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modern-inheritance · 4 years ago

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Modern Inheritance: The Promise

(A/N: Way way WAAAAY Pre-Eragon. It’s rough and a majority of it was lurking in my drive folder for weeks. I wanted MIC!Brom and MIC!Arya interacting alone (aka without Izzy hovering and smothering Arya’s personality) together for the first time. The ending is shit and makes no sense, but I literally just wrote it and I’m having a hard time switching off the Japanese sentence structures (Japanese Sub-Obj-Verb vs English SVO) and whatnot and it’s just…a to-be-cleaned-later mess. But y’all gettin’ it anyway!!

Oh, also. I wanted Post-Fall Brom to be an angry jackass. Donno if that came across enough.)

{Secondary A/N: Ever go back read your stuff and thing ‘damn that feels clunky?’ Posting all these to the new side blog has me really thinking that way too often. As I’m literally doing this as a way to avoid an end of semester presentation project, I don’t have time to rewrite at the moment, but maybe one day....}

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“You’re leaving already?”

Brom’s head snapped back, eyes narrowed as he searched the trees for the source of the voice. So the person– or thing, as you could never be sure in the heart of Du Weldonvarden– that had been following him for the past week was finally ready to reveal itself.

Keen as he was, the Rider couldn’t pick out his second shadow from the mottled greens and browns above. They seemed content for him to answer before speaking again.

No way around it then. Brom shifted his pack on his shoulders, and dropped a hand to the pommel of his borrowed sword. His pistol and rifle were dismantled in their cases tied to his backpack, a precaution Oromis and Glaedr had insisted on ever since their former student nearly attacked Rhunön more than a decade ago. “I have things to do.”

“Well, yeah.” There was the scuff of dried outer bark crackling as it was compressed. Brom whirled to the sound, blade halfway out of its sheath before he stayed his hand, now more annoyed than ever. “But it’s not like you’re finished here, are you?”

Crouched upside down with her bare feet planted on the bottom of a pine branch and fingertips digging into the bark, was an elf. She cocked her head at him, dark hair waving as she observed his nearly threatening stance and foot of naked steel that was still exposed at his side.

And she gave him a sly smirk.

“Are you going to draw on me, ebrithil shur’tugal?”

Brom felt his blood pressure jolt up several levels. “What do you want? Either say your piece or go away. I don’t have time for this.” He slammed his sword back into the sheath, locking the hilt in place.

“Fine, fine.” The elf let go of the branch and twisted in the air, landing deftly on her feet. “I wanted to talk to you but couldn’t with everyone else around.”

He wanted to say that the time for talk was over. That he was done playing politics in this damned forest and he was going to back to fix the problems the elves had abandoned when they retreated there.

But his voice died in his throat as the elf came closer. No, not a full grown elf. An elfling, a child. He could see the faint silver of her skin now that she was not haloed by the dappled sunlight dripping down the tree.

She bowed slightly, hand twisted over her heart in the elvish greeting before straightening and hesitantly held out her hand, almost appearing unfamiliar with the second gesture. “Stars watch over you. I’m–”

“Oh, I know exactly who you are, girl.” Brom ignored the offered hand and stepped around the elfling. Now that she was on the ground, she didn’t even reach his shoulder. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

There was a sudden snap in the air. Brom felt the hair on the back of his neck rise but refused to turn as the girl jogged to his side, obviously piqued. So she was still young enough to be bleeding uncontrolled magic into the world. “I was going to say, I’m Arya and my mother is not me and does not get to introduce me.” There was venom in her tone, something that the Rider had honestly not expected. What he had seen of Arya before was only a glimpse, usually several strides behind the Queen and watching the goings on quietly with wide, dark eyes. “And I want to talk to you.”

“Go home.”

“No. I’m not letting you leave without talking to me.”

“We’ve talked. A conversation with several back and forth utterances has taken place. You can go.”

“Master Glaedr was right about you. Look, just take me with you.”

Brom stopped. Now that was something he had not expected. The request, that is, not the comment about Glaedr. He turned slightly, one eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

“You heard me.” Arya crossed her arms, firmed her stance and glared at him with brilliant fire in her dark green eyes. “Take me with you.”

For a moment, Brom saw Evandar again. The elvish king’s rage at Galbatorix’s mindless slaughter of the dragons and innocents was something that was not easily forgotten.

For the briefest flicker of time, Brom saw that rage again, barely contained within the small, half grown elfling planted defiantly before him. It was simmering just beneath the surface, threaded through with the innate defiance of youth and stubbornness that all but screamed Islanzadi’s name.

There was conviction there as well. That, it seemed, was Arya’s claim alone.

He turned to face her fully. “You want to go out there and fight?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sick of hearing about people dying.” Despite having to tilt her head back to keep steady eye contact with the Rider, Arya stepped forward into Brom’s personal space. “It’s time someone in this forest did something to fix the problems we brought about instead of moaning about the how Golden Age is gone while people out there die! So make no mistake, ebrithil shur’tugal. I’m going to help you stop this war so that no one else has to die for it.

“I’m going to help kill the Forsworn and Galbatorix, and help to end this war.”

Unlike any other who could have heard them, Brom did not laugh at the young elf’s words. He searched her face, letting the ring of the bond in her last statement, forged in her switch the Ancient Language, cool in the air. In all that time Arya did not flinch. She did not back down nor show any flicker of doubt on her face or in her eyes.

The elfing still did not move when Brom nodded slowly and rubbed at the stubble that patched his face. “Alright then. Seeing as how you just royally screwed yourself at…what, eight years old?”

Another snap of static flicked the air, this time pinging Brom on the neck as Arya’s eyes flashed. “I’m twelve.”

“Right, right. Royally screwed yourself and your entire life by magically forcing yourself to join a war and probably get yourself killed, then fine.” Brom put his finger up to halt the growing excitement he could see rising in the little elf. “But. Not now. Give it a few years. Ten, maybe twenty or so…and I’ll see if you’re ready to start working on your promise.”

The near feral grin that split Arya’s face startled him. This was something he had not seen before in Islanzadi nor Evandar. The wild, vibrant spirit waiting to be unleashed on the world was all Arya’s own. He shook hands with the elfling to seal their agreement.

“Tell the Forsworn I’m coming for them, yeah?”

Brom grinned despite himself. He knew that the girl had likely signed her own death warrant this day. But something about that half crazed smile she wore told him otherwise.

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #brom #pre-eragon modern inheritance #arya #arya drottningu #scrawny little wild elf child #brom always gets stuck with kids how does this happen WHY does it happen #and thus started a beautiful friendship of PURE CHAOS

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mercdoesfanfic · 3 years ago

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The Last of the American Girls (Chapter 1)

Hello! I’m not sure if I’m gonna keep posting fics on tumblr, but I figured I’d give it a try. I guess let me know if you like this fic and I’ll be more likely to keep going. Anyways, it’s going to be kind of a songfic using The Last of the American Girls by Green Day. The first chapter is set up and beyond that, they’ll be memories. WARNINGS: angst, vague references to doing the nasty.

xxx

“Well, she’s the last of the American Girls.”

xxx

In the grand scheme of things, there wasn’t much that Daryl Dixon needed to survive. While some of his companions in the apocalypse yearned for a warm bath or a movie to watch, Daryl was used to living rough and tumble. He knew how to hunt, how to turn animal meat into an edible meal, and how to fend for himself. After all, the world had only just decided it didn’t want the rest of humanity there, but it had despised him since the day he was born.

However, he had to admit he was thrilled when he found out that the Greene’s farmhouse had electricity. It gave him one last opportunity to use the last item he had held onto from the past, to experience the only thing that had mattered to him before the world went to hell.

It took some uncomfortable explaining to one of Hershel’s daughters- the older one who had taken a shine to Glenn- to get him in the door and into the guest room. She left him for a moment with a curious expression, quickly returning with the only item he had asked for.

Daryl took the iPod charger and thanked her quietly, refusing to make eye contact. It didn’t take long for the woman to take her leave.

The younger Dixon could almost hear his older brother’s mocking, despite their estrangement. It didn’t matter where in the world Merle Dixon was, he always got himself the last word when it came to his brother’s choices. And, as Daryl could imagine, he would be getting mocked endlessly for what he was about to do. However, with little else to do as the small black device charged, all he could do was listen to the disappointed guffaws of his elder brother.

“Christ Almighty, Darylina. Not even the end of the fucking world could force you to grow a pair. Sittin’ around in some saintly man’s house, waiting on a useless brick of metal. And for what? All over some bitch that’s dead and gone.”

Daryl almost winced at the imagined scrutiny, his brother’s words cutting worse than when he had thought the things himself. This was remarkably stupid, even by his standards. There was nothing left for him in this. Everything on the little device covered in various, cartoon stickers charging in front of him was based purely on memory, on emotion. Even on a good day, Daryl found the routine, the desire to look through the iPod ridiculous. And he couldn’t help but assume that there weren’t going to be many good days left.

The world seemed to halt when the screen came to life, the usual playlist displayed in dark mode taking over for the first time in months.

His mind, as it always did, clouded at the sight of his name at the top of the track list. Dixon. He could almost hear her voice, the lilt that snuck into her tone every time she greeted him from behind the bar. He thought he had moved past this, that the end of the world had washed away what had come before. That he would be done with the emotional strain that the world had placed on his shoulders from a young age. The good, the bad, and the ugly, all rinsed away for the simple chaos that the walkers left in their wake. But now, sat in front of this stupid fucking box like a teenager looking at a love note, he knew that would never be the case.

xxx

She had been on her tiptoes, cursing as she stretched over the counter to wipe down a spilled drink when he had entered the dimly lit dive bar. It was a chilly evening in Atlanta, but the woman still wore a simple black tank top and grey jean shorts that hardly came halfway down her thighs. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, clearly for practicality as opposed to preference, keeping it off of her face and neck as she worked. This, however, only served to draw attention to the work of art that adorned her body, a tattoo consisting of barbed wire wrapped around her neck that slithered down over the rest of her body, ending somewhere below her ankles. She didn’t seem too imposing, but her presence seemed to demand respect from those around her. In shitholes like this, men could hardly keep their drunken mouths shut around women, saying filthy things and copping feels. But the place was in order. People kept themselves in check and a single glare from her created a silence far more imposing than anything Daryl had ever seen.

He had come in looking for an alibi, an excuse to keep himself out of Merle’s illicit activities for the evening and a dose of plausible deniability should the Atlanta PD come knocking. Instead, he had found something else. Usually, he couldn’t give two fucks about what someone thought about him. But her? He wanted her to notice him…

xxx

Doors opening and closing on the floor below him brought him back to the present, the memory’s clarity fading almost as quickly as it came. The first time he had been able to see her in his mind’s eye in a long time. It had been a year since he had seen her, since he had left the city with his brother like the idiot he was. She had offered him a place in the world, a life of his own, and he had turned it down for Merle fucking Dixon. There wasn’t a day that he wondered if the choice was worth it… But since Merle had fled that rooftop in Atlanta, he knew that he had thrown in with the wrong person.

Everyone he cared for always left him. But not her. She had asked him to stay.

And he had left her in return.

Fucking. Moron.

A parting gift, in the form of her treasured iPod containing a playlist for him, was all he had left of her. He had no doubt in his mind that she was long gone, either fleeing from the dead or part of the dead herself. After all, happy endings and good fortune were never in the cards for any of the Dixons, least of all Daryl.

With unsteady hands, Daryl plugged in the pair of earbuds she had sent along, pushing one into his ear in order to keep himself sharp enough to respond to any possible threats. It was second nature, it always had been. As he stared at the unmoving screen before him, he asked himself whether he deserved this. The memory of Gloria alone overwhelmed him with a sense of bliss, one he wasn’t sure he deserved. It all came back in short bursts. The good, the bad, and the ugly of one of the best people he’d met in his entire life.

xxx

“Oh, eat shit, Dixon!” she cried, laughing through her words as she curled up in the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. “I was NOT that drunk!”

“Ya tripped over the curb, then curled up on the sidewalk screamin’ ‘bout how ya were sure to die any minute. I had t’ carry ya home and put a frozen bag of blueberries on ya elbow.”

“I was just… very concerned about gettin’ a bruise.” she defended adamantly.

“You didn’t even hit that elbow, Glory.”

“Like I said, eat shit!” Her smile was practically contagious.

xxx

“You’re such a fuckin’ prick, Dixon!” she screamed, stalking up the stairs of the empty bar towards her apartment above. “I can’t fuckin’ believe it!”

“Glory, I’ve got no goddamn clue what you are talkin’ about!”

“So I’m just not good enough for a little fuckin’ honesty, that it?!” she demanded, stopping short at the door and turning to face him. Daryl could see the tears hidden behind the rage, but knew that they wouldn’t fall, not in front of him. “Am I jus’ not worth the fuckin’ time?! If you don’ wanna take this anywhere, that’s fuckin’ fine! But don’ lead me on like I’m some idiot.”

“I-... I don’t wanna…-”

“But you are, asshole! I have been jerked around enough damn times to know what it looks like. And to think I thought you gave a fuck.”

“I do! I jus’ ain’t ever done this before!!”

She quieted down almost immediately, her demeanor eerily timid in comparison to her typical fire.

“You-You’ve never… never what? Like… any of it…?”

“No! I haven’t!” Daryl was still pissed, but he couldn’t quite tell if it was at her or himself.

“Oh fuck…. I am… Jesus, I’m so sorry, I’m such a bitch.” she murmured, burying her face in her hands. “Christ, I’m sorry.” she turned around to unlock her door, fumbling with the keys as Daryl fumed. As she opened the door with a creak of rusty hinges, she turned to face him. “You deserve a better first, Dixon. Don’t waste it on me, okay?” the words were filled with kindness, with a sort of compassion he rarely saw from her.

As the door shut, he understood one fact more clearly than he had ever understood about the retreating woman. He was stupidly in love with her.

xxx

Her scars were so different from his. While his were big, ragged gashes, hers were small, smooth indentations in otherwise perfect skin. But, like his, they were everywhere.

He discovered each and every one, his calloused hands tracing ever so lightly over her skin. She leaned up to do the same with her lips, letting them ghost over his neck as he held back a satisfied groan at her efforts. It didn’t take long for him to reach his destination, his nimble fingers pulling melodies from her lips that he was so sure proved the existence of a god. Only the divine could create something so heavenly.

Once she had her fill, he took what he so desperately needed, murmuring praises the entire way. Her nails dug into his arms as she clung to him, begging for more, to be closer to him. To say that having this unwavering force of a woman beneath him crying out in ecstasy was anything short of magical would have been a goddamn crime.

For the first time in his entire life, Daryl Dixon found peace in baring himself to another person, falling soundly asleep with Gloria tangled in a gentle embrace.

xxx

Daryl Dixon refocused his gaze on the screen in front of him and pressed play.

#the walking dead #twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon/oc #daryl dixon x oc #oc #songfic #last of the american girls #green day #fanfiction #mercdoesfanfic

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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 4 years ago

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Bikes, Bikinis, and Blanket Forts

This was a writing prompt. I ran, RAN with it. So enjoy this super long, fluffy, smutty, sweetness that is Herman Kozik. Sorry in advance. It’s super looooong. I just oculdn’t stop. XD

You grabbed your phone, tapping in your brother’s new number and shooting him a text.

