, his eyes narrowed. “I’d much rather you stay here.”

“If you think for a second that I’m letting you run off to the dead city without me, after we just got you back, then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

Rick eyed you for a moment, before finally letting out a sigh and nodding. He knew you were too stubborn to argue with; something that seemed to run in the family.

“My day just gets better and better, don’t it?” Daryl huffed.

“Do you see anyone else stepping up?” T-Dog asked.

“Why you?”

“You wouldn’t even begin to understand. You don’t speak my language.”

Dale let out a heavy sigh. “That’s five then.”

“It’s not just five. You’re putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick.” Shane responded. “Come on, you saw that walker. It was here. It was in camp. They’re moving out of the cities and if they come back, we need every able body we got.”

“Sounds to me like what you really need are more guns.”

Glenn smiled. “Right, the guns.”

“What guns?” You asked.

“Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns. I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left.” Rick explained. “I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It’s just sitting there on the street, waiting to be picked up.”

“If we don’t do this, then we’re just sitting ducks.” You pointed out. “I needs to be done, whether we like it or not.”

“How much ammo is in that bag?” Shane asked.

“Seven hundred rounds, assorted.”

“You went through Hell to find us.” Lori spoke. “You just got here and you’re gonna turn around and leave?”

Carl stepped forward, looking up at Rick. “Dad, I don’t want you to go.”

“To Hell with the guns, Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.” Lori stepped closer to her husband. “Tell me. Make me understand.”

“I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy.” Rick sighed. “Lori, if they hadn’t taken me in, I’d have died. It’s because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they’d follow me to Atlanta. They’ll walk into the same trap I did if I don’t warn him.”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked.

“The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped. He’s got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer.”

“Our walkie-talkies?” Shane inquired.

Rick nodded. 

“So use the C.B., what’s wrong with that?” Andrea joined the conversation.

Shane rubbed his head. “The C.B.’s fine. It’s the walkies that suck to crap. Date back to the seventies, don’t match any other bandwidth, not even the scanners in our cars.”

Rick nodded. “I need that bag.”

…

As the crew began loading the box van for the trip, you approached Lori who stared longingly at your brother.

“Are you really okay with this?” You asked quietly.

“If I’m being honest, not really.” Lori looked at you for a moment, before looking back at her husband. “The only solace I have is knowing you’ll be there to watch over him; to bring him back here.”

You smiled to yourself, appreciating Lori’s faith in you. The two of you had your issues in the past, not always seeing eye to eye, but the last few months had brought you together. If it wasn’t for her and Carl, you really doubted if you’d still be alive. If you’d have wanted to be.

Daryl began honking the horn of the van, Glenn sitting in the seat next to him. You headed on over, standing beside Rick and Shane.

“Last time we were on the gun range, I’m sure I wound up with a few loose rounds of yours.” Shane spoke, rummaging through his bag.

Rick smiled. “You and that bag—like the bottom of an old lady’s purse.”

Shane let out a sigh. “I hate that you’re doing this, man. I think that it’s foolish and reckless but if you’re gonna go, you’re taking bullets.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to fire a shot in the city. Not after what happened last time.”

“That’s up to you.” He spoke, finally pulling out some bullets from his bag. “Well…five people, five rounds. What are the odds, huh?”

You felt a chill run down your spine.

“Let’s just hope five is my lucky number.” Rick responded, taking the bullets and loading them into his gun. “Thank you.”

Shane nodded.

You looked back at Lori, giving her a reassuring nod. This was going to be the riskiest thing you’d done so far, and you just hoped it would be worth it.

…

The five of you had arrived just outside the city, parking the van near some railroad tracks before going on foot. When you finally arrived at the building Merle had been left at, Daryl wasted no time shoving T-Dog along to show him the way up to the roof. You followed close behind, barely having a moment to think about if the dead had seen you.

At the top of the stairs, T-Dog cut the chain to the door. Daryl pushed past him, throwing the door open and running onto the roof.

“Merle! Merle!” Daryl called out, looking around.

You followed the men who came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand.

Daryl rushed over, finally seeing exactly what you all had. “No!”

He began pacing back and forth, tears welling in his eyes as he continued to scream out. Everyone remained silent, not knowing exactly what to say; if there was anything to say.

Your eyes lingered on the ground, Merle’s severed hand sitting next to a hacksaw. Semi-dried blood was pooled around it, droplets leading away from the scene. Yet, there was no sign of Merle at all.

That crazy son of a bitch.

----

AN: Thank you for reading this chapter!! I really hope you all enjoyed it. This one was a bit shorter as I wanted to line up the chapters and episodes. Next one should cover all of episode four. Also, a big thank you for all of the love I've gotten on this series so far; it's really inspired me to keep going! If you'd like to request to be tagged in future chapters, you can do so here. Please be sure to like and reblog <3

[snorlaxlovesme]

what is your favorite line/section of your sick CXS fic? It is so good and I love when authors can share some of their thoughts!

i feel so spoiled with these messages from you, thank you for being so kind my godd

(aforementioned sickfic)

it's hard to choose favorite lines bc genuinely i do love the whole fic so much. a lot of the time i'm writing off the cuff and it just flows out of me in one or two sittings (it's why i'm a one-shot writer) but this was a story that took me months to complete because of all the planning involved (and absolutely fruitless research into Chinese herbal soups, since literally NONE of that research made it into the fic lmao) and so the whole thing feels really special and different from my other stories just because of how much thought was put into it.

it took a long time, but i adored writing the second half, getting to write the same day over again and try to make it identical while FEELING totally different. having Lu Guang totally in pieces over every little change he accidentally makes to the timeline was mwaa *chef's kiss*

i think my favorite line was what i eventually pulling from to make the summary on AO3

"Lu Guang is so tired. He wishes he could freeze this conversation, this whole day, and go nap for a thousand hours. The stress of it all is sucking the marrow from his bones. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again."

idk i just feel like it really encapsulates the struggle Lu Guang goes through in this fic and might literally go through on a day to day basis trying to re-live the timeline. like i'm sure every misstep feeling like something Lu Guang would want to do over, but how many times can he handle that, emotionally? like this day mentally broke him and it's literally the most nothing day. Lu Guang forgot to make one phone call and almost suffered cardiac arrest because of it.

plus its very sweet that Cheng Xiaoshi, sick as a dog and feeling down on himself for being left alone all day, comforts Lu Guang after this moment because he can see Lu Guang is going through like a panic-induced existential crisis and mistakes it for Lu Guang ALSO feeling ill, sweet boy ♥

i also really liked the simplicity of these lines (it includes spoilers so look away if you wanna read the fic first. )

But Lu Guang thinks of the tear-streaked smile after Cheng Xiaoshi took that first bite. Spending every waking moment agonizing over his next step won’t get him anywhere. Instead, Lu Guang folds up that smile and tucks it into a corner of his mind for safekeeping. Cheng Xiaoshi thanked him for today. Maybe that is enough.

that part wasn't in the original draft. these lines are in response to CXS thanking Lu Guang for caring for him and i think i had a bit of prose where LG internally laments that he spent half the day ignoring CXS and only took care of him when it was clear Qiao Ling wasn't going to be able to, so the thanks wasn't really deserved. or something self deprecating like that

i had sent my "final draft" to a friend after revising some bits in the flashback and said "i wanna post it but i feel like i need to mess with the ending still. it feels off" my friend insisted what i had was great but i didn't know if the last line of the fic ("Timeline be damned") felt earned. Lu Guang had been a slave to the timeline for the entirety of the story, allowing him to kind of/sort of say "fuck you" to the timeline for a brief moment felt like it was going against everything i had just established, of how IMPORTANT keeping to the timeline was to Lu Guang for the sake of being able to save Cheng Xiaoshi in the future.

it was my friend that gave me the idea to write a simple thesis line that shows what Lu Guang has learned from this. that disaster is definitely a potential outcome in Lu Guang's crazy plan, but seeing Cheng Xiaoshi at peace is enough to make him want to try. like you said in your comment on the fic, if you went back in time, you'd want to be kinder. those lines are Lu Guang reminding himself that seeing CXS at peace has an emotional effect on Lu Guang as well.

ALSO idk the "fold up his smile and tucks it in his mind" bit is cute okay? it's a very cute sentence and i'm proud i wrote it lol

this is very long so i'm gonna stop rambling but again THANK YOU so much for asking me this and for all your sweet messages. i truly can't get over how wonderful it's been talking about this story with you, it's only made me love it more and i already thought it was my magnum opus lmao

[madamlaydebug]

“Suffering and joy teach us, if we allow them, how to make the leap of empathy, which transports us into the soul and heart of another person. In those transparent moments we know other people’s joys and sorrows, and we care about their concerns as if they were our own.”

~Fritz Williams

“Phoenix rising from the ashes.” This phrase popped into my head recently, and I wasn’t sure why until I did the research. As the story goes, the phoenix is a mythical bird with fiery plumage that lives up to 100 years. Near the end of its life, it settles in to its nest of twigs which then burns ferociously, reducing bird and nest to ashes. And from those ashes, a fledgling phoenix rises – renewed and reborn.

And now I get it. This is the story of my life in the past few months – especially the part about burning ferociously. Life presented me with some challenging circumstances that left me just hanging on. And now, sanity has returned. I look out with fresh eyes. The fog has lifted, and the dark clouds have moved on.

My experience is not unique – it happens to all of us at some point, it’s a part of the human journey. But this was my time, and I’d like to share with you what I’ve learned along the way.

Resistance is natural

When life threw me a curve, I longed for the turmoil to be over with. I wanted to pick myself up and move on. I tried hard to create a plan, to know what I didn’t know, to gain control. I was so busy trying to make things happen that I overlooked what was actually happening.

I ignored my feelings and resisted the present moment. Yes, me, the one who writes aboutwelcoming all of our experience with a loving, open heart. I was doing everything but.

Finally, I realized my approach wasn’t working. I stopped trying. I let myself be frustrated and impatient. I admitted that there was so much I didn’t know, and I let go of figuring it all out. Life was messy, so I suspended my fruitless attempts to clean it up.

And this was the beginning of the fire, as there was space for feelings and reactions to surface.

Things happen in their own time

When I look back I see that I had very little control over what happened. The seasons of my experience had to run their course – severe winter storms, cold and darkness, then the seeds hidden from view beginning to sprout (very exciting!). The best I could do was ride the waves, which I did with varying degrees of success.

Forgetting and remembering joy

When darkness descends, joy is blotted out, buried, seemingly non-existent. Everything weighed like a heavy burden, all my activities felt like obligations. When I realized that I had forgotten joy, I created a “want-to-do” list. Every time I found myself wandering around in a fog, my job was to pull out the list and do something enjoyable or productive. I organized closets andtook walks, finally starting to see the beauty around me.

And I focused on others – being a good friend, showing up for someone in need.

My self-care didn’t suffer. My diet stayed healthy, and I kept up with yoga. But some people going through hard times can benefit from paying special attention to the basics of daily living – good diet, exercise, limited alcohol.

Staying close to the bone

Things started to shift when I made the commitment to find direction in my moment-to moment experience. The big picture was way too nebulous, but I realized that in each moment there was a kernel of truth, a clarity, a “yes” that showed me my next step.

I recognized that this guidance had been there all along, but I was too caught up in trying to find solutions to see it. When I let go of paying so much attention to the stories running through my mind, of trying to control, of avoiding strong feelings, much to my surprise, I found the groundedness I was looking for – the truth in every moment.

Support was essential

At the beginning, I was going it alone, and I wouldn’t recommend it. Eventually, I reached out, allowing the vulnerability of asking for support. It came in so many beautiful, unexpected ways, but I had to let people know I needed it. And a few sessions with a therapist offered some very useful insights.

The clouds do part

“This too shall pass” were empty words to me. I looked into the future, and all I could see was confusion. My negative mind had taken over, and I couldn’t see my way out.

But the clouds do part in their own time. The human spirit is resilient and wants to find its way home to wholeness. I see this over and over in my work. I facilitate a bereavement group at a retirement community for people who have lost their spouses after sometimes 50+ years of marriage. You can just tell when someone walks through the door that they will announce they no longer need the group. They are renewed; they have gone into the darkness and found their way through.

