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roanniom · 4 years ago

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The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield.

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

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theplushmaker · 4 years ago

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Oki since someone asked for the Silver headcannons I'll post them, there's quite a few so I hope you enjoy!

Please let me know if I should put a warning

• Silver loves to look at the night sky to see the stars since he came from an apocalyptic future where ash and smog covered the sky

• Silver was originally part of Sonic's time but was transported 200 years into the future by Mephiles to insure the (rewritten) events of Sonic 06

• Silver enjoys botany

• Silver was taught English by Mephiles

• Silver knows seconds and days but has trouble when it comes to hours, weeks, months, and years

• Silver at first had trouble understanding how birthdays worked

• Silver was a lot shorter when he first met Sonic due to malnourishment, making him look like a 10-year-old (despite being 14)

• only Silver remembers the events of Sonic 06 due to Mephiles' interference

• Silver had to ask Sonic what certain words meant ex: parents, mom and dad, sister/brother, etc, etc, the first time he asked Sonic what family was, Sonic was, understandably, confused then worried, afterward, Silver had asked Shadow instead only to get the same results (albeit less obvious) so now he only asks if he can't figure it out on his own

• Silver is used to hot temperatures due to the lava and fire in the apocalyptic future

• Silver gained the ability of foresight, albeit weak, (after Sonic 06) and is only able to use it when meditating (this is so that Silver doesn't have to appear JUST because "oh the future's in danger and he has to prevent it" like in the games)

• Silver can not time travel, that was all Mephiles' doing (^)

• Silver has a fear of fire (pyrophobia)

• Silver can not tell when someone is being sarcastic and will take everything someone says literally, Charmy learned this the hard way when he told Silver to "throw the bucket of water at Sonic" Sonic was knocked unconscious with Tails panicking, safe to say Charmy learned his lesson and was later grounded by Espio when he found out

• Silver's first "food" when Mephiles sent him back was ham sandwiches

• when Shadow had to keep an eye on Silver, (along with Rouge and Omega, due to him getting a head injury because Shadow "accidentally" kicked him and Rouge felt it was their mostly his responsibility to take care of him till he recovers) he saw Silver laying on the ground outside, when Shadow walked over Silver looked at him with big eyes saying "it's so small" with the tone of an amazed child, upon closer inspection Shadow found out that he was referring to a caterpillar he found eating a leaf, Rouge was there recording the whole thing

• Silver managed to make Shadow smile when he first saw snow and started acting like a child on his first snow day

• Silver never told anyone about the events of 06 after the "time-line reset" thinking it was best left forgotten (that and he's afraid of what everyone will think should he tell them that he helped a man, who no longer exists, almost end the world)

• Silver sleeps at 12:40 but will wake up at 4:00 IN THE MORNING just because he's still not used to the concept of time, the only reason why everyone knows this is because one-time Sonic let Silver stay the night at his and Tails place, and Tails ended up finishing a project at 4:33 AM the boy walked out of his lab expecting for Sonic and Silver to be asleep, only to get the absolute daylights scared out of him when he finds Silver (trying to but shh!) Reading a book at the kitchen table, Silver fell out of his chair and Sonic came down running (but not without falling off his bed and hitting his head hard) to check on them, after that they told everyone of Silver's "messed up" sleep schedule

• Silver is illiterate but is trying his best to learn how to read without anyone knowing, so far no one suspects a thing

• Silver has quite a bit of pain tolerance given the fact that Knuckles dislocated his shoulder once and Silver didn't even flinch, even after they fixed it by taking him to a doctor

• Silver can not stay in one place for too long, given the fact that he traveled all over the place in the apocalyptic future, it was only a given that the habit never died, of course, Sonic and co can keep him from leaving by simply keeping him busy, this has helped greatly with surprise party's

• Silver's first "language" was just a mix-mash of 40 other languages

• if Silver doesn't use his psychokinesis he can end up building up too much energy for his body to handle, so what happens if he can no longer handle it you may ask? Chaos, absolute chaos, he ends up acting like Charmy on a sauger rush and Sonic when he has coffee, his abilities go haywire and he doesn't even know it, the worse part is, the only reason he did stop using his psychokinesis is because he made a bet with Shadow to see who can go the longest without using their abilities, Rouge, of course, recorded the whole thing, along with Omega, no one has let him live it down since

• the gold bracelet things (what are they even called?) Silver has can store excess energy and it can store a lot, (so combine that with energy build-up)

• Silver has nightmares of when his primary caretakers were killed, (PTSD?) Though sometimes it would be about Blaze, Amy, Sonic, Shadow, or all of them, sometimes it's them getting killed or them leaving him once they remember or find out about the events of 06, which is why he tries his best to act as normal as everyone else, though sometimes it's about Mephiles telling him things, he tries to bury those memories

• Silver didn't know it at the time but he and Mephiles had a father-son relationship before he realized Mephiles was using him, it saddens him knowing that he might never have that type of relationship again

• Silver sometimes reminds Shadow of Maria with how he acts when he sees/ learns something new

• Silver, Shadow and Sonic have a brotherly relationship, Silver being the young oblivious brother, Sonic being the carefree middle brother, and Shadow being the strict older brother

• Silver may act like a child most of the time but if someone gets in his way of survival, he will go stone cold

• Silver's boots are made of metal so they weigh quite a bit, of course, the only reason why everyone knows this is because when Shadow "accidentally" knocked him unconscious, he, along with Rouge, tried to drag him inside only to find out his boots weighed him down and had to be removed, this lead to the discovery that Silver was underweight, (they left his boots outside, covered by a box because they didn't want to bother trying to move them inside)

• Amy and Vanille were the first to find out that Silver had quite the sweet tooth, he likes marshmallows best

• Silver gets vocabulary lessons from Amy while taking cooking and health lessons

• Vanille makes sure that Silver eats whenever she gets the chance, like a worried mother

• Silver's teeth are surprisingly healthy, just not the cleanest... with a little bit of red staining (though people assume that it's because his gums bleed and not because he ate something he shouldn't have) Amy had to teach him how to brush and had to remind him to brush every night until it became a good habit of his, his teeth are also pretty sharp for a hedgehog (I wonder why)

• due to multiple reasons, (take a guess) most of Sonic Co think that Silver didn't have a great upbringing, with most of them assuming that he had strict parents and lived during a famine in a dry/hot area that was prone to violence, which they aren't wrong but they are?