Tiggy: Alexander! It’s your sister! Dawn and Fawn are supposed to be over today. You better get your ass here! These fifty boxes of cake mix aren’t gonna magically make themselves. Feel free to bring a couple guys for backup. Maybe a cute one if you can handle it. And no, Happy isn’t cute. Love you! See ya in a few!

You: Hey! I think you have the wrong number, but I’ll be there in a few! Frosting cakes is my specialty! Love you too! PS I like to think I’m pretty cute.

What? Who did you text then? In all honesty, you weren’t really even mad. The more help the better, and he was confident in his looks. About half an hour went by and you heard the bikes roaring down the road. Your laughed to yourself, Tig must’ve just been messing with you. Dawn and Fawn emerged from their cave at twelve-thirty, and the bikes pulled into your driveway. You counted five bikes, which wasn’t normal, maybe bike five was your mystery man. You laughed to yourself, shaking your head. Tig gave a quick knock before pushing open the door.

“Hey guys!” You cheer, waving to the few you already knew. Happy, your brother Tig, Bobby, and Juice, but you didn’t know the blonde who hung back behind everyone, a smile on his face so wide his blue eyes were barely visible.

“Shoes at the door assholes, dirt in the kitchen makes you a dead man.” Tig barks at the blonde who kicks his boots with everyone else’s. “Hey princess, the girls finally get up?” You looked back to the couch where they’d been and no longer were.

“Maybe they went to the kitchen. Wanted to look like formidable wives when your biker gang showed up.” You let out a laugh, holding Tig’s shoulder. He laughed dryly. He didn’t like the idea of you with a biker, much less his daughters. Your eyes met the blonde’s for a second before you looked away. “What’s the deal with Creeps over there?” You ask lowly, Tig’s eyes follow your directional nod and finds Kozik standing at the receiving end.

“That’s Kozik. Used to live around here, moved to Tacoma after he killed Missy.” Tig nips, frowning. He felt you roll your eyes and heave a sigh.

“Christ Alex, that was eight years ago. Just forgive him.” You snap, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the kitchen. “Feel free to follow Mister Kozik!” You call as you disappear around the corner. He followed, still smiling, she was as cute and sassy in real life as she was in the picture.

“Happy, don’t break that, Jesus.” You nip, snagging the pig decoration from his big hands. You wrap him in a quick hug, getting a kiss on the forehead.

“I just don’t see why you can like pigs so much. The animal or the cops.” He rolls his eyes with a chuckle as he heads to the sink.

“I think they’re cute! The animals and the cops!” You retort, kicking him in the ass as he washed his hands. “Everyone, wash your grubby greasy hands and follow me. I have fifty boxes, so everyone’s gonna have to do a few.”

“I got dibs on you.” Happy calls, drying his hands. You threw a box at him.

“Shut it, bald head!” You call, shaking your head before handing out bowls and whisks. “And I have the girls on cutting parchment circles for our pans. So once you get a box mixed, pour into a pan, the girls will get started putting them in the oven.

Three hours spent mixing boxes of cake batter and putting it in the oven, once you were done, you had a kitchen table full of small round cakes and a big smile. You had made more the twice the amount of frosting you needed because you knew these idiots would make a mess.

“So Kozik, you’re from Tacoma, you killed my brother’s beloved Missy. And I texted you this morning, didn’t I?” You ask, handing him a bowl of frosting and a frosting spatula. The blonde gave you a look of concern and then smiled.

“Yeah, it was me. I told Tig he better get his shit around, you didn’t sound like you were playing. My frosting skills are, at best, adequate. Just so you know.” He laughs, getting you to laugh too. Tig watched from the other end of the table as his sister fell for the blonde idiot. To break up the weird dynamic, Happy grabbed a finger scoop of frosting and smeared it across your face. You couldn’t help the laugh as you grabbed a little frosting and smeared it back across his shirt and face.

“Hey now!” He barks, grabbing some and smudging Dawn’s face. She shrieks, smearing some on Tig’s goatee. You watch on as he gets her back. You couldn’t help the laugh. You had needed a fun change. The seriousness of work had been too much lately and you just needed a break. Alex always knew how to cheer you up. The blonde gets the bright idea to follow suit, getting a little frosting and wiping it down the bridge of your nose, dotting each cheek and your chin.

“Actually, my frosting skills are still badass.” He nods, grinning from ear to ear as you try to lick it off your nose.

“Oh buddy, you have no idea.” You disappear into the kitchen, returning with a plastic spoon and a dark grin. Dipping the back of the plastic spoon, you smudge it across his forehead. “Simba!” You laugh, going back to frosting your cakes.

“You guys quit! We only have two more hours before I have to go to work and these are getting dropped at Gemma’s.” You bark, trying not to smile as Kozik mimics you, rolling his eyes. Tig couldn’t help the littlest smile. You and the dumb blonde were getting along well. You finished the cakes’ first layer of white frosting and got out the piping bags and colored frosting. You had a bag of pink frosting, red, black, and green. “S-O-A is going on thirty of them. Like this.”

You concentrated on the lettering, making it look so easy and pretty. Kozik was mesmerized as he watched you work. You handed him a bag of red frosting, Happy a bag of black, the girls each a smaller pink and green bag for flowers, and the others grabbed their own bags and filled them with black frosting.

An hour later, all the cakes were decorated and put into cute boxes that the girls decorated. You gave a content sigh, happy with the finished products for Gemma’s fundraiser and piled them into your car.

You got to Gemma’s and shockingly enough, there was blondie, waiting patiently to help unload the boxes. Gemma watched the interaction, your face hot with blush as you let him do all the heavy lifting. Once done, he met you back at your car door with that big dumb grin on his face.

“You goin’ to the fundraiser tomorrow?” He asks, eyes dropping to your badge on your scrub top.

“Yeah, I plan on it, but I gotta get to work.” You smile, climbing into the car.

“I’ll see you there. Hey! I think you’re beautiful. Let’s hang out tomorrow. Can’t promise how long though. I guess Gemma’s making me help the guys with something.” He chuckles, watching you flush bright cherry red, looking down at your tennis shoes.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t make any promises either, I guess I’m on the bike washing in a bikini crew.” You roll your eyes as he laughs.

“I’ll be sure to bring the Dyna through.” He assures, giving you a wink and biting his bottom lip before heading back towards his bike.

“Hey! You were right!” You call as you watch him walk away. He looks over his shoulder at you. “You are pretty cute.” You bite the corner of your lip as he chuckles and climbs on the Dyna, leaving you there smiling like an idiot.

“Oh hunny, you two might as well get hitched at this gig tomorrow.” Gemma calls from the front door.

“Shut up.” You laugh, leaving to the hospital. As you stepped into the locker room to put your lunch away, Carrie Ann meets you in there, giving you a knowing look.

“You met someone.” She announces, grabbing your shoulders.

“I did.” You put your head down and sigh, giving it a shake to try and get rid of the smile but to no avail.

“Tell me everything, but let’s talk in the ER, I’ve got a couple guys needing some stitches. A couple harmless wounds.” You follow her to a bay and you turn around quickly.

“Shit.” You mutter, gripping your fists together Carrie Ann caught you, and peeks back into the room. She saw your brother, whom she’d met at a little party you’d had, but the blonde, she didn’t know him.

“Oh girl. Hunny. Yes.” She nods, patting your shoulder as the two of you walk into the room.

“Well you were the dumbass that pulled out into traffic. And I’m the one without a license!” Tig barks, smacking Kozik upside the head.

“Ow! Asshole listen! I said I was sorry! Listen, about your sister— I really-“ Tig coughs, points a thumb behind him. Kozik peeks over his shoulder and quickly turns back around. “Shit.” He coughs, putting on his best grin. Carrie Ann starts to disinfect the wound on Tig, making small talk with the man. Carrie Ann had slept with your brother more than once, but you didn’t much care. Groaning internally, you slide a cart over to the grinning blonde with a stab wound to the shoulder. You start disinfecting, numbing the area around his deep cut.

“You two in an accident?” You ask, grabbing the curved needle and the sterile thread.

“Nah, I—“

“No! His stupid ass pulled out in front of a black van full of cholos and the cholos jumped out, cut us off, and beat our ass.” Tig barks, yelling more at the blonde.

“I said I was sorry! I swear to god they were not there before!” He shouts, throwing an arm at your fired up brother. He hisses, grabbing at his shoulder.

“Well, quit moving.” You snip, giving him a sweet smile. He visibly calmed down when he saw your smile. Tig watched on with a smug grin.

“Tell me doc, why are you doing the bike wash tomorrow?” He asks as you continue stitching the gash.

“Why not?” You ask, eyes never leaving his chest.

“Cause you’re too pretty to be standing there in a bikini, gettin’ chatted up by a bunch lowlifes.” He coos, stopping your hand. You look into his dark blue eyes for a second, getting lost in the pools.

“Wouldn’t that make you a lowlife?” You ask, raising a brow at him.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t deserve you. No one does, but I don’t wanna beat up some guy cause he put his hands on you.” He mutters, hiding his face as he dropped his chin to his chest.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask, lifting his chin.

“Yeah, I just-I don’t even know you and I already wanna fight guys that haven’t even seen you yet. It’s just weird. I’m not normally like this.” He chuckles, standing and following you out of the room as you discharge him.

“Okay, Kozik. No swinging punches or anything, got me? You pull those stitches you’re gonna cry. And I’m gonna laugh.” You order, pointing a stern finger at him. He grasps your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“Yes dear.” He smirks, watching you turn cherry red and yank your hand away as if his lips were made of fire.

“Christ, go on.” You push playfully at his shoulder and he turns and saunters away with your brother. He looks over his shoulder as he rounds the corner, giving you a wink before disappearing out of sight.

“Oh my God!” Carrie cheers, grabbing your hands and shaking them. You laugh, shaking your head as you start towards the other bay ready to finish your night. The rest of the night was pretty normal, as normal as it could be in the emergency room. You were heading home when a bike pulls out behind your car on the last bend before your driveway.

“Hey,” Tig coos as he shuts the bike off in the drive. He sometimes stayed the night if the clubhouse was overcrowded. A bike roared up as you two headed towards the house.

“Hey!” Kozik calls as he makes it towards the steps. Tig ignored him as he swung the door open for you.

“You invite the whole club for a sleep over?” You ask with a chuckle. Kozik gives a low warning as he scoops you up at the threshold.

“Nah, just lover boy. I’m building fort. And you fuckers aren’t allowed in if you don’t help.” You giggle excitedly. You and Tig built blanket forts so often as kids, it was your fondest memories of him. With a spring in your step, you headed to your room and pulled out a pair of matching jammies that consisted of a SAMCRO tank top and shorts with a drawstrings. Slipping on your favorite pair of pink socks that went up to your knees. You and Tig used to race across the kitchen floor in your slipperiest pair of socks.

Tig offered Kozik a pair of basketball shorts he’d never worn to keep and he warned him before you and the girls came running back with armloads of blankets.

“No funny business. You’re lucky I’m letting you see her like this. This is our secret. I’d like you to straight-ly explain to another biker that you were making a blanket fort with me. Gay. It doesn’t leave this room. Got it?” He asks, pointing a ringed finger at him.

“The only thing gay is that you’re here.” He laughs, heading to change. When he returns, he stops short, jaw close to the floor. There you were sitting on the counter with a Jaws coffee mug full of brightly colored ice cream, spoon in your mouth, head tipped back and eyes closed. Tig cleared his throat next to him, wondering if they saw the same thing. The pale peach skin that divided the shorts from the socks made Kozik shift uncomfortably. He wanted a taste of it, his face between your—.

“Are you okay?” His thoughts are interrupted by Tig’s daughter Dawn, and he coughs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sorry.” He smirks, wiping a hand down his face. You hop down, giving him a little smirk as you swing your hips while you walk. He watched every movement with full attention. Tig gave a low guttural warning, glaring at you.

“Enough, get all the pillows and blankets.” He barks to the girls, yourself obviously included. You scamper away to get all the pillows, big and small. Kozik appears at your doorway, giving you a little fright. He takes the pillows from your hands, watching as you head back towards your bed for more. Stretching you toes to boost you a little further forward, Kozik drops the pillows and grabs your hips, pulling you up and back against him. Finally. You thought, letting his breath tickle the back of your neck. Your breath catches, and he hears it, revels in it. His lips brush gently against the column of your throat, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyes closed, listening to the thudding of your pulse in your ears as his hands drifted up your body to your breasts, your nipples taut as the pad of his thumb brushed back and forth across them. You stifled a moan as you rolled your head back against his shoulder, pressing your lips to his jaw. He groaned, pulling away from you and gathering the pillows he dropped, disappearing. He left you there, in shock, completely vulnerable. Your hands followed the path he’d made like a brand.

You grabbed the rest of the pillows and head out to the living room. Hanging blankets precariously from chairs and the sofa, you hand Kozik the other end to hang over the TV. Tig watched the interaction with a smile. A small part of him saw a glimpse of the future. You and Kozik with two kids, maybe a boy and a girl, doing this ten years from now. He accepted that might be a good outcome.

“Alex? Alexander!” You call, snapping your finger in his face.

“What? Sorry.”

“Get the movie started! I’m gonna start the popcorn, Kozik is grabbing beer and pop.” You laugh as the two of you leave the fort. Once behind the safety of the kitchen wall, Kozik’s hands find your waist, his lips meeting yours for a quick passionate kiss. You toss a bag of popcorn into the microwave and hit the button.

“Here, put them in this basket.” He took your stretched up figure as an opportunity, grinding against you, his lips pressing quick hot kisses where your tank top strap had been nosed aside. As quick as he was there, he was gone, filling the wicker basket with drinks and heading back to the fort.

You awoke with a start, smiling when you felt. A nose pressed against your neck. You peeked as gently as you could to see Kozik fast asleep, arm slung heavily over yours, hand tucked under your ribs. Wriggling out from under him, you’re met in the kitchen with a hot cup of coffee and a smiling Alex.

“Aren’t you two just cute as pie.” He chuckles softly, sipping from his favorite mug with Missy’s face on it. The girls got it for him last year.

Shut up, asshole. You’ll never experience it. Cause you beat hookers.” You giggle, mimicking his sip. You shivered as the coffee warmed your soul.

“You are. Seriously, kid. Just be careful.” He warns, sitting at the bar. You finish the coffee in silence, kissing your brother’s cheek in agreement before disappearing to your room. Finding your black bikini with high waisted bottoms, you find your curling iron, giving your hair a quick once over. Brushing on a light dusting of makeup, you slip on a yellow sundress and slip on your pink strapped gladiator sandals and head out to the fundraiser. You met Gemma there, helping her set up the cakes. She was grinning as if she knew something. You didn’t dare ask with her, you didn’t really wanna know.

“You and Tacoma, what’s going on?” You shake your head as you put down the last cake on the table.

“Nothing much, just a little fun. He’s a pretty cute guy, Gem.” You gush, sitting in a chair with her as you waited for the rest of the girls to show up. This kicked off at eleven, and it was currently nine fifty-eight.

“Yeah, he and Tig have a deep beef. You know that right?” She asks, eyeing you as you drink your coffee.

“Yeah, I know. Listen, Alex even said he thought we were cute. Okay? Plus, I’m never gonna be with Jax, stop trying. He’s too young.” You both laugh. For a long time, Gemma was sure you’d date her perfectly eligible son, but you kindly refused each time.

The bikes began rolling in, as did the Cara Cara girls, and you pulled your sundress off. Heading towards the small crowd of women, you greet each with a hug and smile. Handing them each a small tube of sunscreen and chuckle.