One day I realized that I was happy, and soon after, I saw that I was thriving. I had been through the fire and emerged whole and clear, with doors opening in so many wonderful ways. The sad and frustrated stories in my mind had fallen away, and the emotions that had captured me softened. I can breathe freely again.

Eventually opening to the lessons

When people said I would look back and appreciate this time, all I could do was groan. When I was in the thick of it, it seemed like it would never end. And now, with the sun shining and flowers blooming, I can reflect on what I have learned.

Let things happen.Give up trying to control.Don’t pretend you know what you don’t know.Stay close to what you know is true in the moment.Feeling bad isn’t wrong – it’s just how things are sometimes.Take good care of yourself.Engage with others.Reach out for support.When the time is right, feel the emotions.Get perspective – learn what not to do next time.

[cleoluvrr]

The Last Days of Summer VIII (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

masterlist

word count: 2.5k+

↠━ღ◆ღ━↞

It was a very sullen summer after that day. The island mourned equally all around, the loss of Sheriff Peterkin, John B, and Sarah Cameron leaving a large impact on everyone who knew and loved them. 

The search for Sarah and John B had been fruitless, there was boat and no bodies, the two of them presumed dead by the hands of the tropical storm. The sheriff still had no justice, my brother and his friends telling everyone who will listen that John B was framed and the real killer is still out there. The police were still investigating, I’d walked past the station multiple times to see Ward Cameron in and out on various occasions.

School was dreadful for both Pope and I. I couldn’t go a day without hearing something about Sarah being corrupted by Pogues or how my brother was best friends with a criminal. I hear whispers about it every time I go to the club, my time there now kept to a minimum to avoid the constant reminder of John B’s death.

“Hey,” Londyn says. I raise my eyebrows at her, head leaning on my head as I pick at the food in front of me. “Cheer up.”

“I’m cheered.” I respond flatly. “Very cheered.”

“Riah, babe, you cannot be sad forever.” 

“Sorry for mourning my friend.” I push the plate away from me, no longer feeling hungry. Londyn sighs as she rises out of her chair, moving to stand behind me.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” She says, wrapping her arms around me. She rests her head on my shoulder and pouts at me. “You never want to leave the house and you’ve barely talked since that day. You guys weren’t even that close.” I scoff, pushing her off me.

“I practically grew up with him, Londyn. I’ve known him longer than you.” I feel slightly offended at her comment. “He was my first kiss. He may have pissed me off more often than not but I still cared about him.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” I repeat irritably.

My phone rings for the tenth time that day, a blocked number popping up on the screen. I sigh, rejecting the call coming from the buzzing phone immediately. I repeat the motion three more times, ultimately shutting off my phone completely after the fourth call.

“Is that Rafe again?” I nod, setting my head on her dining room table tiredly. “Jesus Christ. He’s still calling you?” Londyn asks in disbelief.

“At least ten times when he’s sober, twenty if he’s high.” I say. “I prefer it over the actual stalking, which he also does.”

Since Sarah and John B went missing, Rafe has been harassing me nonstop. It was obsessive, stalkerish at the least. I’ve caught him waiting outside my school at least four times since it started. He drives past my house every other day, sometimes staking out to see if I’m going to appear. I couldn't go to Brye’s house, it was too close to Tannyhill. I barely go to the Island Club, dodging him was nearly impossible.

He calls and calls until I’m sure he’s blue in the face. Filling my voicemail box with messages about how he’ll leave me alone if I just talk to him. I’m not sure if that will actually stop the constant attempts at contacting me or just fuel him to do it more. I’m certain that my brother’s acts of vandalism on his property only makes it worse.

Londyn’s house is the only place he hasn’t been. He doesn’t know where she lives, so this is my safe place. I haven’t told my parents, nor am I planning to, but I’m sure my brother is somewhat aware of the situation. If he is, he hasn’t said anything, far too occupied with school and whatever it is he, Kie, and JJ do these days.

“Maybe I should just talk to him…” I say turning on my phone a few hours later, lying next to Londyn on her soft bed. She looks at me incredulously. 

“That is a terrible idea.” 

I told her what happened with Rafe at Midsummers and it took a lot of convincing for her to not tell her parents, and nearly begging on my knees for her not to go to the police when I showed her pictures of the bruises he left me. They were still there, the marks had faded over the week but still visible to the naked eye.

She was livid, and rightfully so I suppose. I never heard her say as many swear words in the years I’ve known her than in that moment. It's quite understandable that she doesn’t want me to contact him.

“Maybe it is.” I agree. The Apple logo lights up on my screen as my phone loads. “But I cannot live like this anymore.”

She says nothing as I unlock my phone, opening up the contacts app. I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should even do it, if it really is a bad idea. My phone rings again in my moment of hesitation, the device vibrating in my hand. I let it ring a few times before swiping the answer button, pressing the screen to my ear.

‘Put it on speaker.’ Londyn mouths to me. I wave her off.

“Hello?” I say. I hear nothing on the other end but silence. “Hello?” I repeat.

“Neriah?” I hear a familiar voice answer back. 

“Rafe.”

“You finally answered. I’ve been calling nonstop.”

“I’m aware.” I responded shortly. I hear his footsteps over the speaker, the phone picking up the sound of him pacing back and forth.

“Why have you been avoiding me? It’s been driving me crazy, y’know.” He says. “I don’t like it when people ignore me, Neriah.”

“What do you want, Rafe?”

“I need to see you. I need to see you right now.” I almost laughed at his demand, shaking my head at the curious girl lying next to me.

“That’s not happening.” I say into the microphone. “Ever.” I clarify.

“Well, I need it to happen. Or I’m going to do something bad. Really bad.” He threatens vaguely. “I don’t want to do anything bad. Do you want that, Neriah?”

“Rafe, you sound like a child right now. What do you want?”

“I’m not a child! I’m a man! I’m a fucking man, Neriah.” He snaps into the speaker, the volume of his voice in my ear causing me to flinch. 

“Okay. Did you call me so you can throw a temper tantrum?” I ask, feeling annoyed with myself for giving in and answering the phone.

“I’m gonna show my dad. I’m gonna show him that I’m a fucking man. I’m more of a man than he is. I’m gonna show fucking Rose, that bitch.” He goes on, not hearing what I just asked. “I’m gonna show you. I’m gonna show you that I’m not a child. I need you to see it in person.” 

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I think I’ll pass.” I scrunch up my face, cutting my eyes at Londyn. She tells me to put it on speaker again but I ignore her request. 

“Please, Neriah.” He begs, sounding more anxious as the call continues. I can’t tell if he’s high or not.

“Rafe, you assaulted my brother, you assaulted me, and you’ve been harassing me non-stop. Why the hell would I want to be anywhere near you?”

“I’m sorry!��� He says, desperate for me to give him a chance. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I was just so angry. You made me so angry, I just couldn’t control myself. But I’m so sorry. I promise I’m not like that anymore. You just keep ignoring me and I need for you to come see me and then I’ll leave you alone.” He rambles on senselessly, repeating how sorry he is over and over.

“No, Rafe!” I raise my voice. “I don’t want to see you right now. I want you to stop calling me, I want you to stop sitting outside my school like a creep, I want you to stop driving by my fucking house! Leave me the hell alone.” 

The other end of the phone is silent for a minute and I almost think he hung up the phone. He starts chuckling on the other end of the phone, the sound of his pacing footsteps halted.

“You see, princess.” Rafe says, his voice quite ominous. The atmosphere of the call changed suddenly. “I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t do that? Just stop doing it.”

“No, no. You don’t understand, which I know is hard for you sometimes.” He implies that I’m stupid, which I scoff at. “I was trying to be nice. I was trying to give you a choice, but clearly you aren’t smart enough to make the right one. That’s okay though, because I can make it for you. I guess I’ll have to start doing that more often.”

“Excuse me?” I say. He laughs again.

“I want to see you. I need to see you. So that’s what I’m going to do.” He states matter of factly. “I don’t have to wait outside your house, or your school, or the club. I know where you are at all times, even when I’m not there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’ll see you soon, princess.” He chuckles darkly, my heart tightening at the sound. “You looked very pretty today.” That’s the last thing he says before hanging up the phone.

I pull the phone away from my face slowly, looking at the device in shock and confusion.

“What did he say?” Londyn inquires, sitting up from her previous position.

I say nothing, staring at the blank screen silently with goosebumps forming all over my skin.

Rafe stopped calling after that. He stopped driving by my house and waiting outside my school. He stopped leaving notes at my door and showing up at my favorite places to hang out. I actually hadn’t seen him or heard from him in days, which was rather unusual as of lately.

It only made me more uneasy.

I kept my head on a swivel after that call, even more than before. Pope noticed my increased paranoia, eyeing me strangely when I would run inside the store anytime a dark truck drove by a little too slowly. He still didn’t ask, and I didn’t plan on telling him either.

My dad made me deliver groceries after I got home from school, barely giving me time to change out of my uniform before sending me off to Figure 8 in his boat. Pope was gone somewhere with his friends, no surprise there, and left me to help my parents with the store. 

The weather was still humid, the sticky heat leaving my thighs covered in sweat, slick as they rubbed together on the walk up to the club. I would have worn jeans had the weather allowed for it, the feeling of chafing uncomfortable in my dark denim shorts. I dropped off the handfuls of bags to the customers, greeting them politely before exiting the building.

My heart stops when I spot the boat, the vehicle occupied by none other but the person I had been avoiding so carefully. 

He catches my frozen figure in his gaze, smiling darkly at me as he watches me back away. I break into a sprint in the way I just came when I see him stand up, running around the club to get to the parking lot where hopefully someone will see me.

I hear him fast approaching behind me, his shoes slapping hard against the pavement as he gains on me. The parking lot is dark, the light of the sun barely peeking over the horizon. My heart pounds against my chest as I hear him get closer and closer, pushing myself to make my legs go faster. I’d never run so fast in my life.

Suddenly, I’m thrown hard against a car, the sound of my body hitting the metal loud in the quiet parking lot.

The wind is knocked out of me, elbow throbbing from the impact. I notice the model of the car and my stomach lurches, knowing exactly who owns it. Before I can recover, Rafe pushes me against the car with his hand over my mouth to muffle my screams.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes me, looking around the parking lot before setting his gaze on me again. “Calm down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I bite into his palm as I twist in his hold. He hisses in pain and curses loudly, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“Let me go!” I say, voice muffled by his palm.

He ignores my request, opting to open the back door of the car with his free hand as he drags me towards him. I turn away in defiance, his grip on my body unwavering as he pulls me into his front. I try to use my body weight to my advantage and drop myself to the ground like my father taught me, praying that his self-defense lessons actually come in handy.

“Stand up and get in the car.”

My attempts are in vain, Rafe’s muscles straining against my arms and back as he lifts me back up. He shoves me towards the open door, shushing me as he takes another look around the parking lot. I plant my kicking legs against the side of the car, using all my strength to push against the vehicle. 

“Get in the damn car, Neriah!” He says into my ear. He sounds fed up as he tries to restrain my lower limbs. “Stop fighting me!”

He backs up which causes my legs to suddenly drop from the car and back under me. He uses the opportunity to shove me into the car, breathing heavily from the struggle. I land on my stomach, turning over to kick at him again. The blonde was ready this time, catching my ankles and shoving my feet into the car.

I push my feet against the door as he moves to shut it but he’s stronger, my legs giving out at the force he uses it to slam it. I sit up quickly, harshly tugging on the door handle to escape. When it doesn’t open I try the other side. Before I can climb into the front seat Rafe gets into the car, clearly anxious.

I grab my phone out of my pocket, ready to call the police when it is snatched away and thrown into the front seat. He and I make eye contact and my heart beats a mile a minute at the sight of his hard face staring at mine. He looks far from happy, shoulders tense and eyes dark.

For the first time in a long time, I was afraid of Rafe Cameron; afraid of how far he’ll go if he doesn’t get his way.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: death, implied violence, weapons, trafficking references, implied sa references, wounds, implied abuse references, (briefly referenced) child death & grief for loss of a child

AO3 link

Chapter 35 - Nina

“Well?” 

Feliks was waiting for Nina as soon as she stepped back through the door of the White Rose, standing in the corridor outside of the kitchen. Nina was in no mood for this. 