• with Silver's fear of fire, one would think that he and Blaze didn't get along, but the opposite is true, Blaze keeps using fire at a minimum when he's around and if she did use it then she'd give ample warning time and space before she does it, in return Silver stays close to the ground so he doesn't "trigger" her fear of heights

• Silver does not know anything about romance, so when he starts to suddenly feel odd around Blaze, ex: abnormal heart rate, weird feeling in his stomach, warm cheeks, etc, he asks Amy about it, (mostly because she's been teaching him about health) and she gets excited and tells him about love (she's secretly cupid, fight me)

#sonic the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #sonic headcanon #blaze the cat mentioned #maria robotnik mentioned #e 123 omega #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #Vanille the rabbit #rouge the bat #charmy bee #espio the chameleon #Mephiles the dark mentioned #Knuckles the echidna mentioned #tails the fox mentioned #this is the longest post I've ever made #probably will make more XD #next time I'll do some charmy headcannons!

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talesgolden · 2 years ago

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Character Outline

tagged: stole it from myself ! tagging: i support theft, this time largely because I don’t know who has/hasn’t done this one

ORIGINS & FAMILY

Full Name: Mahetabel “Hetty” MacPhaiden

Date of Birth: 15 April

Age: verse dependent, typically early twenties

Social Class: Working; but also, despite the fact that her family does not actively sail or raid, etc., she would be viewed as a pirate and, beyond this, as a result of having a racially mixed family, excluded from many ‘accepted’ social establishments.

Parents: Gavan & Irie MacPhaiden

Siblings: two younger sisters, Ferelith & Eilidh

PHYSICAL & APPEARANCE

Height: 5′6″

Weight: no; Her build is average, a bit on the curvy side, and she is stronger than she looks, used to moving furniture around and lifting heavy objects

Distinguishing Features: The freckles & red curly hair single her out right away, and after that her accent (primarily Scottish with influence from her Jamaican mother) is pretty unique as well

Hair Color: Rich ruby red

Eye Color: Warm brown

What do they consider their best feature?: Her favorite feature is her hair for sure; she tends to leave it natural and sometimes ties away from her face or wrapped for protection, but mostly wears it loose and free because she likes the way it catches the light and bounces around when she moves and really loves the way it frames her face. She also really loves the way it reflects both her parents and in generally she just adores being fairly unique in terms of appearance. She and her sisters are recognizable and actually she quite likes that.

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): Mostly functional, an acceptable for a person of her age in her time. She has no desire to break from traditional norms here, and in fact quite likes being dressed Right for a setting/occasion. She doesn’t have a super wide closet (clothes are expensive) and she doesn’t have a lot of very fine fabrics/textiles (it just wouldn’t be practical, they’d get damaged) but she does aim to be put-together and wants to be viewed as a Lady, you know? She has a couple of nicer dresses for special occasions, but generally is going to be in well-tended working clothes.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: Light on the jewelry, maybe a necklace or a bracelet, the occasional ring. She has some pieces she rotates through but they aren’t flashy, and mostly she saves them for special occasions. She has her ears pierced once, just traditional lobe piercings. She does not have any tattoos and isn’t likely to get any I don’t think.

Do they work out/exercise?: Nope. Her occupation is somewhat physically taxing, though, so she’s stronger than people might expect. She's no sword fighter, if you start trouble she can certainly hand it right back to you.

BELIEF & INTELLECT

Level of Self Esteem: Moderate. She has her little world in her tavern, on Shipwreck, where she is self-assured. She knows her home and her community, the strengths and weaknesses, the accolades and dangers, and she moves through it with confidence. She’s comfortable fussing at pirate captains who start shit in her tavern, even throwing them out (with backup from her father (or Henry) of course.) If you were to take her out of her familiar surroundings, though, she’d second guess herself a lot more.

Known Languages: English, some Scots-Gaelic and Jamaican. Probably also the pidgin language common around Shipwreck.

Gifts/Talents:

How do they deal with stress?: Methodically. She might be having a meltdown internally, but externally she is very level-headed and steady, and good at compartmentalizing. Keeping focus and taking care of things one step at a time, as she can.

What do they do when upset?: She tends to get defensive and bossy, and very focused on being “right” instead of being kind or compassionate.

Do they believe in happy endings?: Yes. Tentatively, in a mildly guarded and realistic “they take work” way, but yes.

How do they feel about asking for help?: Accepting of it, generally. She doesn’t mind needing help with things in the least. Some things you only ask trusted people, though.

Optimist or Pessimist: Realist, she insists. (She quietly leans for optimism.)

Extrovert or Introvert: Introvert in the sense that people, eventually, wear her out, but she’s very friendly and likes creating social spaces for herself and others to enjoy.

Leader or Follower: Is there an option that’s like..... curator? Comforter? Home-base-runner?? I’m so stupid her like, official unofficial title is: Hearthkeeper. She’s not in any direct chain of command anywhere per se but she’s keeping things together, making sure there’s somewhere for the leader and the followers to land.

Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: She likes to claim that it’s logic, because she takes her time to think things through, but ultimately still tends to let her feelings lead her around.

Spontaneous or Planner: Planner, definitely. Capable of adapting, generally, but going to be cross about that her plans were dashed.

Thinker or Doer: I think...more of a doer? In every area except her romantic inclinations. She’s pretty practical, as a person.

Organized or Messy: Organized. Neat, even! (Neater than Henry, anyway.)

Worrier or Carefree: ....Planner? She isn’t carefree in the sense of not caring but she’s very prepared, and ready, and grounded. She doesn’t worry about things, per se, she prepares for what she thinks she needs to and then just. What comes, comes.

Artistic?: In a hands-on sort of way! She’s good at interior design, a decent seamstress, and good at hands-on crafts. No one in particular comes to mind but if it’s a like.... home-making sort of craft? She’s probably pretty good at it. She likes to decorate her spaces as her means of artistic expression.

Mathematical?: Not in an approach-to-life way, but in the sense that she’s good with numbers, yes! Very good at sums and book balancing and cost-tracking, etc. Her mental math skills are very good. She mostly applies it to maintaining the tavern, but if pressed could definitely apply it to like, general mathematics, etc.

SEX & INTIMACY

Current marital/relationship/sexual status: Single. A bit cross about it.

Sexual orientation (is it something they question or a secret): I don’t know if it’s me or her who hasn’t figured this one out, actually, but... good question. I am almost certain she is some sort of sapphic but I’m not sure if that’s like, exclusive or not.

Views on sex (one night stands, promiscuity, etc): She is somewhat sheltered. Not exceptionally so, she knows the general functionality of things, but has no experience and a somewhat romanticized view of sex. She doesn’t have a strictly negative view of promiscuity, but it’s not something she wants for herself. She thinks sex should be saved for strong relationships you intend to keep, not as something flippant.

Ever been in love?: Only with the idea of being in Love™

Do they fall in love easily?: No. She tends to romanticize people easily, but when it comes to actually building a bond and a relationship, it takes a lot.