“Girls! We’re here for a good time and a good cause! Don’t burn yourselves, don’t dehydrate yourselves, and don’t take shit from a man that isn’t yours.” Gemma cheers as the women get ready. Bikes were lined up down the street when Kozik and Tig arrived, Tig’s eyes found you washing down a bike from another charter, the man standing there obviously looking at your ass. Tig groaned in pain when the man slid money into the hip of her bottoms, he wanted to drop that old fuck for touching his sister. Stalking to the table, his hands hit the top and make Gemma jump.

“Yes?” She nips, glaring at him.

“Why in the fuck are the other guys touching them? I told you I’d talk my sister into it if they were just washing bikes.” He growls, white knuckles gripping the edge of the table.

“Oh shit.” Gemma mutters, heading towards the blonde Tacoma man as he stormed into the line of fire of the hose. You turned, wondering where the water was, when you saw a very angry Kozik standing behind you, the water pattering against the leather kutte.

“Hey you!” You giggle awkwardly, patting his chest.

“Garage.” He demands, pointing to the open bay of the Teller-Morrow repair garage.

“Koz-“

“Now.” His eyes were dark and dangerous. You headed towards the garage, stopping to tell Lyla you’d be right back. Kozik stormed ahead to his bike, grabbing a small blanket from his saddlebag and wrapping it around you. Once in the garage, he herded you into a corner, his lips attacking yours hungrily.

“I wanted to kill him.” He grinds through clenched teeth, leaving angry little marks along your shoulder. He was claiming his territory, and it was hot. You wrap your legs around him, his hands holding you against the toolbox.

#imagine #cute imagine #herman kozik imagine #kozik #herman kozik #kozik imagine #kozik oneshot #soa #sons of anarchy kozik #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagines #kozik!reader #kozik soa #smutish

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years ago

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It's 2007 and somehow, miraculously, Supernatural survives yet another rocky (?) season of mediocre ratings to come back for a third season, or at least, half season, but that season starts out with a real bang! Like, just a real solid trio of an opener for season three. It reminds me of all the things I love about SPN and also it reminds us of all the things that frustrate the hell out of me on SPN. So where did we leave things off?

First up, there’s Dean, who sold his soul to the devil in order to bring Sam back from the dead. Sam, you’ll remember, was part of some overly complicated ponzi scheme to find the perfect vessel to open a door - yep, open a door - and lost to Aldous Hodge who just straight up murders Sam in the season finale. So Dean get’s Sammy back, but in exchange, he’s only got one year left before he permanently moves down south. Oh! And even though they got Sam back and Sam kills Aldous Hodge (RIP pal), they neglected to keep the door from opening. The door to Hell, that is, and now they’ve allowed a shiz ton of demons out to freely roam the earth. Way to go, boys, you lost again! They are two for two on these season finales guys!

OH but they DO kill the Yellow Eyed Demon, so that’s a plus, but not before he plants the most perfect seed of doubt in Dean’s mind - “How do you know what you brought back is all Sammy?” Like, ugh, UGH, ugh!!!! What a way to drive the knife in deeper! What a way to make the heart of this show slowly start to crumble! C’est Magnifique!! *chef's kissy fingers*

So with all that emotional baggage weighing us down, how do we start season 3? How else - with a threesome of course! And also some technicolor grading, it’s wild guys.

Oh boy guys, let’s talk about this opener for a hot sec. I got into it a little bit last season, but as much as I love Dean, you HAVE to admit that that boy is gross. Just like...he’s a little gross. I’m also old enough now to see exactly how many red flags he’s raising through the last 45 episodes. Like, sorry Little Me, but he is not boyfriend material. Not to mention that all this debauchery is 1,000% him distracting himself from the consequences of his own actions, but we’ll get into that later.

Meanwhile, Sam is doing something constructive and trying to figure out how to reverse the curse and save Dean’s soul. And here we have the culmination of two seasons worth of character development - faced with the imminent demise of Dean Samuel Winchester, Sam tries to step up and take care of his brother for once in his life; Dean parties like it’s 1999. There were two things I thought of during this episode - 1) isn’t this not unlike the sort of behavior you see in suicidal people who have finally decided to take their own life? Which is just, like, further held up by the fact that Dean’s big monologue at the end literally has the line “Truth is I’m tired, Sam. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” and like...dude, you are NOT ok! Why isn't??? ANYONE??? ADDRESSING THIS????? And 2) Dean is sharing a lot of similarities with the demons in this episode.

Because MEANwhile, there’s demons! So many demons! Specifically, the Seven Deadly Sins ones, but also, spoiler alert, Ruby, who is gettin’ reeeeealll into that ketchup.

All these baddies just really taking advantage of their time topside cuz Hell is, as they so artfully put it, it’s like Hell, so they’re just livin’ it up while they still can ~almost like foreshadowing or something~?!?!?

Real talk though, it being a real long time since I’ve watched this season, it’s these kinds of details that I’m impressed with this time around. There is so much character work that goes into this show and it’s something I definitely connected with the first time around, but not on conscious level. Now I can look at it through time and experience and articulate what I’m seeing, which makes this re-watch infinitely more enjoyable.

Episode 1 of this season continues what they started in season 2 and just keeps building out that Hunter Community. Like, there really is a whole Community out there that keeps in contact and works together and makes sure everyone’s up to date on the latest hot goss, and it all makes John Winchester come off like a real creepy splinter cell lone gunman type. And that in turn makes the Winchester sons look like total, unprofessional boneheads who managed to open a portal to Hell. “UGH Great Jorb Guys, but can we blame them? They’re John’s kids,” is a conversation between hunters that I am headcannoning, but also 100% support.

Honestly, I love the idea of the Winchesters being just these real, like, b-grade, Walmart Brand Hunters that other Hunters are just SO done with. We kind of see a little bit of that with Isaac and Tamara, but by the end of the episode, the Winchesters prove that they’re...better Hunters? I hope somewhere in the next 12 seasons I get an episode that is told from another Hunter’s POV who is legitimately better/more emotionally balanced than the Winchesters and the whole episode is them just, like, cleaning up a bunch of Winchester messes like, SONuvabitch, these two ASSholes. I think we see a fair amount of episodes from the POV of people who are less qualified than the Winchesters who end up being mentored by them, but I’d be stoked for them to run into just a group of people who hate them for totally legitimate, professional vs amature reasons.

Bobby does not count because Bobby signed up to be their Dad and so he agreed to take care of their messes when he took that job.

And then we get to “The Kids Are Alright” which showcases one of my fav changes for this season - BRIGHTLY! LIT! HIGH! SATURATION!!!! And of course, by fav, I mean, Most Hilarious.

I do walk a fine line on this one truth be told. Like, season 1 was definitely going for A Look. It’s super gritty and high contrasty and stylized. Now, I got what they were going for but I wasn’t always crazy about it, mostly because the quality on the DVD’s was terrible. Quick tip for everyone: in order to get 2+ hours worth of content on a DVD, you have to compress the final edit of the program to a pretty small bitrate. When we drop videos onto DVD’s at my work (it isn’t often, thank goodness), the discs themselves only hold, like, 2GB worth of content and that is NOT A LOT when it comes to video files. The more compressed a video file is, the less detail you’re gonna get in the visuals. Watching episodes on Netflix (where everything’s probably at a higher bitrate and therefore is a better quality visual), it’s not bad, but on my DVDs, the compression is so heavy that we get SUPER hot highlights and SUPER crunchy shadows - what a lot of people would called “crushed blacks” because you’ve lost all the detail in the shadows and you’re left with a grainy, noisy, black hole on the screen. Like I lost so much detail in the pilot episode guys, I could not make out this guy’s face.

A rough approximation of my DVD quality. Still recommend it over Netflix for the Accurate Soundtrack tho.

Season 2 SPN toned that Look down a lot, like, a lot a lot. Enough that you still got the general vibe they were going for but not enough that you couldn’t make out faces anymore. But through this whole process, the CW execs kept pushing for the show to look lighter, more colorful, less film noir more...well, CW. And in season 3 it finally happened!!!

I get what those execs were going for, but also, I feel like the colorists on these first few episodes just REALLY went wild out of spite. Lookit this shot from “Magnificent Seven” right before Envy causes some rando innocent bystander to beat a girl to death for her shoes -

GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN!!!! I WONDER WHICH SIN THIS GUY IS????

Then in “The Kids Are Alright” the birthday party looks like everything is coated in day-glow neon.

The Winchester Bros look like they just got back from 3 weeks in Aruba - LOOK at the saturation levels in these skin tones! LOOK AT THEM!!

My screencap ability aside, only in SPN can a cemetery at night have brighter lighting than a diner in the middle of the afternoon.

This is definitely a thing I will be tracking the rest of the season because I have a distinct memory of a future episode where the brothers have been magically gifted completely different lives where they were never Hunters, they know nothing of Hunting, and they’re completely normal until the end when everything gets snapped back and the episode literally changes colors. V. Excited to see just how saturated this season stays through the end.

But maybe more importantly in “The Kids Are Alright” we learn that Dean does NOT, in fact, have a son. Not that he would be a good father...well...maybe? I mean, this Dean, this season 3, definitely-suicidal, completely-reckless, can’t-keep-it-together Dean, is not good Dad material. Later seasons Dean? Probably fine? Earlier seasons Dean might ALSO be fine? And if he’d found out that Ben was his legitimate kid, it could have made a WORLD of difference, who knows. I know he ultimately does become father-like to Ben and that gives me a lot of feelings. But this Dean is not in a good place to take care of anyone, including himself and really, someone ought to do something about that.

I gotta say, this is an actual bummer. I can’t remember if, in the later seasons, they do any clarifying on this or not, but I am legitimately bummed that Ben is not Dean’s kid and that as far as we know, Dean has no natural children floating around out there with surly attitudes and soft hearts. Dean’s motivation from Day 1 has always been family and despite what comments he may make in early seasons, Dean’s secret desire is to have the wife and the kids and the dog and the white picket fence. And honestly, we’re only 3 seasons in and I just want Dean to have nice things!!

And then guys, we come to “Bad Day at Black Rock,” and I just...WHAT a masterpiece. I had almost NO memory of ever watching this episode before and I don't understand why. What a glorious masterpiece this episode is. Let’s make a list -

More Hunters™, who should be really annoying but were actually kinda charming in a Marx Brothers kind of way

Gordon’s in jail, where he belongs, but also is masterminding a coup against the Winchesters which is A+ spooky stuff

Slapstick comedy that I didn’t know I was missing from my life

Bela F*cking Talbot

Guys, I think this is my fav episode so far purely because I felt, while watching it, that the last 10 years of my life were not in vain and that I had in fact grown as a human person. I remembered hating Bela Talbot. Like, I DID. NOT. LIKE. HER. To the point that I questioned if her British accent was even real. It is, her mother is from the UK and she lived there for a time, but like, honestly, the audacity of Little Me.

This time around? Oh she’s defs my new fav. Just everything about her is like, A+, Great Job, Why-Did-We-Cancel-Her??? Like, oh yeah, probably because somewhere in here they try to shoehorn a romantic side plot with Dean. I don’t actually mind rioting over shoehorned romance, but also, if they’d let this play out for a season or two and then got the two of them to bone? I’m on board. I’m 100% on board.

Maybe it’s just that she is unapologetically out for herself, maybe it’s the fact that she is definitely a match for the Winchesters in a non-murdery way, probably it is both of those things. She's smart, she’s crooked, she has impeccable taste, she’s honestly a helluva lot of fun and I am so excited to see more of her and so BUMMED that she will not make it past this season.

Despite the fact that I absolutely adore all three of these episodes, they also bring up the problem that I was starting to see in season 2 - WHO is this show about? Isn’t it supposed to be about the Brothers as a whole? But the majority of these first three lean pretty heavily on Dean’s emotional arc. Granted, it makes sense. I mean, of COURSE Dean’s demon deal is gonna be the BIG thing in a season where he is literally staring down the barrel, but knowing that there’s a side plot about Is Sam Evil?? seems like...something we should really explore more? I believe it comes up in season 4, or at least, Sam’s demon-blood powers become a bigger deal in season 4, but I would have enjoyed seeing Sam have a more active stake in this season. I can see planting some weird new ticks being planted for Alive-Again Sam that just get weirder and darker and then a mid-season finale or a run up episode to the end of the season where Dean (finally) decides he needs to stop his demon deal because he needs to stick around so he can keep Sam from going completely off the rails. As much as I love Dean 5ever, I do think the show works best when the emotional weight of the season is distributed equally is all. And to be fair to the writers this season, there could have been a bigger plan for something like that but they ran out of time - their season was cut by about a third due to the Writer’s Strike.

Still, all in all, a solid opening to the third season. I want to say that these episodes feel like Classic SPN, but then I remember that this is season three out of fifteen. These ARE Classic SPN. Mostly self contained with enough emotional drama to remind us of the overarching plot. Maybe a little heavy on the emotional drama, but Dean’s only got a year to live and the show’s only got 16 episodes to resolve that crisis, so it’s fine.

#Supernatural #Supernatural rewatch #Season 3 #Magnificent Seven #The Kids are Alright #bad day at black rock #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bela Talbot #Hunters #Sam and Dean #Writer's Strike #TV #TV History #Bela talbot is maybe great #and I should say it

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jaibhagwan · 4 years ago

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What do you think would have happened, if Daryl „frisked“ Carol in 10x06?

Oh, nonny! Look what you’ve done to me! I hope this is what you had in mind.

Carol caught him looking through her bag like she hadn’t expected it to come to this with all her lies. Man, the sack on her. Daryl didn’t know what to do with her anymore. He could lay into her again, give her another lecture, but what was the point. His words weren’t getting through.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked plainly as she sat down beside him.

Turning his head, he glared at her audacity to feign innocence. “Did you bring the gun?”

“No,” she lied. “Used up all the ammunition, remember?”

Or so she had led him to believe when he had asked her to turn the gun over to him, and he had emptied the chamber, firing all the remaining shots into the ground before giving it back. But she was a clever trickster. He knew she was holding out on him, and he had finally wised up. “There was still some ammo left in the storage room.”

“I didn’t bring the gun, Daryl,” she lied again. Her eyes sent a chill down his spine as they glared at him. “Do you wanna frisk me? Go ahead!” she challenged him, standing up with her hands in the air.

Doing a double take, he looked her up and down. No way, he thought as his heart started to pound in his chest. Was that an invitation? He bristled as he stood. He couldn’t believe how he’d let Carol get under his skin; he was tired of her games. His eyes narrowed down to slits as he took a step closer, calling her bluff.

Laughing, she tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t have it, seizing her wrist before she could brush it off, deflect it with another lie, and pretend it never happened.

“That what you want?” he asked her, lowering his voice in a warning. Did she want to be caught? His thumb skimmed the back of her hand, trying to garner a response to his question.

Her face flushed, but she shrugged, avoiding his eyes. Not exactly a denial, he mused.

“Alright,” he said gruffly, tugging her closer. “We’ll play it your way.”

His eyes darkened as he placed his hands firmly on her hips, meeting her challenge. He let them glide along her waist, finding the pistol that she had tucked into her waistband. Removing it, he tossed it to the ground, giving her a look of disappointment, like it had been too easy. He wondered what else she was hiding.

“Hey, I need that,” she argued, crossing her arms in front of her chest, heaving her breasts, taunting him.

