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adore-laur · 1 year ago

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THE FIRST DAY HOME

— an addition to milestones (part of the dadrry universe) 🌅

——

A revitalizing gust of autumn air graced Harry's lungs when he nudged his hip against the handicap button near the hospital door. His hands were too occupied to manually push it open himself since one acted as a crutch of balance for you, and the other gripped the car seat that held his two-day-old daughter.

During the journey out, finally leaving behind drab hallways and stuffy rides in the elevator, Harry refilled his disposable coffee cup and drowsily glanced between the Keurig and his sleeping baby girl. He noticed she was no bigger than the burbling machine in front of him. Just shy of eighteen inches tall, she could have practically been mistaken for a doll with her pouted pink lips and silken eyelashes that melted the hearts of everyone who passed by. The nurses Harry had made friends with over the past couple of days fawned over her, and it had taken a good ten minutes to leave the waiting room because of all the attention.

She belonged at home, though, which is why he politely excused himself and ushered you and his baby out of the hospital like he was relocating valuable artwork. On second thought, the analogy didn't sound too far from reality.

Scanning the congested parking lot, Harry tried to remember where he parked the damn car; those three cups of black coffee he had downed in the last hour weren't working in his favor. He shivered and tucked you closer into his warmth. It was November, so a chill hung in the crisp morning air and required sweatshirts. His daughter had a crocheted blanket from the nursery resting over her body and a pink beanie snug on her head. The temperature change didn't seem to bother her, nor did the movement when he eventually steered the two of you in the direction of the car.

He unlocked the doors while mentally reviewing the safety procedures for securing a fragile baby into a big, scary vehicle. So many things could go wrong, but he brushed aside those troubling thoughts and carefully installed the car seat to face the rear.

"You got everything?" you asked faintly, lingering behind him like a gentle spirit guide.

Harry turned his head and took in your physical state of weariness. "Yeah, love. Did you want to do it? Sorry, I got ahead of myself." Your detached gaze looked right through him as you shook your head.

"No, I'm too tired and sore," you whispered, sniffling a little. He sincerely hoped it was from the weather and not from forthcoming emotions.

Lovingly cradling your head, he said, "I hear you, honey. How about you go sit down and rest for a bit? I'm in dad mode right now. You need to be in sleep mode."

You slumped your forehead against his chest, an adorable way of nonverbally saying thank you, then retreated to the other side of the car to get in the back. Harry reached over to buckle your seatbelt before continuing his task.

After pushing his unwashed hair out of his eyes, he clicked the car seat into position and tightened the straps securing his daughter just to be safe. Her blanket was tucked behind her neck, and he inhaled the skin there, her addictive baby smell easing his cluttered mind almost instantly. With a featherlight kiss to her cheek, he softly shut the door and slid into the driver's seat with aching joints and a foreign feeling coursing through his veins. He adjusted the rear-view mirror to better see both of you and grinned when he saw you dozing off already. He couldn't help himself when he reached back to loosely grab your fingers and plant a kiss on your wedding ring.

"What's wrong?" you slurred, weakly squeezing his thumb. The way you stared at him, so very tired yet so very beautiful, reminded him of memories gone by.

"Nothing," Harry said with a choked laugh. Why was he tearing up? When had that happened? "You… you're a mom. We're parents. It hit me just now."

He always knew you were never meant to be a stranger in his life.

"Well, Mom needs Dad to start driving so I can sleep in my own bed again—and on my stomach." You smiled lazily. "Oh, I can't wait for that."

With that, he reversed out of the parking space and headed home. It was a tranquil drive along the coast, soft breathing and sips of coffee being the only sounds until he eventually pulled into the driveway, the slowest he'd ever done.

The next few minutes were a blur. Harry unpacked the trunk stuffed with supply bags he had brought to the hospital, which were full of necessary and unnecessary items. Once inside the comfort of the house, he watched you immediately sprawl out onto the couch and drown in the comforter that had been left there from your five-in-the-morning contractions.

Harry filled a glass of ice water for you and set it on the coffee table before kneeling, his knees cracking due to minimum use in the last forty-eight hours. "I'm going to show her around the house," he murmured, playing with your hair.

"You sound like a real estate agent."

He hummed a dry laugh. "Am I delirious, or has motherhood made your jokes worse?"

You kicked your foot out to hit him; however, you accidentally nailed him right in his groin region. Harry grunted and pinched his eyes shut, suffering through the momentary pain. Your gasp quickly turned into a giggle, and he tickled your neck as revenge.

"I'd like to have more kids with you, thanks," he said, standing with a groan and subtly adjusting himself. "Call me if you need anything, yeah? And drink some water, please."

He stepped away and lifted his daughter from the car seat, his heart expanding at the way her body remained scrunched. He then wrapped her blanket around himself, the material stretching enough to cover her.

He should show her the nursery first, where he would spend a lot of bonding time in the upcoming weeks, or even the kitchen, where she'd be his enthralled audience member as he cooked meals. Instead, he slid off his shoes and opened the patio door before slowly trekking down the wooden stairs leading to the house's private beach area. The California sunrise was a boundless blend of blues and oranges, and the water along the horizon sparkled.

"What do you think?" he asked the sleeping bundle in his arms. With bare feet, he found a place on the sand where the waves barely reached his toes. The sound of them crashing on the shore solidified the feeling of home in his chest. "Pretty breathtaking, huh?"

He would never get sick of the view since it was the backdrop of his most treasured moments with you. Drinking coffee together and watching the sunrise as birds chirped their morning songs. Spending golden hour evenings kissing in the ocean while lust flourished like a summer zinnia. Moonlit nights sitting by a campfire, prattling on about the future while tipsy on wine.

Everything circled back to you, like he was in a whirlpool of your sheer, shimmering existence.

"Your mom," Harry mused, "she's amazing, isn't she? Sometimes, I wonder how she does it. How she makes everything look so effortless." He bent his knees and laid his daughter on his thighs, as if speaking to her directly would ingrain the sentiment into her head. "I want you to know she will give you the world, okay? She's going to make you feel so loved, and I'll do my absolute best to match her affection, but know that you won't meet anyone who loves more selflessly than her."

The breeze agreed as it picked up and swirled around him. Glancing down, he studied the creation in his arms. Her features were the perfect fusion of him and you, with the shape of her eyes matching yours and the shape of her lips matching his.

"I hope you look more like her than me when you get older," he said, drawing shapes in the sand with his fingers. "But the selfish side of me hopes you have my smile. Don't tell her that, though. Let's wait until she sees it, because then she'll never be able to say no to you. I figured out that secret ages ago."

He couldn't wait until her personality started to shine through. Would she try to get her way by being clingy like he does? Or would she give him puppy-dog eyes like you do? If it was a mixture of both, he would have a troublemaker on his hands.

"Anyway," Harry said with an exhale, "I brought you out here because this beach is where we'll spend lots of time together. Dad has special memories here. My favorite is when I proposed to your mother. After she said yes, we ran into the ocean without knowing where life would take us." His eyes became glossy, a film of tears threatening to escape his waterline. "I'm so glad it brought us you. I'm so, so glad."

As morning eased its way into full effect, he looked back at the house where years of love resided. Why not add some more?

——

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #dadrry #dad!harry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur #the first day home

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linos-luna · 1 year ago

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Eternally (Pt. 3) ❣️🔪

Yandere!Vampire!Jin x Fem!Reader

(Pt. 1) - (Pt. 2) - (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Yandere, Blood, Murder, manipulation, hypnosis, making out, manipulation

Synopsis: you found yourself enchanted by a handsome vampire. He was a vain and cruel man but he found that there was someone he loved more than himself. You.

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You led him in. Stumbling around quite dramatically. The man looked at you with lustful eyes as he was sure he could do anything to you in this very moment.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

You weren’t drunk. Not in the slightest. You led the man from the bar down the street to the kitchen, acting drunk and as if you were trying to get water. He was amused and followed.

You stood against the refrigerator. Getting a bit nervous has he came closer.

Where was he?? You thought.

Some fear was building up before you finally saw him.

“Thank god you’re here.” You sighed, looked past the sleezy man to your boyfriend.

“You know I don’t believe in god.” Jin chuckled before grabbed the man from behind.

“You tricked me!” The man yelled as he realized you were completely sober. “You bitch!”

“Now I don’t like you talking to my baby like that.” Jin shook his head as you walked out, letting him do his thing.

You waited in the living room, hearing the man’s screams before a thud.

You looked up to see your boyfriend there with a smile. His mouth and chin covered in blood, along with some drops on his chin

“Oppa, you got your shirt dirty again.” You sighed. “You know that’s hard to get out.”

“Oh well.” He shrugged. “Go clean the mess.”

You went to the kitchen as he presumedly when to the bathroom, either to clean up or admire himself. He always felt revitalized after eating.

The kitchen wasn’t too much of a mess. Some splatter on the fridge and floor. Nothing a little bleach couldn’t get rid of. On the side, against the wall was a big trash bag. Must be the body.

You’ve never actually seen the people he’s killed. It was always a weird thought. But you were curious so you untied the bag and peeked in, nearly screaming and instantly feeling the need to puke. This man was stuffed in there like a rag doll, his lifeless eyes staring back at you. It was still terrifying.

“You know you’re not supposed to look at that.”

You jumped at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice and instantly turned around.

“S-sorry…”

“I always take care of it.” He said while grabbing the bag. “Let’s not corrupt your mind.”

“What are you talking about?” You said with a frown. “I see blood all the time.”

“Hm.” He sighed before giving you a kiss on the cheek and leaving to take the bag out.

You touched your cheek, knowing that there was a blood smudge there.

You love him but doing this every few weeks was exhausting. And lately he’s been a little more hungry than usual. This kill was his second in two weeks.

You were getting ready for bed when Jin came back. Your hair was in braids as you put on your silky night gown followed by som pajama pants. Your boyfriend bought you the gown but since you got cold, you’d often wear pants underneath.

“Oppa…?” You ask as he was changing. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you ask that, jagiya?”

“Well… you’ve been eating more lately. More than usual.” You said this with an uncomfortable shrug. “People are going to get suspicious. Maybe we should take a break—”

“I decide when we do and don’t hunt.” He said sternly as he stood close, practically looking over you.

You got quiet and looked down.

Jin grabbed your chin and had you look at him. He was obviously annoyed.

“I decide when we’re done.”

“Y-yes sir…”

“Repeat.” He said sternly.

“You decide when we’re done…” you repeated. Your voice trailed off as you suddenly felt very tired and you silently climbed into bed.

Jin said next to you and stroked your hair. “We’re going out again tomorrow, baby.”

“Yes sir…” you replied with a sigh as you fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~ 🥀

“Her. I want her.”

Your boyfriend was pointing in the direction of a woman at the bar. She must’ve been in her thirties.

“A woman? Oppa I can’t—”

“That’s what I want, y/n.” He interrupted.

“I can’t do it!” You said starting to cry. “I-I- can’t!”

“Jeez. I’ll do it myself!” He was clearly annoyed and pushed past you.

You waited outside as he chatted with the woman, only to be stopped by two cops.