Do they desire marriage and/or children in their future?: Yes to both... I think? To marriage, anyway. Children is a little more of a grey area.

Thoughts on public displays of affection?: She doesn’t mind them, but particularly gratuitous displays make her uncomfortable. She doesn’t like it when people in the tavern get handsy and wouldn’t like it at all if a partner did that kind of thing in public.

How do they show affection/love to their partner?: You know I’m really not sure. She’s never really had a romantic relationship.

RELATIONSHIPS

Social Habits (popular, loner, some close friends, makes friends and then quickly drops them): She tends to make a handful of close friends and keep to that circle. She isn’t likely to branch out without encouragement from one of those pre-existing connections. She likes her world and the order its in.

How do they treat others (politely, rudely, keep at distance, etc)?: She is very warm and friendly, as a general rule! Most people aren’t going to get very super close to her, but that’s not a cold barrier, just a slow build. She is somewhat quiet and keeps herself for herself and her friends, but she’s not shy or aloof. She’s good at listening and people often open up to her before she opens up to them; she’ll let them know when they’re trying to hard to get her to, as well.

Argue or avoid conflict?: She is more likely to mediate and see multiple views than to argue, but she’s perfectly comfortable speaking her mind. She prefers peace to conflict but don’t for a second think that means she’ll tolerate bullshit.

SECRETS

Dreams: So many romantic daydreams, but her practical (and generally known one) is to run the tavern, elevating and expanding it.

Greatest Fears: Being separated away from her family; in a similar vein, their home being destroyed. That whole the-eitc-might-end-everything from her youth left some concerns in her. Her family is vulnerable in any world but this one, with its defenses and intentional division from most of Western society.

Biggest Regret: .... get back to me some time? I’m not sure.

What they most want to change about their current life?: Absolutely nothing except maybe we’re back to that romantic daydream. It would be nice to be In Love™, ok?

LIKES & DISLIKES

Hobbies: Reading, building her library, a little bit of sewing/seamstressing, cooking to a certain extent (it is, technically, an aspect of her job, but she enjoys it as well)

Indoors or Outdoors?: Indoors

Favorite Color: I don’t know if it’s an IC thing but I definitely associate her with peachy oranges and pinks, some soft yellows

Favorite Smell: Woodsmoke

Favorite and least favorite food: I’m not sure yet

Coffee or Tea?: Tea

Favorite type of weather: Rain, but the gentle kind. The storm in the distance, not right overhead.

Favorite form of entertainment: Books. Maybe Henry being stupid.

How do they feel about traveling?: ...Not.... particularly favorable? It takes a lot of on-the-fly energy and that’s not... really her thing. She likes building her nest, and decorating it, and maybe has a little bit of a hoarding tendency. Maybe in theory there are some places that sound lovely and interesting but home is here and safe and fulfilling, why leave it?

What sort of gifts do they like?: You mostly can’t go wrong, but bring her a book and she will fawn about it forever. Little books, big books, poetry books, fiction books, nonfiction histories. Books! Also traditional like. Flowers. She wouldn’t be mad about jewelry, dresses, etc.

DRUGS & ALCOHOL

Thoughts on drugs and alcohol: No particularly strong feelings on either. She’s been known to drink a bit, but typically keeps her wits. Seeing her drunk would be really rare; she deals with a lot of people who drink to excess and become some variety of nuisance in the process, and doesn’t love the idea of becoming that kind of presence to others.

Do they smoke? If so, do they want to quit?: She does not

Have they ever tried other drug? (which, what happened, consequences): She never has but may have... sort of a passive interest? A background curiosity? A part of her that wonders very badly what it’s like, and could be persuaded to even if she also knows they’re generally not good for you and can be dangerous to explore.

Do they have any addictions?: Nope

OTHER DETAILS

Most important/defining event in life to date: I’m. unsure on this. A soft answer of when her father sort of... made an official show of bringing her into the fold of running the tavern?

Daily routine: Lots of work for the tavern, I really don’t think it would be interesting to list it tbh. She enjoys the work though! Likes being busy and keeping things in order, making this warm space for her family and others’ benefit. She also reguarly has errands to run around Shipwreck City, so she gets to go through the city and stuff, too.

Typical Saturday night: She is a reading-in-bed type, sorry. Every now and then Henry will convince her to go get into trouble, but mostly she has indoor activities she invests in. She is a simple girl (warm, complementary)

What is home like (messy, neat, sparse): Organized! The tavern is kept pretty neat (as neat as she can manage, given the regular clientele) and her space tends to be neat as well, though sometimes her projects-in-process get a little explosive, as she tends to leave things out in close reach when something is still going. Her family is not excessively wealthy, so they don’t have a lot in terms of finery and ornamental objects, but they’ve accumulated things living in one place and working to build it, so Hetty has begun to collect things.

Pets? if not, do they want any?: No pets I don’t think? though I think about there being a Tavern Dog sometimes. Relaxed and sleepy, but who also serves as a night time guard. That sort. She’s neither here nor there about pets.

Can they hold their breath for a long time?: She changes other peoples bedding as part of her occupation. (Yes.)

Do they know how to swim?: ..I........ Maybe not? She’s never really had a reason to learn, but also I feel like being so close to Henry might have introduced it? I dunno. Maybe a little but it’s not in her regular wheelhouse.

Can they cook (if so, how well and do they enjoy it)?: She can! She’s good at it, and frequently balances cooking with other tasks. When given the chance to slow down a bit, she likes to bake for fun as well.

#🕯║dash game.#≋║headcanon / mahetabel.

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amyisherenowitsokay · 3 years ago

Note

You know what just to SPICE it up a bit imma say zadr too bitch

This bitch tryna give me arthritis smdh. Making me out myself for my dual-ship on main, can't even believe a bitch.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

School. We must never forget the infamous handcuffs scene.

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Pure, unrivaled loathing.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Gaz said "kiss already" and throws things at them when they're getting too far away from "I want you dead" territory and well into "you want to fuck me so bad and it makes you look stupid" territory. Professor Membrane thinks they're adorable.