Nearly growling, he chuckled at her attempt to distract him. “Not right now you don’t,” he countered, forcibly spinning her around and stepping in close behind her.

Her breath hitched, and he smiled smugly to himself, drawing his hands around her abdomen. He slid them over the fabric of her jeans, carefully searching her pockets, stopping when he felt a lump in one of them.

“What you got here?” he said low in her ear, watching as her skin prickled along her neck.

“It’s nothing,” she denied with a gasp. “See for yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, roughly shoving his hand into her pocket. She squirmed as his fingers crept along the crease of her leg until they brushed against the cool metal object inside. He pulled it out to reveal her lighter.

“Plannin’ on startin’ any fires?”

She panted, but brazenly said nothing.

“Naw, you’ve already set them. Haven’t you?” Daryl was beginning to understand and started to feel a little euphoric at her reaction to him. Feeling his blood rushing south, he leaned in closer. “I’m gettin’ real tired of your games, Carol. Haven’t I been patient? Hmm?”

Carol quivered in his arms. “Y-yes, you h-have.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a very patient man. But I’m tired of bein’ patient… of bein’ good… of waitin’ for you to see. It’s enough to make a man desperate—Do you know what happens when a man becomes desperate?”

She shook her head.

Daryl sighed heavily, noticing how her nipples began to strain beneath her blouse. He was so goddamn tired. Tired of playing Mr. Nice Guy. Tired of being just her friend. He wanted more. He needed it.

He pressed himself against her backside, letting her feel how hard she had made him. “He becomes dangerous,” he hissed.

“M’sick of you leavin’,” his confession slipped from his lips. “Makin’ me worry. The hell you’ve put me through... I want restitution.”

Carol trembled as his hands moved down the length of her sides. When he got to her waist, he crouched down, running his hands down first one leg, then the other. He stopped when he felt the bulge at her calf above her boot.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“My knife,” she said breathlessly.

“Good girl.” Slowly, he lifted the hem of her pant leg revealing the leather holster. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all day.” His fingers brushed against her shin as he unbuckled it, releasing it to the ground. He rubbed at the angry marks it left behind on her skin. “You’re so goddamn soft,” he remarked in fascination as he rose.

Pulling her flush against him, he whispered in her ear. “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy. With your tough act...and that pouty lip of yours...the one that sticks out when you’re unhappy. What am I supposed to do?”

Unable to resist any longer, he bit into her neck, tasting the salt on her skin. Carol languished, rolling her head against his shoulder, granting him more access. Licking her along her neck to her ear, his hands drew across her belly, slowly making their way towards her chest. She arched her back, pressing herself into his touch.

Underneath her jacket, his hands moved over the swell of her breasts, feeling the tight buds of her nipples. He groaned, feeling his cock throb with his desire. Reaching for the buttons of her blouse, he slowly undid them, stopping when he reached her navel.

His eyes wandered over the freckled expanse of her chest. He growled when he saw it. Nestled in the hollow between her breasts was a dark green zip tie.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, letting it caress her skin as he retrieved it.

“Nothing.” Another bold-faced lie.

He grunted, dragging the tip along her neck, teasing her. “Think I wasn’t gonna find your dirty little secret, hmm?”

She remained quiet. Stubbornly so.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, Carol.”

Moaning, she acquiesced, leaning into him.

Daryl groaned as Carol rubbed her ass against him, causing his cock to begin to leak. “Very naughty.” He was going to make her pay for that.

Stepping away, he pulled her hands behind her back and bound her wrists together, securing the zip tie around them. “This what you had in mind?”

When she didn’t struggle, he knew he had his answer. His heart hammered in his chest in his excitement.

Eagerly, his hand slipped down underneath her waistband across the smooth, cotton fabric of her panties to the magical heat between her legs. Carol whimpered as his fingers slid across her wetness.

“Christ,” he cursed and dipped his fingers into her panties, sinking them into her folds.

Carol moaned.

“I swear to God, woman,” he breathed heavily into her ear as he teased her flesh. “Ain’t lettin’ you get off that easy. Gonna make you beg until you break.”

“Please,” she whimpered, pleasing Daryl. It was about time she started listening.

Her body jumped as his thumb found the hard nub at the top of her slit, and he began to gently caress her. Jutting her hips into his touch, Carol spurred him on.

“Are you gonna quit all this nonsense? Hmm?”

“Yes!”

“You gonna listen to me?” He began to rub harder, pushing one finger and then another inside her.

“Yes!”

She was tight and wet and humming in her pleasure; he had her right where he wanted her. She gasped when he suddenly stopped his ministrations.

“Please,” she pleaded.

He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. “I wanna hear you say the words, damn it.”

She squeezed his fingers with her muscles, like she was trying to resist.

“Tell me the fuckin’ truth,” he demanded, starting to withdraw his hand.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she relaxed into his embrace. “I love you,” she cried.

He smiled, satisfied that he had finally broken her.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he growled into her neck, resuming his assault on her clit. “Ain’t ever gonna let you forget.”

She screamed out his name as she came hard, squirting her juices against his fingers. He held her close against him as her legs gave way beneath her, letting her bask in her bliss as he nuzzled into the sweet scent of her neck.

Removing his fingers, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, relishing the taste of her. Contented, he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

“Wanted our first time together to be nice. Romantic. But you ruined that didn’t you, naughty girl?"

Beneath a sheen of sweat, an impish grin widened on Carol’s face. “I got tired of waiting.”

#haha probably not #but hey!#caryl #caryl fanfiction #thanks nonny #request fulfilled #frisked

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weirdponytail · 4 years ago

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Modern Inheritance Cycle: The Promise

(A/N: Way way WAAAAY Pre-Eragon. It’s rough and a majority of it was lurking in my drive folder for weeks. I wanted MIC!Brom and MIC!Arya interacting alone (aka without Izzy hovering and smothering Arya’s personality) together for the first time. The ending is shit and makes no sense, but I literally just wrote it and I’m having a hard time switching off the Japanese sentence structures (Japanese Sub-Obj-Verb vs English SVO) and whatnot and it’s just...a to-be-cleaned-later mess. But y’all gettin’ it anyway!!

Oh, also. I wanted Post-Fall Brom to be an angry jackass. Donno if that came across enough.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re leaving already?”

Keen as he was, the Rider couldn’t pick out his second shadow from the mottled greens and browns above. They seemed content for him to answer before speaking again.

And she gave him a sly smirk.

“Are you going to draw on me, ebrithil shur’tugal?”

“Fine, fine.” The elf let go of the branch and twisted in the air, landing deftly on her feet. “I wanted to talk to you but couldn’t with everyone else around.”

“Go home.”

“No. I’m not letting you leave without talking to me.”

“We’ve talked. A conversation with several back and forth utterances has taken place. You can go.”

“Master Glaedr was right about you. Look, just take me with you.”

Brom stopped. Now that was something he had not expected. The request, that is, not the comment about Glaedr. He turned slightly, one eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

“You heard me.” Arya crossed her arms, firmed her stance and glared at him with brilliant fire in her dark green eyes. “Take me with you.”

For a moment, Brom saw Evandar again. The elvish king’s rage at Galbatorix’s mindless slaughter of the dragons and innocents was something that was not easily forgotten.

There was conviction there as well. That, it seemed, was Arya’s claim alone.

He turned to face her fully. “You want to go out there and fight?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to help kill the Forsworn and Galbatorix, and help to end this war.”

The elfing still did not move when Brom nodded slowly and rubbed at the stubble that patched his face. “Alright then. Seeing as how you just royally screwed yourself at...what, eight years old?”

Another snap of static flicked the air, this time pinging Brom on the neck as Arya’s eyes flashed. “I’m twelve.”

“Right, right. Royally screwed yourself and your entire life by magically forcing yourself to join a war and probably get yourself killed, then fine.” Brom put his finger up to halt the growing excitement he could see rising in the little elf. “But. Not now. Give it a few years. Ten, maybe twenty or so...and I’ll see if you’re ready to start working on your promise.”

“Tell the Forsworn I’m coming for them, yeah?”

Brom grinned despite himself. He knew that the girl had likely signed her own death warrant this day. But something about that half crazed smile she wore told him otherwise.

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ampleappleamble · 4 years ago

Text

Me? Tagged?? For WIP Wednesday????

It's more likely than you think. (Thanks @orime-stories! ♡♡♡)

---

"Wael's eyes, man, slow down. It's midmorning yet!"

Axa got up on the tips of her toes and leaned over to pluck the bottle from the old man's surprisingly strong grip, her headache intensifying as she caught a whiff of his rancid breath. She had been mostly joking when she ordered Kana to bring out the wine for their guest, but once she'd seen the delight in the poor old salt's face, the sparkle in his eyes when presented with a goblet and bottle-- well, how could she refuse?

She glared at the aumaua now, clutching her last bottle of pomegranate wine, barely a quarter full after the old man's assault. Kana winced apologetically at her, but the little woman only smiled wryly and shrugged. It was as much her own fault as it was his, and she knew it.

The old man laughed good-naturedly, revealing a mouth only half full of teeth, and toasted his hostess with his borrowed goblet. "Early it may be, m'lady," he rasped, a strange sailor's brogue coloring his Aedyran, "bu' this elt lad dosnae rest. An' Magran help us, nei'r dae th' thirst." The old man sloshed the wine in his cup as he spoke, slopping it over the lip and onto the dusty stone floor more than once, before smacking his lips and merrily sucking down what remained inside.

As she had predicted, the night had not gone easily for the newly minted Watcher of Caed Nua. What little sleep she'd managed to get had been plagued by nightmares about books and machines, promises and betrayals, adra and copper and blood. And when sleep had failed her, she'd squirmed in her bedroll, tossing and turning and sweating and groaning. And thinking-- lots of thinking. But in spite of it all-- perhaps, in fact, because of her sleeplessness-- her awareness felt bizarrely heightened. It reminded her of her all-night research sessions in her old college life: standing there practically vibrating from murkbrew and nervous energy, feeling simultaneously like she was strong enough to lift a horse over her head and like she was about to collapse. Scrutinizing the drunken old salt, she squinted resolutely against her headache, determined not to let anything escape her notice.

Axa saw the gnarled fingers, knotted with age, and she watched the unsteady, drunken gesticulations that spilled her favorite wine onto the cobwebs and mouse shit that decorated her Great Hall. But she also saw that the hand itself was steady: not tremulous, but strong and sure. The half-lidded, drink-addled eyes took a while to fully focus, but once he managed to fix his gaze on hers, she could see a remarkably fierce little twinkle in his mischievous eyes.

"Engrim, you said your name is?"

"Pretty much everyone calls him Eld Engrim," Edér drawled, leaning against a stone pillar while fiddling with his pipe. "He's from around here somewhere, but he tends t' spend most of his time on the sea. Or in whichever tavern's nearest. Probably came in from Anslog's Compass lookin' for a little shore leave, ended up owin' someone a favor and havin' to hoof it all the way out here for 'em." Despite the content of his introduction, the farmer spoke with fondness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled warmly at the old man. "Ain't that right, Eld Engrim?"

The old sailor cackled and nodded, clutching his empty goblet with both hands like a talisman. "Aye, laddie, ye've got me fairly figured! Masons in yer Vale promised me a fine bottle o' spirits should I answer 'em this missive from oul' Caed Nua, abandoned all these long years. Although, ye did neglect t' address me Mistress, heathen that ye be, She whose spark 'n flame lit me way here!" He winked obnoxiously and wagged a crooked finger at the Eothasian, like a grandfather teasingly scolding his grandson.

Axa had not missed the telltale signs of a Magranite priest. The smell, in particular, of singed hair and arcane flame had tipped her off.

"You didn't think the priesthood of Ondra might suit you better?" Aloth's lip curled with disgust as he regarded the man, glaring at him over the edge of his grimoire. He had been quiet all morning, Axa noticed, and the elf seemed particularly bothered by the drunken old priest.

"Not if he's a cannoneer," Kana suggested. "I can see where you might get Ondra-- the sea, drink and forgetfulness, those common themes-- but many who work with munitions, and especially ships, keep a Magranite priest on their payroll for their beneficial healing magic as well as for their blessings on and expertise with explosives." He grinned at the elf, beaming with academic pride.

Aloth glared harder. "If that's the case," he droned, "why is he here running errands for stonemasons in Gilded Vale instead of mumbling over a double bronzer or something somewhere out on the sea?"

Axa turned her attention to her guest. "Good question, actually. Maybe you'd care to explain yourself a bit more while we make our way back to Gilded Vale, Engrim?"

The old man's eyes bugged out of his head, flicking back and forth between the orlan and his empty goblet. "Och, young miss, ye cannae mean t' be gettin' t' Gilded Vale now! 'Tis a day's sojourn, an' rovin' bands o' bandits roam o'er th' roads, Magran bash 'n burn 'em! An' 'ave only just arrived, me!" He looked around at her companions' faces, groping wildly for support, and found only pity and scorn for this man foolish enough to think to argue with her.

"He... does speak true, my lady." The Steward's voice rang out gently from the halls of the old keep. "No guard patrols have been dispatched along Caed Nua's surrounding roads since old Maerwald's decline into madness, and the paths surrounding the estate have been infested with brigands and monsters alike." As her voice faded, a soft little blanket of sadness settled over the gathered kith like a light dusting of snow.

Axa shuddered. "All the more reason, then, to get going. For better or worse, this keep is mine now, my responsibility." She paused as she felt the Steward's blush of surprise, followed closely by a soft, tentative bloom of gratitude. "The only people I can count on to restore my barbican are not, apparently, ready to take me seriously, so it seems I must issue my orders face to face. And I need this barbican restored. Unless, of course, Aedelwan Bridge is no longer flooded?"

Engrim shrugged, fiddled with the stem of his goblet, shuffled his feet. "Nae, no, 'tis... nae flooded..."

"It's destroyed," Kana chirped. "Ondra's mighty fist at work! I learned from a traveling hunter just the other day. The Dyrwood can't to seem to steer clear of the gods' wrath, can--"

"We're going to Gilded Vale, today. Right now." Axa paused, hand on her hip, and then downed the remainder of her wine. She almost flung the empty bottle to the floor in a fit of pique, but she remembered the Steward, and quickly tamped her anger down. "I want this barbican fixed. I want to get to Defiance Bay. By the Wheel, if the only way to get it done is to do it myself, I will."

No one could argue with that.

---

It was a satisfying sound, the scuffle of boots and the shouts of workers. Although she knew the work couldn't begin for another day or two, Axa still felt a distinct sense of accomplishment as she strode out of the Hound, listened to the masons hustle behind her.

"Well, considerin' how drunk they all were, I'm surprised that went so good." Edér clapped the little woman on the shoulder, grinning broadly and chewing gently on the stem of his pipe.

Aloth's voice drifted to her over her opposite shoulder. "Indeed, especially after the third time they addressed their questions to Edér and not to you, despite your repeated and... exponentially sonorous objections."

"Let it be known that the new Lady of Caed Nua does not suffer fools gladly," Kana proclaimed. "Although, speaking of fools... I can't help but notice the sun is setting, Caed Nua is almost a full day's hike away, and we're... leaving the inn?"

Axa smiled. "Remember we met Aufra on our way in? I offered to stay with her tonight, cook her some dinner, keep her company. I trust none of you object?"

No one did. She paused, and when she spoke again, she was much more subdued, almost somber.