After her client in the early hours of this morning she had intended to let herself sleep for the next few hours she had free before she had to prepare for court. The appointment for her second petition review had been at midday and her session with Van Hoitz, a lawyer who’d been coming to see her once a week for the past three months since the loss of his young son, ended at five bells that morning, so Nina had planned to give herself just over an hour to get ready and a good amount of time to catnap before then. She finished the session, got changed, ate some breakfast, laid out an outfit for court, and flopped against her little chaise with her fingers curled around a steaming cup of tea. But sleep evaded her. 

It was six bells by the time she was lying down, eight by the time she started reading to try and lull herself, eight bells half chime by the time she gave up. Sleep had proven difficult before court before, her mind haunted by everything she’d done to Matthias and everything she’d failed to do for him since, and she could feel some of that same anxiety tugging at her now - but there was something different, too. Sleep had proven impossible today, with the damp remnants of a cry for help sitting across the room in her wastepaper basket. 

If Nina could do anything for Jeluna, she couldn’t do it right now. But she couldn’t just go to sleep either, couldn’t just let the world keep turning like she didn’t exist.

No, Nina couldn’t sleep. But she also couldn’t do anything to help right now so she was left in a sort of middle, floating state. She could have gone back to Inej and Jesper, she could have walked to buy ice for Inej, she could have tried to schedule a last minute Tailoring job to strap a little more cash together, she could have gone to the Crow Club and finally gotten around to undoing Elodie’s Tailoring. But instead Nina kept the selfish hours to herself, sitting alone upstairs and waging a silent war inside her head. She drank about three more cups of tea, paced the room for a while, and got ready hours before she needed to. 

It had already put her on edge, to be so sleep deprived when she arrived at court. In fact, when had she last slept? She’d been with Inej all day and most of the night, leaving not long before two bells, and had worked the night before. When she got back from the courthouse, another fruitless attempt that made her want to punch something, it had not been a conscious decision to collapse straight into her chaise and start snoring. At least she was free until the evening though. 

“Well?” Feliks repeated, impatiently, as Nina restrained herself from slamming the door behind her. 

The kitchen should have been one large, L-shaped room and probably had been thus at construction, but since then a diagonal half wall had been constructed to split it into two. Nina stepped into the front space, knowing that Feliks would follow her, and yanked the fair ties out of her plaits before she dropped her ugly fake kefta onto an empty section of countertop. There was no-one else in here; the front of the kitchen was more like an intermediate space than it really was a kitchen. The island in the centre was laden with trays of food and drink, to be carried to and from the lobby or upstairs rooms, and the surrounding countertops were decorated with food for anyone to help themselves to as they passed through, or whenever they might be free. 

“Well what?” she asked, as if she didn’t damn well know, whilst she ran her fingers through her hair and along her scalp. 

Relief washed through her at the feeling of such release, though her scalp felt strange and raw as she brushed through it. She sighed contentedly, reviewing the waves her hair had shaken out into and enjoying the furious and impatient glare on Feliks’ face. Nina didn’t know why he wanted to know what her job at the Van Eck house had been and she didn’t much care, but she was in a rotten mood and if anyone deserved to have her take it out on them it was Feliks, so Feliks it would be. 

“The job,” he snarled, “Or do you not want to see your money?”

Nina rolled her eyes and picked up an apple from the bowl, then called over her shoulder.

“Adrian, hon, you here?” 

“One second!”

“Don’t rush,” she shouted cheerily, “But can you make me a cup of tea, please?”

“Of course,”

“Thanks love,”

Nina took a large bite of her apple and began to chew through it slowly, enjoying the show as Feliks’ cheeks turned red, then purple. She swallowed. 

“I Tailored his wife,”

Lie. But Inej and Jesper had been right, it was a believable excuse. 

“Both times?”

“This time,”

Feliks’ jaw twitched. 

“And last time?”

“His son,” Nina bit her apple again, “Kid’s at some posh school outside of the city now though, so for cashflow’s sake let’s hope that dear Mrs Van Eck laments over every tiny imperfection her skin ever sees. Oh - and Van Eck told me how much he paid you, by the way, so don’t try to stiff me. I know exactly what I’m owed,”

That was also a lie. Nina had been intending to ask Van Eck that very question for this very purpose but she hadn’t gotten a chance, so she was just going to have to rely on Feliks being convinced enough to give her everything he owed her. He frowned, but nodded. Somewhere within the soft din of people moving through the other side of the kitchen, Nina heard a kettle whistle on the hob. 

Soft footsteps sounded by the door and Nina turned to see Siobhan, her Kaelish red hair about the brightest thing in the room as it shone in contrast to the white walls and the fake rose petals cascading down her dress, standing in the doorway. Siobhan had been at the White Rose for at least all the time that Nina had, and in that time had been wrapped up in one of the very few instances where someone had needed Healing. As she glanced at her now there were no visible remnants of the bruises down Siobhan’s pale, bare arms, but Nina still felt like she could see them; deep and dark and discoloured enough to make her skin prickle. 

“Oh,” she glanced between Nina and Feliks, “I’m sorry, I’ll come back later, I didn’t- I’ll… yes, sorry,”

She nodded and turned on her slippered heel back towards the door, the longest edge of her asymmetrical skirt brushing around her ankles, but Feliks stopped her. 

“I’m on my way out,” he said, before glancing coolly at Nina, “And Nina’s on her way upstairs,”

Nina bit her apple again. 

“Am I?”

For a moment Feliks just glared at her, then he turned to leave. 

“My money?” she called after him. 

“I’ll bring it up to you,” 

He waved Siobhan roughly out of his way and she all but leapt from his path before he marched off I to the corridor. Nina grimaced at his back, mumbling less than complimentary names before taking another bite of her apple. It took her a moment to realise Siobhan was still standing in the doorway, staring at her. 

“Why do you do that?” she asked quietly. 

Nina frowned. 

“Do what?”

“You antagonise him,” Siobhan’s cheeks had flooded with scarlet, “Can’t you just… leave it be?”

Nina chucked her apple core into the wastebin by the door.

“Why should I?” she shrugged, “If he gets to talk to people however he wants to then that’s how I’m going to talk to him. You want a drink?”

“I don’t drink. But Nina-” 

“It doesn’t have to be alcohol. And I’ve seen you drink,” 

Nina hadn’t thought it was possible for Siobhan to turn any redder than she already was, but she somehow managed it. 

“I don’t drink by choice,” she said in a slightly strangled voice, before snatching up a pear from the fruit bowl without even looking at what she was grabbing. 

Nina put actual thought into her words for two measly seconds and realised that the only times she’d seen Siobhan drink were when drinks were given to her; champagne in the lobby, mostly. Once someone had brought her a bottle of some kind of very fancy, very expensive wine and Nina had almost intervened when he kept trying to force her to take a sip. She’d thought it might be drugged for all his insistence, but maybe it was just because Siobhan had tried to refuse the alcohol. In the end Nina had watched Siobhan down her glass without a change in her demeanour, and so had done nothing at all. She took a breath. She was clouded by her annoyance at the world and at Feliks and at Jan Van Eck and at this stupid, Saintsforsaken city, and she wasn’t thinking. 

“Sorry. But do you want something else to drink?”

At almost that exact moment, Adrian appeared to press a cup of tea into Nina’s hands and then vanish again just as quickly to make Siobhan a coffee. Siobhan looked at her pear for a moment. 

“I don’t even like these,” she mumbled, before sinking her teeth straight into it. 

Nina bit her lip. 

“Do you… have you ever heard of a girl called Jeluna, at the Willow Switch?”

SIobhan paused for a moment, then shook her head. 

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“No reason,”

Siobhan watched her for a moment, then shrugged and took another bite of her unwanted pear. Nina walked away. 

*

“So what did-? oh,”

Inej groaned, her weight suddenly tilting heavier into Nina as she struggled to stay standing. They were balancing between her bed and the wall, pacing back and forth a few steps to try and get Inej moving and able to take weight on her knee. It was a slow process, but Inej was refusing to accept it as such. 

“Sit down,” said Nina, turning to lead her towards the bed. 

“I’m fine,” said Inej, gritting her teeth and finding the bedpost with her free hand so she could lean against it, “What did Van Eck want?”

“Nothing,”

“Jesper said-”

“It was fine,”

Nina took Inej’s arm again and led her back to sit on the edge of the mattress, ignoring her very obvious annoyance over the matter. Or both matters, probably. She accepted a glass of water from Nina and let her feel her knee again, properly with her power. Nina thought it maybe felt better, but it was difficult to say. 

“Nina, what happened?” 

“Nothing,” she took the empty glass from Inej’s hands and coaxed her back into the pillows, “It’s fine. I’m fine, I promise,”

Inej looked thoroughly unconvinced. 

A week passed in a very similar fashion, and then another. No word of Jeluna surfaced; not even a rumour. Nina told Kaz, but he didn’t say much. No other bodies showed up on West Stave, no-one else seemed to have disappeared, and even in the wake of the mystery surrounding poor Amethyst’s death, it seemed the Barrel was moving on. Time kept passing by. Nina managed to find the time to get Elodie’s Tailoring undone, had a decently sized additional stack of kruge to add to the stash she was gathering for Matthias, and spent her time between the White Rose and the Slat. Inej was improving faster now, she was pretty sure that the ice Jepser had bought - with the Dregs’ money - had been helpful, and by the end of two weeks she was walking with ease and starting to climb again. Nina’s continuous warnings of tentative and careful were being drowned out by Inej’s lament of been-stuck-here-like-this-for-an-entire-month, and honestly by this point it had been so long that Nina couldn’t even blame her. She knew Inej could not stand to feel like she wasn't being productive, so she’d started bringing her Kerch books to read or writing exercises she could do from her bed, but realistically that was never going to be an appeasing substitute to climbing and running and whatever other nonsense she got up to. But it was when Nina heard that Inej had a job, a job starting tomorrow, that she knew it was definitely too much. 

“Where’s Kaz?” she snapped as she marched into the Crow Club, not that she’d really needed to ask. 

She kept walking straight past Pim even as he tried to answer, forging her pathway to Kaz’s office. 

“He’s busy,” said Pim, “He’s discussing a job, you can talk to him when he’s done,”

Nina scowled, but she knew she wasn’t getting through that door - or at least she wasn’t getting anywhere helpful, anyway. She flopped down at the bar and ordered a drink. Saints knew she needed one. 

“Hey gorgeous,”

Jesper. 

She gave him half a smile as he slipped into the seat next to her and ordered a drink of his own, drumming his fingers against the bar as he began to chatter. She noticed he was still carrying a set of pistols that didn’t fit quite right in his gun belt instead of his prize revolvers. They must still be in Kaz’s safe. 

“He can’t put her on a job,” said Nina, downing a mouthful, “She won’t cope - I won’t cope, for Saints’ sakes I’ll have a heart attack,”

Jesper laughed. 

“Good luck convincing him otherwi-”

Nina looked up, wondering what had caught Jesper’s attention enough to kill his sentence, and almost dropped her glass. Wylan Van Eck was standing in the doorway to the Crow Club. 

“What the…?”

Nina had only met Wylan a few times, and even she knew he’d looked better. He was thinner than he’d been when they last met, his skin was pale, his eyes were rimmed with dark circles - he actually looked liable to pass out at a moment’s notice. 

“His eye,” Jesper breathed, barely audible. 

Nina frowned, studying them for a moment, before she realised what Jesper meant - the scars. Wylan’s second largest scar, the one whose lowest edge had been left visible above his cheekbone when Nina finished Tailoring him, was now entirely visible once again and drawing a jagged line over his eye and part of his forehead. She’d forgotten that Jesper hadn’t seen the extent of the boy’s scars, hadn’t had a chance to wonder what kind of accident left marks like that. 

“The Tailoring’s coming undone,” she murmured, “That’s barely anything yet,”

She wasn’t even sure that Jesper had heard her. 

“Wylan? Wylan,”

If Wylan recognised Jesper’s voice, which surely he had done, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even look up at the sound of his name. He paced the floor of the Crow Club relatively slowly, one hand occasionally reaching to find the pillars and make sure they weren’t in his path, before he reached the door to Kaz’s office. Nina and Jesper stared at each other for a moment, then stumbled to their feet and hurried after him. 