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Dib. Hormones get the best of us all. You can only be obsessed with someone so long before motivations get blurry.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Zim would nearly break his PAK and commit accidental die trying to delete the emotions or install an emotional inhibitor. Dib would have a full mental breakdown trying to sort through it, which would manifest poorly in his behavior and negatively impact his ability to engage in their usual altercations. Pro tip: if you are painfully attracted to someone, being in a position where they pin you to the asphalt or lean over your desk to hiss insults at you is a bad idea.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

I stand by what I said on my ZAGR post in that Zim doesn't know what a soulmate is, or the concept of a soul, but given this is in regards to his arch-nemesis instead of a creature he's mostly indifferent too, he'd be pissed at the insinuation he was in any way bound to Dib. Dib's fragile psyche would not survive the revelation.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Really empty. Their rivalry and parallel situations regarding neglectful authority figures is what keeps them going for so many years.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

As someone who thinks Zim doesn't understand even the concept of not being a possessive jackass, I think Zim just sort of concludes after awhile that, regardless of Dib's feelings, or even Zim's own feelings, whatever they have makes them wholly and entirely each other's. Just completely and hilariously misunderstanding the concept of a relationship, but still being incredibly presumptive in assuming they already have one. He also doesn't let Dib know of this revelation either, so eventually Dib explodes about his crush, and Zim's like "we are already together???? moron???" Dib could argue, and he kind of wants to, but he also never expected Zim to reciprocate, so he just sort of nods and is like "you know what, sure" and that's the end of it. They do not have an anniversary, but Dib's not really like that, and Zim doesn't know anniversaries are a thing anyways.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Again, stealing from my own ZAGR post, but I don't think Zim's really a 'date' person who would plan out that sort of thing. Dib is an awkward moron with arguably worse social skills than even Zim, and mentally comes to the conclusion that dragging Zim on investigations is basically like a date, and Zim doesn't bitch about it anymore than expected, therefore he is a master of romance, so it's fine.

3. What was their first kiss like?

Awkward, and quick. Dib is not a great communicator, nor is he great at explaining things like human demonstrations of affection, especially not when Zim's scowling impatiently at him through is fumbling and stuttering. He just goes for it, and it's quick and he misses his mouth almost. Zim is extremely surprised, especially when Dib makes terrible excuses about needing to be elsewhere and flees. Zim does his own research, and their second kiss is predated by a lecture about being better than Dib at everything/Dib being bad at everything. It is much more successful, even if afterwards Dib instigates a fight about Zim's tongue being weird.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First everything, except kiss. Gretchen kissed Dib in high school as a dare. Zim will never forgive her for it.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

I'd die to make them the same height, but I think the image of Zim being average height while Dib is a gangly big boi is just too funny. Zim would be pissed, and Dib would be so smug but so uncoordinated.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Gaz interacts with them as minimally as possible, because they are loud and gross and annoying, but she's okay with Zim overall. They have a mutual understanding that Dib is stupid, completely reckless, and requires constant supervision to keep him from getting eaten by a ghoul or something. Gaz does genuinely trust him to skewer anything that tries to kill her brother, but she also knows that Dib isn't the only one with 0 sense of self-preservation. Dib was initially wary of Professor Membrane's reaction, because his dad is sort of unpredictable when it comes to his only son, but the Professor's only commentary is that he is glad his son finally made it official with his 'little green friend.' Dib then realizes that the implication in that perpetual comment about Zim had air quotes around that "friend" part all along.

Dib thinks Gir's gross and loud and doesn't get him, but he likes to team up with him and/or use him as a means to annoy Zim. The Base hates him, because now there's two morons with no sense of self-preservation that it needs to keep track of. Minimoose and Dib are bros.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Zim, if only because he is arguably more 'charming' than Dib's fumbling attempts at communication with non-paranormal parties.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Zim. Dib I think would have his 'HTTYD Hiccup moment' as he gets older, but still has that ingrained low self-esteem from years of ridicule and abuse. He is completely oblivious to the new attention he gets. Zim, however, is not. Dib never really notices the cause of his weird snarling and clinginess, but he shrugs it off as Zim just being weird and continues with whatever he was doing.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Zim is a slut, I will die on this hill.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Dib. He says it casually, in the dark, when they're on a stake-out to find some wood goblin or something. He says it like he's talking about something plane and unremarkable.

I think a ZADR relationship would need Zim to be a lot more independent in terms of researching how romantic relationships 'work,' since Dib's not a great communicator, and there's an ingrained rivalry that will never dissolve between them, no matter how many times they kiss, so Zim would be a lot more motivated to figure things out on his own. He would, in this circumstance, know the weight of Dib's way-too-casual admittance, and it would be a huge shock to him. He'd be pretty shaken about it for awhile, and Dib's not bothered when he doesn't reply. Dib would be pretty sure Zim would never admit it, but he does, eventually, because he refuses to be a coward about it.

2. What are their primary love languages?

Verbal affirmations. With their self-esteems firmly in the toilet in Zim's kitchen, being able to have someone validate them who they respect would mean a lot to them.

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Dib. He uses it to start fights with Zim about linguistics and metaphors. Also, he's 99.9% positive Zim secretly is flattered by it, but hates that he is.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Zim is very clingy, but Dib's too on the move to really pin down for a good cuddle frequently. He's twitchy and his minds always racing, but every once in a while when Zim's completely fed up, or Dib's running on fumes but still forcing himself on, Zim will all but pin him to a cushioned surface and force him to sleep. Neither of them are PDA people.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Zim. Dib's really shy about it, and also normally too distracted to pay Zim the attention he so obviously deserves, and often misses Zim's 'signals.'

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

PAK not comfy against sternum. It's also easier to force Dib to sleep if he's the big spoon, because he can pin his limbs.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Paranormal investigations, and morally ambiguous and/or largely dangerous experiments.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Dib, which is hilarious, because he's about as smooth as a cheese grater, but he is very attuned to the person he's been obsessed with for years, and he can also relate to a lot of his issues. While Zim usually shrugs off the sentimentality and the empathy, dismissing it as 'pity,' the affirmation means a lot to him.

9. Who’s more protective?

Zim. He has to anticipate his lover's stupidity to make sure he stays alive to hunt ghosts another day.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Verbal. Hormones are real, but there's something that eases the sting of years of abusive in a crooning praise or a sincere compliment.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

https://open.spotify.com/track/3IvUhEVbbA81QnEVhsFHiH?si=b3c5787c9ff14105

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

It is primarily age-old insults that lack the bite and sincerity they once had.

13. Who remembers the little things?

Dib. Zim isn't inattentive by any means, cataloguing all of Dib's weird habits and nuances and what not, but for all the compensating Zim does to keep Dib safe and healthy, Dib reciprocates in meaningful gestures. He remembers to pack Zim-friendly snacks on their road trips and ways to keep Gir entertained, if they have to bring him. He always checks the weather and has an extra coat, just in case. Never makes Zim feel bad about needing to check, just one more time, to see if he got any incoming messages from home.

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Dib.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

It's just Gaz, Minimoose, and Gir. Membrane is too far away to attend, but that was deliberate. Dib didn't want his tendency to make things about 'the Membrane line' effect the intimacy and importance of the ceremony. Also, Zim insists on incorporating some Irken rituals into it, so it'd be hard to make excuses and explanations to why Zim wants Dib to fuck with his weird pink backpack during their wedding.