"Last time I saw her, I was telling her her potion was horseshit and the fate of her unborn babe's soul was up to the caprices of the gods. Least I can do is put my money where my mouth is and be the good neighbor that girl needs right now."

They walked in silence for a short stretch.

"If I'm bein' honest-- and I actually am, sometimes-- I been noticin' a lotta changes around here since we got back. Lot more smilin' people in the streets." Edér's blond whiskers quirked and twitched with his grin. "Wasn't like that before you showed up. 'Course, there is still that tree fulla dead bodies in the center of town..."

Kana winced. "Yes, I was wondering about that--"

"It's a long and gruesome tale." The man in the green cloak stepped out into the road, and Axa stopped dead in her tracks, her companions following suit. "But I'd tell it, if you'd listen. You and the good Lady both."

"Kolsc." Edér whispered through his teeth, surprised, but not angry. Axa's gaze flicked up to the stranger's face as he limped closer.

---

#pillars of eternity #fanfiction #fanfic #poe anthem infinitum #wip wednesday #wip #this chapter is rough yall lmao

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buirbaby · 4 years ago

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Thistle & Thorn: The Letter

Rating: General

Masterlist

Dawn always brought blisteringly bright sunlight with it, lancing through the sheer curtains and smacking Nessia right in the face. Summer in the highlands was mild, temperatures typically peaking just beneath 20°C (the 60s°F), the cracked window trailing in a refreshing breath of fresh air that caused the shades to dance. Rolling in her quilts, untangling herself from the fussed sheets, and nearly falling out of the bed to land upon the hard wooden floor, ivy green eyes peeled toward the window as talons scrabbled at the edge of the sill and an unfamiliar owl poked its head past the threshold and into her domain.

"Allo there," Nessia yawned, finally dislodging herself from the hazard of her restless sleeping arrangements. Her eyes pulled over the creature groggily, inspecting the tawny feathers banded with black, ear tufts quivering as the eagle-owl blinked pumpkin orange eyes at her. "Hae'na seen ye before. Post usually goes downstairs by the kitchen, big windows over the sink. Hoggle typically handles—" she explained, pausing when the owl offered a letter toward her. "Or is this for me?"

The owl preened, feathers lifting momentarily before it allowed her to take the parcel and bunkered down in the sunlight that streamed against the window, basking in the warmth.

Nessia hummed, turning the letter over before realizing what it was, her fingers becoming clumsy and wrists quivering in blistering excitement as she started to vibrate at the sight of the Hogwart's crest. Now, she'd known that one day that the school would send her a letter, just as all young witches and wizards in the area received one. However, she'd felt anxious because she didn't display her magic as brazen or spectacularly as Logan had when he'd been her age. Hoggle had told her all about how he'd caused a mess of the manor, from causing statues to come to life from laughs that echoed like lion's roars and knocked paintings from the walls. The most that Nessia had ever done was hiccup out a bumblebee, which Hoggle said was much more preferable to Logan's messes.

Breaking the seal, Nessia's eyes became watery, as if she'd gotten potting soil in them again from rubbing her face with filthy hands. This was no farce, written in beautiful emerald script was a letter addressed to her, welcoming her to Hogwarts for her first year, and hosting a list of supplies required as a student. Finding the acceptance form in the very back, Nessia scrabbled for an inkwell and signed her name, aware that the resting owl was roosting for the journey back and likely to also send her own reply so that she could officially be added to the roster. She wondered if anyone ever declined.

"Och," she placed the new letter before the owl, an orange eye blinking open suspiciously. "When yer all good and rested, can ye take this back? Ye can stay here as long as ye need. Here's some water too," Nessia grabbed one of her pails and filled a cup she had laying around in her room, pushing it up her desk toward the raptor. "Mind the plants, but make yerself at hame."

The owl shook its feathers out and gave a low, trilling hoot before bending down to lap up some of the offered water. Nessia took the pieces of parchment, threw on a proper dress—which was little more than a corduroy sack over her shift—and burst out of her room with more fervor than the typically quiet girl displayed. Sputtering around a corner, her socks slipped beneath her and she slid an extra few paces before a hand snapped out and gripped the bannister, redirecting her path so that she could sprint toward her grandfather's solar.

Located on the opposite side of the heirloom cottage, the home that she'd grown up in as long as she could remember, even when her parents had been alive. The MacDougal Manor, situated within the misty rolling hills of the Scottish Highlands, flanked by Loch Linsor and relatively removed from neighbors muggle and wizard alike. Despite the sheltered, rural location, the home was a hive of familiar faces including Hoggle, the house elf, to other friends and servants. In the lake was a pod of merrow, many of which didn't mind popping above the surface to spare an afternoon of conversation with Nessia, to their gardener, a centaur named Rowan who was estranged from the local clan and happily made his home amongst the MacDougal family.

Even if their own grounds were limited to those that worked and kept stock of the care and daily routines, they were often frequented by visits that related to her grandfather's connections. He had been an important man in his prime and despite the years of his youth slipping through the hourglass that was time, many still came to him for advice or whispering happenings within the shadows.

Being so early in the morning, Nessia hadn't expected it to be another day where Bhan was entertaining a guest, sputtering to a graceless halt in front of the oaken door wrought with intricately carved designs depicting the MacDougal alliance with the centaurs and merrow of this area of the highlands. Their family had always had close ties with other Beings (even if the merrow and centaurs disregarded this classification), including their own house elves which lived a much more comfortable life than most elves in similar positions. She had only just raised a tanned fist to knock upon the door when she overheard voices on the other side.

"He's escaped Azkaban?" it was her grandfather, Angus, hissing in frustration at the revelation. "How in Merlin's name? If I werenae so hoachin' I'd join the hunt for him meself. Where aboot did he get loose?"

"Further south and put a little more faith in the department assigned to hunt werewolves," the other person retorted calmly.

"Faith?" Angus huffed in indignation. "I had faith that the sleekit dug wouldnae escape from Azkaban in the first place!"

"Things happen, Angus."

"Things happen, me arse. When I worked for the Ministry this wouldnae happened. Folk be gettin' too relaxed noo that Ye-Ken-Who is pushing daisies. Noo the Ministry gets all gallus and let's a bloody lycan loose. How many ye think will be turned or killed, eh?"

"Angus, I only came here to deliver the news so you could keep your eyes and ears sharp. I doubt he'll come up here, not when there's nowhere to hide and far too many centaurs roaming the moors," her grandfather's companion sounded bone weary, exhausted by toiling with the idea that innocent people were going to be cursed, maimed, or killed.

"Makin' a habit o' eavesdropping?"

The sound of Hoggle's voice made Nessia leap up, fumbling her letters before giving the house elf a bashful, guilt ridden look. "I-I," she stammered quietly, worried that those inside the solar would hear her. "Got me letter to Hogwarts. I only wanted tae show Bhan."

"The MacDougal has a guest. Come downstairs fer now and break yer fast," Hoggle shook his head dismissively, but a tight smirk betrayed the elf's amusement by the girl's dolefulness. "A letter tae Hogwarts noo? Suppose it's aboot time ye had yer own turn there."

"Do ye ken anyone who works there?" Nessia trotted after the house elf, his ragged tartan swaying behind him, pinned in place by a rusty pennancular pendant that Hoggle took deep pride in.

"Got a few cousins who do work in the kitchens," Hoggle admitted, giving her a sideways glance. "Course they're nothin' like me."

"No one is like ye, Hoggle. Everyone's different," Nessia pointed out chipperly.

"Nay," he shook his head, batty ears swaying from their position where they'd been slicked back like hair. "The MacDougals are a fine clan. Good witches and wizards. Treat all their servants right. Hogwarts is good too, but... most places dinnae treat me kind like people. The MacDougal gae me a room, a stipend, clothes—this is a job. For other elves its servitude, slavery and they bow willfully. We were made that way... tae want tae serve. I wouldnae trade whit I hae here for anything. Me cousins... they're happy, because the folk at the school are kind and they dinnae ken better. So they might seem a bit odd compared tae me."

Nessia cocked her head, having never met another house elf aside from Hoggle. Truth be told, she thought all of the elves were servants who had their own respective quarters and free time. But slaves? Her wide lips pulled down in a frown and her steps started to trudge as she contemplated the situation others of Hoggle's kind might be subjected to. "I'm sorry, ye sound sad."

Hoggle blinked. "Is na yer fault, Nessie. Jus' the way things be."

"That's wrong though. Just like it's wrong that the centaurs and merrows are classified as beasts," Nessia huffed.

The house elf's lips tugged up in a smile. "World needs more witches who think like ye, Nessie. Be a much kinder place."

"World would be weak if it were more like me," Nessia muttered, mostly to herself as the pair stepped into the kitchen. Yet another one of her favorite rooms in the house, with high ceilings, a long table in the center of the room that functioned as both an island and where informal meals were hosted. With a wave of a knobbly hand, a stool danced toward Hoggle and he hopped up onto it.

"The world needs kindness, Nessie. It doesnae make ye weak," Hoggle assured her. "Yer bhan is kind."

"But he's also braw," she countered, plopping down on a barstool by the island.

"Och, yer bum's oot the windae, int it?" a third voice joined the conversation, the tall visage of her adult brother sauntering into view as he fixed his tie. The siblings, while having the same parents, reflected each parent in their own way. Nessia took after their mother, with tanned skin, thick curly black hair, and a flat nose-smattering her nose like a constellation was her father's Scottish freckles and the MacDougal green eyes were another telltale sign of her heritage. Whereas Logan was a shade fairer, strong jawed, tall and broad, a head of russet curls hashed with strands of auburn and gold. Whilst he looked more akin to their father, Bhan always claimed he had their mother's fire burning in his heart. Despite their differences, they did share their mother's nose.

"Ah umnae!" Nessia squeaked, cheeks darkening at the insinuation that she was talking rubbish.

"Whit hae ye got there?" Logan gestured to her folded parchment while he was adjusting the cuff links on his shirt.

"Oh! Me letter to Hogwarts," she stood on the pegs of the stool and leaned over the counter to wave it at him.

In just three strides, Logan met her and took the parchment from her, whistling low as he thumbed through it thoughtfully. "Who wouldae thought they'd accept a lil mandrake like ye. Did ye send a letter back sayin' ye'd only want tae study plants?"

"I can learn other stuff," Nessia grumbled, crossing her arms as her brother.

"Well, if that's the case, when ye get yer want, how aboot I teach ye some spells?" he offered, handing the parchment back and pouring himself a cup of tea that Hoggle had on the stove.

"I thought I couldnae practice magic outside o' school," Nessia recalled smartly.

"In front o' muggles. Otherwise, who's gaunnae stop ye? Most other students are na lucky enough to hae a big brother who's an Auror," Logan retorted glibly.

"Am not tryin' to be an Auror," Nessia reminded him.

"Och, yer too wee tae ken whit ye'd like tae do yet," Logan played off dismissively. "I do ken we hae a lot of the supplies ye need here—like the cauldron, scales, phials, telescope. I might even hae some of the books, I ken ye have the One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi one in yer room."

Nessia gave a stout nod, pleased that she wouldn't dirty new books, as she had the uncanny ability to smear dirt on them as well as the inclination to make notes in the margins. Even if the clan had a manor, comparatively Nessia wouldn't claim they were the richest or most influential family. Most of the sacred twenty-eight turned their noses up at the accepting tendencies the MacDougals practiced. They lived comfortably, but if items could be repurposed or recycled, there was no use in wasting it. Both Nessia and Logan had been raised to be appreciative of what they had, what they acquired, and to not discard belongings without regard. An old book still held the same words as a new one and personally, the old one had more character.

"Suppose I'll need tae get a wand and robes, ye were a skinny malinky longlegs when ye went tae school," Nessia pointed out.

Logan sputtered into his mug, Hoggle chortling at the description.

"Keep the heid, young master," Hoggle taunted before the man could offer rebuttal.

"Whit's this noo?" Heads swiveled in the direction of the voice from under the awning, Angus having his hands propped up on his hips as he surveyed the crowd and began carving his path toward the tea kettle. "Yer gaunnae be late fer work, eh?" he prompted, turning verdant eyes to pin Logan where he stood, still gobsmacked from Nessia's prod.

"It's an important day. Na everyday that yer little sister gets an acceptance letter to Hogwarts," Logan preened, taking a glance at his watch.

"Sounds like an excuse tae me. Whit time are ye supposed to be in?" Angus countered suspiciously.

Logan grumbled. "Och, I'll go!" With a snap the man's silhouette rippled inward and he disapparated from the kitchen, fluttering a nearby towel that was folded over the oven handle.

Plates were beginning to float from the stove, landing soundlessly on the island as Hoggle moved as if he were conducting an orchestra. Silverware, plates, and cups followed—the door banging open, followed by the clopping of hooves as Rowan entered.

"Mornin'," he greeted, pausing to wash his hands in the sink.

"So ye got yer letter to Hogwarts? Aboot time," Angus remarked, returning to the island to glance over the parchment. "Might be time tae head to Diagon Alley for the rest o' yer supplies. Hoggle, ye think ye can scrounge up the auld books? I ken Logan had a few of these."

"O' course," Hoggle agreed.

Diagon Alley had been a less than often frequented place of Nessia. To be honest, it was busy, overwhelming, and cramped. Nothing about London was favorable to her, especially when she was so accustomed to the wide open moors and the loch that spanned her home. Additionally, it was humid and frizzed up her curls, turning them into a deplorable helmet. Usually, she let her bhan go without her, but managed to suppress a sigh because she knew that this outing would result in acquiring one of the most important items as a witch: a wand.

"Dinnae look so driech," Angus chuckled.

"It's gaunnae be gross, I jus' ken it," Nessia pouted, spooning hash onto her plate and settling on a scoop of eggs to join it. "Hogsmeade is closer, innit?"

"Tis," Angus mused. "I jus' thought ye'd want the full experience."

Nessia arched a brow at him. "Full experience? I'd prefer na tae sweat me breeks off."

"Lassie dinnae care fer the Sassenachs," Rowan observed mischievously. "Cannae blame ye for that."

"Most o' yer peers are gaunnae be Sassenachs," Hoggle wagged a wooden spoon at her.

"Well, if I can put off meetin' em for as long as possible-" Nessia suggested lightly, shoving some food into her mouth.

"Feart not," Angus declined. "We're gaunnae go to the Alley."

Nessia let out a plainative groan and nearly choked on her eggs, chasing it down with orange juice. The rest of breakfast went on as usual before she was sent off to get ready for the afternoon. London was going to be quite a bit warmer than the highlands, which forced her to choose thinner robes that she preferred to wear. Bundling her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck to save her the embarrassment of it being frazzled to hell, Nessia slipped on a pair of Wellies and trundled grumpily out of her room, the owl having left before she returned.

Upon passing her grandfather's solar, Nessia paused momentarily to reflect on what she'd overheard. Lycans? Escape from Azkaban? She hadn't caught a name, but a shiver traced down her spine at the thought of werewolves roaming the countryside in search of unsuspecting victims. Living in the highlands, she was reminded duly of the protection she was afforded so far north, so removed, and by plenty of other creatures that would chase the werewolves across the moors before letting them bunker down and cause a ruckus.

Waiting by the main hearth, Angus had already dressed in his afternoon robes, including a small sash in the clan's tartan which slashed across his breast. Adjusting his balmoral cap, his heavy brows raised at his granddaughter.

"Try na tae look too enthused," he retorted sarcastically, mustache twitching up at the 11 year old's dismay.