“Hey-” Pim moved in front of the door, “No-one is to-”

He stopped, glancing at Wylan and then back at Jesper and Nina hurrying behind him. Wylan took the moment of hesitation to his advantage and pushed forwards, finding the door handle and pushing inside. Pim just stared at the three other them as Jesper and Nina followed after him, all filing messily into Kaz’s office to see Inej, Anika, and Rotty all seated inside. They stared up at the sudden appearance with questions in their eyes, whilst Kaz remained somewhere skillfully balanced in between annoyed at the interruption and just as unreadable as ever. 

“Wylan Hendriks,”

“Kaz Brekker?”

“Yes,”

There was a very brief pause. 

“Which bridge?”

Kaz raised a slow eyebrow, his gloved fingers stretching slowly over the top of his crow’s head cane. 

“Excuse me?”

“You said you needed to disable a small stone bridge,” said Wylan, pausing as though he were giving Kaz time to reply. Kaz only nodded, and Wylan started a beat later - Nina supposed when he’d decided Kaz wasn’t going to say anything, “If I’m going to be of any help to you at all, I’ll need more detail than that - the style, the type of stone, maybe even the year it was built. Definitely how much damage you want to do. So, which bridge?”

Kaz looked briefly at Inej with an expression that was almost gloating, like he was saying I told you so, and then his gaze roved slowly back to Wylan. He leaned back in his chair and smiled. 

[cottonkendi]

Betrayal | 11

MASTERLIST

Kunikuzushi x Reader

Word Count: 900

Genre: slight angst 

Warning: None

Synopsis: Distance

Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Perhaps Dottore’s little gift affected you more than it affected Kunikuzushi. 

The fear of letting your dear puppet out of your abode once more claws at your being, practically tearing your skin apart at the mere thought of him possibly seeing such a thing one more. 

The image of his crying while throwing up only makes your skin crawl. 

How can you ever let him experience such a thing again?

Which is why you’ve been insisting on keeping Kunikuzushi in your abode, pleading for him to stay just a while longer while you spend days on end in your abode as well, barely going out to quickly talk to Xiao or Rex Lapis, hoping that they’ll understand. 

Understand that you are grasping at strings, using everything that you can in order to keep Kunikuzushi safe.  

Tearing at your sanity as you see that fateful night in your mind whenever you lose Kunikuzushi from your sight. 

How could you have been so foolish as to suggest for him to leave your abode in the first place when this is the safest place for him to stay in? 

You’ve practically pushed him towards danger. 

Your decades of experience practically thrown out the window as you think about every possibility that your actions may have caused that tragedy. 

Let m- augh me go now - Irminsul knows of his f-fate! Saving him is fruitless-

Irminsul… 

What exactly does Dottore know about Kunikuzushi’s fate? 

Clenching your fist, you can’t help but fear just what the Fatui has been doing behind your backs… What is the Tsaritsa planning? Why have they connected to Irminsul? 

“(Y/N), it’s been awhile since you’ve been out of your abode. The Inazuman puppet is still with you?” Turning around, you’re met with Xiao’s usual scowl though you notice the slight tick of concern behind his facade as he crosses his arms while staring at you. 

Letting out a sigh, you nod your head, already preparing yourself to inform him of your latest run in with the Fatui. “Kunikuzushi is still with me… though I don’t think it’s safe for him to be out and about now after that harbinger informed me of the Fatui’s interest in him… They’ve also found a way to connect with Irminsul, if what Dottore told me was true.” 

Humming, Xiao merely runs his hand through his hair before nodding at your words. “Then I’ll make sure to tell Rex Lapis about this seeing as you’ll be going back to your abode soon.” Turning around, Xiao prepared to leave but before he does, he throws you another glance. “Make sure to report back to Rex Lapis, you know how he gets when you’re away for too long…”

Without another word, your fellow adeptus disappears from sight, leaving you to your thoughts as you look down at the scenery before deciding to go back to where Kunikuzushi is knowing just what he’ll be telling you the moment you step foot inside. 

“You can’t keep me locked up here forever, (Y/N) please… it feels so lonely here… after getting a taste of what it's like to be in the village, you can’t expect me to just stay here all alone-”

“I’ve said it before, Kunikuzushi… I don’t know if it’s safe for you outside-”

“You’ll be there for me though. If I was ever in trouble, you’ll be there to save me, right? You promised.” 

“And what if I’m not there when it happens? Like what happened at the village? You didn’t even call my name - I could’ve prevented it from going that far-”

“Then I will this time. I-I’ll call out your name as soon as I think something’s wrong. Just… just please (Y/N), staying here in this silence… I feel like it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know what to do whenever you have to leave for a few hours and I’m all by myself… please. Just… I wanna be free again…” 

You watch as Kunikuzushi looks up at you with his big purple irises, glistening with unshed tears as he grasps at your robes, trying his best to get some sort of reaction from you, anything at all that would indicate if you’d continue keeping him inside or not. But alas, all he gets is a sigh from you. 

How long has he felt this way?

Were your actions truly caging him away from what he’s wanted for so long?

Gently, you remove his hands from your clothes causing him to freeze up, not at all used to you not immediately pulling him into your embrace during times like this. Instead, you ruffle his hair before walking away towards the small cottage that you have in the middle of the island, turning your back on him as you speak. 

“I apologise for making you feel that way during your time here, I guess I wasn’t that aware of my actions. In a few hours, we’ll make a trip back to the overworld. Let me know if you have a certain place in mind that you’d want to go to. I’ll prepare your things.” 

As you continue your way back to the cottage, Kunikuzushi can only stare at your back, frozen in place as he feels something sting within him… 

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[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 15 - Dress rehearsal

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 14 -- Part 16

Pairing: Sherlock x ofc

Summary: Sherlock and Elena can't seem to say goodbye to each other - even after spending the whole day together.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, Is it finally happening? fingering, oral (f receiving), thigh riding... Think that's it? Sherlock being Sherlock...

Word count: 5.9k

A/N: So yeah. Even I couldn't find another good reason to interrupt whatever was going down again - that would just be cruel. That being said, this wasn't entirely the direction I had planned for them to go in... There was definitely a playbook for this chapter and this wasn't it, I can tell you. ENJOY!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @peaches1958 @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill

“You were fantastic, Elena,” Sherlock said as they walked out of the theater. Dress rehearsal had ended, which meant they were now only a day away from the New Year’s concert, meaning Elena was beginning to experience something of a nervous breakdown. Sherlock, for the life of him, couldn’t imagine why; she was very good and thoroughly prepared. From his perspective, nothing could possibly go wrong. Elena was of a wholly different opinion, reliving the memories of that one time in primary school she had become violently sick before a performance. Those memories refused to fade no matter how long ago it was, and no matter how many successful performances she had tried to use to overwrite them. She was largely past her nerves when playing with a quartet, because over time it had become familiar, but this would be her first time ever playing with a full orchestra and the novelty of the experience frightened her to no end. Thus, Sherlock’s efforts in trying to convince her that she was good and everything would be fine were wasted, which is why he ceased them. 

Sherlock Holmes was not the kind of man to try and convince someone who wouldn’t be convinced, Elena had learned, and since she wasn’t one to fish for compliments, she didn’t mind that Sherlock didn’t turn to what she considered to be ‘debased flattery’. He only ever attempted to calm her nerves with logic and reason, and - though his endeavors were fruitless - she appreciated that greatly. After the sixth or so attempt, logic simply dictated that it was time for him to stop trying. 

“Suit yourself,” Sherlock said as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Now, as opposed to his words, which did nothing to calm Elena’s nerves whatsoever, the physical contact did make her feel more comfortable. The weight of his arm on her shoulders had a strangely calming effect. 

As always after rehearsals, he walked her home. It had started shortly after they had begun rehearsing together; the days had started to become shorter, and Sherlock had expressed his concerns about her walking home alone in the dark. At the time, he’d had no idea that the main reason for his worry had been his infatuation with her, he had simply brushed it off as a gentlemanly regard for her safety, and had convinced himself, though only partially successfully, that he would have felt the same way about any other female friend - not that he had any. Same as last week, he lingered when they arrived at the place Elena shared with three others, neither of them wanting to say goodbye to the other. They strongly disliked being apart, that much had become clear over the past two weeks. 

“Sherlock, I was planning on making pasta, do you want to join me for dinner?” Her voice was almost trembling when she asked. Luckily, Sherlock accepted her invitation - though it was primarily based on the fact that he couldn’t find a logical argument not to; he hadn’t had dinner and he liked Italian food. And of course there was the emotional argument of allowing himself more time in her presence, but he was still getting used to giving in to those feelings, and therefore glad he could in this case supplement them with reason. 

The door swung open behind them before Elena had even reached for her keys, and her roommate Kate appeared. 

“I thought I heard you standing around here, talking, Ellie!” Elena jumped when she heard the unexpected noise behind her. Sherlock noticed that she spoke with a profound drawl to her voice, revealing her Southern heritage. The accent was very different from Sy’s, and Sherlock found himself utterly unable to narrow down its origins, which irked him. 

“Katie! Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack!” She took a deep breath. “This is…” There was no time for her to finish that sentence, because Kate already had her eyes on him, wide with surprise. “Sherlock, obviously.” 

“Yes,” Elena said as her cheeks slowly colored red. She couldn’t quite articulate what made her nervous all of a sudden, but she was fairly sure there was a part of her that was afraid Sherlock would think her roommate prettier than her.

“Lovely to meet you, Kate,” Sherlock said. He had heard many stories about Elena’s roommates over the weeks they had been rehearsing together, most of them good, and he wasn’t necessarily nervous about meeting them. 

“We’ve met before, Sherlock,” Kate said with a big smile. Sherlock frowned, not in embarrassment over having forgotten the encounter, per se, but mostly in annoyance of having his memory fail him in this moment. The surprise on Elena’s face, however, was mostly just funny - which would explain why Kate laughed at it. Sherlock took a moment to take Kate in while he searched every crevice of his brain for a hint as to who she was and where they had met. She was a blonde, and pretty but not remarkably so. The most striking thing about her was her height, which rivaled his own. Elena had mentioned something about her being on the volleyball team, which would explain why he didn’t know her, but certainly was no clue as to why he had met her before. To say he wouldn’t be caught dead at a volleyball game would be an overstatement, but it certainly was more Mike’s or Sy’s territory. Or maybe Charles’ or Leon’s. 

“Charles,” he muttered out loud as he chuckled, “you… know… Charles…” 

“That’s a very polite way of putting it,” Kate laughed as she stepped aside to let Sherlock and Elena step into the apartment. 

“I didn’t want you to think it was a judgment,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly, which made Kate laugh even harder. 

“I couldn’t give a damn even if you were judging me, honey,” she said as she raised two hands to his face, but Elena stopped him. 

“Tone down the Southern affections, sweetie,” she said. 

“I can’t touch your man, Ellie?” Kate teased. She was well aware that there was probably a better reason than Elena’s jealousy - which Kate knew wasn’t something that actually existed - to keep her hands off Sherlock. 

“Not if he doesn’t want you to, and he doesn’t like to be touched by people he doesn’t know.” It was Elena’s turn to speak in ways that left no room for discussion. Sherlock seemed pleasantly surprised upon hearing the remark - he always found it endearing when she unpromptedly showed him a glimpse of how well she knew him. It was true; he did indeed prefer to limit physical contact between himself and people he was poorly acquainted with - and most often also with people with whom he was better acquainted, though Elena was doing a stellar job at convincing him the occasional friendly touch wasn’t so bad, either.

“Alright, sugar, I’ll try to remember.” Kate had an exceptionally friendly smile that would make people feel at home instantly. Unless these people were anything like Sherlock, of course, who felt very out of place in this house he had never visited, with people he had never met. 

“Remy and Larissa are out, they should be back some time after dinner, I have a study date to get to!” There was definitely a suggestive wink at the end of that sentence that made Elena roll her eyes as Kate flung a bag over her shoulder and prepared to step out. 

“Use protection!” Elena yelled as Kate pulled the door shut behind her. When she turned around, she was met with an adorably confused look. 

“She said she had a study date, right?” Elena could barely contain her laughter. 

“Sherlock, do you remember how our last study date ended?” She said, letting out a short chuckle. Sherlock couldn’t help but be amused at his own foolishness - something he wasn’t usually able to forgive himself at all. The reminder had another pleasant effect, namely that the memory of that rather memorable date was pulled to the front of his mind and replayed as he followed Elena to the kitchen. 