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

No kiddos. Neither of them would be interested, even if it was biologically possible.

4. Do they have any pets?

Seriously, Gir counts, right?

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

Dib. Zim refuses to parent Gir when Dib is more inclined to do it, since he's more irritated by it.

6. Who worries the most?

Dib has perpetual anxiety. So does Zim, but he masks it better.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Dib, to prevent the gooey grossness that is Gir's bug-breath.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

Just with Gaz.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Zim will strap Dib to a bed himself to get him to go the fuck to sleep, because it's been over 48 hours you insufferable human, and--!

10. Who’s the better cook?

Dib's idea of cooking is a microwave, salt, and pepper. Zim is forced to learn the wonders of human food to keep his idiot from dying of malnutrition.

11. Who likes to dance?

Gir.

#my hand #is deceased #invader zim #ZADR #asks #Zim #Dib #amyisherenowansweringyou

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ga-yuu · 3 years ago

Text

~Yoshitsune~Main Story Chapter 4~

Warning! This story has strong language and attempted rape.

Chapter 3

------Part 1------

Yoritomo: “Don’t forget I’m a man who killed his own brother.”

I was horrified, but at the same time, I felt like something connected in my head....

(Ah.....!)

-------FLASHBACK------

Yoshitsune: "But...contradictions are in all of us. I've only known one person who could cut it out and throw it away."

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(Maybe he was....)

(Wasn't it Yoritomo-sama that Yoshitsune-sama was talking about....?)

Yoritomo: "Well...we're almost done, aren't we? I'll let you know about the job."

Yoshino: "Ah, yes...! Thank you."

I stopped thinking and bowed to Yoritomo-sama.

(At any rate, I think I've moved on a bit, right?)

This is how my new life started changing-----

Kagetoki: "Now, Yoshino. I want you to check and sort those scrolls like how I taught you yesterday."

Yoshino: "Got it!"

(Let's do our best to help today.)

Under Kagetoki-san's direction, who is mainly responsible for the internal affairs of the Shogunate...

For the last few days, I've been doing simple chores such as sorting out paperwork and recording meetings.

(I have to be careful not to make any mistakes, or I'll have to face the wrath of stoic Kagetoki-san!)

I nervously unrolled the scroll on my desk.

The scroll he had given was a record of the number of human resources and provisions needed for the battle against Yoshitsune-sama.

Yoshino: "We need so many rations...."

Kagetoki-san, who was sitting opposite me, reacted to the words I blurted out.

Kagetoki: "Because this war is bigger than ever. We need to scrounge from the ranks and make sure we have plenty."

(And yet, so much detail has been calculated....)

The scrolls also contain a detailed list of the number of soldiers for the supply convoy.

(I can't believe we need so many people just to carry the rations!)

Yoshino: "It's not easy to fight a war, is it?"

Kagetoki: "It's natural. It's not just about fighting. If we run out of food on the way, our men's lives will be in danger. We have to make sure we have the right people and the right routes to get the food to the people, and then we have to work out the tactics. But of course, we also need information about the enemy."

Yoshino: It's like the preparation stage has already started...."

Kagetoki: "Yes. We can't afford any delays or lapses in judgment."

(I see, one wrong move and many lives will be lost...)

Kagetoki-san's words always sound harsh, but when you hear him talk like this, you get a different impression.

(That's how deeply he thinks about the Shogunate, and that's why Kagetoki-san won't compromise.)

Kagetoki: "What's wrong? Why are you staring?"

Yoshino: "No, nothing...I'll call you when I'm done."

I quickly returned to my work.

About a moment later-----

Morinaga: "I see you're working hard, Yoshino."

Tamamo: "I've brought you a reward."

Yoshino: "Oh! Hi Morinaga-san, Tamamo."

(Did you guys come here to check on me...!)

Tamamo and Morinaga-san came to me with a small furoshiki in their hand.

Kagetoki-san kept his gaze fixed on the scroll and said a few words back to them.

Kagetoki: "No food and drinks are allowed in the library."

Tamamo: "Don't be so strict Kagetoki. Look, we went around Kamakura's best shops to buy these sweets."

Yoshino: "You went around Kamakura you buy this, Tamamo?"

Tamamo: "I went to my favorite sweet shops, so I thought I would share some with you."

Yoshino: "You already have favorites!?"

(Not even a week has passed since we arrived in Kamakura.)

Tamamo: "Because it is important to create the ground to live happily. Confectioners, restaurants, dressmakers... Oh, and I've recently made friends in the gambling house."

Yoshino: "Gambling house....?"

(Did you make too many connections this quickly!)

Kagetoki: "You're responsible for that, isn't it? Morinaga. Please refrain from taking questionable creatures to questionable places."

------Part 2------

Kagetoki: "Please refrain from taking questionable creatures to questionable places."

Tamamo: "How dare you call this beautiful nine-tail fox a questionable creature."

Next to the pouting Tamamo, Morinaga-san laughed happily.

Morinaga: "Tamamo is good at betting and it's also fun to hang around with him."

Tamamo: "Don't let his appearance fool you, Yoshino. Morinaga has a bad habit too."

(Morinaga-san loves gambling. That's surprising!)

Kagetoki: "What a troublesome duo."

In a matter-of-fact manner, Kagetoki-san removed the scroll from his desk.

Kagetoki: "I heard you brought sweets, take it out. Yoshino. Let's take a break."

(Hm? I thought you said food and drinks are not allowed in the library.)

Yoshino: "Do you like sweets?"

Tamamo: "It's the height of unexpectedness. I thought you had a spitfire personality."

Kagetoki: "It's not like I have a sweet tooth. Sweets help my brain to work better. It increases my work efficiency."

Yoshino: "That's your reasoning!?"

Kagetoki-san says that with a straight face.

(He's serious. It's so typical of Kagetoki-san...)

Kagetoki: "Let's not waste any more time."

(What's the...!)

He opened the furoshiki to reveal the lovely pile of camellia cakes.

Kagetoki-san piled them up on his plate without a care in the world.

Yoshino: "Isn't that too much?"

Kagetoki: "It's my normal intake."

(.....Then how much do you eat when you're starving?)

Kagetoki: "I stop my work for the moment, so could take in all the sugar at once."

Yoshino: "Errmm??"

Tamamo: "Please leave some for us too."

Tamamo complains as he takes his seat next to Morinaga-san.

Kagetoki: "You're an extravagant fox, aren't you. If you insist I'd be happy to share some of my starch syrup."