“Hi Miss. We have some questions…”

~~~~~~~~~

You got home later after a little interrogation. It made you nervous and now you’re just worried.

As you walked in, you could hear that your boyfriend was in the kitchen.

“Baby! Come here!”

You perked up at the sound of his voice.

Walking into the kitchen, you notice a mess on the floor. Jin had blood stained lips and it was on his chin as well.

“Yes?”

Jin smiled and lifted you, seating you on the counter.

“What happened today, baby? You disappeared.”

“Oppa… the police are asking questions…” you said with a sigh.

“What kind of questions?”

“Well they’re seeing a pattern and think maybe we’re connected to the disappearances…”

“And what did you say?” He asked gently while moving your hair.

“ I just denied. Like you said. “Deny deny deny.”

“Good girl.”

“We gotta be careful.” You looked at him worriedly. “I-I don’t want them to take you… or me—”

“No one will ever take you from me!” He said suddenly. “Never! You got that?”

You nodded with some tears going down your cheeks.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He said with a kiss to your cheek. “For defending me.”

You nodded before he kissed you again but this time on the lips. Tasting the metallic blood on your lips wasnt anything abnormal but for whatever reason it got you worked up. Sometimes he makes you horny just with a kiss. You weren’t sure if it was some kind of spell or something.

You chased his lips when he tried pulling back, whining and moaning as they got sloppier. Your boyfriend held onto your waist, loving how you were practically licking the blood from his chin and lips. Why? You weren’t sure. It was as if you were doing this mindlessly.

Jin picked you up as you wrapped your legs around him. He sat on the bed and had you on his lap.

You were suddenly feeling needy. Very needy. Do you even have control of yourself??

Please me, darling~

You could hear his enticing words ringing in your head. Over and over.

Please me~

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raaorqtpbpdy · 6 months ago

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Doll restoration I just finished: Rainbow High’s Amaya Raine

I actually have before pictures this time!

And After

She was in a box of rainbow high dolls and things my mom got from Facebook marketplace. The family that once owned her also had a dog, so most of the shoes were either chewed up or missing their pairs, including all of the shoes that originally went with this doll. I’ll eventually fix the shoes that I can, but I don’t have the necessary materials atm, so it’ll have to wait.

As you can see, her hair was a rat’s nest, but the biggest problem was actually that—for reasons I cannot fathom—she was covered in wax. If you zoom in, you can see it on her hand and under her nose, but it was also in her ears, eyes, and many of her joints, as well as drips on her skin. It took me a good few hours to scrape off all the wax with a toothpick and tweezers. The hardest part was cleaning out her earring holes which were both completely clogged with wax. I did get them clear in the end, although I didn’t end up giving her a pair.

In addition to that, there was some stray marker and nail polish drips on her body that I removed easily enough with some nail polish remover on a cotton swab. Then I sanded down some of her seams with a fine-grain nail file and one soapy wash later her face and body were back up to snuff.

The hair was relatively simple in comparison. All told it took me a while to comb it out, but after that, washing, conditioning, and revitalizing the curls went smoothly.

Since some of her clothes and all of her shoes had fallen victim to The Dog, I had to improvise a bit with her outfit. As you can see, I also have her cheerleading outfit but in all honesty I just don’t really like it, so I went with something else.

The shirt she’s wearing came in a different set of the same doll, but the jacket and skirt are original to her, as is the purse. The purse had also been damaged, namely the strap was broken at the top, but that was easy enough to hand stitch back together. I didn’t have the right color thread but it was close, and her hair covers up the repair nicely. Lastly I picked a pair of shoes I thought went with her outfit that came from another doll, and she’s looking fine if I do say so myself.

Bonus picture of her with the Original Amaya Raine doll I also restored for my mom.

#doll restoration #amaya raine #rainbow high #rh #rainbow high dolls #the larger doll I literally only had to fix her hair #she was in extremely good shape for a thrift store find #not sure what my mom plans to do with her #but my job with her is done so I don’t really care

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skinationclinic · 1 year ago

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8 Things One Must Know About Carbon Peel Treatment

Carbon Laser Facial, popularly known as the Hollywood Peel or Black Doll Laser Facial, is a revolutionary rejuvenation procedure that has emerged as a game-changer. This non-invasive treatment offers the promise of an instant skin refresh, leaving one with smoother, softer, firmer, and visibly lifted skin.

With its remarkable ability to target a range of common skin concerns, including fine lines, acne, blackheads, and open pores, the carbon laser facial has become a go-to solution for those seeking a quick and effective way to revitalize their appearance. Whether one is preparing for a special event or simply looking to pamper themselves, this cutting-edge treatment, often administered by skilled dermatologists, can help one achieve a radiant and youthful complexion in no time.

In this blog, we will delve into the eight important things that one should know before opting for the carbon laser peel treatment. To make this blog enriching with authentic knowledge, we have gathered insights from Dr. Swati Agarwal, a renowned dermatologist and has expertise in providing the best carbon peel treatment in Faridabad at her dermatology clinic, Skination.

8 things about carbon laser peel treatment

Continue reading to learn these 8 things about carbon laser peel treatment.

Skin Analysis is Key

Before embarking on the carbon peel journey, it is crucial to have the skin analyzed by a specialist. This treatment is most effective for those with oily, acne-prone skin, and it works wonders on issues like blackheads, open pores, and a dull complexion. If one’s skin tends to be dry, it’s advisable to postpone or avoid this treatment. Instead, focus on hydrating the skin with the right creams, moisturizers, and sunscreens recommended by a dermatologist.

Role of Carbon Application

Carbon is applied to the skin before the session, forming a thin layer that penetrates open pores. During the laser treatment, this layer of carbon enhances the effects by removing the dead skin layer along with carbon particles. The result is an improvement in pigmentation, fine lines, acne, and oiliness.

Protecting The Eyes

Eye protection is of utmost importance during the procedure. A trained technician will cover the patient’s eyes, and the treating dermatologist will wear protective eye goggles.

Smoke Evacuation

During the session, one may notice an extra noise. This is the smoke evacuator at work, which efficiently removes carbon particles and dead skin impurities from the air.

Pre-Care Matters

In the days leading up to a carbon peel session, it’s essential to cease the use of skin care products like retinols for at least 3 days. Additionally, avoid salon activities such as bleaching, clean-ups, waxing, and scrubs. Also, determining whether one is the right candidate for carbon peel treatment is a decision best left to the dermatologist. Even if one’s skin is oily, certain circumstances, such as upcoming beach holidays, may necessitate postponing the treatment. It’s advisable to consult with a dermatologist at least 7 days before one’s planned session.

Post-Care is Mandatory

After the treatment, protect the skin from the sun with sunscreen and other sun protection measures. Hydration is crucial, so use the right moisturizer for one’s skin type and follow the post-laser cream regimen recommended by a dermatologist.

The Cost of Carbon Laser

The cost of a carbon peel session for the face and neck varies from 4000-7000 INR, depending on the laser technology used. Prices may also vary when treating different body areas.

Combining with Other Procedures

For optimal results, maintain a gap of 3-5 days between carbon peel treatment and other skincare procedures like laser hair reduction, peels, or medi-facials. Planning ahead, especially for events like pre-bridal skincare, ensures that the treatments align seamlessly without overlapping.

Conclusion

This treatment offers remarkable skincare benefits, but its success hinges on thorough pre-care, post-care, and expert guidance. Consulting a specialist before embarking on this journey is crucial to tailoring the treatment to one’s specific needs. Equally vital is the diligent post-care routine, including sunscreen use and prescribed products, to maintain and enhance results.

If one is looking for the best dermatologist in Faridabad, they can consult with Dr. Swati Agarwal, director and consultant at Skination Clinic. Her dedication to providing the best carbon peel treatment, backed by cutting-edge technology, ensures that one achieves radiant, flawless skin. The technology used for carbon peel treatment is critical for success. At Skination, they use an advanced USFDA-approved Tribeam laser, ensuring efficient energy delivery that suits various skin types. Embrace this path to radiant and revitalized skin, and let your natural beauty shine through.

Original Source:- https://timesofrising.com/8-things-one-must-know-about-carbon-peel-treatment/

#Best Dermatologist in Faridabad #Carbon laser peel treatment #Carbon peel treatment #Carbon peel treatment in Faridabad #Skination clinic #things about carbon laser peel treatment #Carbon laser peel

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tomboyjessie13-artblog · 3 years ago

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Pinocchio Gonzo Blankenheim is one of the many children Tom sired with one of his many lovers. In this case, he was born as a result of Tom Gonzo's and Eve Moonlit(as Margarita Blankenheim)'s secretive romance before the Toragay Epidemic happened. After his Mother's "Suicide" and his Father's abduction by Ash Landers, he grew up being raised by King Soil Elphen until he reached an age where he learned about his parents' fates, and that his full name was "Pinocchio Gonzo Blankenheim". He soon learned of Elluka "Ma" Clockworker's existence from the imprisoned Gatt Coulomb. At that moment, he not only learned that his parents are Demons, but is a Demon himself, and that she was the one who "killed" his Mother.

Since that day he spent his time seeking revenge against Elluka Clockworker(Ma) and the Marlon Royal Family for his parents' downfall, in addition to revitalizing the Blankenheim legacy and establishing an Anti-Marlon Family Organization to bring down it's Monarchy and those associated, I.E. The Aristocrats of Evil, going under his Mother's title as "Demon of Sloth", even training himself in witchcraft to become a powerful Warlock and Demon.

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~Technical Information~ Name: Pinocchio Gonzo Blankenheim Japanese: ピノキオ=ゴンゾー=ブランケンハイム Romaji: Pinokio=Gonzō=Burankenhaimu Other names: Demon of Sloth(alias/demon title), Demon Doll(by Friel and Alois), Pinocchio Elphen(Adopted name), Marquis Blankenheim(title), Eve Moonlit(disguised as a girl) Fanloid: Hatsune Mikuo ~Biographical Information~ Born: June 7, EC 609 Age: 19 Classification: Demon Race: Irish-Elphe Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Hair Color: Green Eye Color: Green Affiliation(s): Kingdom of Elphegort Anti-Marlon Family Organization(founder) Gonzo Cult

Trivia: He shares the same birthday and appearance as Hatsune Mikuo, the genderbend fanloid of Hatsune Miku. He's named after a popular character from a children's novel under the same name by Italian writer Carlo Collodi, the reason behind it is because, like said character, Pinocchio is born as a wooden plaything considering his mother was a Clockworker's Doll made from Nechucha Tree wood. He was also born with Ball-jointed-limbs because of this(he hides this using hypnoses or gloves). His birth is considered Irregular due to his Mother being a Clockworker's Doll. Regardless though, he is officially labeled as a "Demon" because both of his parents are Demons themselves. His fashion was mostly inspired by Ciel Phantomhive's outfits from the anime/manga series Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji, hence why Pinocchio looks very affluent and flamboyant. Ciel is replaced by Friel and the first outfit is non-canon anyways. Because of Eve Moonlit's ability to transform the people she possesses into having her appearance(I.E. Mikulia Greeonio), he ends up having that similar predicament of having her feminine face and pigtails, hence why people confuse him for a girl. Though it was embarrassing at first, he later uses that to an advantage when luring in his enemies(if they're stupid enough of course). However, on the anniversary of the Eve's death(circa EC 014), he's forced to have her pigtails on for the whole day. Despite his hatred for the Marlon Royal Family, he has an strange attraction for anyone with blue hair(mainly men due to blue hair being a male only trait) because of his mother. Speaking of which, he also inherited some of Eve's powers such as lightning magic, manipulating the airborne Gift, and hypnoses, the body swap technique is hard to master, however. From Tom's side he inherited the ability to warp reality and to have his eyes glow-in-the-dark. Making him an exceptionally powerful Demon and Warlock. He summons his lightning magic by snapping his fingers, this was inspired by Urbosa's Fury from "Breath of the Wild". He is rivals with Marlon nobles Countess Friel Shion of the Shion Household and Earl Alois Trancy of the Trancy Household. Like most of Tom's children, he's capable of going crazy without having a chip in his brain. He also has a liking for alcohol despite his young age, his favorite is "Yatski L'Opera" and "Jagermeister". And his mania is hot candle wax and blue hair(*coughs blood*). ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is a remake of this drawing from 2019: Link I'll still keep it up for historical purposes, that and I feel as though that there will be people who might like this more than the remake, gotta satisfy both parties y'know? Anyways, the reason for the change is because I started to dislike the way he looked previously: His outfit resembled Alois Trancy just way too much, black doesn't look good with light blue at all(which is surprising because black is supposed to go great with everything), he doesn't look sly and cunning enough, and I wanted to see what he would look like in thigh boots. He looks like a thigh high boots kind of guy considering he's meant to be flamboyant as well as his Fanloid being a genderbend version of Hatsune Miku. I also did something changes to the profile, not all, but some. But, as mentioned in the previous version of the drawing: Pinocchio's the result of Eve/Margarita's and Tom's bond...normally I'd be against infidelity because it's horrible, but in Margarita's case I'll let that slide since Kasper's emotionally neglectful of Margarita and financially abusive to a point of selling all her material possessions to keep wasting money on other women and cigarettes. I'd highly doubt he'd even care anyways, and I doubt he'd care about Pinocchio either, but we'll just see about that. It was also inspired by these incorrect quotes I made 3 years ago:

Link

Pinocchio Gonzo Blankenheim belongs to me.

#artwork #evillious chronicles #eve moonlit #demon oc #oc #roleplay #fanloid #hatsune mikuo #kuroshitsuji #black butler #remake

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virgil-writes · 3 years ago

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ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 10 - ashes and soot

SFW, around 4K words.

He followed her into the house while trying his hardest not to laugh. She seemed satisfied with her own answer, hoped that it would quell his questioning. Her pacing was erratic once they made their way inside, all manners of ice-breakers and harmless comments flung at him in a very obvious, desperate attempt to divert his attention. It was the first time he saw her lose her composure, fumble with her words, a bead of sweat on her brow as she tried to hide her nervousness. It was hardly a difficult question - did she mean to keep her identity a secret?

The house looked much the same as it did yesterday, perfectly tidy and beyond cozy. The dog pushed past him when he lingered on the door’s threshold, lazily walking towards his spot in front of the fireplace. It tossed and turned for a few moments, finally curling up into a ball, not at all concerned with human matters. Heisenberg approached to see there was no bubbling stew this time, no cauldron over the fire, his stomach grumbling in response. Amidst her anxiety she had taken a moment to ask him to take off his boots as he came in, a casual wave of her hand signaling when she would not face him. The weather had warmed up a bit overnight and the snow had melted some. She would prefer it if he left the mud outside, she explained as she brought over a pair of woolen slippers that were definitely too big for her feet. They looked handmade, but brand new, a sober color that wouldn’t show dirt and matched his usual color scheme. Did she… Prepare for his return?