It was a nice apartment; clean and only a tad messy, but that conclusion was drawn mostly based on the abundance of clutter Sherlock himself wouldn’t feel inclined to keep around. Some would consider it the pot calling the kettle black, as practically anyone would readily accuse Sherlock of allowing his own room to fall into disarray, though he saw a perfectly logical system in whatever August or Geralt every now and again called ‘chaos’. He lost himself in thought as Elena gathered ingredients for dinner from the fridge and cabinets, only to be yanked away from them violently when a jar of olives fell to the kitchen counter. 

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” Elena said as she checked whether the jar had survived the fall - it had. 

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked as he watched her hand tremble when she took a knife from the drawer and placed it on a cutting board. 

“Perfectly,” she said, smiling kindly. It wasn’t a lie; she was feeling alright, it was just that four hours of rehearsal had left her hands rather sore - mostly her left. 

“Elena, let me,” Sherlock said. One would be right to assume that Sherlock was facing the same issues - namely that his left hand was particularly worn out from a very lengthy practice, and Elena was of course quick to point this out. 

“You are right, darling,” Sherlock said without much thought, “but my left hand isn’t my dominant one.” She knew he was right, and that her hand was indeed far too tired to safely handle anything sharp right now. Sherlock took the knife and started dicing tomatoes, Elena was too distraught to protest his actions. 

They cooked dinner together and used their time eating to talk about the past day - even though they spent the entirety of it together. 

“It was a shame they moved the rehearsal up,” Elena said in between bites. Dress rehearsal should have been from seven to ten at night, but the conductor had decided at the last minute that it should be moved to the afternoon - and twice as long. That meant Elena and Sherlock had been forced to move their museum date to the morning, which was unfortunate, but inevitable if they wanted to go at all. 

“I still had a great time,” Sherlock said as he let go of his glass of wine to put his hand over Elena’s. She smiled at him. She’d had a great time, too, and she was very glad the day wasn’t over yet. 

“Is the wine okay?” It was absolutely nothing special, just the house’s favorite: the cheapest supermarket wine she and her housemates didn’t find absolutely disgusting. 

“It’s decent,” Sherlock said as he laughed. It wasn’t a lie, per se, the wine was just that: decent, but it certainly deserved no higher praise than that. 

When the dishes were done, Elena looked at Sherlock as she stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. He answered her hug greedily, as though he hadn’t felt her touch in weeks. 

“Movie?” Elena asked as she looked at him. She didn’t wait for an answer before she took his hand and pulled him towards the door. He followed her to her room with no objections - and why should he object? He had a fairly good idea of what was going to happen, and he would in no way be able to present any kind of argument against it, logical or otherwise.

“So, this is me,” she said shyly as she gestured around the room. Sherlock took note of her locking the door - it was strange to him; he never felt the need to lock their doors at his place, people usually had the common decency to knock. And if they didn’t… Well he wasn’t quite sure there was an official protocol in place, but individual instances had involved a lot of yelling, cursing and throwing things at people’s heads.

“I can tell,” Sherlock replied to her question - and he meant it. She looked at him quizzically, which made him chuckle. “In a good way. It’s very… you.” He meant that, too, although it probably was a rather awkward way to phrase it. The room was tidy, clean and bright. Her bed was hidden from sight by an open shelving unit that held mostly plants and books. Elena laughed as she dragged Sherlock around it, to the bottom edge of the bed. To her surprise, he was the first to sit down. It was a bit awkward to crawl up to the top of the bed and get comfortable, but she valued the privacy the shelves provided too much to put it anywhere else. It surely didn’t help that she was wearing a skirt. The pair settled on a movie both had already seen, but didn’t mind watching again - or not watching. 

“Why the movie,” Sherlock mumbled against the skin of Elena’s neck after a few minutes, “I mean, at this point it’s obvious we will largely ignore it, so why the pretense?”

“It’s good background noise,” Elena answered. Sherlock being this clear about his intentions for the evening sent shivers down her spine, and she reveled in the excitement and anticipation at finally getting to finish what they started the other night. “Besides, I’m a woman. If I’m too eager about hooking up with a man, people may think I’m…” Her voice trailed off, not because she wasn’t sure how to finish it, but rather because she resented the fact that she had to explain this in the first place. 

“I never really understood why that was a bad thing to begin with,” Sherlock spoke slowly, “I, for one, am glad you’re more experienced than I am. Although it sometimes intimidates me a bit.” Elena turned her head in surprise upon hearing his words. She had never imagined he would be intimidated by her past, especially since - despite the limited practice they had had together - Sherlock outranked her previous partners by a landslide. Perhaps the rose colored glasses of amorous infatuation were to blame, or perhaps it was the ease and comfort with which they had been getting to know each other, or even the excitement she felt over being the first with whom he got to experience all these new things, but one thing was certain; she looked forward to and thoroughly enjoyed every minute they spent together. 

“There’s nothing to be intimidated by,” Elena whispered softly as she turned around in his arms, “you’re by far the best kisser I’ve come across.” 

“Am I now?” He was clearly amused at your confession. “Because I feel I could use some more practice…” 

Naturally, he didn’t have to ask her twice. Their lips touched, the taste of wine still faintly present on them, becoming more pronounced when Elena parted her lips and allowed his tongue to slip past them. Sherlock surprised her when he pulled her on top of him. She chuckled softly as his hands slipped underneath the fabric of her sweater, in no hurry to take it off per se, but clearly desperate to feel her skin. A devious idea took hold of her and she sat up on her knees, still straddling him, grabbing his hands and pulling them off her. 

“Shall I take this off?” Elena said, locking eyes with Sherlock, warning him to keep his hands to himself without speaking a single word. She didn’t wait for him to answer her. Instead, she toyed with the hem of her sweater, pulling it up at an agonizingly slow pace. Sherlock’s tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lips as he allowed his eyes to wander over the area of exposed skin that grew so devastatingly slowly.

His hands rested on her thighs, long fingers fiddling with the hem of her skirt in a manner that resembled impatience, but wasn’t quite that. It was mostly excitement that had taken hold of him, the evidence of which she could no doubt feel beneath her. A playful roll of her hips confirmed his suspicions, and the grunt it elicited made Elena chuckle. She took her time taking her sweater off, starting the whole process over again when Sherlock raised his hands to touch her. He showed her he had enough of her antics when she finally pulled the sweater over her head. 

“Take the skirt off, too, while you’re at it,” he growled. The words pleasantly surprised Elena, and she was more than happy to oblige. Once she had discarded her skirt, Sherlock shot up, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his mouth to the skin between her breasts with a sigh, spinning her around so she landed with her back on the mattress, drawing a high-pitched squeal from Elena. She moaned when he pulled away, sitting up on his knees between her legs. He was intimidating like this; towering over her, his silhouette clearly defined by his broad shoulders.

She bit her lip as she looked up at him, and moaned softly as he ran his hands lazily up and down her thighs. They were still covered by the tights she was wearing, but Sherlock was quick to help Elena as she peeled those off, too. It was a bit uncomfortable, being subjected to his gaze knowing that nothing ever escaped it, fearing her every one of her flaws was now on display for him to behold, but at the same time the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to push those feelings aside; this man was absolutely smitten. He would find no flaws no matter how much time she awarded him to think it over. 

The lingerie she was wearing was revealing - more so than Sherlock had expected - and it cost him great effort to tear his eyes away from it. He only managed to do so when he felt her hands cover his, pulling at them, no doubt in an attempt to bring him close to her, but he held off. Elena clearly disagreed with his reluctance to close the distance between their bodies, and sat up, scrambling to get up on her knees. She pulled his face to hers for another kiss, softly sucking on his bottom lip, and took advantage of their position to get Sherlock closer to her current state of undress. As always, Elena delighted in the feeling of his skin on hers - so much so that she was almost unaware of the hands that found their way to her back, where they undid the clasp of her bra, this time without any problems whatsoever. 

“How?” Elena asked, eyes wide with surprise. The advantage her experience gave her over him seemed to shrink every day. 

“Danielle gave me a rather helpful explanation when I asked after walking in on a conversation between her and Mike,” Sherlock said plainly, “well, conversation… She was poking fun at him for not being able to do it, either.” Elena laughed, which turned into a squeal as Sherlock let himself fall forward onto the mattress, dragging her along with him. He spun them around so that she fell half on top of him. 

“Now where were we?” Her mouth crashed onto his before he had good and well finished his sentence, her hands eagerly undoing his trousers. There couldn’t have been clearer signs of impatience, though Sherlock couldn’t quite figure out what the hurry was. Nevertheless, he yielded to her touch, and soon he found himself only slightly less naked than the last time they had been together. 

Elena laid her forehead against his while she gently stroked his chest, running her fingers tenderly through the coarse hair on it, luring a satisfied moan from Sherlock’s parted lips. His hand crept up to her neck as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and slow, but something pressing crawled underneath the surface of it, which made it even more surprising that he broke the kiss. He barely lifted his lips off hers; only just far enough to be able to speak clearly.

“I was afraid this would get boring,” he whispered softly, his lips brushing against hers as he did, “but I can’t seem to get enough of you.” Elena first bit her own lip when she heard his words, but soon pulled Sherlock’s in between her teeth, instead. His words set alight in her something she had purposely and quite skillfully kept under control, but all that effort was wasted now; her body was begging for him so loudly she could no longer govern or ignore it.

Elena kissed him with the raw passion she had been hiding from him, finally allowing it to take over completely, trusting he would stop her if she threatened to cross a line - hoping he wouldn’t have to stop her at all. Sherlock noticed the change all too well, and - much to his own surprise, as well as Elena’s - he leaned into it, instead of shying away from it like he had expected he would. His fingers trailed from the side of her face, down her neck, slowing down as they moved further down to her breast. The other hand slid down to rest at the small of her back, fingers tentatively playing with the waistband of her underwear.

She moaned into his mouth when he gently pinched her nipple, only getting louder - much louder - when he carefully rolled the sensitive bud between his fingers. Her hips rocked into him - unconsciously at first, but as she discovered that it provided her aching core with the friction it so desperately begged for, she found herself grinding her hips into his thigh purposely. Sherlock carefully observed her movements and the sounds of pleasure that spilled from her with an interest bordering on obscene fascination, or so he would describe it. Soft, wet kisses along her jawline, the sharp contrast of teeth softly biting her earlobe, the same repeated down her neck - it all added to her bliss. Moans and gasps sprang freely from her mouth now that it was no longer obscured by his, and Sherlock was able to gauge her arousal just about perfectly from them. 

The hand he held on her back slipped beneath the fabric of her underwear, fingers digging into the flesh of her ass, kneading it. He guided the rhythm of her hips on his thigh, his other hand joining the first, while his mouth took hold of her breast. Elena cried out in frustration at the overwhelming combination of sensations. The way his tongue worked the sensitive skin of her nipple was almost enough to send her over the edge, and her hands twisted into his hair to pull him closer. A soft graze of his teeth was her undoing. She screamed his name as she came, and rode out her climax on his leg. Sherlock’s response - which Elena had to admit she found quite adorable - was to laugh softly in disbelief at what had happened.

What he felt was not a sense of pride - as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t entitled to it, as he had done nothing to help her - but rather a surge of affection, and a thorough appreciation of the intimacy of the moment. He was not awarded much time to consider matters, as his face was pulled up and Elena’s lips found his, capturing them in a passionate kiss that was the nail in the coffin for Sherlock’s self-restraint. He turned them around again, leaving Elena once again in awe; she simply couldn’t believe how strong he really was - or perhaps she kept forgetting on purpose, just so her body would keep reacting the way it did every time she was reminded of it. 

“I want to see you.” Sherlock’s voice was hoarse and his breaths were heavy as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties. The look in his eyes begged for permission, which she gladly gave him, and within a few short moments, she was completely naked in front of him. Her experience allowed her the confidence to spread her legs, a teasing smile lingering on her lips. A part of her hoped that he would become ever so slightly flustered at the sight of her, exposed in front of him like that, but he didn’t. The way he bit his lip as he took in her naked form sent shivers down her spine. He lunged forward, crouching over her to press another kiss to her lips, his thighs against hers, pushing her legs further apart. Much to her surprise, his mouth left hers to explore once again the skin of her neck, and then her chest, but he didn’t stop there… His trail of kisses continued until from slightly below her navel, pleading eyes looked up to her, and the only thing she could respond with was a hand on his head that provided slight pressure to encourage him to keep going. 