"It's gaunnae be driech, Bhan," Nessia whined, dipping her hand into the basin filled with Floo powder. "And they talk weird."

"Whit if we're the ones who talk weird?" Angus challenged.

"Doubtful," stepping into the fireplace, the sand sifting between her fingers, Nessia tossed the powder down with pizzazz. "Diagon Alley!" Careful to speak clearly, envious green flames lanced up in front of her, obscuring her vision completely. Holding her breath to prevent breathing in the fumes and ash, she narrowed her eyes in an effort to witness her voyage up out of the tippy top of her home's chimney. Arms pinned, up becoming down, skipping from north to south, Nessia groaned when she made impact with the public fireplace of the Alley.

Immediately, she was rebuffed by the humid air of London, the cool and refreshing summer of the highlands replaced by an unusually hot day, peaking at the high 20s (nearly 80F). Pushing a few stray curls from her forehead, Nessia grimaced and stepped out of the way as the chimney above her thundered with the warning of another traveler approaching. Never a pleasant experience, her nose wrinkling as she huffed a sneeze and barely managed to move as a wizard threw a haughty glare in her direction. Rolling her eyes, she waited another moment before her grandfather materialized, dusting off his robes and tartan, ruffling his mustache and sneezing just as loudly as she had.

The mimicked fashion made her grin widely and he chuckled. "Blasted Floo. Never been tae fond of it," he grumbled, striding up to meet her.

"I dinnae think anyone 'likes' it, Bhan," Nessia pointed out to his chagrin.

"Shoulda just disapparated," he muttered, rubbing beneath his nose again. "Noo, where do we need tae go?"

Unfolding the list from her pocket, Nessia could already feel sweat beading on the back of her neck. Maybe she'd worn too heavy an outfit, the corduroy like a smothering blanket amidst the humidity. Thank Merlin Hogwarts was in Scotland. "Robes, parchment, note books, a wand-" she recited, aware that most of the other supplies could be scavenged around the MacDougal grounds. Hand-me-downs didn't bother her too much, though it wasn't as if they couldn't afford newer items; Nessia just didn't see a point when there were perfectly good ones at home.

"Generic supplies," Angus admitted. "Och, well let's get started then. Get ye some robes, 'course yer wand—it's the most important item ye'll get. Maybe if yer not too cheeky, we can stop for some icecream."

Nessia beamed in spite of the blistering weather and flanked her grandfather as they started through the brimming streets of Diagon Alley. From the sloping roofs held up by only magic, defying gravity's expectations, to the gayly hued robes that bespeckled the populace, she settled into the hum of activity. From the freshly baked pastries that filled her with fragrant thoughts of Hoggle making holiday desserts to the owls ruffling their feathers within their cages, she relaxed slightly, keeping close beside her grandfather who parted the crowd as if he had a wand out and was thrusting folks aside. Be it the prowess the broad man moved with or just the heavy expression he always wore, most steered clear of the highlander. He was easily recognizable from his hints of traditional garb and the pride each shoe fell with.

Nessia wished she possessed an ounce of her grandfather's confidence or vindication, but as close as they were they couldn't have been more unlike each other. He was outgoing, strong, ambitious, wise, and willful. Nessia was quiet, reclusive, and shy. Only those that she knew did the girl have the heart to sass, but under the scrutiny of strangers she felt nervous and sweaty. The sheer idea of having to go to school without him made her falter. For today she should have been rejoicing, as excited as the other children around her that she would be going to school soon and beginning the next endeavor of her life. Truthfully, Nessia was terrified.

"Bhan, whit house do ye think I'll be in?" she asked him as they continued down the road toward the wand shop.

"Dinnae, bit o' a toss up for ye. Yer smart, so maybe Ravenclaw. Yer also too nice fer yer own could, ye could be in Hufflepuff," he answered honestly, which made her frown slightly.

"Weren't ye in Gryffindor, Bhan?" she prompted.

"Aye, do ye think ye'll be put into Gryffindor?"

Nessia wanted to be in the same house as her grandfather, almost as if it'd prove that there was more to her than the demure plant-loving witch, but she didn't think herself very brave. Just contemplating how desperately she wanted to be in the house made her eyes prickle with tears, which she quickly blinked back. "I hope Ravenclaw," she decided, knowing that Logan wouldn't let her live it down if she got placed into Hufflepuff. Not that the house sounded bad, but when her family came from a long history of Gryffindors, it made her balk at being placed in the 'softest' house at Hogwarts. After all, she was a highlander and only Ravenclaw or Gryffindor would do.

"Dinnae fash. Ye'll do well wherever ye are, lassie. Ye ken I'm proud of ye, even if ye got placed in Slytherin. No house will change me mind," Angus assured her, tapping her on her nose, having noticed that she was fighting back tears.

The shop in front of them was dusty, but then again, many of the store fronts around here were. It was strange, considering how busy Diagon Alley was, that time was rarely allocated to clean off store fronts or afford a new repaint. Considering all it would take was a swing of a hand or wand to set brooms or dustpans to work, Nessia cocked her head as she stared at the grimy pillow in the display and itched her nose at the anticipation of stepping into the shop. Hoggle would have lost his mind.

Bell tinkling upon their arrival, Nessia shielded her eyes—not because the shop was particularly bright, in fact it was rather dim. No, it was the chain reaction that her presence caused, a box on the wall jetting out amongst the rank and file and pinging right into the side of a rickety desk. An elderly man jumped, his thin white hair going astray as he glanced from the box, the mess the wand had created by acting so spryly—spilling at least two dozen others from the wall—before bending down to pick it up.

"Mr. MacDougal," the shopkeeper smiled, placing the box up on the counter and glancing between them. "I don't think either of you will be spending very long here."

"Nice tae see ye, Ollivander," Angus greeted, palming his granddaughter's back and thrusting her forward from where she'd frozen. "Seems yer wands got minds of their own."

"I see it... from time to time," he smiled gently, turning his wizened eyes down toward Nessia. "This must be Nessia? You look a lot like your mother when she came to get her first wand."

"You remember her?" Nessia's trepidation was trumped by the man's memory of a mother she barely recalled. Both of her parents had been killed when she was little, amidst the wizarding war that had made for a tumultuous childhood for her.

"I remember every person I sell a wand to," Ollivander winked, lifting the lid to the box and revealing a wand. "She had a 12", dragon heartstring cored wand, made from red oak. A very handsome wand."

"Whit happened with that wand?" Nessia inquired, gesturing to the one that had flown clean off the shelf.

"Ah, well let's take a look," he picked up up, holding it to the oil lamp beside him, scrutinizing the ribbing and the fine lattice work of knots around the grip. "Made from vine. They have a tendency to display their attraction to potential partners. I've only seen it happen a few times before, but they're not always quite a brash as this one."

At the insinuation that the wand had reacted to her, Nessia's tanned cheeks darkened and she sputtered. "M-me?"

"Certainly not your grandfather. I'm afraid this wand would not suit him," Ollivander betrayed. "This one has been collecting dust for a while. A very long while," he insisted, reaching over to offer it to Nessia. "I made it many years ago, while I was still experimenting with other cores aside from dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or phoenix feathers. Honestly, I thought it might never sell. Griffin feathers are quite particular, perhaps even more so than phoenix feathers. Prideful creatures."

Accepting the wand, a tingle lanced up her hand, into her elbow, and caused the girl to shudder all over as if a strong gust of cold highland wind had knocked right through her. She could smell the rain on the moors, fresh air whistling through her thick curls, and roasted apples over a fire. A smile curled her lips and she opened her eyes to glance curiously at the wandmaker.

"A perfect fit," Ollivander declared. "It would seem MacDougals are always the quickest shops. I seem to remember when my father had a wand nearly jump into your hands, Angus."

Her grandfather snorted, removing his wand to offer it to the artisan, who ran his fingers along the wood with a sad, but pleased reminiscent expression upon his face. "Nessie's a MacDougal through and through," he puffed up in pride. "Griffin feather, ye hear? Makes sense, a good deal of griffins migrate to the highlands in the warmer seasons."

Always having felt that maybe being a witch was not suited perfectly for her, Nessia clutched the wand. She couldn't have wished for anything more than this perfect union with the unique wand. A tendril of confidence bolstered the girl's frail spine and she grinned up at her bhan. A griffin feather? Of all the cores, she wouldn't have expected such a braw one to choose her, but her heart soared like the creature it was made from.

"I always thought your core was so strange. How my father managed to acquire will-o-wisps and fashion it into a wand always eluded my skill," Ollivander commented, turning Angus' wand over a few times. "I would have expected the reverse for the two of you, but such rare cores are fickle and don't sell often enough to warrant making them in masses. I realized this once I had taken over, but it still warms my heart to see these wands finally find their partners."

"Served me well, it has," Angus assured him. "And dinnae forget that I wasnae always how I am noo. Nessie's got a much better head on her shoulders than when I was a lad," he patted his granddaughter affectionately.

"You were a bit naive if I recall correctly. Bright eyed and bushy tailed," Ollivander chuckled, returning the wand as he began drafting up a hand written receipt.

"Bhan?" Nessia gasped, as if the idea of her grandfather being anything other than the strident retired Auror that she'd known for the entirety of her life.

"We all grow up, Nessie. I was no exception," he mused, mustache twitching in amusement. "Mr. Ollivander is one of the few who still remembers. Though I hae no doubt Professor McGonagall might as well. We went tae school together."

"I think there are still quite a few more who do, but you're unwilling to admit," Ollivander smiled. "That'll be 10 galleons."

Mr. Ollivander packed up the wand for Nessia, which he shared was about 13.5" and had a relatively hard flexibility to it, but he assured her that the wand was rather delighted to have her. Keeping the bundle tucked close to her chest, she followed her grandfather through the streets which had only grown more busy and sweltering as the afternoon peaked. Past the shops with the pets again and to the robes shop. They passed the front of a second hand store, about to continue when a voice called out.

"Oh! Mr. MacDougal—"

Nessia didn't recognize the voice as one of the typical visitors to their homestead and glanced up inquisitively toward her grandfather who froze and wrinkled his nose. A bemused smile tucked on her face as he turned mechanically and forced a pressed, but polite look onto his face. "Allo there," by the second hand shop was a man with a head full of bright, coppery red hair. "Been a while, Arthur. How's the Ministry?"

Arthur was tall, had a face full of freckles, and beamed excitedly up towards Angus. Beside him were two boys, both of which appeared to be of similar age to Nessia, but she didn't know for certain. Just as ginger as their father, they spared her curious looks. One tall, the other a little shorter and broad. Subconsciously, she waned toward her grandfather, but still stared nonetheless.

"Not half as well since you left for good, but it's nice to see you. I hear you don't often leave the highlands, so I'm surprised to see you in London," Arthur admitted politely. He didn't look like an Auror, but Nessia supposed that was a rather rude thing to think by assessing his weathered robes.

"Me granddaughter, Nessie, starts Hogwarts this year. We came tae get the last few things we needed. Logan had quite a bit o' supplies she can put to good use again," he patted her back. "These yer bairns?"

"Ah yes, my eldest Bill, who is in his third year. My second eldest, Charlie, is starting this year. Perhaps the two of you will be in the same classes or house," Arthur suggested, motioning to his sons respectively. "Boys, this is the legendary Auror, Angus MacDougal. He headed the Aurors for many years, fought against Grindelwald and helped during the Wizarding War with intel. I'm surprised you didn't stay around, join the Wizengamot-"

"Bunch o' pompous pr-" Angus started at the mention of the Wizengamot, cutting himself off before he cursed. Nessia snickered behind her hand. "Ah, too many years workin'. Aboot time I enjoy me home, avoid the stress of the Ministry. How's work been for ye, Arthur?"

"Good!" Arthur chirped, but even Nessia caught the fleeting anxious look on the man's face and her grandfather stiffening. "Busy as always," he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, it was nice to see ye. Nessie and I still hae to get some supplies before headin' back north. Tell Molly and the other bairns I've said allo."

"It was nice tae meet ye," Nessia squeaked quickly, following Angus' lead, but still finding her manners. "I'll see ye at school."

"Will do. It was nice to see you," Arthur said, parting ways.

Once out of earshot, Nessia glanced up at her grandfather. "Ye dinnae seem tae happy to see him."

"Arthur is... very passionate," Angus grumbled. "He's a good man, but he's obsessed with muggles. Half the time I see him, I worry I'm gaunnae be stuck listening to him prattle on for hours."

"Oh, he's not an Auror?"

"Oh, nay, nay," Angus shook his head. "Works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Tae be honest, that department's a bit ignored and underfunded... Ministry doesnae see the importance of it much, but we could learn so much from the muggles if we allowed our folk to study with better pay. Used to run into him when I grabbed me morning tea. Realized who I was, was a bit feart at first, but warmed up when he realized I wasnae gaunnae bite his head off. I suppose many other Aurors got their heads far up their own arses. Think they're better than people like Arthur. If any of them had as much passion for their job as Arthur, perhaps we wouldnae had so much of an issue with dark wizards like Ye-Ken-Who."

"Clan MacDougal always mingled with muggles."

"Aye, before Catholicism took hold. We had tae hide our abilities after, but we remained friendly with the muggle clans in the highlands," he added duly. "But not every wizardin' family thinks the same as we dae."

"I ken," Nessia shuddered. "That's why ye never accept those invitations that come from those other families. The Malfoys? Rosiers?"

Angus hummed in agreement. "Jus' posturin' to them. 'Look at what we have', when they dinnae work a day in their lives. Jus' takin' up space and lookin' pretty."

"They dinnae work? Whit do they dae?"

"Merlin kens," Angus rolled his eyes.

Madam Malkin's had a violet store front, a dapper, well dress family in the store display. She thought this one was considerably less dusty, as the mannequins were probably changed out enough that they didn't have enough time to collect half as much dust as the pillow in Ollivander's window. A plump, bright witch hummed around the shop and had her laden with packages as Angus commented about how thick the cloaks were and that a true highlander wouldn't need these to brave the winters in Scotland. While growing rosy cheeked at her grandfather's complaining, they acquired the necessary materials and hurried to collect the last few miscellaneous items. Without having to struggle with books, a cauldron, and the other items they had at home, they were able to easily settle down at the ice cream shop for a much needed treat amongst the heat of a strangely warm afternoon in London.

The path to the Floo hearths was a little choked up, various other patrons just as eager to head home after a successful day in acquiring their needs on Diagon Alley. While waiting in line, Nessia glanced up toward Angus.

"Bhan, we dinnae hae tae come back here, dae we?" Sweat was pouring down her neck, trickling down her back.

"Nay, not til September when ye hae to catch the train."

"The train!" Nessia whined. "But Hogwarts is not too far frae home."

"It's aboot the experience. Ye may meet yer best friends on the train," Angus wagged a brow at her.

Grousing quietly to herself, Nessia didn't shed light on the anxiety she felt surrounding the idea of having to find somewhere on a train to sit, let alone deal with not knowing a single soul. Sure, she knew the names of those two boys, but she didn't know them. To be fair, she didn't really know anyone. It was easy to get lost amongst her jungle at home, the pages of her journal, and the garden outside. There was Hoggle, Rowan, and Logan. Plus the merrow in the loch, which were quite conversational once she'd learned how to understand them. The centaurs were a bit standoffish, but they'd been polite to her.

Hoggle had located the books she needed for school, a couple of which were nearly falling apart because Logan had abused the spines. While the pages were intact—minus his maddened scribblings in a few books—she had to do some repairs of her own to prevent them from breaking further and threatening to actually spill necessary reading material everywhere.