“I meant your real name,” was his first attempt at prying the truth out of her. He obliged to her request, removed one damp boot and then the other, looking down to slide into the house slippers that, he was convinced, had been made especially for him. “Don’t much care for what the villagers like to call you.”

Heisenberg left the iron pot at the end of the table, trying his best to ignore the sensation of walking on a cloud in those fuzzy slippers. She remained quiet, watched him carefully, as if weighing her options and deciding on the best course of action. He made his way to the couch, grabbing an embroidered cushion before plopping himself down unceremoniously, toying with the stitches on the fabric with his dirty gloved hands. It was as comfortable as he had imagined, comfortable enough to make any of Alcina’s fancy chairs envious. His other arm placed on the backrest, he spread his legs to make himself at home, wiggling his butt almost imperceptibly to seal the deal. He might be having the time of his life, but she for once trembled under his watchful eye.

“I’m afraid that I cannot give you, my lord.” She said at last, her confidence building up after her momentary stumble. He caught the rise and fall of her shoulders as she took a deep breath to steady herself. “I have lost it long ago, in a faraway land whose name slips my mind.” He quite liked the hint of drama - a woman after his own heart -, but the charade would have to end sooner or later.

“So you’re telling me you’ve lived this long without a name?” There was a pregnant pause, her hands stuck midair as she made to reach for a jar high up the shelf, as if she had never once stopped to think about it in that light. Finally, she nodded, let out an embarrassed sigh as she brought the jar of spices to the kitchen counter. “Your parents never thought to give you one?”

“They did, naturally.” Naturally - even some poor family in the back of beyond had the decency of giving their child a name. “But it was never mine.” She finally turned to him, defeated, eyes pointed towards the gaps on the floor, the ones on the ceiling, the candles on the shelf. Anything to avoid his gaze, anything to get this topic over with as soon as possible. For a moment he wondered if this, too, was nothing but a clever way to manipulate him, to have him look kindly upon her. Heisenberg gestured for her to continue, cigar between his fingers, genuinely intrigued by this messed up human being that interested him so, even if she was trying to play him for a fool. “They had lost a daughter before me - Mihaela, she was called. A beautiful girl of ashen blonde hair who never came to see her tenth winter - consumption took her before then.” Her voice was velvet smooth, charming as a storyteller’s should be. “When they found a sickly girl lost in the forest, they felt like God had answered their prayers, returned their most precious gift to her rightful place. I never did look the part, much to their disappointment.” What she said next he could barely hear: “A dead girl’s name for a lifeless girl.”

If it was all a ploy, she was an actress worthy of praise. There was something about the way that her eyes seemed to lose color, her smile turn ever so slightly downwards, that told him she had opened her heart and let him in, entrusted him with knowledge she had been unwilling to part with. Heisenberg found himself averting her eyes without meaning to; not because he felt uncomfortable, not because her story brought back memories. It was a way to relieve her, to allow her breathing room. His presence seemed to burden her, compel her to say more than she ever meant to. It was a courtesy he was sure she would repay in kind.

“It was never mine, but it made them happy. It was the least I could do.” He looked around to try and find any evidence that someone had lived there with her, before her. No picture frames, no yellowed embroidered designs. No knick-knacks that looked too old for a woman her age, no shoes or clothing that hinted at anyone else having set foot inside her home. If Mihaela had truly existed, there was no trace of her left behind. “I much prefer being called what I am.”

Being called was she is, he mused, a multitude of words jumping at him within a moment’s thought. Alluring, Appealing, Beautiful; Charming, Exquisite, Fascinating; Gorgeous, Ravishing, Stunning; Sinister, Mysterious, Divine.

“Well, if you ask me,” he took one last drag of his cigar before putting it out on the ceramic ashtray that hadn’t been there the night before. “That just means we get to find you a new one. I could certainly think of a few words to describe you. I’ll even let you throw a few at me. What do you say?” The challenge in his voice seemed to revitalize her spirit, fire and defiance in her eyes when she placed her hands on the tabletop. “Doll.” Her face contorted in disgust at his first attempt, but that was not what he was looking for. No, he wanted to see her cheeks flush, her breath catch. He wanted something uniquely theirs, reserved for their little rendezvous on cold winter nights such as these. Something that would bind him forever in her mind, so that he could forge loyalty out of her with curiosity for an anvil and charm for a hammer. “Honey bun.” Nothing.

“Sweetheart.” She made her first try, eyebrow raised. Not a scratch. He had expected more of her. “Snickerdoodle.” Gross, but not close enough.

Through dears and darlings and sugarplum and buttercup she stood an impenetrable fortress, even having the gall to mock him and use the words against him in a sickeningly sugary voice. He visibly cringed when she reached a new low with stud muffin; her eyes filled up when her laughter turned to tears after she sent him reeling by calling him her cuddle bear.

They had both been struggling to catch their breath when all merriment seeped out of him, replaced by a burning feeling of disgusting, reprehensible sincerity. For once he had let go of the joe, for once he had let his guard down and the dark corners of his mind do the talking. A lapse in judgment, he would come to chastise himself later, but he could not deny he had begun to see her differently then. It had dawned on him that he had long abandoned the desire to kill or bind her, the turn of events so quick in the brief twenty-four hours they had known each other for. When he opened his eyes he did not see a tool or a weapon, a menace or nuisance; he saw a woman whose laughter brought him joy, who looked wonderful when she replaced the mask of sorrow with a candid smile. He saw someone who could sit with him by the furnace turned fireplace at his quarters in the factory, who could listen to him ramble and not understand a thing but not mind it at all. Someone who could talk away his worries, distract him from his problems. Someone who could pet his hair as he laid with his head on her lap after a long day, who could hold his hand and ground him when the worst of the nightmares came. Worst of all, someone who would, if he gave them both a chance. The word slipped unbidden, a final blow dealt to both of them:

“Liebchen.”

Liebchen, like father would call mother when they thought no one could hear them, when times were better and tragedy had not engulfed them. When he would tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear and pull her into a tight embrace that promised everything would be fine. It always made her smile, Karl remembered, and he wished one day he would find someone for whom he could do the same.

It frightened him to see the honesty in his voice reflected in her eyes, how it had pulled on something deep within both of their hearts. They both fell silent as they digested the tension that floated above them, his words both his declaration and his admission, her unguarded expression her own in return. They were under no illusions of what it all meant, he told himself; there were no dreams of a happily ever after together, no plans of eloping and living out their immortality while holding hands. There was no love at first sight, no uncontrollable passion, unconditional devotion. But there was an openness neither had felt in many years of solitary existence, a baring of souls in the comfort of their laughter. They would keep each other at arms’ length and never speak of it, he knew, although he felt it would be impossible to ignore the feeling that they had found the safe harbor they had long given up looking for.

Now was definitely not the time to unpack all that.

She was the first to recover, a click of her tongue too little time to prepare him for the worst that was yet to come. “Silver fox.” He mockingly heaved as he turned away, letting her have her fun, allowing her to trample on the sentimental standstill at his expense. If it had lingered any longer, he feared one of them would explode into a pile of sugary mush.

“I brought you something, pumpkin.” He said once their laughter died down, approached the dining table where she still stood, suddenly all too aware that the damn slippers were warm and comfortable. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours, right?” Heisenberg reached inside the pocket close to his chest to pull out the knife he had spent the afternoon carefully forging, the details far more delicate than the work he was used to. He slid it over to the other side of the table and she caught it a moment later, a wide smile on her face, fingers tracing over the carvings on the handle. It was made of steel, naturally, the relief of a horse and horseshoe, flowers adorning the space around it. His house’s crest, a little bauble so that she would always remember him. He doubted she would forget him anytime soon, anyway - he was quite the character. “Should be better than… Whatever it is you were using before.” He went over to the kitchen counter to fish her old knife out of a ceramic jug, inspecting it closely. The craftsmanship was admirable, masterfully done intricate designs on the burnt wood of the handle. “Bone?” She nodded, still admiring the blade in her hands. He did not imagine gifting a deadly blade to a woman could thrill her so, but she was definitely anything but common.

He just hoped his little display of goodwill was not a ritual binding of souls in marriage in the eyes of some forgotten god.

Heisenberg looked around the house more closely: witch was definitely the right way to describe her. A piece of twine hung from the ceiling, an assortment of herbs and flowers left to dry long before winter had come. The few pots and pans she owned were stacked on a shelf, next to cups and bowls, plates and saucers. Most of it ceramic, some of it wood, the odd one made of cast iron that looked ancient, but was in good shape. A basket of grains, a barrel of produce, an empty milk jug beside the wood stove. The curio was practically a fossil and had lost its glass panes, books of all sorts organized inside it, as well as mysterious flasks with drawings he couldn’t make out. Mortar and pestle made of dark gray stone containing something fragrant, half burnt candles with various motifs carved on them. The rug was a patchwork of animal pelts, visibly sewn by hand with care and precision. It made sense, he supposed, that she seemed to make everything from scratch; no one had ever seen her around the village, neither to visit nor to trade, and if she truly was as old as she claimed to be, modern life was but a distant thought for her.

“Anything in here that you don’t make yourself?” He asked when his curiosity got the better of him, and she answered by showing him the back of her hand, the red nail polish all too apparent in contrast to her skin. There was a childish smile on her face, as if she was betraying something with that small action. The piece de resistance of modern times in her anachronistic little world.

“This is a beautiful gift, my liege.” She curtsied as she spoke, her movements slow but fluid. That, he concluded, was what amused him so, how she seemed to move without ever touching the ground. The airiness in her step made her look like the picture of happiness, of carefree living; one had but to look at her closely to see that her burdens were many, her soul tainted with poisons unknown, and the she seemed to enjoy the wickedness of it all. He could forget his problems and watch her strut forever, wish that he, too, felt willing and able to let himself be, to let his body and mind run free without a care in the world. His little witch in the woods stopped her dance-like pacing then, suddenly serious as she watched him. “But I am afraid you will have to stay for dinner.” She followed suit when he burst out laughing, throwing himself once more on the couch and resting his feet on a nearby stool.

“Planning to fatten me and eat me, you little minx?” His face turned jokingly serious, head moving left and right as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I don’t think I can fit in that tiny cauldron of yours.”

“Oh, please, don’t give me that look,” she began, turning her back to him to dedicate her attention to the slabs of meat that needed cutting and the pans that needed scrubbing. “Dinner time is sacred, you know. Besides,” the mischief in her eyes mingled with something else when she turned to look at him, that sense of affection foreign to him that they had shared not long ago. “You are a sturdy man.” The word had been used against him before, a reprimand when he had settled into a life of comfort after he returned from the overseas. “Have to keep the meat on those bones.” She pointed and shook the knife at him as she spoke. There was something in the tone of her voice that made him feel like an unruly child; she seemed to know how little he cared for himself, how little effort he put into keeping his body up and running from one day to another. “An empty sack can’t stand upright.” As if to finish making her point, she brought the cutting board over to the wood stove, a mountain of cut pork sliding into the pan that smelled of onions, garlic and all manner of spices he would never recognize. He certainly wouldn’t complain, he thought to himself with a snicker. “I hope the stew was to your liking.”

The best thing he had had since the summer of 1931, when his mother was allowed to splurge on ingredients and baked them a cake so delicious he would never forget it. “Jury’s still out,” was what he retorted instead. “Need to run some more tests.” She seemed happy with his response.

Dinner was quiet in the best of ways. The menu tonight was fried pork and creamy, cheesy polenta, served with a side of vegetables and fresh-baked bread. It was simple, filling, and better than anything he had tried before. He could get used to this, he caught himself thinking once more. He glanced upwards towards the mezzanine while they ate, wondering if there was room for a broad man of considerable stature in her almost dwarf-sized bedroom - the couch wouldn’t hold him. Easier than walking here every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner, like he intended to do whenever possible.

His mother had been a “mash everything together and season it with salt” kind of person, aside from the rare moments of inspiration that overtook her, and Mother never cooked for them. He had grown used to quantity over quality, his meals more of an obstacle than a moment to catch a break and enjoy himself. He has to resist the urge to gobble everything down in a couple of mouthfuls like he is used to doing, food finished within five minutes so he could return to his work. She treats dinner like time is of no concern, savors every chunk and every spoonful, but doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of manners, his clumsy way of holding the silverware. It feels awkward at first, her treating his presence like it was familiar. Familiar, that was the word, she had taken him in without question, even though she knew who he was, probably had an idea of the things he’d done. She had taken him in and he had done the same though he would not like to admit it. Was she afraid of him at all? She should be.

“So tell me, sugar plum,” Heisenberg began as she rose to put the dishes in the sink. The witch returned with a pot and two small cups, the smell of coffee filling the air. “You this friendly to everyone? Not afraid some evil monster is going to barge in here and besmirch your reputation?” She chuckled at his words; whether because she feared nothing or because she no longer had a reputation to smear he did not know.

“Not to everyone, no.” For a moment, all one could hear was the crackling of the logs in the fire, and the liquid hitting the glass. “Only to those who don’t run away.”

The coffee was bitter and brewed to perfection - that is, as far as his knowledge of coffee beans went. He always found the beverage too time consuming to make on a daily basis, especially when one-liter bottles of energy drinks were always at hand. If he ran out, he could always turn to instant coffee: cold, burnt and disgusting. He couldn’t think of a better combination for someone like him.

“Why would anyone want to run away from you, beautiful?” He offered with a charming smile, and she looked at him like he had grown a third arm. Had he lied? She was beautiful, nice and kind, to boot. How had she managed to stay hidden for so long?