He continued pressing kisses on her skin, traveling all the way to her leg. His soft lips, sharp teeth and warm tongue took turns on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, as two cautious fingers hesitantly explored her. Once again he used the moans she let out as his guide, taking note of her reactions as he went along; the sharp gasp when he carefully pushed a finger into her wet core - or the even sharper one when he later added a second, the moans that followed his soft nibbles on her leg, the way her muscles twitched when his thumb brushed past her clit. Sherlock considered for a moment how fortunate he was that she was loud, because it was hard for him to concentrate. The general novelty of the experience had every nerve in his body once again feeling like a live wire, and the accumulation of sensations diminished his usual mental capacity. It was better to have clear instructions at such times - and by God did she deliver on that front. The least subtle hint came when she weaved her fingers into his hair and gently nudged him closer. Whether he intended to tease her by holding off for a bit, or he waited in hesitation or due to nervousness, he didn’t know, but her voice cut clearly through the fog in his brain when she begged him to progress. 

“Sherlock, please.” It was a simple request, and her voice was dripping with lust, which made it entirely irresistible to him, and so he obliged. 

It didn’t immediately seem as though he did it gladly: his free hand trembled slightly as he wrapped it around her leg and let it rest on her stomach. Elena squeezed it encouragingly, biting her lip and using her eyes to beg him to continue. Slowly and hesitantly, he dragged his tongue through her folds. Her reaction overwhelmed him, and soon he succumbed to his feelings. Overcome with lust, he wrapped both of his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer. The unexpected action made her gasp, and her fingers once again found their way into his hair as his tongue settled at her clit and began to work the little pearl with the same diligence and dedication he used for everything he even remotely cared about, still using her moans to guide him. Her hips rolled against him gently, though his stern grasp on her legs limited her movement quite a bit, and he tried his best to settle into the rhythm of her movements.

“Oh, God, right there.” Sherlock immediately took the advice to heart, not straying from that particular spot again, relishing the needy cries Elena let out as he gently licked and sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves, making her squirm and whine more and louder with every passing second. When she began muttering expletives under her breath, he chuckled lowly, the vibrations of his voice seemingly worsening her situation even further. Her cursing eventually became pleas for him to continue, and Sherlock slowly felt her muscles tense beneath his fingers. 

“Don’t stop, I’m so close,” she begged, and he happily obliged. Elena’s words certainly hadn’t been a lie; it was only seconds later that she came undone on his tongue. Sherlock chuckled at the feeling of her clenching muscles beneath his fingertips, the contorted expression of pure bliss on her face - and the fact that she screamed his name certainly didn’t hurt one bit. After the last surge of ecstasy ebbed away, she had to beg him to stop. He heeded her request, though not gladly; on his face lay an expression of sadness for only a short moment before his lips morphed languidly into a smile.

“That was amazing,” she gasped when he came back up and laid down next to her. She gratefully accepted the invitation of his extended arm and nestled into his side. They both shivered; the room was quite chilly without clothes or the literal ‘heat of the moment’ to keep them both warm, so they opted to wrap themselves in the covers and the other’s arms. Elena kissed Sherlock softly. “I’m impressed.” 

“Are you, now?” Oh, how she longed to wipe that smug grin off his stupid and devilishly handsome face. To her surprise, it disappeared on its own, quickly replaced by a more modest and - dare she say - insecure expression. “It wasn’t bad for a first time, you mean?”

“It wasn’t bad in general, Sherlock,” she chuckled softly, “but for a first time, it was absolutely fantastic.” His cheeks gradually colored a deeper red as he looked away and bit his lip. It looked as though he might say something, but words seemed to elude him, so he just shrugged, instead. 

“I’m serious,” she said in between soft kisses pressed to his clavicle, “not many men can even find the right spot on the first try, let alone make a woman scream like that.”

He looked at her in shock, and it was her first instinct to think it was because of the plain language she used, but when he spoke, she found it was something else entirely. 

“Well, they might consider opening a biology book every now and again,” Sherlock said with a slightly sour edge to his voice, “or getting their eyesight checked.” Elena laughed. She found the moments where Sherlock’s ego shone through - though his remarks were always genuine and his confidence was always deserved enough to not come across as boastful - utterly delightful. He was, for all intents and purposes, as stubborn as a mule, and absolutely refused to attempt things if he wasn’t completely sure he could handle them, which inevitably led to an abundance of successful first tries - and a thorough lack of unsuccessful ones. His arrogance was usually inadvertent, and hardly ever of the ‘look at me’ variety, but rather often still - albeit unintentionally - a dig at others’ expense - and often a very deserved one, at that. With a wide smile adorning her face, she shook her head slightly. Sherlock laid his forehead against hers, a hint of mischief clear in his gaze.

“What?” His tone was innocent, his eyes were everything but. “It’s literally right -” His fingers wormed their way between her legs. “there.” Elena’s mouth fell open when he gently pressed down on her clit. “Exactly where they tell you it’s going to be.” He dragged his fingers around it in slow circles, leaving her gasping for air, clutching at his wrist. “Come here.” The kiss was fantastic. Raw and deep, and drenched with the taste of her juices - Elena felt like she was about to faint. He held her tight to his chest while he skillfully coaxed another orgasm from her with his fingers, and she was left in complete and utter awe at his unexpected proficiency.

“Sherlock!” She squealed, pulling his hand away when she finished. “You have to stop, I can’t take any more right now, please.” She murmured the words against his neck, her chest heaving to the rhythm of her heavy breaths. His head disappeared into the crook of her neck, softly kissing her again, and she sighed. It was a sound of elation, one that echoed through his head and caused goosebumps to erupt all over his skin. For a few moments, he held her, thinking about all that had happened, and as he did so, he felt his eyes drift closed. 

“I could fall asleep like this,” he murmured softly as he gently stroked the skin of her back. She hummed, deeply content with the prospect of sleeping next to him. 

“Well, I won’t stop you,” she said, sounding equally as fatigued as he did - perhaps even more so. 

“I have to go home,” his voice was hoarse when he said it, and when she looked into his eyes, there was a deep sadness in them that all but broke her heart. 

“Why?” She was fairly sure that the sorrow in his gaze was mirrored in her own. 

“I may not get nervous before performances,” he explained, “but I do have a ritual…” Naturally, she understood immediately that this was very likely to be one of those things Sherlock was very particular about. She was reluctant to let him go, not ready to say goodbye to him and the warmth and intimacy they shared. 

“What about tomorrow,” she asked suddenly, “tomorrow night, I mean. Will you stay over after the concert?” He considered her offer for a moment, leaving Elena in horrible suspense until he finally gave her an answer. 

“I will gladly spend the night with you, Elena, but I have one favor to ask of you,” his voice was hesitant, and he bit his lip nervously. 

“Well, what is it?” She lifted a hand to his cheek and caressed it softly. She chuckled at the contrast between the way his jaw felt now versus when he had picked her up this morning. 

“Would it be okay to stay at my house, instead?” His inquiry seemed to make him feel uncomfortable, and Elena reassured him he had absolutely no reason to feel ashamed about what he was asking. 

“Would that make you feel more comfortable?” He responded with a nod. Sherlock was sure the familiar environment would help to settle his nerves about the matter. Of course he was overjoyed he would get to spend a whole night with her, but if he was going to face the scorn of anyone’s roommates the next morning, he’d honestly rather they be his own. He studied her face for signs of ridicule, though the bigger part of him was sure he wouldn’t find any. After all, he wouldn’t be here with her if she were the kind of person to mock him for his quirks and unusual behaviors, but he was reminded ever so cruelly by the tiniest bit of insecurity that had etched itself into his brain, that he could never be completely sure of what was on her mind or in hear heart. 

“It would.” He couldn’t bear to look at her as he said the words. 

“Your place it is, then.” Shortly after their conversation, he got dressed and left. Elena was left behind slightly dazed, and it took her a minute to gather her thoughts and really think about the events of the evening - most of which she did back in her bed with her hand placed firmly where she missed Sherlock’s so dearly. After a few rounds of careful consideration, she got up again. From a box on the shelves over her headboard, she grabbed another box and threw it into her bag. Just in case. 

-> Part 16

[winniethewife]

Jewels made of stardust 

(Poe Dameron x OC! Rhoswen Jewelace.)

Chapter 12: Into a thousand seconds gone

Last Chapter ~ Next Chapter

warning: Angst, Abduction

Words: 707

As they make their way through the abandoned facility, Poe keeps his hand on his blaster. Looking around for anything out of place. The bad feeling that had come up the day before when talking to the contact kept getting stronger. He almost wanted to take Rhoswen by the arm and run out of there, but he knows this information is too important to leave now. Rhoswen was also on edge, she felt a presence that she couldn’t place and that put that on edge. She takes a quick look at Poe, she can see the nervous way his brows furrow. She takes his hand for a second, squeezing his hand gently, nodding in reassurance. She watches as his face relax. He could tell in the way she looks at him that all she wanted was to tell him everything would be alright. All he wanted was to believe her. But maybe it was too soon to make any such promises. As she rounded the corner Rhoswen froze at the sight that greeted them.

“Poe turn back it’s a tr-” Rhoswen turns to Poe about to push him back when she’s pulled back. Poe tired to grab her.

“Rhoswen! No!” Poe cries out as he follows, He feels the panic rise in his chest. Standing there his hands around Rhoswen’s arms, holding her back, was Kylo Ren. “Let her go!” He shouts, the rage in his voice is sharp. The fear in Rhoswen’s eyes is fueling his rage as much as the sight of his enemy.

“Really Sister? This is your choice in companionship? An outlaw Piolet with a cause. Just like father? Pathetic.”  Kylo growled wrenching up her arms to cause her pain. Rhoswen cried out. Poe tried to rush them, run to her, But his feet wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t hurt him! you have me, leave him!” Rhoswen pleaded with her brother, her emerald eyes filled with tears as she looked at Poe. Poe blinked his own tears away and he tried to move, tried to reach out to her, but he was slowed, frozen. He knew it was a fruitless effort, but that didn’t stop him from screaming after her as Kylo took her.  

When Poe made it back to the falcon he had immediately sent a comms message back to resistance, and now he was waiting fro a response, pacing the falcon. He wanted to just go save her, just rush out into space and- Before he could finish the thought the Comms lit up, in coming message. He rushed over and answered the call, before him was Leia, looking anxious.

“Leia, please I had no idea”

“None of us did Poe, that’s the point. It was a trap none of us where prepared for.” She was obviously trying her best to remain calm. But He knew her well enough to see she was frayed at the edges too.

“What are your orders?” He asked with a tense edge to his voice. She looked at him sympathetically.

“Return to Ajan Kloss, we’re putting together a rescue team.” She said as calmly as possible with the practiced tone of a leader, under stress but never faulting. Poe felt his heart drop. He wanted to protest, to say he could track her down right now. He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do it alone. As his shoulders deflated he heard Leia chuckle slightly.  “I know, you’re about ready to jump into the cockpit and go after her. But its not the time. You need back up. I want to get her back just as much as you do, but we need to plan this.” Leia says softly. Poe looked up at her tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should’ve…” He starts in again on thinking of everything he could have done differently.

“Don’t, Poe. I know. If there was anything you could have done you would have.” Leia’s own eyes are starting to fill with tears. She knows how much He loves her daughter. She knows he will do everything to get her back. As they end the call Poe wipes his tears away on his sleeve. He’s going to get her back. Whatever it takes.

~

Masterlist

Tag: @femmeanonymelives @silver-night-m

[zprites]

Lucifer x Female OC Below!!!

Oh hey, wow it's been a while since I've shared anything I've written, huh? Well I have good news! I have multiple wips that I will finish this year so be on the look out (nothing TMNT related unfortunately, for my hyperfixations have gone all over the place... oops).