Tamamo: "...What am I going to do with your starch syrup?"

Tamamo's eyes narrowed in an unusually wary way.

Kagetoki: "The more you eat it, the more sugary it becomes. The flavors change and you'll never get bored of it."

Yoshino: "So extreme!"

Morinaga: "That's Kagetoki for you."

(Morinaga-san is so generous to put it in those words...)

Tamamo: "Kagetoki, don't you dare ruin my sweets with your starch syrup!"

Just as Tamamo takes out the contents of his furoshiki, we heard someone's footsteps.

Shigehira: "I was wondering why the library is so noisy. It was you guys."

(Shigehira-san!)

Tamamo: "Oh Shigehira. Did you follow the smell?"

Shieghira: "Of course not! I just came to return this book I borrowed..."

Shigehira-san who was holding a book in his hand looked at the desk and his eyes widened.

Shigehira: "...! Mountain of camellia cakes?"

(Nice reaction!)

Morinaga: "That's Kagetoki's plate."

Shigehira: "Yeah....to increase his work efficiency or something."

Kagetoki: "You came at the right time. I'll share some with you too."

Shigehira: "No, I have work, so-----"

Morinaga: "It's okay to take a small break. Come, sit here."

Shigehira: "Ah...!!"

Morinaga-san smiles and puts his hands on Shigehira-san's shoulders and forced him to sit down.

Tamamo: "We have enough sweets for you too."

Morinaga: "Eat as much as you like."

Shigehira: "Don't treat me like a child. Like I said, I only came here to return this book."

With two grown-ups on either side, Shigehira-san sighed as if he had given up.

Then, our eyes meet and he gives me a slightly pouting look.

Shigehira: "Just so you know, I didn't bring any sweets for you."

Yoshino: "No, no, no. I don't mind."

(But I'm happy that you still came....)

Tamamo: "Let's eat."

------Part 3-------

Tamamo: "Let's eat."

Yoshino: "Yes! Thank you for the food."

Tamamo neatly plated the sweets for everyone.

My eyes sparkled seeing the camellia cakes and puff pastry.

(Everything looks delicious!)

When I ate one of the camellia cakes, the gentle sweetness filled my mouth.

Yoshino: "It's really delicious!!"

Kagetoki: "I see. This is from the nearest sweet shop. You can get it from there if you like."

Yoshino: "It's cool how you can easily tell the shop's name just by eating them..."

(So sharp!)

While I was impressed, Tamamo presents me with another plate.

Tamamo: "Here Yoshino, try these too. Made with the finest ingredients, the baker said he had been making these for decades."

Yoshino: "Thanks!"

When I ate mochi-----

Yoshino: "This is so yummy!!!"

Tamamo: "Isn't it? His store makes the finest sweets."

Yoshino: "Hehe...You really love to eat, don't you?"

Tamamo: "Unlike humans, we demons don't need food for nutrition....I just eat for pleasure. The more delicious the food is, the more it will entertain my mouth. Let me take you there next time, Yoshino."

Yoshino: "Really? I'll be looking forward to it."

(I heard so many things about Kamakura and that there are many places to visit.)

Yoshino: "Also...I'm really amazed how you're already used to Kamakura, Tamamo."

Tamamo shook his head when I pouted in jealousy.

Tamamo: "But I heard you are getting along with the soldiers here."

Yoshino: "Eh? What...?"

Morinaga: "That's true. Lately, you have been treating the injured soldiers after their training."

(Of course, it's a part of my work.)

I was surprised and blinked my eyes.

Shigehira: "...I heard that there's usually a fight in the training hall over who gets the treatment first."

Yoshino: "Why is that?"

(I didn't know that at all...!)

Kagetoki: "Such a barren dispute."

Morinaga: "Maybe because it's always been groups of men there and we never had a girl come near the training hall before. Well...since they're so eager to get treated by you, they didn't even mind doing my extra training sessions."

Yoshino: "..Morinaga-san, your smile is a little scary."

(Morinaga-san's training is famous for being unforgiving...though he looks kind.)

Yoshino: "There's only so much I can do to help, and I'm not doing too much."

Tamamo: "But there's been an increase in orders for your medicines in the Imperial Palace, right?"

Yoshino: "That's right, but..."

Thankfully, as I worked in the Imperial Palace, I got to know more people and they started to call me when they needed medicine.

(I'm not going to have my own shop until after I've broken my contract with Tamamo, but...)

(I'm so happy to be able to work as a pharmacist in this way!)

Shigehira: "Also..."

Shigehira-san talks while eating his mochi. (I found a typo here, they wrote 重衡くん(Shigehira-kun) instead of 重衡さん(Shigehira-san) MC doesn't call him Shigehira-kun until much later in the chapters)

Shigehira: "I don't understand how can you overwork like crazy when you have to face an even bigger nightmare, the great war."

Yoshino: "Well, I...."

Shigehira: "I don't get you at all. You have a very nice pharmacist job for a living...then why do you offer yourself to help Kagetoki-san with his work."

Kagetoki: "Unfortunately, I have the tendency to use any resource useful for my work."

Morinaga smiled brightly at Kagetoki-san's remarks.

Morinaga: "Ohh? So you think Yoshino is useful?"

Kagetoki: "Of course."

(Ah....)

I blushed at the unexpected compliment.

(Especially when I first started working, I didn't know what I was doing and I caused a lot of trouble for Kagetoki-san...)

Kagetoki: "She didn't run away after knowing the terrors of war. She's got a lot of guts."

Shigehira and Tamamo: "..............."

Yoshino(blushing): "!!!"

Morinaga: "There are many vassals whose hearts are broken by Kagetoki's harshness."

Kagetoki: "If they're not good at anything, I don't find them worthful."

Tamamo: "Can't you be a bit more proper in your praise?"

Morinaga: "We hoped for the same thing. But it's too much for Kagetoki."

-------Part 4------

Morinaga: "We hoped for the same thing. But it's too much for Kagetoki."

(Yeah...I guess I'll consider it a bit of an acknowledgment.)

Yoshino: "Thank you very much, Kagetoki-san."

Kagetoki: "I don't need to be thanked. I'm going to keep on using you and you're going work hard for me."

Yoshino: "......I'll do my best, so please be gentle."

My heart was feeling warm when I returned the words.

(It would be nice to get to know the people of the Shogunate a little better in this way.)

Even if it's just helping out a little.

It was now beginning to dawn on me that all the samurai were going into battle with conviction.

Shigehira: *munch munch munch*

Tamamo: "Can I ask you something, Shigehira?"

Shigehira: "Hm?"

Tamamo: "You came here to check on Yoshino to make sure that she's not being bullied by Kagetoki, isn't it?"