“Well, I suppose it has something to do with the goat-deer hybrid monster, the quiet of the forest and the impaled heads at the tree line.” Her tone was nonchalant and sarcastic. Why yes, that made sense. Heisenberg nodded in agreement. To a random, god-fearing villager, she would be the equivalent of the Antichrist. It was surprising to know some still sought after her, often enough that tales of her were spun and shared among the locals. It was more surprising still that news of her existence had never reached dear Mother, the riffraff tight-lipped because of a witch who seemed to go against everything they stood for.

“Eh, seen worse,” was his only response. Would she still treat him as kindly if she knew he could turn into a giant metal monster with even deeper seated anger issues? Would she welcome him in with a warm smile if she knew that he dug up and dismembered the corpses of the recently deceased to perform sordid experiments? She smiled as if she did. Who, for fuck’s sake, was she? “You some kind of mythical creature?” She shook her head no, though she reminded him of legends of witches living deep within the woods, sometimes in houses made of sweets, sometimes bearing chicken legs. Or maybe she was a fairy that danced naked under the moonlight, tiny bells tied around her ankles. “Immortal entity?” Another negative, though there was a second of hesitation that did not escape his notice. “A goddess then? Oh, I would love to worship at your shrine, honey.” He finished with a wink, drank the last of his coffee. Your move, gorgeous.

“Nothing but blood and pain in this temple,” To his surprise, her expression is serious, something he had never truly seen before, as she sighed and gestured to herself. “Is it not enough for your lordship that I am your friend?” Her voice is serene but her words sharp. “What more do you need me to be? Name it, and it will be so.” Powerful, he needed her to be powerful, strong, resilient, loyal to a fault. He needed her to stand by his side as the only one he would trust, to aid him in overthrowing the tyrant he was forced to call a mother. He needed her because try as he might to keep going, he was running out of options, out of hope. He didn’t need her friendship, he reminded himself, tried to convince himself. What he needed was to enchant her and control her. “I certainly appreciate the compliment, though I would dare say we are quite incompatible, my lord.” The woman who spoke to him now was no longer the kind lass he’d had dinner with. She was poised, guarded, cold and distant. “Little blood witch in the woods, sturdy metal man in his factory. Wood and steel. Ashes and soot. What good would that be?”

“The way I see it, pumpkin,” he rose from his seat to make his way out the door, having overstayed his welcome and stepped too far. The analogy hits him like a stroke of genius, the missing puzzle piece in his plan as the curtains draw and he exits the stage. “We’d make a damn good axe.”

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #eeeeeeeeeh #virgil writes

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zachdoesfanart · 5 years ago

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When a hero is lost, who will find him?

It’s more godswap from me and @bipercabeth, featuring The Lost Hero trio and Thalia. In this AU, most things are the same but all the main characters’ godly parents have been shuffled around. Jason and Thalia are the children of Apollo, Leo is a son of Hermes, and Piper is the daughter of Triton.

Thalia Grace is a daughter of Apollo and the mortal actress Beryl Grace. Beryl’s acting attracted the attention of the Muses first, but her ambition eventually brought her to the attention of Apollo himself. Hera had hoped that sending the siblings to separate camps would eventually bring the Greeks and Romans together, but Beryl was a poor parent at the best of times, and after she lost Jason Thalia decided to flee, eventually meeting Luke and Annabeth. After being freed from her tree, she joined the Hunters of Artemis, using her unmatched skills in archery and swordsmanship in service to the goddess. @bipercabeth has an excellent moodboard for her here.

Jason Grace is a son of Apollo and Beryl Grace, and is also Thalia’s younger brother. After Hera took him away from Beryl, he was raised by Lupa, the wolf goddess, before being given to the care of the Legion. When he was brought to New Rome, much was expected of Jason. Apollo is, after all, the quintessential Greek god without any equivalent in Roman religion; any child of Apollo must prove their faithfulness to the Legion. This was proven during the Titan War, which ended when Jason overthrew Krios just after noon. Though her initial plan to bring the camps together had been thwarted, Hera revitalized her plan by kidnapping Jason and sending him to Wilderness School with Leo and Piper. Jason can fly on sunlight and grows stronger as the day progresses. He also has a fine singing voice, but no-one needs to know about that. @bipercabeth also made an excellent aesthetic.

Leo Valdez is the son of Hermes and Esperanza Valdez, an auto-mechanic from Huston. Hermes loved Esperanza’s business acumen and ability to finagle profitable yet fair deals from her customers. Leo inherited this silver tongue from both parents, but he also became a great inventor like his divine father and is prone to tinkering. Leo’s quick wit was usually enough to get him out of trouble, but it inadvertently caused a man to set Esperanza’s garage on fire with the woman still inside, something he still blames himself for. Leo was thereafter bounced from foster home to foster home, eventually meeting Piper McLean and Jason Grace in the Wilderness School.

Piper McLean is the daughter of Triton and Tristan McLean. Triton first met Tristan when he was surfing off Long Beach, and a romance blossomed, culminating in Triton living with Tristan to raise their daughter together. Tristan was very career driven however, and when the encroaching paparazzi threatened to ruin his career by exposing his romantic life Tristan forced Triton to leave. Piper was sent to live with her Grandfather Tom in Tahlequah on and off when Tristan had to go abroad, fostering a deep love of her culture that she still feels somewhat divorced from due to living with her father. After Tom died, Piper began to act out for Tristan’s attention, culminating in Piper cutting off her hair and being sent to Wilderness School where she met Leo Valdez and Jason Grace. Check out the moodboard, courtesy of @bipercabeth.

#jason grace #thalia grace #piper mclean #leo valdez #hoo #pjo #toa #riordanverse #godswap!au #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #myart

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beca-mitchell · 5 years ago

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The Birthday Gift (1/1)

Word count: 2,974

Summary: Beca receives a sex doll as a joke for her birthday. Rated M/E for smut towards the end. And of course reference to a sex doll.

From a prompt from anonymous: Stacie gifts Beca with a sex doll as a prank and dares her to use it. Beca jokes that the doll looks like her very hot dancer ex-gf. Chloe blows her top, dismembers the doll, and confesses her love for Bec. Smut follows of course.

Apologies for violence against sex dolls. I took some liberties! Hope that’s okay!

*posted as separate post because the ask was glitching BADLY*

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

She blames Stacie.

Every year, she tells Stacie (and subsequently, every other Bella) to stop sending her gag gifts because they always end up backfiring or malfunctioning in some way. She can list a whole host of horrible things that have happened with the obnoxious gifts that seem to amuse her wonderful friends more than her.

Notably, singing telegrams—or rather, an extremely excited group of singers who had been sent directly to her house and promptly tripped over themselves to try and harass her for photos. That had been Cynthia-Rose.

Or that time Fat Amy had sent her a whole host of inflatable microphones which ended up looking like a small mountain of vibrators when Beca had first opened the box, ultimately dropping them all over the ground in front of her apartment and receiving extremely judgmental glares from her passing neighbours.

Or that time, through a collective effort, the Bellas (minus Chloe, for reasons that will be immediately apparent) had sent Beca a shockingly high-quality cardboard cut-out of Chloe herself. It would have perhaps been funny if Beca had been alone, but she had unfortunately been with Chloe herself who had flown out to Los Angeles to see her for her birthday.

Admittedly that gift wasn’t the worst. In fact, Beca will never admit it, but it ended up being quite the matchmaker (ironic that a cut-out of Chloe had been their personal catalyst) that weekend. Chloe had probably blushed as much as Beca did upon first seeing it when she followed Beca to the front door.

The rest is history.

* * * * *

The short story is that Beca hadn’t been entirely prepared that weekend—or rather, she hadn’t anticipated—kissing Chloe let alone all the other incredibly fun activities transpired, largely with Beca on her back, hands tangled in Chloe’s hair and an aching need between her legs.

The short story is pretty great. The long story is even better with all the wonderful, steamy details.

But for Beca, there is no story better than the one she gets to experience right now, with Chloe by her side like she knows they were meant to be.

…Even if it kind of took her a ridiculously long time to figure out, plus the help of their nosy, crazy friends.

* * * * *

But to return to why Beca blames Stacie at all—

The day actually starts off kind of normal. Beca doesn’t have to go into the studio, she gets to wake up late, wrapped up in her favorite comforter and Chloe’s arms.

It’s the second birthday Beca has spent in Chloe’s arms, waking up to her kisses. So she kind of assumes that she’s about to have a really great day.

That is, until she drags her feet to the front door after hearing incessant knocking. Chloe laughs at Beca’s grumbling, pushing her out of the kitchen (not like Beca was really helping…unless the slow and steady progress she had been making on pulling Chloe’s shirt off is considered helping) as she bustles around, intent on throwing together some kind of brunch. Maybe even lunch since they stayed in bed well past appropriate breakfast hours.

Beca actually kind of forgets about the Bellas’ yearly tradition until she sees a delivery person in her doorway.

And the incredibly large box by his side. It’s more of a crate, really.

“Um—” Beca says.

“Beca Mitchell?”

Beca has half a mind to say no. “Yes,” she says warily, nearly exasperated as she reaches out to sign for the package.

Chloe rounds the corner, eyes widening in surprise when she sees the box. “Oh, is that—”

Beca peers at the packing slip that the delivery person drops off in her hand. “Stacie’s gift,” she sighs.

Chloe’s eyes brighten even more. “We have to open it.” She nudges Beca’s shoulder. “Remember last year’s?”

“How could I forget,” Beca asks dryly.

It’s kind of a fond memory.

* * * * *

Upon struggling with pulling the surprisingly heavy box through the entryway and front hall (read: Beca pushes very gently while Chloe does most of the work), Beca finally gets the box open.

Her first instinct is to scream when she is greeted with soulless eyes—doll eyes—and her second instinct is to, well, scream, which she does, jumping back right into Chloe’s arms.

“Holy fuck,” Beca gasps. “I hate them so much. I hate Stacie so much. What the fuck is this?”

Chloe continues pulling at the plastic wrapping surrounding the second box in which the doll is encased. She shoots Beca a playful glance. “It’s a sex doll, babe. Have you never seen one before?”

Beca crosses her arms. “Have you?”

“I like watching educational videos,” Chloe shrugs.

Beca pauses. “Educational—? About what? What could you possibly—hey, wait. Don’t try to distract me.” Chloe giggles. “Chloe! They literally sent us a sex doll!”

“They sent you a sex doll,” Chloe corrects. She tilts her head, taking in the red hair, the casual shorts and t-shirt, and the general make-up of the doll itself. “I think it—”

Beca takes a cautious step closer, finally stepping around Chloe’s side. “Hey, she kind of reminds me of Marley.”

Chloe’s eyes whip towards Beca with lightning speed. Beca can almost hear a bone crack somewhere. “Who?” Chloe asks, entirely too casually.

“Just this—” Beca swallows, suddenly taking in the intensity of Chloe’s eyes. “A…dancer who was with me on my last tour.”

She knows Chloe must remember her. Beca had never been anything more than friends with the people she went on tour with, but there had been the occasional flirtation that might have gone somewhere. Chloe had been one of the first people to really notice and pick up on those behaviours one time while she had been hanging with Beca backstage.

Beca hadn’t realized it was jealousy until well, much, much later. Like a literal year later when Chloe was suddenly kissing her in her living room.

“I remember,” Chloe finally says.

“Oh,” Beca says. She tilts her head. “Well, she kind of—”

“It’s a sex doll,” Chloe says shortly.

Beca laughs. “You were all over her earlier, what’s going on?” Beca realizes it is the entirely wrong thing to say when Chloe tenses up next to her. “I—wait—”

“Well, let’s get her out of there then,” Chloe says shortly, moving to fully pull the offending sex doll from the box.

Beca is alarmed. “Why? Let’s just leave her in there.”

“I mean, if you think she looks like…” Chloe trails off, shrugging nonchalantly, but Beca recognizes the tension in her shoulders. “Might as well take her out to really get a look at her.”

Jesus Christ.

Beca closes her eyes.

She loves Chloe, she really does—the whole being in love thing and all—but Chloe’s short fuse and disposition to immediately assume the worst things possible sometimes grinds on Beca's emotions in an annoying way. Annoyingly cute, is how Beca would describe it. Except when it rears its head as something that makes Beca want to pull her own hair out. This part of Chloe's personality is something that clashes spectacularly with Beca’s own short fuse, but they’ve made it work so far and their friendship even prior to their romantic relationship has survived far worse.

Beca refuses to fight over a sex doll. Christ.

By the time they maneuver the doll out of the box, they find a typed note from Stacie with an embarrassing amount of emojis and a heavy-handed implication that she thinks Beca and Chloe need some help spicing up their sex life. It is quite frankly offensive that Stacie thinks Beca needs any help in the bedroom department.

Beca is still grumbling about the note and considering where she can shred it and dispose of it when Chloe pushes the doll onto the couch. Beca watches her with a small measure of amusement, enjoying the way Chloe crosses her arms, literally sizing up an inanimate sex doll.

She kind of wants to comment that Chloe would totally win in a fight against the doll—or something equally dumb and lighthearted, but there is something about Chloe’s stance that is revitalizing Beca’s previous appetite. One that had nothing to do with breakfast or any kind of literal food.

“Chloe,” she begins.

Chloe sighs, heavily, like she is immensely burdened by the weight of her own thoughts. “Beca, this is obviously supposed to be me.”

Beyond the burden in Chloe’s voice, there is a certain, additional clipped tone to Chloe’s voice that Beca picks up on right away. It is a run-off from Chloe’s entire demeanor and ongoing attitude about this whole situation after Beca made that comment about her dancer. After dating Chloe for a year now and knowing her for much longer, Beca likes to think that she’s pretty good at picking up on these things. Like a good girlfriend and an even better friend.

“What’s wrong?” Beca asks immediately. “Talk to me, Chlo.”

“Like, it’s obviously supposed to be me,” Chloe repeats, brow furrowing.

“I mean—” Beca turns back to look at the sex doll, tilting her head. She moves to stand next to Chloe so they can both observe the object now occupying Beca’s couch.

Chloe frowns, poking her shoulder. “Stop staring so hard at it.”

Beca purposefully turns to look at the side of Chloe’s face, noting the flush on Chloe’s neck and cheeks. A slow, knowing smile creeps across Beca’s lips. She had known earlier, but it is even more apparent now. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” Chloe says in a tone that indicates she is in fact, jelly, as Chloe herself would say. Beca loves it.

“You are,” Beca goads. She loves when Chloe is the one who gets flustered. “Oh, you’re a hundred percent jealous. Of a sex doll.”

“It’s a dumb gift,” Chloe says, suddenly pushing Beca back against the couch. Beca collapses, trying not to smirk up at her girlfriend for fear that Chloe will want to teach her a lesson or something that she really would rather not hear about. “You really don’t think it looks like me?” Chloe asks, eyes blinking slowly and owlishly at Beca as she slowly sits on her lap.

Beca cuts a glance to the sex doll next to them, sitting almost too innocently. “I mean, it wasn’t the first thing I thought of,” Beca admits, jerking her attention back to Chloe as Chloe weaves her fingers through her hair.

“Right,” Chloe drawls, leaning down to nip at Beca’s jaw and neck. “But you think it looks like Marie—”

“—Marley,” Beca corrects before she can help herself.

Chloe’s grip tightens in her hair. Beca moans unwittingly, eyes slipping shut at the display of dominance Chloe is exerting over her. “Sorry,” she mumbles quickly. “Sorry—” she chases after Chloe’s lips, gasping out against Chloe’s mouth when Chloe’s hand comes up to grip her breast tightly through her shirt. “It was the hair—” Chloe hums against her throat. Beca struggles to correct herself. “Yours is so much nicer, baby,” she implores. “Please,” she whispers.