"Knock, knock future Puff," Logan announced his presence, rapping upon the frame of her open door as he poked his head into the jungle.

"Och, ye dinnae ken that yet," Nessia huffed, blowing a few strands of hair from her face as she was sewing another binding back into place.

"Where else would ye go?" Logan stepped in, teasing his younger sister. "Ooh, sorry there. Those look as if they've weathered bein' beat by hippogriffs."

"Oh, yer sorry? Might've fixed 'em before ye handed em down tae me," Nessia quipped, but honestly wasn't that upset. The books still functioned.

"Well, how aboot I make it up to ye?" he offered.

"Ye gaunnae buy me new books?"

"How aboot I do ye one better? Ye got yer wand today, didn't ya?"

Opening the box in front of her, Nessia pulled out the pale wooden wand. "Aye, but I'm not supposed to practice magic outside of school."

"Not around Muggles," Logan corrected. "And if I remember correctly, there arenae any here. Yer perfectly allowed tae practice at home and we're quite remote. If anyone questions it, ye got me to vouch for ye."

Her brother's beguiling reassurances did little to quell the twanging nerves, plucking like an out of tune violin as she contemplated taking the bait. "Whit are ye gaunnae teach me?"

"A few defense spells—Och wait!"

"I dinnae need those. I'm not ye! I'm not gaunnae get into any fights—" Nessia objected immediately.

"Better to ken them and not need them than to be dumped on yer arse. Yer a MacDougal. Like it or not, we have a reputation to uphold and while Bhan will not say anything aboot it, I want to be certain no one picks on ye," Logan interrupted, raising a hand to deflect her disquiet.

"No one is gaunnae pick on me," Nessia snorted. "It's not like when ye went to school."

"Slytherin is still just as nasty as when I went. Yer better off, Nessie."

He wasn't going to drop it, causing her to groan at his insistence. "Fine, but I ken I'm gaunnae be foul at spellwork. Never been good at it before."

"Ye never had the chance tae really try. C'mon, let's go oot in the garden."

#harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts mystery fanfic #growing up at hogwarts #original characters #prose filled

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jinkieswinkies · 5 years ago

Text

I made a fic where lifeline fixes revenant. I like them together.

Heavy metalic footsteps echoed throughout the corridor. One step slightly becoming louder than the previous.

He was mad. Fuming even. He didn’t like asking for help much, especially anyone from here. He didn’t really care about the other legends much less the supposed mechanic- er closest to a mechanic At least.

A low growl escaped the robot's lips, his hip stuck out at an unnatural angle. Each time he lifted his right leg he wanted to rip it clean off, the high pitched squeak filled his ears and it was getting quite annoying.

He groaned again, ‘fucking great’ he thought.

The games were done for the day so that meant he didn’t have to rush this.

He rolled his eyes, or the bright orbs that would’ve been his eyes. This wouldn't have happened if that dumbass skinbag didn't decide to strike a piece of glass into his right hip. Fucker, they'll pay next game.

What was her name? Bangalore? Bagboar?

Whatever it was, it didn't matter. For sure; next time, she's his first victim. He chuckled deeply, just thinking about what poor skinsuits are pitiful enough to be at the mercy of his hands, got him riled for next time.

That damned whine returned, his thoughts back at hand.

Getting repaired

Grimacing, he stopped his tracks. He's arrived. The one who has close experience with robots. Looking to a slight right, he read the nameplate.

Ajay Che (combat medic)

”Wouldn't call that little pet a robot.” he grumbled.

Huffing, he had second thoughts about this. Glancing to his right hip again, and back to the name planchette. This could slow him down, this needed to be taken care of.

Cursing under his breath, he knocked. Well more like banged. Nothing. Nothing was happening. No response. No sounds coming From inside. Nothing.

He crossed his arms and huffed heavily, it was taking all of him not to just go back to his room. This situation needed to be resolved and if she couldn't help him he'd make her. Still, there he stood In silence until three loud shuffles were heard from inside.

“A’right, a’right. Hol’ on.” Her voice was loud but breathless.

He froze, he didn’t really associate with the other legends much less Ajay. He did not want to talk. At all.

The automatic metal doors slid open, revealing a tired and worn out looking medic.

“Ain’t dis a surprise, what you doin ere?”

He briskly walked inside, ignoring her question. Scanning the room, in the middle he saw a metallic table and a few spare robot parts for her drone.

“Dats a bit rude to jus come in ‘ere like you own da place.”

Shoulders tense, he turns around. He doesn’t know how to respond. How does a conversation like this work? He didn’t like socializing and this was hard as is. Someone else touching this robotic fucking monster of a body. That’s a fucking NO. He already had a hard time accepting this fucking form.

Ajay stared, her eyes full of curiosity. ”Well?”

He was getting angry, the words didn't seem to form out his mouth. Was it not obvious? Did he really need to say more? Just fucking looking at his hip and you'll see why he came here.

She knew and he knew that she knew. So why? Why does she still ask?

”If yah come ere’ to stand and stare den leave I don have time to chat.” she rubbed her temples.

She did look tired But he didn't care. Pointing to the right hip and back to the table.

“F-fix.” He grumbled.

She raised a brow as if challenging him to say more. She hummed. Still looking at him, She wants him to say more.

‘He said fix, why does she still stare at him dumbfounded.’

Her arms crossed, she lets out a tired sigh. “I don have time for dis...chu want sometin ask nicely.”

Knuckles cracking, he let out a feral growl. ”fix. Or else.”

Her face contorted into annoyance. ”look you won't be gettin fixed...yah hear.” She pointed to the door, Getting up close and personal to his face. She demanded. ”Play nice or get out.”

The crimson-plated robot shook with anger. This was not going well and the atmosphere in the room was suffocating. He didn't like her attitude even when she wasn't sassy. A happy go lucky, rich spoon-fed kid who grew up with luxury needed to be put in place.

He didn't care and he didn't fucking like her. Period. This girl, she’s testing him. This ship had a respawn beacon anyways wouldn’t make a difference if she magically disappeared. She acts like she isn’t afraid of death. She’s odd. Something about her pricked his interest but he shoves it away.

Why wasn't she afraid? Why is she provoking him? Obviously, things would just go smoothly if she just did what he asked.

He backed away, he needed this to be done. If this wasn’t resolved then it’s gonna fuck with his performance and If it fucks with his performance then oh boy. He’s gonna fucking throw a fit.

Looking at her eyes, they’re filled with annoyance and tiredness. Her brown eyes dark, making her eye-bags pop out more.

He huffed out his nose. “Fix me.”

He saw her grit her teeth. She opened her mouth. “You-“

He interrupted “Please.”

It took all of him not to shout at her, to force her to fix him. She was a toughy. Something new?

She backed away, briskly making her way to the table. Grabbing the tools on her way, she turned and gestured him to come closer.

He followed suit, wanting no needing for this to be over. He propped himself up on the table.

Having a cocky grin she asked, ”Where?”

Throwing him off, he stared. How dumb can she be???

lip quivering. He simply jutted his hip out and made a simple ”hmmph.”

Rolling her eyes, her arms wrap around his waist to bring him closer.

Surprised, he shouted. ” Be gentle or I’ll fucking kill you!” His Hand twisting into a pointy makeshift knife.

”Yah kill me, yah won't be fixed. Sorry for triggering sometin.” she whispered.

After pulling him closer she rested her hands on his lap, reaching her hand softly onto the left hip to ground the crimson robot. He winced.

He’s always been sensitive, especially near his hips. That’s just how his wires feel. Sensitive. It’s worse since they’re usually exposed. The sad excuse of a shawl covered the majority but not the sides. It’s crazy how Hammond designed his model. Crazy how even then, even after dying. He can still feel things. Not like he messed with anything there anyways.

“Sorry...”

He grumbled, annoyed with the whole situation he didn’t want to put up a fight.

She chuckled softly, “I see Anita dit a numba on yah hip.”

“Hmph.”

He wasn’t going to engage in conversation as she wanted. She got enough of cooperation from him.

“I notice, yah know.”

This piqued his interest. “Mmh?”

“I notice yah, yah don like talkin to us.”

He weakly shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care enough to.” His voice was almost nothing.

Her hands wrapped around the shard of glass, swishing it slowly back and forth.

The murder robots hands gripped the table underneath him. Letting out a shaky breath he whimpered, “Be more careful...”

The shard was a long one and it came out rather easily. The matter was his wires were pulled out as well. Clicking her tongue she grabbed a screwdriver and pried the small space just a little more open.

He wanted to run out of this room right now. He wanted to close his legs. He wanted nothing more to do with this. This stupid sickening feeling, dumb stupid retarded Ajay. “Wa-wait..”

She didn’t hear him. Or did she. Point is his message didn’t cross. Her hands trailed up his exposed wires. Picking the shortest one, she rolled the tip whilst pinching the end to squeeze into place. Making him shudder, His hips jerked. His voice was static and breathless “Wait, I said wait...ho-hold on.”

She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time today. “Look I know dis hurts but I’m workin as fast as I can.”

Ignoring his pleas she continued with putting his wires back in place.

His right hand gripped her uniform, she didn’t mind or she just didn’t care at this point.

His body trembled with each touch of her fingertips. “Haa...”

Her fingers made their way to the second thickest wire, this one was much more troublesome to get into the right place. Slightly twisting the dark gray wire, she tugged it into place. Next to it, a smaller sized green one stood out, pinching this one just like the first. It found its way into proper standing.

His grip had become increasingly tighter, desperately trying not to roll his hips into her hand. He refused to be like...this. Taking a deep breath he steadied himself.

“Dis is de last wire.” She mumbled.

The last one was...difficult to say the least. Located closest to his pelvic area, she knew she had to be gentle. Sure he may be a robot but it’s courtesy to still treat him with respect.

“Uhm.” He mumbled. “This is the last one right?”

“Jus Said id was.”

If he still had a real working body, his face would’ve been red and his heart would’ve been a Jackhammer. If it was even possible he missed having a heart, missed hearing how it drowned out his hearing when it bumped, missed having it beat when a lover of his said they loved him. He didn’t want to feel this anymore. So small and shy.

Ajay couldn’t pinch this wire, this one was way much thicker than the rest. She had to be more gentle. If it hurt him this much then it was better safe then sorry. (Little does she know. ) She found where it was originally stored rather quickly, stroking the wire, she increased her hold on it.

Revenant let out a high pitched wheeze, his hips rolling into her hand. His legs tightened around her waist.

”wha- what are ya doing?” She stammered, clearly confused.

This was so fucking embarrassing he wanted to fucking die. More than he already wished. “I- you- I said-“

She groaned, “I’m workin as fast as I can. We’re both tired I know but cha gotta work with me, Rev.”

A shiver ran up his would be spine caused him to falter. “Rev?”

“My bad broter. Thought since I’m doin yah a favor I could give cha a nickname..”

“I don’t care and I don’t like it, just finish.” He replied, looking away.

“I would if yah let me go witcha legs.” She snickered.

He jumped, slowly letting go of her. Her hand down back at his right hip, stretching him back out. He leaned back on the metal table with his palms carrying most of his weight.

This felt weirdly intimate, and he didn’t like it. Another shiver went up to his makeshift of a spine. Twisting the darkest wire back into place, she had to squeeze the middle area for it to fit. This time, he couldn’t hold it back. He let out a shuddered breath, Lidded luminescent eyes now found their way closed, hips slowly rolling once again.

Ajay looked up, with a quizzical look on her face. She didn’t bother questioning it but she still wanted to test something.

She squeezed harder and he let out a small mewl. The tips of her fingers found their way traveling ever so delicately down to the thickest part of the wire. Her thumb circling around the base, she felt the failed suppressed shudder throughout his body.

he breathed, “Fuck...”

She hummed, she put the wire back In place but she still wanted to play with him. Hands wrapped on his waist she began feeling his back indents. His panting was audible now. Pressing inwards of one of the indents. His voicebox crackled, letting out a cute “mmph.”

He slowly moved back, letting her climb on semi top of him. His hips rutting against her leg, he was really needy. Whimpering and begging practically. She smirked.

Figured as much, he’s been alive for almost 3 centuries. Nobody to touch him, nobody to make him feel good. She almost pitied him.

“P-please let me.”

Ajay hummed.

Another voice crack, “Ajay-emmhp”

His rutting became more aggressive, more sloppy. He needed this. However, he did come into the room with an attitude. Can’t let that go through can we. Moving her leg back, she got off him.

“N-no..” his hips chased her leg. His eyes flicked to her.

“I fixed yah, chu can leave.” She moved to her desk.

“Wha- I ehm...” he really didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t want to be left feeling this way.

“Yah Heard me.” She snickered.

He covered his face with his arms, he couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to be the only one feeling this way.

His breath still irregular, his voice box struggled to make out coherent words. “i-“

“Yah don’t have tuh say anyting.” She interrupted.

He swallowed. Getting up from the table, he still looked at her.

His thoughts raced. ‘What should I do? I came to be fixed And I was. Why am I feeling this way? I don’t want to anymore.

Why is this happening? Why did that happen?why did I allow that?’

He awkwardly walked up to her desk where she sat. Turning her around, his eyes darted to look anywhere but her face.

Why’d I do this again? I want- I want her to touch me again..

“Hm?” She questioned.

He kissed her cheek and turned to walk out of her room, he heard her giggle. “I’ll see ya in the games, yah smhook.”

Stopping his tracks at the open door, he shouted. “STUPID SKINSUIT!”

“Fuck ya!” She burst out laughing.

He was down the hall when he heard her respond, he wanted to be back in his room. Nobody was going to stop him. Briskly making his way down the hallway. The crimson plated robot found his room on the right.

His back met his bed issued from the company. His Body still ached for her touch. Wanting more. Rolling back and forth like a toddler on the sheets. He shouted, “Stupid SKINSUIT!”

#revenant apex legends #lifeline #lifeline apex legends #lifeline x revenant #revline #wireplay #dont use tumblr much as you can see #apex legends #revenant kind ooc at the end #begging #sassy lifeline

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buttered-ghost-toast · 4 years ago

Note

Listen, if you don't fill out all of those numbers and tell me everything about your MC I'm going to feel robbed

Oh geez, fam! ...aight. That took me a minute. But below you will find out more about my girl, Niri!

1. What is their favourite food?—

Cheeseburgers and carrots.

2. Do they have a fear of an animal? If so, what animal? –

Not a fan of snakes, lizards, frogs, sharks.

3. What do they wear to bed? –

Shorts and a t-shirt. Sometimes nothing at all!! That had to stop when she moved into the HoL though. Brothers poppin’ in at all hours gettin’ an eyeful. Lucifer was upset.

4. Do they like cuddling?—

1000000000%. Niri’s a big ol’ cuddle bug. Asmo’s all about it. So is Beel.

5. Do they have a secret handshake with anyone? -- With Astaroth. It’s quite elaborate and they only ever do it when they decide to get up to trouble.

6. What do they look like? –

She cute if I may say so myselffff (don’t judge me, she’s a self insert hah!) Mid to slightly above average height for a human female, fairly toned. Brown eyes, mid-back length hair that’s brown at the root, fades to a teal and purple under layers. Sometimes her hair will fade to a light yellowy-green. She has the hookup for dye from Barbatos who likes to procure things for her from the human realm. She also has quite a few tattoos.