Yes, I fell down the Hazbin/Helluva hole and I don't see me leaving anytime soon. So read this! I wrote a little drabble for @unknownfanartist (who I love and adore, no matter how much she stinks <3) with her OC, Penelope (you can find her info here) and Lucifer. Just a small SFW brainworm that ate at me earlier and I had to stop writing my Alastor fic to appease the little wriggler.

This is not proof-read in the slightest so if you see any mistakes, no you don't. *points a can of silly string right at you*

Enjoy!

Diamonds and Coal

When left alone with his thoughts, Lucifer found himself wondering where he went wrong. Sure, he had the chance now to be there for his daughter, supporting her endeavors to lead Sinners down the path of redemption, no matter how fruitless he believed the idea to be. That was until he got word from Heaven that the first ever redeemed soul had crossed the pearly gates during the last extermination, and everything he knew had been pulled into question. 

Was he wrong to dismiss Sinners so easily? He supposed he could chalk up his view to his own regrets in life. Countless nights were spent feeling bitter over his previous actions, hating the fact he granted free will to all of humanity without so much as a second thought. He even began to hate himself for it.

But now, watching Charlie bring her dream to life, something he tried and ultimately failed to do, he knew that he made the right choice. He’d met so many Sinners who have chosen to call the hotel their ‘home’ and honestly, he was growing rather fond of them all. 

Especially her. 

Penelope… After meeting the woman who was the hotel’s resident art therapist all those months ago, the woman was still an enigma to him. She was quiet, so much so that he sometimes forgot she was in the same room as him, though that was in the beginning. As of late, he couldn’t walk into a room without first looking for the artist and upon spotting the brunette, Lucifer would make his way towards her and start a conversation. Well, ‘conversation’ was putting it mildly. They were more one-sided than anything. Not that he minded one bit, he could talk uninterrupted for hours.

He just couldn’t figure out what her deal was. 

She often kept to herself, really only interacting with other guests to help with exercises that would hopefully help them through whatever hang ups and traumas they may have. And it seemed like she had a lot of her own, from what little Lucifer could glean from her. Yet he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. It didn’t help that she was beautiful. 

He had no idea when his compliments on her art shifted to flirtatious remarks aimed at her. Maybe it was when he found out about Lilith spending the past seven years in Heaven after their separation, wanting nothing to do with her family and actively trying to thwart all the hard work their daughter has put into this place? Or maybe it was when he first realized his stance on Sinners was not fair to the souls who were giving redemption an honest chance?

It was true he thought that all Sinners were nothing but violent psychopaths. He had even thought the same about her, assuming whatever she had done while she was alive was something that could never be forgiven. But he was proven wrong - not all Sinners were like that. Maybe she wasn’t as well. After all, she was choosing to help people with her craft. She couldn’t really be all that bad, right?

The answer to that question came to him much quicker than he’d anticipated.

It was like any other night. He was up late as usual, looking over a seemingly never ending pile of paperwork that only grew each morning. However as he looked over some new plans for the hotel that Charlie had handed him earlier, the words on the page were beginning to blur, a clear sign that he needed to take a break.

With a groan, he pushed himself up to his feet and stepped out of his room. Some fresh air would do him some good…

Though as he walked towards the expansive balcony near the rear of the building, he noticed a light on at the end of the hallway, a familiar humming emanating from the room. Curiosity got the better of him and he found himself moving on his own towards the artist’s studio. Inside, Penelope sat on a stool in front of a large canvas that almost reached the ceiling, the colors appearing blocky and barely resembling any shapes except at the bottom where she worked. After looking at the painting for a few moments, he could glean that it appeared to be a depiction of water, the figure of a woman laying underneath it, reaching towards the surface while several air bubbles escaped her open mouth. 

As if sensing she was being watched, the woman ceased her song and turned to look at where he stood in the doorway.

A nervous chuckle escaped him as he waved. “Ah, knock knock…?”

Way to sound like an idiot, idiot, he chastised himself mentally.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” Penelope asked, her voice holding a monotonous and even tone that seemed to never leave her. He didn’t know when he’d grown to love her voice regardless of how uninterested she may sound. It was part of her charm.

“I told you to stop calling me that, Penelope. Just Lucifer is fine.” He said. The woman raised a brow at him before turning back to her painting, dipping her brush into some brown before gently swiping the bristles over the canvas.

Lucifer watched in silence as she worked, captivated by the way she layered each brushstroke with careful precision. God, she was stunning. The large overhead light casted almost an ethereal aura around her, catching the dust particles that sparkled as they floated along. She looked so peaceful like this. 

His gaze traveled from her face to her fingers, pale skin turning dark at her fingertips where she held her brush with care as she swirled it in a pool of deep blue on her palette. Not only was she captivating, but she was a damned good artist that clearly took pride in her craft, pouring nothing but love into each piece. Several of her works graced the halls and spaces of the hotel, like the portrait of Sir Pentious that hung in the foyer. Many of the guests even had their own Penelope-original in their rooms, alongside their own art that was crafted during their stays. He was only slightly disheartened that he didn’t have one of his own. Maybe he should ask. Would it be weird to ask? None of the others had to ask. No, it would definitely be weird to ask. Oh- crap she was looking at him.

He gave her a half-smile as her brows furrowed. He could swear a hint of distrust flash in her amber eyes as she spoke. “What?”

“What?” He repeated.

Penelope rolled her eyes. “You’ve been staring at me.”

“Oh, I am? I was uh… I-” 

His words were coming out in a disjointed mess, crimson eyes shifting as his hands moved about as he struggled to find the right words. It wasn’t until he had to forcibly stop himself and take a deep breath that he got his thoughts in order. “I’m just trying to figure you out.” 

She blinked at him, her face staying perfectly blank as she turned her attention back to the canvas. “Well, don’t.”

“Oh c’mon, I know next to nothing about you!” Lucifer remarked, a small seed of hope planting in his chest that maybe he would finally get her to open up tonight.

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Penelope brushed some of the blue onto a bit of gray, gently dabbing the brush so as to not mix the colors too much.

“No no no, not ‘good’. It’s not good.” He let out a small laugh though anything about the situation was humorous. “You make a big deal about using art as a way of expressing emotions and feelings yet you keep yourself so closed off. Oh, don’t look at me that way. Of course I noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too.”

Her focus was on him as he spoke, eyes cold as if she didn’t appreciate him voicing his observations on her. A sigh left her upon realizing he wouldn’t be backing down from this and resigned herself to her fate. “I keep to myself because it keeps me safe.”

“Safe from what?” He questioned, glad that he was finally getting something out of her but eager to know anything she was willing to give him.

A stretch of silence passed between them until she gave him an answer. “From getting hurt…”

Confusion gripped his entire body as his forehead creased. “What are you talking about? No one here wants to hurt you.”

“I know.” She stated plainly before cursing under her breath. Setting down the brush she grabbed a towel, pressing it to a small area on the canvas in an effort to minimize the damage of her mistake. 

Lucifer was beginning to understand now. 

“Is that why you’re so reserved? Because you’re afraid of someone getting too close, afraid of someone getting to know you, earning your trust, only for them to hurt you in the end.”

Penelope’s body grew rigid as his words hung heavy in the air and he knew he hit the nail in the coffin. So that’s what this was all about, he thought to himself, feeling almost proud that he’d figured it out, but that feeling was slowly fading away as the silence stretched longer. He hoped he didn’t take it too far and mess things up. How could he fix this?

“You know, not everyone is like that.” He began while taking a step closer to her, bringing his hands behind his back to fiddle with his fingers. “There are good people out there, even in this infernal afterlife that seems to only bring out the worst inside everyone.” 

She hesitantly met his eyes as he paused, taking a second to swallow the nerves that came to him suddenly before getting to his point. “Like you.”

“Me?” Doubt somehow finding its way into her monotoned way of speaking as her nose crinkled in disbelief. 

Cute, he told himself but quickly squashed that thought down.

“Yeah!” He exclaimed. “You’re kind and have incredible talent! And you’re patient with everyone here, even if they’re getting on your last nerve with using the wrong type of brushes or wasting supplies. Sometimes I feel as though you’re the only sane one here. Well, besides me, of course.” He let out a small huff of amusement at his own joke before composing himself.

“And… And even if you don’t believe me, just know that you’re pretty special, especially in a place like this. A brilliant diamond amongst a sea of coal. Anyone would be lucky to have the chance to get to know you, the real you.” Lucifer expressed, his eyes shining with the same truthfulness he spoke with.

Penelope regarded him for a beat, golden pools encased in black flitting back and forth between his own eyes before shaking her head. “I’m not someone worth knowing.”

“I think you are…” He whispered.

Then her shoulders shook, a silent giggle wracking her frame as he felt his jaw go slack. In the several months of knowing her, he had never seen her laugh, granted it wasn’t a full one but still! He did that! He made her feel happy!

He wanted to do it again, and again, and again. Suddenly he wondered what it would feel like to be the reason for her happiness. He wanted to touch her, to hold her close, to tell her how much he cared for her before kissing her, to-. 

Oh…

Oh…

Her amusement quieted down and he could swear that the corners of her mouth were twitching. “Then you’re more of an idiot than I thought you were.” 

Lucifer felt his heart do a flip as he noticed the smile that graced her lips, so small that he almost missed it. 

He was in deep shit.

“Well!” He all but shouted, clearing his throat as he scratched the back of his neck. “I should uh- go! Gotta get back to the office before the paperwork decides to have babies, hah ha…”

He clapped his hands together as he turned to leave with awkward movements, almost falling on his ass in the process. As he reached the door he looked over his shoulder to see that her smile was gone but her eyes still gleamed with mirth.

“You have a good night, Penelope.” 

He was barely two steps away when he heard her call back to him in a gentle tone instead of her usual even voice. “You too, Lucifer.”

With a dumb grin that refused to go away, he trekked back to his room, ignoring the mountains of paper that surrounded his desk and making a beeline for his bed, flopping onto the plush comforter. He had no idea how long he stayed there, laying on his back and staring up at the patterned, red fabric that draped over the canopy frame as he replayed the interaction with Penelope over and over again in his mind. It wasn’t until morning broke over the horizon that he realized he’d spent all night thinking about her. 

It wasn’t until he heard the rest of the hotel come to life that he moved, getting up to seek out some coffee. As he left his room, he caught sight of a thin rectangle wrapped in brown parchment paper. He picked up the package that was clearly a painting and saw a note taped onto the front that read ‘Even a diamond needs reminding that they’re someone worth knowing. - P’. 

Excitement coursed through him as Lucifer went back into his room and carefully ripped through the wrapping. It was a simple painting that couldn’t be bigger than two by three feet, but he was more drawn to the flower that was depicted on the canvas. A pair of hands delicately held a singular white orchid, the dark colors of the background and the skin making the brightness of the flower all the more radiant. 

He blinked in amazement at the painting, surprised that she was able to make something so pretty so quickly, though he could vaguely remember her going on about how some paints dry faster than others. With a large grin he scanned the walls, deciding that right next to his desk would be a perfect place to hand the art since he would be able to turn and see it often.

Heat creeped onto his face as he thought this, bringing a hand to cover his face as he groaned. 

These feelings… They were going to be a problem, weren’t they?

[simthorium]

Filming for the movie began early the next morning. Shea and Astrid assumed their positions from the previous night as the cameras began rolling, and they became their characters of Jessie and Astrid, respectively.

Astrid was still asleep in the morning while Jessie fished using just a stick and some string she’d found. It seemed fruitless, but the broken down dock on the beach they were at told Jessie that there used to be life here at least.

“YES!” Jessie exclaimed, reeling in a large sea bass. She laughed loudly at her catch, feeling extremely satisfied with herself.

“What, what!?” Astrid said, waking up startled. Jessie turned around and smiled, holding the fish up. “Breakfast,” Jessie said. “Ew, I hate fish,” Astrid muttered. “Oh, sorry, I’ll whip up some scones and an egg white omelet for you instead,” Jessie muttered. Astrid rolled her eyes and stood up, heading back into the forest. “Where are you going?” “To find some real food,” Astrid replied.

Astrid spent almost an hour walking in the woods. She was nervous at first, but it eventually became very peaceful. She stumbled upon a beautiful waterfall and felt so serene. “Just what I needed,” Astrid said, beginning to strip. “A nice shower.”