Shigehira(blushing): "No...I.."

(Really?)

Shigehira: "Ahem, like I said earlier, I came here to return this book. Then, she just happened to be here."

Tamamo: "Really? But I noticed you searching for Yoshino a while ago."

(No way!?)

Shigehira: "You were watching me!?....No, I mean. It was all your imagination."

Morinaga: "Isn't our Shigehira so cute."

Shigehira: "Stop joking! I wasn't----mmf"

(Eeehhh....)

Shigehira-san tried to argue, but Morinaga-san shoved a camellia cake into his mouth.

Morinaga: "Now, be a good boy and eat these sweets."

Shigehira: *munch munch*

With his mouth full, Shigehira-san glanced at Morinaga-san with a pouting look.

Yoshino: "Shigehira-san, are you okay? Here, have some tea."

Shigehira: "...Mm, thanks. Just because you're kind, doesn't mean I approve of you."

Yoshino: "I understand. But...."

(If what Tamamo said was true, I want to thank him for caring about me.)

I turned to Shigehira-san and bowed in gratitude.

Yoshino: "Umm, I'm thankful that you care about me. I took the job at the Imperial Palace for myself, and I haven't achieved any good results yet...But, I'm glad that I've been able to get closer to you all through my work recently!"

Shigehira(blushing): "....Erm well.."

Yoshino: "I really am!"

I can clearly see that Shigehira-san is blushing till his ears were red.

Tamamo: "You're looking like you're having a good time."

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

1. I am (+4/+4)

2. Do you think so?

3. Not quite yet.

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

Yoshino: "I am."

(I think I'm starting to think a bit more clearly.)

(I wonder if...now I could give a different answer than before.)

(But......)

Ironically, it was my greatest enemy, Yoshitsune-sama, who gave me the opportunity to change.

(Next time when we meet on the battlefield, I must make up my mind properly before then.)

..........

And so few days goes by-----

Late afternoon, I was walking down the hallway, after finishing my work. Then I saw maids passing by.

Maid 1: "Are you going to the festival, tonight?"

Maid 2: "Of course! My boyfriend asked me out and I'm looking forward to it."

(Festival....Oh yeah! I forgot it was tonight.)

(Since I have nothing much to do, let's go and enjoy the festival.)

..................

(Wow...!!)

I was walking around the streets of Kamakura, listening to the festival music.

Lanterns hung from the eaves and the front of the stalls were crowded with people.

(It's just fun to simply walk around like this.)

(I first thought to bring someone with me....)

------Part 5------

(I first thought to bring someone with me....)

(But I made plans on the spot and others didn't have time...)

(They're all busy preparing for the upcoming war.)

As walked across the busy street, the smell of food from the stalls tickled my nose.

(It's still early in the evening, so I'll buy something. Let's see....)

Then I went to some food stalls and bought some dumplings.

(I'm a bit tired....)

I walked through the crowd and before I knew it, I ended at the back of a shrine.

(I didn't want to fall down and get injured in the big crowd.)

When I was trying to get back to the entrance-----

Wild Samurai 1: "Hey hey, what are you doing here alone?"

Wild samurai 2: "It's the festival night and you're all alone. How about we give you some company?"

(What? Who are these people...?)

Suddenly a rough voice called out to me from the darkness and I was surrounded by several men.

(I can see you guys have swords hanging of your waist....must be some wild samurai...)

Wild samurai 3: "We just arrived in Kamakura and we don't have anyone to play with."

(What should I do...)

Yoshino: "Sorry...But I'm here with someone."

I bowed my head lightly and tried to escape but....

Wild samurai 1: "Come on, there's nothing to be scared of, is there?"

Wild samurai 2: "We wanted to help you since we thought you were lost."

Yoshino: "No, thank you."

One of them roughly grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

Yoshino: "Let go!"

I tried to shake his hands off, but it didn't budge.

Wild samurai 2: "Worry not. We'll be gentle."

Yoshino: "NO! HELP! SOMEONE!!!"

Just when I was about to be dragged behind the bushes----

???: "You're very cruel for taking advantage of festivities to violently attack women."

A quiet voice echoed from somewhere.

(Eh....?)

Wild samurai 1: "Huh? Who the fuck are you?"

The very next moment, a figure jumps from the top of the tree.

???: "Look here."

Yoshino: "Ah----"

Someone pulled my arm and he punched one of the wild samurai right on the chest.

When I was confused and looked up-----

(Is that a fox mask...?)

The mysterious man wearing a fox mask distanced me from the wild samurai and stepped forward to protect me.

Wild samurai 1: "Who are you!?"

???: "You're not worthy of hearing my name."

Wild samurai 2: "Don't fuck with us! That woman is ours!"

Yoshino: "Be careful!"

All of them drew their swords and attacked the mysterious man.

(No....!!)

???: "I promised myself that I won't. But it can't be helped. Now die."

The mysterious man pulled out his own sword, which flashed-----

Wild samurai 1: "Gwaaa...."

Immediately several swords were blown off...

Yoshino: "Wow....."

(Oh!....I remember this ferociousness.)

(Not only that, his voice is so familiar.)

(No way! It can't be...but.)

The mysterious man stepped forward casually as the samurai were jerked back.

Wild samurai 2: "Tch, we'll leave you both for now!"

One of them, who seems to be the leader, raised his voice and the rest of them started following him.

After that, everything became so quiet and the mysterious man turned his back on me.

(No wait, don't go!)

Yoshino: "Umm....Yoshitsune-sama?"

???: "........"

When I called out the name of the mysterious man, he looked back and took off his mask----

Yoshitsune: "How did you find out?"

Chapter 5

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden yoshitsune #ikemen mc #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #main story translations

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arctic-comet · 3 years ago

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Osblaineweek2021, Day 2: Prose

I love book quotes. Looking at quotes is one of my favorite ways to to inspire myself to write more fic.

Here’s a small collection of book quotes (and recs!) of where I’ve “found” June and Nick.

This post contains spoilers for the following books/series:

- Lover Mine by JR Ward

- The Wrath and The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

- A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Lover Mine by J.R. Ward

Summary:

John Matthew has come a long way since he was found living among humans, his vampire nature unknown to himself and to those around him. After he was taken in by the Brotherhood, no one could guess what his true history was- or his true identity. Indeed, the fallen Brother Darius has returned, but with a different face and a very different destiny. As a vicious personal vendetta takes John into the heart of the war, he will need to call up on both who he is now and who he once was in order to face off against evil incarnate. Xhex, a symphath assassin, has long steeled herself against the attraction between her and John Matthew. Having already lost one lover to madness, she will not allow the male of worth to fall prey to the darkness of her twisted life. When fate intervenes, however, the two discover that love, like destiny, is inevitable between soul mates.