Chloe finally releases the hold she has on Beca’s hair and her chest and lifts her arms to pull off her shirt instead. Beca blinks at the expanse of skin on display, unable to help the smirk that really does spread across her face.

“You’re so hot,” she says as innocently as she can. “But you’re also so pretty.” Chloe stares down at her. “I love you?” Beca tries. Her eyes flick down to Chloe’s chest. “I promise you that I’m not looking at the sex doll.”

Chloe unhooks her bra, raising an eyebrow. “I hope so.”

They make out for a little while longer, Beca eagerly groping at Chloe’s chest as they do so. She likes eliciting small sounds from Chloe—a groan, a grunt, a whimper—with each tug of a stiff, pebbled nipple. Chloe shifts ever so slightly, indicating that she wants to push Beca across the couch horizontally. Beca pulls away from the kiss quickly, when her foot kicks against an offending object.

She had forgotten about that damn doll. “Wait,” she says quickly. “I’m not like…looking at it or anything but it’s…it’s touching my foot,” Beca explains. Beca glances at the doll in question over Chloe’s shoulder. “Maybe we should move it. Or like…go to bed—” Beca watches the expressions change on Chloe’s face. “Or we can do whatever you want,” she says sweetly, trying to lean up to capture Chloe’s lips once more.

Chloe raises her eyebrow and in a flash, she is leaving Beca’s lap, leaving Beca feeling cold and empty as she feels usually whenever Chloe leaves their bed too early in the morning or when Chloe pulls away from a hug too soon. “Good idea,” Chloe drawls, picking the doll up bodily (Beca’s eyes zero in on the expanse of muscles rippling on Chloe’s back and arms as she does so) and proceeding to bring it over to her balcony.

Beca briefly protests Chloe’s state of near-nudity but she figures that nobody can really see into her apartment anyway. She watches in amazement as Chloe heaves the doll and throws—literally throws—it past the sliding glass doors.

Beca winces as the head of the doll glances roughly off the railing and literally detaches from the body of the doll, rolling off down onto the quad in Beca’s apartment complex. Likely for some poor unsuspecting soul to find.

Chloe grins back at Beca who continues to watch her with a mildly awed, mildly terrified expression. She shuts the door calmly, moving back to straddle Beca on the couch. “What?” she asks lightly, suddenly in a much better mood.

“That wasn’t very feminist of you,” Beca comments, sliding her hands up Chloe’s thighs to the edge of the underwear she continues to wear.

Chloe pouts. “Let me make it up to you, then.” She moves her hands back to Beca’s hair, pulling her in for a searing kiss, teeth and all. Beca moans softly, meeting Chloe kiss for kiss as Chloe’s hips slowly begin to grind down in her lap.

It takes Beca a moment to respond. A moment to catch her breath. She blinks, looking up at Chloe with so much love in her chest that it makes her ache momentarily. “We should…” Her throat dries when Chloe shifts in her lap. “We should clean that up.”

“Beca,” Chloe murmurs, pulling her back to the present; back to the present time with no sex dolls, no stupid gifts, and just Chloe in her arms on her damn birthday. “Tell me what you want me to do.” She trails her lips up to Beca’s ear, flicking her tongue out against the piercing she finds there.

“Um,” Beca says articulately. Chloe kisses her again.

It’s a good birthday, all things considered.

“Where were we?” Chloe asks, breath hot against Beca’s lips.

Beca licks her lips, leaning up for another kiss before she finally responds, a bit more breathless than before. “Right here. Exactly where I want to be,” Beca mumbles, this time smiling so widely that it makes her cheeks hurt. Chloe giggles against her mouth, responding in kind as she slides her hands down Beca’s chest, grabbing at the material of her shirt.

Beca scrambles to help, tugging at her shirt and then pushing at the fabric of Chloe’s underwear. Chloe sighs into her mouth and lifts herself momentarily to help pull her underwear down. As she does so, however, she slides off Beca’s lap to kneel at her feet and pull Beca’s shorts down her legs. Beca bites her lip, eyes drawn to how swollen Chloe’s lips are. She whimpers when Chloe spreads her knees, pulling at her calves so Beca slides down couch just a little bit more.

“Wait, I want to—” Beca grunts, a small high-pitched sound, when Chloe’s lips kiss a messy trail up her inner thigh towards her dripping center before Beca feels Chloe’s lips wrap around her clit without much preamble. Her hand flies down to wrap in Chloe’s hair, keeping her in place. She hisses, long and low when Chloe continues to relentlessly kiss and suck at the wet flesh between her legs.

Her cunt aches, already desperate for Chloe all over again. She’s so fucking easy. Beca likes to think they both are.

Chloe glances up at her, momentarily stopping her ministrations. “Yes?” She smiles then, lips and chin shiny—fucking shiny—with Beca’s wetness.

Beca groans, her chin dropping down so she can meet Chloe’s gaze head-on. “Don’t stop,” she pleads. “Please, Chlo."

Chloe hums, fingers pressing more firmly into Beca’s thighs. "Watch me,” she commands softly. “Eyes on me, Bec. Or I’ll stop."

Beca obeys, knowing exactly why Chloe is asking this of her, but she is helpless to do anything more than give in, especially when Chloe makes it feel so fucking good.

"You’re so hot when you’re jealous,” Beca comments in a strangled voice. It’s a jab and she knows it, but she loves the fire she can practically feel coursing through Chloe’s veins. It crackles in the air between them, manifesting in the sharp look Chloe gives her, even as her tongue slices through the growing need. She clenches wantonly around nothing, really, as Chloe’s tongue quickly darts up to flick at her neglected clit. She tugs her lower lip between her teeth when Chloe’s eyes flash up at her dangerously.

“Nothing to be jealous of,” Chloe says in an entirely too-cheerful tone as she brings her fingers to the mix, expertly dipping into Beca with ease and familiarity.

Beca thinks of the poor beheaded doll on her balcony.

She supposes that’s true. It was never a competition anyway.

* * * * *

Beca decides she will send a thank you note to Stacie this time. Just this once.

fin.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe fic #fic prompt #pitch perfect #my fanfic #mine #mine:smau

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windup-dragoon · 5 years ago

Text

【Ｓｔａｎｄ　Ｂｙ　Ｍｅ】

First: Welcome Back

Second: You’re Not Alone

Third: Light Upon the Lost

Word Count: 3,033

Hien x Kiri

Post ShB / Some Spoilers

Midnight stars, caught on the surface of the gardens pools, glittered as if jewels at his feet. Such a mirror like reflection on such a still and quiet evening, he felt himself just as lost to these false stars as if staring at the night sky itself. Briefly he wondered; if he cupped his hands, would he hold these far away diamonds in his palms? Or would they slip and fall between his fingers? Fallen stars that he longed to gather for some poetic reason or another. Their beauty... The way they shimmered... So distant... yet close.

His heart thumped in his chest, an awkward beat against the silence as he envisioned just why these little diamonds had become so important to him. He wanted to see them sparkle in her hair, a halo of pale light; to see her mismatched eyes agleam with childish delight when he cast a star like a pebble so she could make a wish on a shooting star. She had become so fond of the night since her return.

With a gulp of air to encourage him, Hien knelt down to the pools edge and sunk his hands beneath the glass surface. Ripples, of course, distorted his stars, smearing their brightness like oil paints to blend with the rich, cool navy of the night sky. Air left his lungs as a sigh.

“Fishing are we?” A voice caught Hien unaware, the Prince lifting his concentrated gaze out of curiosity. Familiar enough, the tone, practiced and smart but rich like velvet. Hien offered Ser Aymeric a small smile.

“Aye. Something of the sort.” He rose and dipped into a formal bow to greet the Lord Commander.

They had been gathered for a meeting with the Alliance, in the heart of Ala Mhigo. While he had not been pressured to attend due to distance, Hien hadn’t wanted to give up a chance to return. It was important to the Lord of Doma to be in attendance whenever possible. Lasting impressions and his own voice to be heard while in discussion. His father would have done the same.

But there were more selfish reasons behind this particular return to Ala Mhigo. A chance to speak freely with the others of the Alliance. Ser Aymeric in particular. Their short exchanges prior to Ghimlyt had left the Doman heir impressed. Aymeric had shown such strength and courage in battle, and kindness to his men. Not to mention the Lord Commanders way of thinking, while different than his own, was refreshing.

Aymeric, treading carefully along one of many paths in the menagerie, returned a light smile to Hien.

“If you wished for a fishing partner, I am certain Kirishimi would have been better suited for the task.” The Lord Commander joked, a vague gesture of his hand to the pool Hien had been occupied with but moments prior.

Hien returned the laugh with an airy chuckle that faded with the thought of her. “You know her well.”

The Elezen shrugged, his lips curled at a recalled memory. “She was persistent on knowing our local fishing spots, or lack-there-of. Admittedly, Coerthas offers little in that regard.”

Hearing the touch of warmth in Aymeric’s voice only served to bring a smile to Hien. That most certainly sounded like Kirishimi. She was devoted to fishing but not as a means of sport or food. Many times since her return, on particularly difficult nights, he had found his Warrior of Light perched at the docks with naught but the faint glow of fireflies and the pale moon to fish by. He found himself fascinated by how still she could be, half watching the waters lap against the docks and half watching as stars rose and sunk behind the towering mountainscape. Often he left her alone, only returning to collect her once he was certain she had fallen asleep.

He could only imagine her enthusiasm to look for spots with thin ice in Coerthas to drop a line; the thought filling his chest with a pulse of warmth.

“Might I ask,” Aymeric’s voice broke Hien from his little day dream. “How has she been of late? I half expected her to have accompanied you.”

Hien’s gaze fell to the lightly swaying flowers that filled the menagerie. While a bold statement normally, Ser Aymeric had been one of few that knew how his heart beat for the woman in question. Like an eager child to share news with others, Hien had let it slip to Aymeric that awful night at Ghimlyt. With a heavy heart he had watched the Elezen commander carry her from the battlefield to the encampment, unresponsive and cold. So doll like in between a state of dreaming and death. He had told Aymeric with all the confidence he had to his name, that he loved her.

With this in mind, Hien felt free to speak openly about matters of the heart with Aymeric. Though only in private, perhaps.

“I had extended her an invitation to come along, even if she only wished to see Mistress Tataru,” Hien paused at the lalafellin woman’s name. She had greeted him upon his arrival, eager to see Kirishimi but left disappointed. “She declined, as you may have noticed.”

Aymeric folded his arms across his chest, his attention never wavering from the young lord before him. “You’re worried about her.”

“Yes!” Hien blurted out before he could stop himself. A sigh on his lips, he brought his hand to the nape of his neck, feeling a fool before such a stately man as Aymeric. “... Yes. I have my concerns. While I do believe since her return she has become more herself again, there are moments where she grows quiet. As if her mind is elsewhere, her eyes faraway. I can only wonder what she sees on those far distant shores...”

“They’ve all endured so much,” Aymeric began and for the first time since he approached the young lord of Doma, he turned his attention to the veil of midnight overhead. “So many battles won, friends and family lost. Each victory begins to feel as though it comes with a heavy price. I’ve heard Estinien make mention of her behavior as well; as if a light has gone out.”

Hien closed his eyes and listened. He knew the hardship she had shouldered while on the First. The hand she had been dealt to save the lives of so many others. He had been beside her one evening as she thrashed and whimpered in her sleep. Or how he had caught her staring at the palms of her hands when she thought no one else spied her, as if checking that it was truly her own two hands before her.

“However,” The Lord Commander chimed yet again, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “If gossip should prove true, then it is within your company she is revived.”

This caused Hien to snort and arch a brow to the commander. “Listening to gossip isn’t very becoming.”

Aymeric shrugged, feigning innocence. “Aye, but I trust my sources.”

The thought alone made his heart swell with unmaintainable warmth. Like a message in a bottle returned to shore, Hien recalled their first official date. How she had looked so lost in the crowds of Kugane that evening; the way she shied away from everyone. He had worried she only agreed to a trip with him to humor the poor prince, she almost seemed miserable. Until he offered her his hand. Hesitant at first, Kirishimi accepted.

He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his. The sensation of her fingers laced with his; or how her grasp tightened on him whenever the crowd grew too rowdy. But with that small gesture, she soon blossomed once more. Her smile returned in spades, he lived for her laughter as they watched street performers dance and play tricks, or her sudden revitalized interest in everything around them. She had come alive for him.

Hien smiled at the memory of their evening only weeks past. Perhaps he had misunderstood her, that night they shared together after her return.

“I don’t want to be alone,”

She hadn’t meant just that evening, did she? Kirishimi had always been alone, but he could change that. There was much she would still have to do on her own, but the least he could do was to be there. To shoulder at least a sliver of her burdens.

“Thank you, Ser Aymeric.”

- - -

“Hm? Is everything alright?” Hien inquired over his shoulder, only just having taken notice of his companion lagging behind him.

A rolling breeze caught her hair and sent it dancing, shimmering like quicksilver beneath the bright afternoon sun. The lush landscape of the Azim Steppe seemed to sway with the wind as well, a gentle wave of flora that mimicked the tides of the ocean.

They had only but minutes ago left behind Reunion, having taken a short detour to visit the hill to which they had first met. But here in the open valley of the Steppe, Kiri paused to marvel at the stone structure centered in the middle of the stretch of land. The Dawn Throne, casting long shadows as the sun swam through tufts of cottony clouds.

“Kiri?” He called again with careful strides toward her. “Don’t tell me, you can see Magnai from here?” Hien chuckled.

But her reply was a quick shake of her head. “No. Just never noticed all those squares make a circle.”

Hien wheezed.

While it was no ocean with crashing waves and the wind in your face, she had come to admire the landscape of the steppe. The cuts of stone rising and falling here and there that marred the valley; the babbling of the brooks that wound like snakes from the Dawn Throne to as far as her eyes could see; even the scent of the breeze was unique and welcomed, a refreshing change from Eorzea.

“Should we visit Sadu and Cirina while we’re out here?” Asked a curious dragoon while she unpacked her camping supplies.

They had settled for a spot on a small incline to make camp; a river just a short trek one way with nothing but sheer cliffs and distant misty mountains along the other.

“We certainly could. Do you not wish to visit dear brother Magnai as well?” Hien teased, tying rope in knots for a makeshift shelter he was busying himself with.

Kiri made a face. “Not particularly.”

“Come now! I had hoped once you’ve mastered the art of the samurai, you would be eager to face him!” The smile on his lips was wicked, his eyes bright.

“Speakin’ of which, when do we get ta’ spar?” Before Hien could even protest the idea, Kirishimi had already located her katana and unsheathed it. She roused from her spot beside a would-be campfire, abandoning her task to help set up camp in favor of a bit of action.

“We only just arrived-”

“C’mon! Fight me!” Like a child given a new plaything, her katana sang through the breeze as she slashed at invisible enemies. “Or are ya’ scared?”

Hien, still with his smile, shook his head. A challenge was it? “If I have no other choice... Then so be it!”

- - -

Sparks blossomed where metal clashed, the sound of the melee ringing out far across the expanse of valley. The day had slipped away from them, an afternoon sky now a palette of rose pink, honey golds, and violets, all sinking slowly behind far off hazy mountain peaks. But time mattered little to them. Both so enthralled with the thrill of battle, engaged in a duel that was more of an intimate dance than brutish fighting.