7. Do they like chocolate? –

Only dark. She’s allergic to additives in certain milk chocolates so she doesn’t eat it much.

8. What are their good and bad traits?

Good: Helpful, kind, encouraging, quite a hard worker in any task given her.

Bad: Easily swept up into trouble by others, will prioritize naps over other stuff sometimes, awfully flirtatious which gets her in hot water with Lucifer because apparently lesser demons keep poppin’ by the house with gifts also HUMAN, DID YOU REALLY JUST SAY THAT TO LORD DIAVOLO?! Oopsssssss~ Also, you know how Luci’s always doing the “MAAAAMMMOOOONNNNN…”…yeah, that’s almost always followed by “NIIIIIRIIIIIIIIII….”

9. Do they have any artistic talent?

Yes. She’s a musician so there’s that…and she likes to paint.

10. What is their favourite room to be in, in the house they live in?

She likes the music room since the boys tend to spend quite a bit of time in there together, but she’s usually found in the kitchen making loads of food and baked goods…also, that’s where you’re more likely to find Beel, and she reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally likes Beel.

11. Do they believe in luck?

To an extent. She believes that luck exists, but she thinks relying on it is a bit naïve.

12. Can they do magic?

Like pull a rabbit out of a hat type thing? Yes. She picked up a few little tricks here and there from a friend who loves show magic. Def not the real stuff though.

13. Do they believe in dragons?

She didn’t until she went to the Devildom. Not that they just have dragons hangin’ out all willy-nilly, but she’s heard stories from the brothers and others about dragons.

14. What is a pet peeve of theirs?

Rudeness and liars who don’t give up even after they’ve been caught in the lie. Also people who demand things of others as if they’re property and not living beings with feelings …this isn’t about Belphegor at all. Nope. She doesn’t have issues with him still.

15. What was the last thing they cried about?

She was able to talk to all her bandmates at once for her weekly call home. They all just really miss each other, ok? It sucks that she has to lie to them about where she is because she knows they’re worried about her, but it was just nice to hear their voices.

16. What is their sexuality?

Pan.

17. Do they have a best friend? If so, who, and what makes them their best friend?

We’ll narrow this down to the Devildom. Niri gets along with everyone and literally loves all the beings she’s met and knows she could count on them for most anything, but there’s definitely a more solid feeling to her connection with Beelzebub. They sort of just get to be vulnerable and entirely open with one another and there is never judgement or ill will, even when Beel eats her secret snack stash…again.

She’s kind of getting to that point with Astaroth as well, but she can sense he’s still a little guarded in certain aspects, and she’s not going to push.

18. Have they ever been in a romantic relationship?

Yes, quite a few. It’s not her favorite thing to talk about since she’s been quite unlucky in that aspect, but hey, the past is the past.

19. What does their relationship with their family look like? Are they close? Distant? Ect.

Her actual family family (with the exception of her brother) are not close in the least. They’re sort of barely on speaking terms. Her chosen family (comprised of her band and some of the closest staff) is extremely close.

20. Do they have a pet?

No. She loves animals and had a dog up until recently, but they passed. It’s okay though, they had a good long life and it wasn’t painful for them when it happened.

21. Do they have a familiar?

Nope. Non-magical.

22. Are they a supernatural being?

Nope! “Boring” human, but she does seem to always find herself in weird situations that are sorta paranormal.

23. How do they usually wear their hair?

It really just depends on the day. If she had time to work on it, it’s down and straight. If it’s a rush in the morning (read: fight for the bathroom because Beel won’t MOVE) she’ll toss it in a bun or ponytail depending on how hot it is outside. There are the odd days when she’ll just let it vibe in its natural wavy/curly state, but she kind of got fed up with the brothers calling her a sheep because it’s so fluffy.

24. Can they play an instrument? If so, what instrument and what can they play?

Yes! She learned guitar and bass at a young age and was tinkering with drums before she was whisked away to the Devildom.

25. What type a high schooler are/were they?

She was the quiet weird kid that didn’t quite fit in with the weird weird crowd, but also wasn’t popular. Plenty of people knew her or of her, but she mainly stuck with her group of friends and was nice to everyone.

26. Have they ever been in a physical fight before? If so, with who? Who won?

Yes. Just small bits of violence. No one of import, tbh. But there was that one time they all went out to party at the fall and Mammon and Levi started teasing her and in her drunken state, Niri went to punch Mammon who managed to duck so she hit Levi square in the nose. He was fiiiiiiine.

27. What is their favourite holiday?

Halloween because it’s fun, Christmas because of the togetherness, and EASTER BECAUSE MARSHMALLOW PEEPS!

28. If they could have one wish, what would they wish for?

A pass to go from the Devildom to the Human realm and back whenever she wants forever.

29. Do they wants kids? If they already have kids, do they want more?

No. Never.

30. Do they have a job?

Yes? Being a singer in a band is a job, right? It doesn’t always feel like a job because it’s awesome, but it’s a job.

31. Do they know how to drive?

Yes. She has convinced Mammon to let her drive his car on a few occasions and every time they get back he swears NEVER AGAIN. She a little speed demon.

32. Do they get stressed out easily?

Funny story, actually…YES. But she is pretty good at not letting it show. So on the outside she’s like la-la-la~ but inside it’s all AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~~~

33. Did they ever dye their hair before? If so, to what colour? Did they like it?

Absolutely lol. Niri has gone through a few colors in her life, but her favorite is and always will be the teal. (Fun fact: the purple came from a happy accident a few years back when she dyed over a pink shade and a layer turned out purple. She liked it so now she does it that way on purpose.)

34. Have they ever broken the law?

Never anything egregious, but she’s gotten tickets for stuff in the human world. Disturbing the peace, speeding, she was fined once (along with her bandmates) for a surprise free show they did in front of a train station which got a lot more attention than they were expecting and wound up shutting down a couple city blocks. Oooooooooopsss~

35. Do they own a plant?

She’s really bad with plants. REALLY bad. She was gifted a plant by Simeon a couple weeks into the exchange program and it took an embarrassingly long time for her to notice it was a fake plant…since he knows she sucks at keeping things alive.

36. Have they ever rode a horse before?

Once, and it was a terrifying experience so she just keeps her distance now.

37. What is their favorite gif?

anything featuring Titus Andromedon.

38. Do they get along with others easily?

She tries to. It’s not always possible, but she tries, dammit!

39. Do they have any tattoos?

Several, yes. One arm sleeve done, starting the other arm, both thighs have massive pieces on them and both ribs done as well. There are also a few small things on her fingers and back.

40. If I wanted to draw them, what would be distinct physical features that I would have to know to draw them correctly?

Lotta hair. Looooooottttta hair. And heavily winged eyeliner. Big lashes.

41. What is their favourite breed of dog?

Huskies. They’re just so cute and sassy! And perfectly sized!! Great cuddle buddies and fun to run with!

42. Do they live with anyone? If so, who?

Not in the human world, but she’s got 7 kinda irritating roomies in the Devildom!

43. Where is their dream vacation?

She’s traveled extensively, so there isn’t anywhere she dreams of going that she hasn’t already seen. Her favorite place is anywhere mountainous and lush.

44. Do they know more than one language?

Yep. Niri’s a language nerd. Because she likes to speak to fans and stuff, she has set it on herself to learn as many languages as she can. She’s not perfectly fluent in all of them, but it’s a good handful that she can hold a full conversation in. She and Satan like to practice with one another around the house, despite complaints from the others.

45. Are they a quick learner?

Depends. Most things, yes…..math and processes requiring math, NO.

46. Have they ever won a contest before? If so, what for? What did they win?

No, she’s not really the luck having type.

47. If the world were to end in 24 hours, where would they be and who would they be with?

Probably hugging Beel. They hug often. They’re kinda always together. It’s gross according to Leviathan and Belphegor.

48. What does their room look like?

She didn’t change much in the room she was given at the HoL. Just added her fake plant from Simeon and a few human things…she actually got the “Hang in There” kitty poster just for kicks. Lucifer hates it.

49. If they could have an extinct animal for a pet, what would they have?

A dodo bird. Because they’re weird and cool.

50. If they got called out by someone, what would they do?

Laugh and argue probably. Depends what they’re calling her out on.

51. Have they ever shot a gun before?

Yep. Actually enjoys shooting, it’s a fun stress reliever. She makes a point to drop by shooting ranges every once in a while back home.

52. Have they ever been axe throwing?

Once at a renaissance festival on an odd week of downtime. She didn’t do so well. The throwing was fine, but she never hit the target. Just be glad she didn’t hit a person either!

53. What is something that they want but can’t have?

At the moment, all the people she loves in one place.

54. Do they know how to fish?

Nope! She’s a mess with that kind of thing. Also, she doesn’t like the idea of fishing for anything herself. It makes her cry to think of the fish on the hook :<.

55. What is something they always wanted to do but too scared?

Hmm…Niri tries to live her life in a way that she won’t have regrets, so even if something is scary, she’ll pluck up the courage to do it. But…she still hasn’t jumped out of a plane.

56. Do they own their own baby pictures?

Absolutely not. She cringes thinking of the outfits her parents used to put her in, so she did her best to keep those kinds of things buried and acts like they never existed. Nope. Was never a baby. Nope.

57. What makes them standout among others?

Niri is a pro at pretending she’s confident, so she tends to draw attention when she walks in a room like she owns the place. Also her hair is kinda bright.

58. Do they like to show off?

Not really. She’s flamboyant in a sense, but she doesn’t go out of her way to call attention or to be center stage…heh.

59. What is their favourite song?

She can never pick, honestly. There are so many songs that are so amazing!

60. What would be their dream vehicle?

That’s a very good question. Probably something sitting in her garage back home. Probably being driven by one of her bandmates. Because hey, what are friends for?

61. What is their favourite book?

Not that she isn’t a big reader, but she doesn’t really get the time to enjoy books. There’s always something that needs attention or someplace to be and she’s required to engage, so focusing on a book or story is hard, but she’s a fan of classic novels, poetry, and Greek tragedies are always good!

62. Who, in their opinion, makes the best food?

She likes everything Barbatos makes and thinks Luke’s desserts are fantastic, but there’s something about a human recipe that just warms her heart, so…..herself. Lol.

63. Are they approachable?

Absolutely! If you can get past her intimidating resting face.

64. Did they ever change their appearance?

Not drastically, but she has gone through a few different phases until settling on a good one.

65. What makes them smile?

The silliness of those around her. Thinking of good memories with family/friends. Puppies.

66. Do they like glowsticks?

Yes. She has a stockpile of glowsticks that the brothers keep adding to.

67. What is something that is simple, but always makes them smile?

Watching the brothers bicker, even if it’s getting out of hand. It reminds her of her friends and how they always pick on one another.

68. Are they a day or night person?

Night, usually. Not that she dislikes the daytime, but day usually has so much stuff to be done whereas night is the fun stuff that doesn’t need a schedule.

69. Are they allergic to anything?

Some milk chocolate, bell peppers, and certain devildom plants.

70. What do you, the creator of this OC, like most about them?

She’s a spunky little thing who loves to have fun and make others smile above all else.

71. Who is their ride or die?

In the Devildom, Beelzebub and Astaroth.

Beel for most things, and Asta for the stuff Beel won’t do.

72. Do they currently have a significant other? If not, are they going to get one later one?

Erm…eh…look, it’s never been officially labeled or anything, ok? Like yeah they’re kind always together and have pet names for each other and like always touch and cuddle and like snuggle up in bed together and stuffffffffffff but like, idk? Is Beel her dude? Like….do we wanna even get into that?????? I mean, maybe someday? Like…what? What was the question??

73. What attracts them to another person?

A genuine heart, a killer smile, and a rockin’ bod. Yeah okay look everyone can be a little shallow sometimes okay get off her case >__<.

74. Who is one person that can always make them laugh?

She’s a damn fool and will laugh at ANYTHING, so it’s not hard. Everyone makes her laugh. The girl will 9 times out of 10 laugh at herself for the dumbest moments.

75. Have they ever partied too hard and their friends had to take them home?

Oh yes many times. Many many times. One of the first few times she hung out (went on a date) one-on-one with Beel they had a drinking contest and as it turns out, he can really hold his devil liquor.

76. Who would be their cuddle buddy?

She’ll cuddle up to Beel 99.9% of the time because he’s big and warm and always happy to hold, but she also really enjoys cuddling with Asmodeus. He’s such a sweetie and he smells so nice and they just snuggle and talk and laugh and it’s a nice escape. (Loads of times there are Asmo x Niri x Asta sandwiches in Asmo’s room.)

77. Who would cheer them up after a long day?

She tends to go to one of the brothers depending on what kind of day it’s been. Most of the time it’s gonna be Beel because again, big/warm/happy to hold her, but there are occasions where she’ll drag Beel to one of the others’ rooms and they’ll just hang out.

78. If they had a nightmare, who would they run to?

I mean…Beel. Lol. He’s right there.

79. What object to the care for the most?

She has a picture of her friends from back home that sits on her desk. She treasures that above all while she’s down in the Devildom.

80. Do they like other people’s children?

Sure. Kids are fine as long as they go back to their parents after a bit.

81. How would they react if someone broke into their home?

Seeing as there’s always someone coming into her room regardless if she’s there or not, she probably would just shrug it off. If someone decided to have a bad lapse in judgement and break into the HoL? She wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

82. Does anyone make them have butterflies in their stomach?

I mean….Beel. Lol. He so big and cute! Also Diavolo because he also big and cute.

83. What is something that they are good at?

Crying to get out of trouble. She’s a little shit. Lol.

84. What is their neutral expression?

Niri kinda always looks pissed off or uninterested? Until she smiles and you realize oh, she’s just a big ol’ faker.

85. Do they like to cook?

Yes. It’s one of her very favorite things to do!

86. What is something they can’t leave home without?

Her phone! (and Beel) but like, there’s just so much a phone can do!

87. Who is someone that they rely on?

Have I mentioned ever that Simeon is (or was at one time) Niri’s guardian angel? He seems to always be there and ready to help in any way, so she’s pretty reliant on him and hopes he feels the same toward her. (He does. Cue uwu’s)

88. Do they liked to be tickled?

Absolutely not. She’s extremely ticklish and hates being tickled. She flails and cries.

89. Have they ever been a sword fight before?

No. No she has not lol. Unless empty wrapping paper tubes count? She’s done that.

90. What is a joke that they would find funny?

All the bad ones. All of them. Ugly laugh here we go!

91. Do they have a place that can go and turn off their brain?

The gardens at RAD. It’s peaceful and there’s a great view of the sky.

92. What was their childhood like?

Not bad, but not memorable. There was a lot of pressure put on her to be a perfect kid, and she didn’t get to have a whole ton of fun.

93. What are they like as an adult?

Responsible, but definitely fun-loving. Like I mentioned before, she likes to live in a way that she won’t ever regret not having done something she wanted to do, or regret any actions she took, so she’s always got an open mind and welcomes new experiences. She’s a big ol’ kid.

94. Do they take criticism well?

Yes. She welcomes criticism in any form as she is always looking to be the best person she can be.

95. Have they ever jumped out of a plane?

No. Not yet!

96. Who do they like to make jokes with?

Literally anyone. A total joker. Big big clown.

97. Have you ever drawn them before? If you are comfortable with it, would you post a picture?

Yes! I draw Niri every once in a while. I actually need to draw her again soon! I miss that girl.

#asks for Butter #get to know Niri

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