After an hour, Jessie was beginning to get worried. Astrid definitely wasn’t the kind of girl who would traipse around alone in the jungle, so Jessie would have to go find her. “Astrid!” Jessie shouted, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Come on dude, where did you go?”

“Astrid!” Jessie shouted. “Astri--oh, god!” Jessie said, exclaiming as she came upon a very naked Astrid showering in a waterfall. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Jessie said, spinning around and covering her eyes. “I didn’t see anything, I promise.” “Stop being such a prude,” Astrid said as she got out of the waterfall, still fully naked. Jessie peeked from behind her hands, wanting to make sure Astrid had gotten dressed already.

Astrid pulled on a bra and some shorts, then tapped Jessie on the shoulder. “It’s safe to look now,” she said with a smile. “I mean, it was safe to look the whole time.” “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” said Jessie. “Um, hello?” Astrid said. “We’re stranded on an abandoned jungle island. I don’t think I could get much more uncomfortable.” Jessie smiled. “You find anything else to eat in here?” she asked.

“Actually, I did,” she Astrid. “There’s a few banana trees over that way, and I’m pretty sure I saw a coconut or two. There’s a lot of cool stuff in this jungle.” “No wild animals, I hope,” said Jessie. “None that I’ve seen yet, although maybe you better set some traps just in case,” Astrid said. “Why do I have to set the traps?” asked Jessie. “You built a shelter, a fire, and fished a fish out of the ocean,” said Astrid. “I just came to take a shower in a waterfall. It seems pretty clear which one of us is winning this season of Survivor.”

Astrid led Jessie to where she’d found a few fruiting trees earlier on her walk and the two indulged themselves. Astrid ate about 100 bananas, not bothering to count calories for probably the first time in her adult life.

“This is the best coconut I’ve ever tasted,” Jessie said after smashing a few open and drinking the milk inside. “Save some for me,” Astrid said between bites of her thousandth banana.

After their jungle showers and fruit lunch, they headed back to the beach and laid out a bunch of items they recovered from the plane. “Ok, I think I have enough equipment here to try to repair the communication device in the cockpit,” said Jessie. “I think I’ve got enough outfits for at least two weeks,” said Astrid. “The waterfall seemed pretty clean too, so I could probably do a few loads of laundry.”

“Astrid, we’re not staying here for two weeks,” said Jessie. “We need to figure out a plan to leave.” “I know, I mean just in case,” said Astrid. “Some of us want to look fresh, is that a crime? I think I have some shirts that might fit, if you ever wanna get out of that tacky army green you love so much.”

“Hey, I look good in this green,” said Jessie. “You do,” said Astrid. “But it’s getting a little played out.”

“What about that little pink number?” Jessie asked, raising her eyebrow at a particularly skimpy piece of lingerie lying in the sane. Astrid pushed Jessie away, smacking her right between the eyes. “Ouch!” Jessie shouted. “Don’t even think about it,” said Astrid.

Along with supplies and clothes, the girls were ecstatic to find a case of beer stowed away in the plane too. “I can’t believe you keep beer in your plane,” Astrid said, taking a swig. “Were you drunk flying, is that why we crashed?” “Ha ha,” Jessie said sarcastically. “I don’t drink and fly. It’s for celebration after a successful flight. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s for jinxing us.”

The two laid on the beach, watching the sunset. Astrid shivered, her short sleeves and jean shorts not enough to keep her from being cold. Without a word, Jessie sidled up to her and draped an arm over her, snuggling into her. Astrid was hesitant at first, but she was grateful for the warmth.

“You know, I didn’t even want to be in the fashion show,” Astrid said with a sigh. “My mother has been forcing me to be in them for as long as I can remember. Pageants and Miss Teen USA. Now this. If I’d just stood up to her, we wouldn’t even be in this mess.” “You can’t blame yourself,” said Jessie. “It was a freak accident. My plane is solid, the weather just got the best of us. Besides, I’ve seen some of your pieces. You’re a talented designer.” “If only I was allowed to just be that,” Astrid sighed. “I love fashion, sure. But I don’t want to be a model. I want to be a designer. I wish my mom understood that.” Jessie nodded, feeling sleepy. Soon, the two fell asleep in each others’ arms.

[hannahwriteshorror]

Death at Okobridge Cove - One Year Later

My first venture alone outside The Hive was proving uneventful, which is exactly what I wanted.

I needed quiet. Simple. Getting into trouble would only prove to them that I couldn’t be alone, that I wasn’t ready to be independent from them. But I was, and I was determined to make sure they saw that in me. Nothing would stop me.

It was an unusually gloomy day, rain splattering against the grey pavement as the residents of Fallmond shuffled along the streets, returning home from their exhaustingly mundane day jobs. This was a small town, there was one local supermarket, one diner, one bar, and one post office. The kind of town where everyone knew and hated each other. I knew everything about these people, just from listening in on other Hive member’s conversations through my room’s door after their adventures. The people of Fallmond would be talking about this rainfall for weeks. Rain, in the height of summer? Very strange.

 I was perched on a low brick wall that ran the circumference of Okobridge Cove, the small town’s local stone covered beach. There was a delicate elderly man stationed at the entrance in a ramshackle wooden hut who took beach cleanliness very seriously, prepared to warn anyone attempting to enter that the tide would be coming in shortly and if they weren’t careful, there would be no way to rescue them from Lake Oko’s ruthless clutches. Someone is rescued from the water at least once a year. The lake was a particularly aggressive one, but no one ever seemed to question it.

Most of the busybodies rushing around hated this weather, they all appeared to be irritated. There was the odd couple enjoying it, kicking puddle water at each other or dancing, but it seemed fruitless when everyone else around them looked displeased.

Some of the town’s local gossiping old ladies believed that the rain was payback for a remarkably eventful Kiddies Paddle Play lesson last weekend. Kids will be kids, the town’s mothers said after many failed attempts to collect deflating rubber rings and floating half eaten biscuits.

The rain was heavier than the normal showers we got here once in a blue moon. I held a deep red curved umbrella above my head in a mild attempt to look normal. No one really took too much notice of me aside from a perplexed glance, which I was enjoying. My long dark hair cascaded over my shoulders, the jagged ends getting damp from the odd drip my umbrella missed. People watching was a newfound pastime of mine, my brand-new red eyes, darting from person to person as they passed by me, wet and appearing irritated by the strange weather. Any children passing were excited, they wore brand new wellington boots and yellow raincoats. I couldn’t help but smile a little.

I pulled my free hand from the pocket of my black trench coat to adjust the ring that sat perfectly on my index finger, a reminder of the reason I was here, of what I had become and who had done this too me... a painful memory I tried very hard to avoid. Yet always had to carry with me in case I started to forget. I could never forget her.

 I’d worn it for so many years, sometimes I forgot how I received it. There was one single, small red stone that sat in between two detailed silver carvings of hands. The ring was hand crafted and very old. The false feeling of warmth washed over me as I remembered like it was yesterday.

***

“Come on, you’ll love it! I promise.”

Poppy glared at me through her fake eyelashes, an achievement from her ongoing beauty course.

She hated gifts, “wasting” money on her was forbidden. Christmas was reserved for chocolates and fluffy socks, anything else and I would receive the cold shoulder all the way through dinner. But I had planned this out perfectly since the day my grandfather relinquished it to me six months ago. It was inexpensive, yet sentimental to me and my family, and something she would never be able to resist. She still wore a cheap plastic kids necklace I gave her on our first date, she had to accept this.

“We agreed on socks,” she informed me as she rose from the green armchair she was lounging in and came over to me begrudgingly, bottom lip sticking out in a sulk. Even without her signature heels on, Pop towered a few inches above me.

“Actually, we haven’t had a conversation about Christmas gifts this year. Don’t think about this being for Christmas.”

Poppy raised her eyebrow and shook her head. “I don’t know if you’ve seen the date, but the 25th of December usually means something,” she frowned. “If you’ve spent a lot of money here, there will be absolutely no Christmas pudding for you.”

I handed her the small velvet covered trinket box and put a finger to my lips.

“I stook to the sock plan,” she muttered.

“Shhhh,” I whispered, “open it, I promise I didn’t spend a penny. It was something my grandfather intended to give to his first love... before she was sadly murdered.” I paused and swallowed my pride. I hated being sentimental, but something told me this was the day, something in the back of my mind forced me to believe that this day was the day Poppy needed to know how much I loved her.

“He told me he’d never loved anyone like he loved her. He kept it all this time. They never found the whole body... I would like you to have it. Ignoring the murder stuff, it’s quite important to him. It was his mother’s.”

She looked at me again, her green eyes were crazily fascinating. They pierced into my brown ones as she slowly pulled open the box. After the longest second, she finally looked down and her eyes filled up with glittering tears. “Holy shit.”

I’m not sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a family heirloom.

“Do you like it? It’s a promise ring.” I told her, wringing my hands together.

Her tears spilled over gently as she nodded. I took the box from her and carefully placed the ring on her index finger, smoothing over her knuckles before I released her.

“Wow, it’s absolutely beautiful.” She looked at it closely, inspecting the detail before returning her eyes back to mine. “Once again, I’m basically speechless. What did I do to deserve you, Tabitha?”

I smirked and looked up to the ceiling, pretending to think before she smacked me on the shoulder and we both laughed before sharing a warm kiss. I figured the silent treatment might come later.

“Don’t cry too much, those lashes took you an hour,” I grinned.

A shaky voice came from the doorway, “Dinner is just about ready you two!”

“We’re coming, Grandad,” I replied.

***

“Excuse me miss; do you have the time?”

I was pulled from my daydream as a stranger questioned me. “No, sorry,” I replied.

The person furiously glanced at my watch that was poking out from under my sleeve and stormed off in a huff into the rain. My watch hadn’t worked for months, it was Grandad’s.

As I watched them walk away, my mind mulled over the last image of my Poppy. The next time I saw her, I could barely recognise her face. There was too much blood. Her apartment walls and her furniture were covered in deep red streaks. I always wondered if the history behind this ring on my finger was a bad omen, if the death attached to it had brought us bad luck. If I hadn’t gifted her this strange present, would The Hive leader have killed someone else, instead of my girlfriend? My incentive to not run away from them, as I was informed on that first night. It would be my grandfather next if I didn’t comply.

As I mulled this over, my phone began to vibrate.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Tabitha?”

“Yes, who is this?” Confused, I waited for an answer.

The woman on the other end of the call stuttered. “This is Nurse Jackson, from Fallmond Hospice? I’m calling to let you know… that your grandfather passed away in the night… his heart gave out. I’m so sorry, darling.”

She continued to reel off some phone numbers of funeral homes and grievance councillors.

I simply hung up the phone and stared at the screen where a picture of myself, Grandad and Poppy glowed. Christmas, one year ago. One of my best and last memories of Poppy.

That was when I decided I wouldn’t be returning to The Hive. They had nothing else to hold over me.

[forabetterlifethanthis]

Detaching

Today, I conscientiously decided to begin doing something selfless. Shock.  I also decided to do something petulant and selfish.  Less of a shock.  I’ll begin with the latter.

 Another attempt to extirpate all my plans. And just a scintilla of curiosity to see if anyone did care. Well, the outcome is a definitive no. They don’t. And why should they?

 But that was the last of it.  My final promulgation to my little world. The last of my searches for any sequestered pings of validation.  This shall be my only link to the outside world as I languish my way through the process.

 And the process has begun.  And this is the reason for the selfless decision.  And that is to detach myself from everyone and everything.  I have spoken so many times about how much of a negative, toxic, poisonous, acergbic, caustic, churlish, truculent, cantankerous, whitithering, benighted, blinkered, self-obsessed shit I am.  But this is beyond that.  I am a volcano.  A steaming volcano with only one inevitable outcome.  And I don’t want the people that I love to be close to me when I erupt. And I know how difficult this will be for me to do this.  I have spent the last few weeks speaking to as many people as I could in a fruitless attempt to find distraction from my pains and feelings of the lugubrious.  But I know now that this is something that I have to lose to alone.  I regret becoming closer with people because it simply means they will get hurt more.  Better letting go now than never though.  I cannot even say final placating words of solace, because that would just make things harder as well.    

 So, there it is, and that is it. I am really going to make the effort to do this for my own gratification and not as a means of external simpering.

 I will effuse, smoke and quake alone. I will erupt alone. Always for betterment.