She was the first to swipe the back of her hand across her brow, shaking her head to throw back silvery locks slicked by sweat. Hien continued to stay his ground, his stance firmly planted before her.

“Such improvement. I can scarcely keep up.” The young lord admitted sharing a toothy grin with his opponent as she caught her breath. His own breathing had grown rough but not yet exhausted; beads of sweat tickling his temple while he kept a concentrated gaze on her. “But I will not yield.”

Kiri filled her burning lungs with the cool twilight air. It had felt as if ages since the last she had felt this way. Alive. Her blood singing with energy, driven to tighten her grasp on her hilt, all the while her heart drummed beneath her breast. His encouragement was intoxicating, the fleeting moments she caught him grinning at her, or chuckling to himself at some unspoken joke... She felt dizzy with the intimacy of it all. But she adored it. What a rush. A sensation.

With her stance once more restored, Kiri made her attack. Their blades caught one another in a shower of sparks like dying fireflies and a cry of metal on metal that filled her ears. Hien smirked, a twist of his katana and a step forward had left her unbalanced. A bit staggered and exhausted the former Dragoon fell back onto a bed of soft, if not a bit trampled, lush grass.

She blew out a sigh, cocking a brow when Hien interrupted her view of a sky turned twilight. “Gunna need some food if I plan to kick yer arse some more.”

“Truly? Mayhap it is high time we put a truce into place?” Hien offered, extending a hand to the fallen Dragoon.

Although resigned to both ideas, she could do little else besides accept. “Truce.” Kiri agreed, taking his assistance and pulling herself from the dirt with a bit of effort. Her body ached and her stomach growled, but it was a satisfying feeling. To have put your all into something, to dedicate mind and body and concentrate on nothing else. She wondered, briefly, if this was what it felt like to meditate.

- - -

Together they shared a simple meal over the camp fire. Fresh caught fish from the stream, courtesy of an already worn out and starving dragoon while the young Doman lord finished assembling parts of camp.

Evening was upon them once they had finished at last; a night sky beginning to shimmer into focus overhead, jeweled stars radiant as always.

“Honestly, you have gotten much better.” Hien announced for the umpteenth time.

“Ya’ knocked me on my arse more times then I could count, mate.” Kiri replied, chuckling at her self. So many mistakes that could have easily been corrected. And how many times had she fallen for his fake outs? She was a rookie still at best, a novice who had much to learn. Not to mention her excessive need to jump before every attack. Where her mind believed it would make for a good and powerful move, all it did was provide Hien with more fodder to tease her with.

Hien stifled a laugh in return, trying in earnest to pay her a compliment despite her refusal. “Ah, but how else will you learn to quit lunging at your opponent? You make it painfully easy.”

“See? That just proves I gotta lot ta’ learn still, yea?”

“Mistakes mean you’re trying, at least.”

Kiri rolled her eyes.

The campfire cackled at the couple, noisily chewing on the kindling they had provided it with.

For a moment, in the serene silence that overcame them, Hien watched her. Wind teasing her hair, her eyes set on the firelight before them. While the scene echoed their evening at Ghimlyt before the battle, when they sat shoulder to shoulder at a similar bonfire, the atmosphere of it all had changed. His heart still beat heavily with worry for her, but for new reasons. Before he had wanted to encourage her to stand tall, and he succeeded. But now... He wanted to be selfish. He wanted her to open up about her fears instead of powering through it. Wished she would just talk it through with him rather than sit in agonizing silence all alone.

Back then he had been nervous. But now....

“Hey... come here for a minute.” Without any warning, he wrapped his arms around her middle.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” To his own surprise, the dragoon did little to resist. Instead she allowed him to pull her unto his lap, looking a bit mystified. “Close your eyes.”

“Why? Is this some samurai technique?” Kiri arched a brow but offered a smile. She trusted him after all.

“What? No. Close your eyes.” Carefully he readjusted himself to make her more comfortable, sitting her between his legs while letting her lean against his leg. She laughed and did as requested all the while his heart became a hummingbird in his chest. With one arm around her shoulder, Hien brought his free hand to her cheek. “You’re improving.”

Kiri snorted abruptly. “This is what’cha wanted-” But he hadn’t finished. He gently pressed his thumb to her lips to quiet her. Certain she wouldn’t continue her banter, Hien drew his thumb delicately over her bottom lip before caressing her cheek once more.

“Every day you’re improving.” He continued, leaning closer so he could speak in a hushed whisper. “It might not seem so but from my perspective, you certainly are. I see you smile more and more every day. You’ve started to laugh again. Although some days are a challenge, you always press on. Yet when those hard days approach, I want to stand with you. Should all you need is my hand to hold, it is yours.”

Her eyes remained shut but Hien could see the crinkle of her nose and the furrow of her brow. Carefully his hand swept the curve of her cheek, his fingertips feeling the warmth of her skin.

“Never again will you be alone, as I will always be at your side, Kirishimi.”

Before he could change his mind or have second thoughts and while his heart sounded like thunder in his ears, Hien pressed his lips to hers. All the stars twinkling overhead played witness to the young lords claim. Whose light seemed only to brighten as she accepted.

#|| Tiger Prince & the Stray #|| Untold Stories #Hien x wol #hien x kiri #hien rijin #lord hien #prince hien #Kirishimi Yasuragi #ffxiv #aymeric de borel #idk what this is #it just exists now #also I used absolutely none of the prompts given to me #/shrug #lmao sorry fam

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fic-for-fic-sake · 5 years ago

Text

Sometimes it’s the outfit

A/N: Whenever I wear this outfit I am always feeling myself which is a kick ass feeling so I figured hey, why not write about it. Also while we’re all in self quarantine because of coronavirus I was like hey let’s write something that doesn’t remind us of that.

Warning: Very minimal plot, mostly smut, NSFW, 18+ only

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Spring had finally sprung which meant one thing for you, wardrobe change. Thank God. You liked winter for about the first month and then you had your fill and anxiously waited for the weather to turn warm again. Spring had absolutely everything going for it, flowers blooming, the world waking up, and your favorite clothes on your body once again.

You rifled through your closet, seeing what you could wear to mark this momentous occasion. You weren’t sure if it was quite warm enough for dresses, and you definitely didn’t want to wear jeans and a t-shirt, no this required one of your favorite outfits. Your one piece black and white striped jumpsuit, with the cute little tie on the front and a very generous neckline. Throwing on some white sneakers you were ready to go. Go where, you weren’t sure yet, you just wanted to soak in the sunshine.

You were leaving your room, sunglasses in hand when you heard a voice calling to you from the opposite side of the hallway.

“Hey Bucky.” You replied, meeting the super soldier halfway. You greeted him with a light hug before you continued on your way, but he grabbed your wrist to stop your movements.

“Where’s the fire doll?” He questioned, thick Brooklyn accent lacing through his words. He had just gotten done his workout, his black shirt clung generously to his body and his workout shorts left very little to the imagination. You let your eyes linger for a fraction of a second before you stared back into his blue orbs, that were eyeing you curiously.

“It’s a beautiful day out Barnes, can’t let it go to waste.” You quipped back, before turning and leaving him to his own devices, throwing a wave over your shoulder.

You spent the whole day outside, soaking in the sunshine and getting some much needed Vitamin D. You admired the white almond blossoms, already in bloom around the compound, went to the lake to listen to the birds and ducks before you made your way back to the compound, sun-sated and happy.

You walked inside and found Bucky reading on the couch in the common area on the floor of both your and his apartments.

“How was the marvelous outdoors?” He questioned, not bothering to put his book down as he tossed the comment over his shoulder.

“Revitalizing. Thank you very much.” You replied quickly, walking around to the opposite side of the couch to stand in front of him. He dropped his book and eyed you suspiciously. You appreciated how his eyes raked over your form, and noticed when they stopped to trace the collar of your shirt down past your cleavage. “See somethin’ you like Barnes?” You asked, placing your hands on your hips and cocking your head slightly.

“What has gotten into you recently? You’re so...different.” Bucky proclaimed, spreading his thighs with a hint of invitation as he placed both of his arms on the back of the couch, spreading out entirely. You noticed the way his thighs stretched out the black jeans he wore and you had an idea.

Before you could change your mind you walked towards him and crawled into his lap, straddling him. You looped your arms around the back of his neck and leaned down so your face was level with his.

“What do you mean?” You whispered into the shared space between the two of you. The environment was becoming electric with the tension radiating from the both of you. He took his hands off the back of the couch and wound them around your waist, pulling you closer to him, as you gently ground your clothed core over his growing erection, he let out a harsh gasp and his pupils dilated with lust.

He began to trail kisses up the column of your throat until he reached your jaw, then he made his way so that his mouth was mere millimeters from your ear, “I think you know exactly what I mean.” He husked, gently grazing your lobe with his teeth.

In response, you pressed yourself down against his length once more, more urgent this time. He took that as a cue to wrap his metal arm around the back of your neck and bring your lips to his for a blistering kiss. Your hands found themselves planted firmly in his black locks as you deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth. His teeth pulled your lower lip into his mouth and you panted a response, begging him to continue the sweet torture.

His lips were on yours again and his tongue scorched your mouth, pleading with you to open up for him. Your lips accepted him and your tongues danced together, exploring what the other had to offer. Every noise your mouth made he happily swallowed with his.

“God you make the fuckin’ prettiest noises doll.” He rasped, trailing kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone. You arched into him, offering more and more for him to take. Your hips ground against his and he placed a hand on your hip, guiding your movements, thrusting his own hips up into you.

You slowly began to peel the straps of your jumpsuit from your body, giving Bucky access to your bra clad chest. He hastily reached behind you and unclasped your bra before he sat back and admired his handiwork. You were perched on his lap, breathing labored and lips kiss bruised, hair mused and a flush across your cheeks. The perfect picture of seduction. He slowly trailed his hands up your naked chest until his hands, both hot and cold, palmed the globes of your breast. You arched for him as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, working them to stiff peaks.

“Fuck Bucky, please don’t stop.” You moaned, hips moving of their own accord now, desperate for some sort of release, the pressure build up was burning in the most delicious ways.

“Wouldn’t dream of it doll.” He quipped back, his pupils black and lust blown, so only a thin layer of blue iris remained. He gave you a salacious wink before he dived in on your left breast, your right one still subject to his teasing torture. You gasped as his teeth pulled on your hard nipple and then his tongue soothed the pain away. You grabbed his head, pushing him closer to you, begging him to keep going.

He continued pulling a string of lewd curses and moans out of your mouth before you pulled his lips up to connect with yours once more.

“Take me to bed Buck.” You breathed out between kisses.

“Your wish is my command sweetheart.” He responded darkly, effortlessly lifting you up in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you down the hallway to his room. No sooner were you in his room than he had your body expertly pinned against the now shut door.

Gently, he propped you up back on your feet before hooking his hands into your bodysuit and pulling it off the rest of the way, along with your underwear. You stepped out of the outfit and tossed your sneakers aside before he continued his assault. He got down on his knees and began to worship your right leg. Trailing kisses along your calf muscle before swiftly pulling your leg up and hiking it over his shoulder, giving him a beautiful view of your dripping core.

“God doll, you’re so wet. This all for me?” He teased as he planted heated kisses along the inside of your thigh, nipping and sucking his way up to where you needed him most. You were a moaning and panting mess above him, holding onto his head to steady yourself. He brought his flesh hand up and trailed a teasing finger along your sopping wet folds. His intense blue eyes met yours, “I need an answer hon.”

“Yes Bucky, it’s all for you, fuck.” You replied hastily, head cloudy with lust and desire. Saying anything to get him to where you needed him to be. He smiled at your response before he licked a long stripe up your slit and you felt your knees buckle in response, struggling to keep you upright. Bucky’s tongue expertly parted your folds as he delved in to taste you like you were his salvation. The obscene slurping noises that followed were enough for your eyes to roll to the back of your head and for you to sing Bucky’s praises.

“You taste so fuckin’ good baby. Better than anything I’ve ever had.” He said lustfully, as his nose hit your bundle of nerves. He chuckled at your reaction as he sank first one and then two fingers into your dripping cunt. “Fuck you’re tight. Gotta stretch you out good, make sure you can take me.”

“Fuck Bucky please, I need you.” You pleaded as you felt his fingers move inside of you, curling until they found your sweet spot and then attacking it relentlessly. Your body shook with desire as every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire.

“What do you need doll? Be a good girl and use your words.”

“Your mouth, please Bucky.” You begged, carding your fingers into his hair, holding on for dear life against his assault.

“Since you asked nicely.” He replied before he latched his mouth to your clit, sucking harshly. You let out a scream that you’re not entirely sure belonged to your own body before you combusted, coming onto Bucky’s fingers and into his awaiting mouth. Your body went slack against the hardwood of the door and you were faintly aware of Bucky’s strong arms carrying you over to his bed before laying you down and crawling on top of you.

He lazily kissed your mouth as he nudged your thighs apart with his knee, preparing you for him. You wound you legs around his hips as the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance. With a sigh he slipped into you easily, not stopping until every glorious inch of him was inside of you. He waited for you to adjust to his length wonderfully stretching and filling you.

“How’s that baby? How do you like my cock?” Bucky breathed into your ear, his head rested nest to yours, clearly waiting to move.

“Fuck you feel so good, please fuck me.” You pleaded. You would’ve been annoyed with how desperate you sounded but you needed him to fuck you so badly. You could feel the heat pool within you once more and the coil in your stomach tighten, you needed your release more than anything and you knew only Bucky could provide it.

Bucky pulled out of you almost all the way, agonizingly slow, before he slammed into you again with a sigh. He moved fast and you met each snap of his hips with eager thrusts of your own. The profanities spewing from your mouth were unheard of as Bucky sucked a harsh mark into your shoulder, muffling his own cries of pleasure.

“Fuck, Bucky, I’m close.” You panted out, meeting his uneven thrusts, meaning he was close too.

“Me too sweetheart, come with me.” He commanded and the coil within you snapped for the second time that day. You came around him harshly as your nails dug into his back, leaving angry red marks in their trail. You felt Bucky come inside of you, chasing his own release. His harsh pants turned slower and steadier as he eased himself out of you and lay down next to you on the bed.

“That was…” You started, at a loss for words. Bucky grabbed your face in his hands and planted a hungry kiss on your lips, breaking your train of thought.

“Fucking mindblowing.” He finished your thought for you. “Wear that outfit more often.” He commented into your hair and you smiled, if wearing that outfit would mean Bucky would fuck you like that more often then you weren’t sure you would ever wear anything else.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #mcu fanfic #bucky fanart #bucky oneshot

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 60: For the Lazy Mornings

Chapters: 60/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Bad Dreams, Loki has Unresolved Issues, Reader Contemplates, Walk Walk Fashion Baby, Lol Yes I Did Write A Whole Chapter That Takes Place Within Like Thirty Minutes

Summary: You miss breakfast.

Loki awoke to darkness; velvety, silent, and comfortable. A slight chill had crept into the room, the sensation familiar on his skin. The sun must be setting fully again, finally. The seasons on this world were so strange, foreign.

You shifted next to him. The chill might be soothing to him, but your fragile, precious human body might not take to it well. He should probably get an extra blanket for you.

Of course, there were other ways to keep you warm. Lust stirred in him, recalling your clumsy, insistent hands and hungry, determined expression. It wasn't the first handjob of his life, but it was certainly the most earnest.

For some reason, you hadn't wanted him to return the favor at the time. But now...

He placed his hand on your thigh. You rolled over to face him, bigger than you should be, twice, three times bigger than you should be. The bright, rainbow-scattered light of the old Bifrost Loki remembered lit up the room, highlighting your sapphire skin, your bright red eyes looking down at him fondly. Loki shouted, recoiling in revulsion, but the roar of the Bifrost drowned him out, the light overcoming him.

Loki sat up in bed.

It was dark, but to his eyes, faint light escaped from the edges of his blackout curtains. You stirred, and his head whipped around to stare. You were your normal, adorably compact size, and thankfully devoid of blue. He let out a relieved breath.

“Well.” You muttered. “That was weird. Is that what it's like, when you look down at me? What was that loud light?”

You must not have been able to see yourself in the dream, the way he had.

“That...that was the old Bifrost. It used to be like that, when it was fully functional and powered up. Brighter. Bigger. More color, more range, a louder roar. Just more powerful.”

Powerful enough to slice through the mile thick ice crust of a tiny, helpless planet, creating a canyon a quarter of the way across the equatorial region, exposing the water far below, and causing Norns only knew what kind of havoc.

You had still been beautiful, in the colorful light, in the wrong skin, the wrong size. Still beautiful. Somehow, it repulsed him.

But the dream was gone now, the shock fading away into the warmth you brought to his bed. He settled back down into your waiting arms. It was so comfortable here. Though not yet lovers exactly, you fit so well into his bed, and he fit so well into your arms, his head resting between your breast and jaw, so he could hear the steady pumping of your heart.

“Sleep, okay?” You encouraged. “Everyone's leaving tomorrow. Then you'll have peace again.”

“Hm? Whatever do you mean?” Loki said. He knew what you meant, but was surprised that you'd thought of it.

“Well, it's stressful, right? Having all these enemies around, pax or no.” You said, absently stroking his hair.

“Not enemies. Not anymore.”

“Not friends either, though. Bad blood.”

“Some of them.” He admitted.”Some of them weren't even there at the time. Many of the others have...well, not forgiven me precisely, but accepted the reality of me. Or simply moved on. But then, there are those who can't.”

“Tony.”

“It isn't his fault. My actions fundamentally changed him. How many others like him? I wonder sometimes.”

“You regret what you did?” You sounded...not surprised, but curious.

“I regret the lives lost. Though my actions actually brought some benefit to your world-forced your governments to realize there were threats from outside, to at least try to prepare for further incursions, revitalize your space programs, recognize your heroes...but it is terribly unbecoming to attack civilians.”

“Huglausi?” You ventured.

“Very.” He sighed. “I compromised my honor very severely. Obliterated it, really. I've done many unseen things to try to restore it. In the end, it's really all I have.”

He wrapped one arm around you and snuggled up as close as was possible without actually being on top of you.

“I've seen how superficial so many things really are, how easy it is to be stripped of them. Title. Wealth. Name. Home. Identity. The only thing that truly lasts, the only thing that has impact, is deeds. And mine have been...reprehensible.”

“But it wasn't entirely you.” You pointed out. “You were being controlled.”

“Not entirely. I told you, it was still me. I know it's tempting to attribute everything to some behind-the-scenes puppetmaster, but it wasn't like that, it was...” He trailed off, squeezing you.

“Like what?”

He held his breath and shook his head a little. If he told you too much, if he told you everything, you would never lie next to him again. He would lose this as soon as he had gotten it.

But didn't you deserve to know what kind of creature you slept next to? Didn't you at least deserve to know what was behind his actions on Earth? Maybe not the rest of it, but the things that impacted the world you lived in?

“You know how you hate the man who hurt you during the Sn-the Event? But you wish you did not, and you wish you could forgive him, but the anger and unfairness of it just hits you sometimes? And you feel guilty about it, and that makes you angry too; bitter, resentful. And that makes you feel even worse, and it just builds on itself, until it finally goes away, but you're miserable the whole time, and a while afterwards?”

“Uh...yeah. It's exactly like that, actually.”

“I too, have things that make me feel that way. And the influence of the Mind Stone was such that it made those thoughts, those angers and resentments come to the surface, and then it kept them there. It kept them fresh and constant-no healing, no overcoming, no acceptance or moving on, and, most importantly, no relief. It was neverending. A great font of anger and bitterness as fresh as the moment it was inflicted, and sustained, indefinitely, by the stone's power over me.

Thanos didn't put a ring in my nose to lead me around by; he didn't have to. A smidgen of psychological manipulation, and I was his. A nearly willing slave. I wanted the havoc I caused. I reveled in the chaos, the fear. I bathed in the sounds of screaming and destruction, lusted after the blood and terror.”

His breath had grown heavy. You fingers paused in his hair.

“I wanted it because I felt I had nothing else. No future, no identity. Only deeds. And I was determined to make them the biggest deeds I could, for good or ill. I was an avatar of the worst that a being like me could become, and the greatest I had ever been. I enjoyed what I was doing, because it was the only outlet, the only respite from the hate and anger that I had.

For all my plans, I could never have ruled like that. It's a lie the Mind Stone told me, that I tell myself, again and again. I could have done it. I could have made it work. But I could not even master myself. It was all lies, upon lies, upon lies. Lies built me. Lies define me, and that entire experience just proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt.”

“Loki...”

“Shhh.” He lightly brushed your mouth with his fingertips. “I committed great deeds. Great and terrible. And now, now that I control myself, now that the malign influence no longer hangs over me, I can no longer commit deeds so great. I cannot rebuild your city. You have already done that. I cannot show generosity in equal measure to my destructiveness. Asgards budget is too tight. Somehow, on the other side of madness, I am incapable of doing good in equal measure to ill. Why must it be so easy to harm you, but so difficult to help you?”

“Maybe because we all need different kinds of help, but we all die the same.” You said, and he grew quiet in contemplation. “ Loki, you have a lot you want to do, right? Rebuild Asgard, fix your reputation, help the people around you, be a good ruler. And on top of that, you have responsibilities to your family, and your people, and...well, to me too. As your...”

“Paramour...” He breathed. “Yes. I have...responsibilities. You...you need me.” It was almost a plea. “You want me...You want to be near me...I've been good to you...haven't I? Is there anything you need? Anything at all?”

You seemed to sense the tendrils of desperation that wound inside of him as he had explained himself, as he sought something to expend his energy on, and you resumed stroking his hair.

“Yes.” You said. “I need you to hold me for the rest of the night. I need to feel you close to me. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up to you first thing in the morning. That's all I want right now. Can you give me those things?”

He didn't move, just remained molded to you, head tucked under your jaw. Purpose. Simple, attainable purpose.

“All those things and more. Thank you, _____. I needed to say it. I knew you would listen. Without the stone, I would have healed, at least a little. Without the stone, I have healed. A little. There was time to mourn, time to accept. Time to look forward. I...I wish I was already the man I could be for you. I will be though. If you will but be patient with me.”

“Sleep, Loki.” You said. “I want to get to that waking up with you next to me part.”

*****

And so you did, slipping gently back into consciousness, with the comfortable weight of Loki's arm across your chest. You turned your head to find he had tucked you under his chin, cuddling you like a plush doll.

You kissed his throat until he shifted and his breathing changed.

“Darling...” He mumbled sleepily. “Blessed maiden of comfort. Good morning.”

“Mornin' sweetie.” You said, and he scoffed at the pet name.

“I am a god.” He said

“You are a grump.” You answered, kissing the tip of his nose and shimmying out of bed.

He slithered out after you. “Am I really?”

“Only sometimes.” You teased.

You didn't join him in the bath this time, opting to take one in the evening instead. Your clothes had been left in a neatly folded stack just outside the door to Loki's bedroom rather than outside of yours.

Oh yes, everyone knew what was going on.

You reflected on how easy that acceptance seemed to be, as you slipped into your clothes for the day. Aside from a few loud, unpleasant, and downright dangerous individuals, the people of Asgard seemed perfectly fine with you.

Even though you'd been told several times that there was a struggle between human-friendly and human-unfriendly factions, it was really being treated as if the eventual failure and disappearance of the human-unfriendly groups was a foregone conclusion. As if it had all happened before, and had turned out the same every time.

Well, hadn't it?

The war with the Vanir had ended millenia ago, possibly before the first human civilizations had even begun. You could see the influence of their heritage in Saldis' features, and knew there were full Vanir here in Asgard who were trapped away from Vanaheim by the events of Ragnarok. Nobody cared anymore. The former queen of Asgard and the guardian of all Asgard were both raised by Alfar. Heck, with the strangeness of Heimdalls eyes, there might actually have been Alfar in his family tree.

Once you thought about it, there might be a little Jotun mixed in as well. Probably not Frost Giants, since they still seemed to be a point of contention among Asgardians, but other kinds of Jotun they didn't seem to have much trouble with. You knew the Vanir didn't have any trouble with intermarrying with them, and neither Loki, Brunnhilde, or Saga seemed to think they idea of marrying a Jotun was all that strange. Freyr was married to one, and they didn't act like he was a freak or anything. In fact, since Jotun were so genetically flexible, it was possible that any Asgardian could have a Jotun ancestor, and it might not even show at all.

You knew absolutely nothing about the previous queens of Asgard, save for where Frigga was raised...

Nah. You didn't actually want to go fishing for more royal scandal. You technically were one, even if the majority of Asgardians had accepted that you were but a harbinger of what was to come. They had survived intermingling with others, and they would survive humans too. Probably come out even better for it, if the history Saga taught you was accurate.

The real problem might just be other humans reactions to the idea. Humans were far too proficient at focusing on the differences between people, and dividing themselves up into groups that weren't supposed to be allowed to mingle...but still definitely did, even if the consequences were terrible. That was the problem. There shouldn't be those kinds of consequences, but there would be. For the longest time, humans only had other humans to define as 'outsiders'. Only very recently had extraterrestrial intelligent species come to their attention, and almost every time, it was in a very negative way.

Part of the world was very on board with the Asgardians, but it was because of a shared cultural history. They regarded the Asgardians as partially 'theirs' somehow. But the rest of the world had no such ties, and some countries had a definite-and admittedly justified-beef with certain prominent Asgardians. One of which you happened to be actually dating.

Okay, but what could they actually do to you, aside from troll you on the internet? Asgard was on the lookout for assassins now, and you had committed no crimes. Besides, being with Loki was a good thing, right? It was a symbol of friendliness and good will between Asgard and humankind, right?

That was definitely not why you were doing it though. You just really liked him. Loki was a man of many virtues. One of them was how he came back from the bath, shirtless, and with his hair still damp.

That was a very good one.

Loki gave his hair one last scrub with the towel, dropped said towel over the back of his desk chair, and opened the carved wooden doors to his huge wardrobe. He stood in contemplation of the perfect thing to wear.

“What do you think...” He murmured. “What's the best combination for saying goodbye to a group of not-quite-enemies?”

“Peacefully?” You asked.

“Of course! I can't let it be known, but I actually like some of them, just a little.”

“So you want the 'lady who has just divorced her jackass, loser husband, and is past ready to mingle' look.”

One perfect eyebrow arched. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” You ducked under his arm and peered into the wardrobe. “So you wanna show off, but not your very best, because that's trying too hard, right? All black is dramatic, and looks so good on you...”

He preened.

“...But I think it might make you fade into the backdrop. How about this one though? The green matches mine, so we could present as a unified front. Also I like this little short cape.”

“This is a capelet. Would you like one? They are not difficult to make; I can order some for you.”

He held up the tunic; a quilted thing of rich pine green and gold piping, knotwork designs at the stiff cuffs and mandarin collar.

“You like this?”

“It looks very...touchable.”

Both eyebrows went up this time. “Is that the image we want to project?”

“Put it on, and lets see.”

The tunic molded to him, so tight that you would have though it simply didn't fit. But he seemed to be able to move in it just fine. You ran your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

“I was right. Very touchable.”

He caught your hands in his and squeezed them gently.

“I'm glad you like it, but I don't think so. Not this one. It is actually part of a matched set made for myself and Thor, when we were younger.. It doesn't feel right to wear it, if he is not wearing his. I doubt he still even fits into his.”

He removed the tunic, and searched for another.

“I do like the color matching idea though. Perhaps this one? It is similar.”

This tunic did not fit him quite as tightly, but was still expertly tailored, and still the same color of green. It fell all the way to his knees, split to the hips in four places, and the sleeves terminated in sharp points over the back of his hands. It was quilted as well, but the pattern was more like scales, and you noticed that the metallic thread was gradated; starting out black at the bottom, then shifting to green, then gold at the collar and shoulders.

“Wow.” You breathed. “You look like a dragon!”

“Well,” He said. “I did steal you and fly you away to my lair full of riches, did I not?”

“That you did. Speaking of riches...can you help me with my brooches?”

“Of course, my dear.” He plucked the oval brooches from your palm, very carefully pinning them in place, so as not to prick you. As you had thought, he got them perfectly centered, their strings of beads cascading over the top of your breasts. They drew his eyes. “But you know how to pin them yourself, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do.” You said, a little sultriness slipping into your voice. Loki's eyes flicked to yours. He licked his lips.

You were in his arms barely a moment later, drowning in his mouth.

“I wish I was the man I could be for you. I will be.”

No man had ever said anything like that to you before. Never expressed any desire to be better for you. It was usually the opposite.

Loki, prince and god, wanted to be better. For you.

You were going to miss breakfast.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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lunasohma · 5 years ago

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Once Upon a Time

[ ao3 / ff.net ]

Natori Shuuichi goes on a quest.

Someone falls into step beside him.

"Oh, it's you, Lady Hinoe."

She blows smoke rings right in his face. He splutters accordingly.

"Got a death wish?"

The craggy mountain towers in the distance, the cave yawning wide at the top. A ring of smoke wreathes the peak as it has been for the past few weeks. Dragonfire.

"I think my family has one for me," he mutters sullenly.

"Oh, most definitely." She agrees immediately and peers curiously at him. "How haven't you noticed that yet?" He shoots her an incredulous look. She rolls her eyes.

"Cheer up, you pretty boy, you!" She reaches out to ruffle his hair and he's not quick enough to duck out of range, so now his scalp burns. Hinoe's nails are ever impeccable. He rubs his head gingerly.

"You absolute baby," she drawls. "Surely a little peril and near-death experience will do you good."

"You think I'm going to die?" Hinoe squints at him speculatively.

"Hm, I'd say it's a fifty-fifty chance." Natori wonders why he still talks to her. (He sort of knows the answer; it's rather depressing.)

Hinoe sweeps ahead of him like she owns the forest. She probably would if it weren't for Takashi.

"Oh!" She perks up. "It looks like Takashi's coming to say goodbye." Speak of the devil. Well.

"Goodbye," Natori echoes hollowly.

The spirit Takashi usually presents himself in the form of a young man, his etherealness pervading in pearlescent silver locks and a vivid green gaze. He's accompanied by his cat (?) as usual. Takashi addresses said cat as 'Sensei.' Natori has yet to figure that one out. By all accounts, it seems as though it should be the other way around.

Before the cat can launch himself at Natori's face and add to the scratches he'd put there last week, Takashi hurries to gather Sensei up in his arms, with an apologetic look to Natori. In many ways, the spirit's demeanor plays to his projected image. Natori's stopped wondering why.

"Not goodbye," Takashi amends Hinoe's statement with a kind smile. "I'm certain we'll see you in one piece yet."

"Gee, thanks." The spirit's laughter is like tinkling bells.

They make for a strange party now.

Takashi is perched regally atop Natori's horse. He's always liked Mirabelle and she likes him. Hinoe and the cat are digging through his saddlebags as they walk. Natori drags a hand down his face.

"And how are you going to do anything?" Hinoe asks, around a mouthful of his provisions. "All you like to do is play with those paper dolls."

And that's kind of the reason he's here. It's the Natori heir's chance to prove himself. Natori Shuuichi was born with a propensity for magic, the likes of which hadn't been seen since the House of Matoba was at the height of its power.

But nowadays, wielders of magic are few and far between, shunned, and sometimes hunted, for their abilities. Any revitalization of the magical arts is feared and would be especially so within any of the Great Houses again. For that reason, Natori's own ability was kept out of the public's knowledge. And Natori himself kept the fact of his Sight from the rest of his family. Even so, it seems that he's finally been shooed off into the wilderness to be killed under the pretense of honor. Joy.

"You're not going to be killed." Takashi rouses him from his melancholia. Natori eyes him suspiciously.

"Are you clairvoyant now or something?"

"I'm still working on that." These days, Takashi only seems to be getting stronger.

"It's written all over your face," he continues patiently. "I wouldn't believe it's so cruel as that."

"Oh really." Natori can't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Takashi's gaze flickers up to the mountain's peak then back to him.

"We'll see."

They're at the base of the mountain now. So much for gradual inclines, it rises at a dangerous near ninety degrees.

"I'm going to get Misuzu to lift you up," Hinoe is saying as Takashi loops a protective arm around his mare's neck.

"Not going to accompany me?" Natori asks dryly.

"Someone's got to stay with Mirabelle." Takashi pats her nose as his cat starts in.

"You brat, you should be grateful that we're here at all!" He's fairly imperious. "There were plenty of things that could've eaten you in the past two minutes alone!"

"Why do I get the feeling you're one of them?"

"Well, maybe I am now," the cat growls.

They're interrupted by the arrival of Misuzu.

Misuzu's perpetual grin is stretched across his face. He lowers his head so that one of his eyes is more or less level with Natori's head. One of his frogs hops right onto Natori's face. Hinoe and the cat snicker. Takashi delicately picks the amphibian off because he's nice like that.

"Young Natori," Misuzu rumbles, "so you've come to slay the dragon."

"That's the idea." Natori suddenly feels eternally tired. He hefts the family sword. An honor, they said. If honor weighed a ton, then sure.

Misuzu's grin widens and he starts laughing. Natori feels as though he should be more offended. He is about to die after all.

"Well, I wish you luck."

"You're not a dragon."

"Am I not?"

Tendrils of shadow swirl around the figure, amassing into a serpentine shape. And suddenly Natori's on his back. Obsidian scales catch silver, even in the low light. Natori glimpses needle-sharp teeth and long claws hold him in place now.

The dragon's right eye is missing. It's not the worst thing Natori's seen, but it's still pretty bad. When he reaches up, it flinches back.

"Would you turn back?" The dragon's tail flicks pensively, good eye searching his.

Natori tries again. "Please? My medical supplies aren't proportioned for dragons."

Hinoe always says that he's stupidly kindhearted. Natori argues that Takashi is even more so. But then she'll point out that Takashi is powerful enough to deal with the repercussions and Natori can't really disagree with that. Takashi just smiles, ever an enigma.

It's the purported heir of the Matobas. He's got a nasty infection where his eye is missing and seemingly, a low tolerance for pain.

"Will you stop squirming?"

Seiji stills for one second before resuming his fidgeting in earnest. Natori suspects he's doing it on purpose at this point.

"You're not going to kill me?"

“I don't think that was a possibility in the first place." Natori rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. He's absolutely rubbish with a sword. Perhaps not the smartest thing to be admitting to a dragon shifter, but somehow he feels it's all right.

Natori loops the clean cloth once, twice around the other's head, then neatens the ends as best he can. Seiji inspects his handiwork in a nearby puddle.

"I look like a pirate."

"Pirates are cool," Natori says supportively.

Natori wonders why he's all alone way up here, but he doesn't pry. Seiji himself doesn't offer any explanations.

But Natori knows his history. The Matobas had been experimenting with darker forms of magic. Extravagant rumors propagated and caused the stigma against magic to grow exponentially. It eventually culminated in an all-out bloody campaign to exterminate magic and those used it all together. It hadn't really worked - did they really think it would? - but it certainly succeeded as a warning. And the House of Matoba, bearing the worst of the attack, had fallen to ruin and all but vanished.

It's rather tragic, in a fateful kind of way. This encounter could have ended with a little less magic in the world. Natori wonders if his family had known. But then again, he supposes that it wouldn't really concern them.

Natori starts to gather his things.

"Are you leaving?" The other tries for disaffected, but the question still comes out a bit forlorn, giving Natori pause.

“Actually, I think I can stay awhile.”

The sky is deepening to indigo and the horizon is streaked with crimson. The moon and stars will rise soon.

“Your friends?”

Natori peers down the cliff face. Takashi is weaving wildflowers into Mirabelle’s mane. Hinoe and the cat have somehow procured numerous bottles of drink and were now heavily indulging. Misuzu looms over the group – a larger than life presence. His eye meets Natori’s momentarily and his grin stretches ever wider, knowingly. Beside him, Seiji starts slightly.

“Don’t worry,” Natori assures, “that’s one of his friendly smiles.”

He doesn't look too convinced.

"I'll introduce you if you'd like." Seiji blinks at him in surprise.

"Um, okay?"

"Come on then." Natori stands, brushing himself off, and holds his hand out.

After a beat, Seiji takes it.

It turns out that Seiji knows the mountain that he's been living on better than Natori does. Go figure.

Even so, he doesn't let go of his hand as he carefully leads them down.

It's warm.

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thataveragewriter · 6 years ago

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Gladiolus x reader - finally home

A/N : requested by @creepy897 Sorry it took so long! But here it is, I hope you like it!

It had been a particular stressful day at work for you. Writing papers here and there, there seemed to be no end to the paper work handed to you. It almost seemed unfair. Yet here you were, at the end of the day. Excited to go home and fall in to a hibernating slumber.

As you stepped through your front door, the sound of the TV resounded throughout the seemingly empty home. Taking you shoes off, you see the large figure of your lover on the couch, most likely drifted off to sleep. A small smiled forms on your lips. You set aside your coat and bag and approach his sleeping form. Gladio was laid sprawled across the sofa, his arms falling off the edge whilst his legs dangled. Soft snores could be heard, which caused you to let out a soft giggle. Then, you hurriedly went away and changed into one of his shirts and sweatpants. You approached his sleeping form and slowly nestled yourself on his broad chest. He radiated such heat it was welcoming and soothing especially after a long day of work. You wrapped your arms around his figure and snuggled closer to his chest. The soft beating of his heart tempted you to fall asleep but the sound of the TV deterred the sleep away. You looked up at your lover, his mouth slightly agape, snoring. His smooth silky hair never ceased to impress you with the well-kept condition it was always in. you reached you hand up to caress his defined cheek, feeling his rough stubble brush against your thumb. You smiled, seeing how at peace Gladio was, it relieved you of all your troubles of the day.

You leaned up to place a small kiss on his jaw. Then, you felt his arms tighten around your smaller figure. You let out a small squeal as Gladio burrowed his face at the crook of your neck.

“Hey there, sleepy head” you teased as you gently threaded your fingers through his silky strands.

“Mhhm, welcome back babe” He murmured as he laid a gentle kiss on your neck.

You let out a soft giggle as his stubble rubbed against your neck.

“How was your day, Hun” you gently spoke out, still fiddling with his hair.

“I missed you, babe” Gladio whined, almost childlike as he further tightened his hold and bringing you closer to his chest. You chuckled at his clinginess, it was endearing to say the least.

“Aww, my gladdy baby missed mee” you teased as you pulled back and poked his cheek. He grunted, a childlike pout on his strong features. You smiled at his reaction and leaned up to peck his lips. Gladio had long awaited for your soft lips against his own, craving for your touch and the sound of your voice. It was a rather lazy yet earnest kiss. The day has drained you and feeling the lips of your lover revitalized your energy. You smile into the kiss as you feel his hand at the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

You pulled back and opened your eyes to gaze at your lovers soft yet defined features. A small smile painted on Gladio’s face as you leaned in and pecked his cheek. Once more, he enveloped you in a bear hug and placed his chin on top of your head.

“Let’s get some sleep, you’ve deserved it doll” he murmured, softly trailing his hand up and down your arm as a soothing gesture.

You hum in response as you listen to his heartbeat lull you to sleep. Gladio places a kiss on the crown of your head before soon joining you in the realm of the unconscious.

#gladiolus amicitia x reader #gladiolus x reader #ffxv x reader #gladiolus amicitia #gladio #ff15 fanfiction #ff15 gladiolus #ffxv #final fantasy xv #final fantasy #final fantasy 15

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tomboyjessie13-artblog · 5 years ago

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Pinocchio Gonzo Blankenheim is one of the many children Tom sired with one of his many lovers. In this case, he was born as a result of Tom Gonzo's and Margarita Blankenheim's secretive romance before the Toragay Epidemic happened. After his Mother's Suicide and his Father's abduction by Ash Landers, he grew up being raised by King Soil Elphen until he reached an age where he learned about his parents' fates, and that his full name was "Pinocchio Gonzo Blankenheim". He soon left Aceid and came across Elluka "Ma" Clockworker, he learned that not only his parents are Demons, but is a Demon himself, and that she was the one who "killed" his Mother. Since that day he spent his time seeking revenge against Elluka Clockworker(Ma) and Queen Victoria for his parents' downfall, in addition to revitalizing the Blankenheim legacy and establishing an Anti-Victoria Organization to bring down Queen Victoria and those associated, I.E. the Aristocrats of Evil, going under his Mother's title as "Demon of Sloth", even training himself in witchcraft to become a powerful Warlock and Demon.

~Technical Information~ Name: Pinocchio Gonzo Blankenheim Japanese: ピノキオ=ゴンゾー=ブランケンハイム Romaji: Pinokio=Gonzō=Burankenhaimu Other names: Demon of Sloth(alias), Demon Doll(by Friel and Alois), Pinocchio Elphen(Adopted name), Marquis Blankenheim(title), Eve Moonlit(disguised as a girl) Fanloid: Hatsune Mikuo ~Biographical Information~ Born: June 7, EC 609 Age: 19 Classification: Demon Race: Irish-Elphe Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Hair Color: Green Eye Color: Green Affiliation(s): Kingdom of Elphegort

Trivia: He shares the same birthday as Hatsune Mikuo, the genderbend fanloid of Hatsune Miku. He's named after a popular character from a children's novel under the same name by Italian writer Carlo Collodi, the reason behind it is because like said character, Pinocchio is born as a wooden plaything considering his mother was a Clockworker's Doll made from Nechucha Tree wood. He was also born with Ball-jointed-limbs because of this(he hides this using hypnoses). His birth is considered Irregular due to his Mother being a Clockworker's Doll. Regardless, he is officially labeled as a "Demon" because his parents are Demons themselves. His fashion was inspired by Ciel Phantomhive and Alois Trancy's outfits from the anime/manga series Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji, hence why Pinocchio looks very affluent and flamboyant. Because of Eve Moonlit's ability to transform the people she possesses into having her appearance(I.E. Mikulia Greeonio), he ends up having that similar predicament of having her feminine face and pigtails, hence why people confuse him for a girl. Though it was embarrassing at first, he uses that to an advantage when luring in his enemies(if they're stupid enough of course). However, on the anniversary of the Eve's death(circa EC 014), he's forced to have her pigtails on for the whole day. He also has an attraction for anyone with blue hair because of her(*cough blood*). Speaking of Eve, he also inherited some of her powers such as lightning magic, manipulating the airborne Gift, and hypnoses, the body swap technique is hard to master, however. From Tom's side he inherited the ability to warp reality and to have his eyes glow-in-the-dark. Making him an exceptionally powerful Demon and Warlock. He is rivals with Marlon nobles Countess Friel Shion of the Shion Household and Earl Alois Trancy of the Trancy Household. Like most of Tom's children, he's capable of going mentally insane without having a chip in his brain. He also has a liking for alcohol despite his young age, his favorite is "Yatski L'Opera" and "Jagermeister". And his fetish is hot candle wax and blue hair(*cough*).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Remember three of these statues that described Tom's and Margarita's relationship?

www.deviantart.com/tomboyjessi…

Yeah, Pinocchio's the result of their bond...normally I'd be against infidelity, but in Margarita's case I'll let that slide since Kasper's emotionally neglectful of Margarita and financially abusive to a point of selling all her material possessions to keep wasting money on other women and cigarettes. I'd highly doubt he'd even care anyways, and I doubt he'd care about Pinocchio either, but we'll just see about that.

Anyways, after finding these statuses, I became inspired to create a OC if those two were to have a secret romance, I spent two days making this guy ever since then.... *inhales and exhales* I love the smell of making OCs inspired by EC in the morning, oh how I miss this

#artwork #evillious chronicles #eve moonlit #demon oc #oc #roleplay #fanloid #hatsune mikuo #kuroshitsuji #black butler

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