It's basically a paranormal love story between two warriors. He's really young (although he's actually a reincarnation of a very old vampire warrior, but he doesn't know that), and she's like 300 years older than him. In this book, she's been raped and abused by a guy who also used to bully him. She escapes, but he saves her life. She's hungry for revenge and wants to die after achieving that goal, but of course eventually changes her mind. In the end he actually serves her rapist to her on a silver platter so that she can kill him (sound like anyone we know?). He literally holds the guy down while she kills him.

They're my ultimate favorite ship in this series, and IMO their relationship eventually develops into one of the strongest ones. This series is a bit of a hit-or-miss for most people, because the language and the writing style are pretty ridiculous in all seriousness. If you decide to read this, I recommend starting the series from the beginning because John and Xhex meet for the first time several books before this one, LOL.

Here are some of the quotes that make me think of Nick and June:

“Besides, the story of the two of them was written in the language of collision; they were ever crashing into each other and ricocheting away—only to find themselves pulled back into another impact.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart. But God, it pained him to see how she suffered.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

The Wrath and the Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

Summary:

One Life to One Dawn. In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

This is a young adult fantasy romance, and basically, Khalid is a lot like Nick. He’s made mistakes that he needs to own, but at the same time he’s forced to commit atrocities he doesn’t want to do. He hates himself and doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love, and yet he falls in love with Shazi. He's viewed as the villain of the story by everyone aside from Shazi and a few other characters until almost the end of the 2nd book.

“I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.”

―Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms — and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that our story isn't over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort? It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone. It was about belonging together.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

“A boy who'd thrived in the shadows.

Now he had to live in the light.

To live . . . fiercely.

To fight for every breath.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Summaries:

Book 1

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Book 2

Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Fantasy romance with explicit sex scenes, and book 2 is a lot better than book 1. Our main character Feyre falls for a really boring fae guy, but also meets the hottest guy she’s ever known. The first guy of course isn't the real love interest (this is a twist this author loves to do). They all end up as prisoners, and the 2nd guy saves her life when the 1st one is totally useless. He also makes her hate him as he does it because he has to. After getting out, she tries to make her old relationship work, but it doesn’t, and guess who swoops in?

I do see some Nick in Rhysand (in addition to his role in the love triangle). They’re both traumatized and prefer to keep a lot of their feelings to themselves. I also see some of the same selflessness in both of them. Rhysand wants Feyre to choose him because she loves him, but he’s willing to accept that she may not, and doesn’t tell her that they’re pretty much destined to be together (it’s a supernatural thing, and he will suffer a lot if she decides she doesn’t want him).

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.”

―Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

#osblaineweek2021 #osblaine #the handmaid’s tale #nick x june

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decayandfanfics · 4 years ago

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The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)

They disappear one night the same way they appeared.

Without a word.

It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.

It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.

It’s over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.

The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.

Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesn’t feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because you’ve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you can’t get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when they’ve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.

He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.

Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.

He will never be back.

It’s fine…I’m…safe. I’m safe.

You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness you’ve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.

This is more than a little crush.

More like falling in love.

And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.

So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but you’ll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.

You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.

You cry because you think he hates you, because he didn’t just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because that’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.

So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess you’ve made, wishing for the kiss you didn’t get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, you’ll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.

_____________________

He wasn’t joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.

“Oh my god” she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.

She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that she’s different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd.

She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.

“Oh my-” she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.

“Shut up.” He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.

He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.

He cannot stand her lewd screaming.

So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; it’s been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things he’s ever done, he never fucked this angry before.

Tomura thinks he’s not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesn’t go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when he’s never been that interested in girls anyway, because he just…doesn’t like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesn’t want to be touched at all. Now, of course he’s done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.

For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.

Or at least that’s how it was, but some reason he’s been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.

Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.

She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.

This feels so wrong.

It’s not the right cup size.

It’s not the right smell.

It’s not the right height.

It’s not the right woman.

The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.

No, he doesn’t see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesn’t taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).

He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in world’s history.

Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face it’s super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesn’t even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.

Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. ‘kay, that was pointless.

He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when he’s not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he can’t do it, then he just doesn’t think about it), but he can’t stand the way the prostitute’s scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because he’s done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a “less-than-mediocre” fuck.

So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.

A violent delight that he can’t afford, not when he’s busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his master’s weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.

He’ll do it, time will get everything in place again.

Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building.

_____________________

III

Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.

So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, it’s not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.

I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich… You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.

Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.

Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you don’t have the time to think about the other thing…

You don’t think about it.

You don’t really think about it.

You don’t even think about it.

And you don’t say the name either, you refuse because you’ll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.

But it’s okay, you don’t think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You don’t think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.

No, you don’t think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.

Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words you’ll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.

Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.

___________________

Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.

He’s not particularly excited about it, surely, it’s just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his sensei’s incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and he’s sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesn’t have the means to get him back)

Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like he’s one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.

It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but he’s accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.

She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? She’s an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.

She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away she’s talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when she’s being professional.

She already looks like a doctor and God knows he’d gladly be sick every day of his life if she’s the one to treat him.

His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesn’t go away. It pisses him off to no end because she’s not worth the aggravation. C’mon, she’s just another boring normal civilian, she doesn’t do anything important or interesting. She’s not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.

And looking her objectively, she’s not even that pretty, but somehow, he’s torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.

Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks he’s going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.

He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.

Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when he’s sure she cannot see him, she knows he’s there and it feels like she’s tied to him somehow.

Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but he’s sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.

Chapter 13

__________________________________________

Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY he’s fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think it’s the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha 306 #bnha fanfiction #the great book of sayings

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

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There Are No Wolves in the Desert

Part 4- A Story in the Sand

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

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Summary: A crime scene leads to Arianne’s captors, freeing her however is an entirely new problem.

Authors Note: hello all you lovely people! Sorry for the wait but motivation still evades me! Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this part!! Ill be moving this week so ill be MIA for a bit hope yall r staying heathy and safe💕💕💕

TW: mentions and allusions to sex (nothing depicted), blood, nudity, swearing

Word count: 6.4k

Tagged: @evyiione, @xsadderdazeforeverx , @agingerindenial, @ayamenimthiriel

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The red hues of the rising sun paint the outside of the wooden stables that you walk towards. The smell of straw and manure fills your nostrils as you enter through its immaculate doors, the shade of the structure cooling you off as you take note of Oberyn. He had for-gone his typical golden hued robes for armour not too dissimilar from yours. A single horse standing in the cross ties.

“Can you ride or will we ride together?” he questions, hand smoothing the colourful fabric over the creature's back.

“I can ride, my prince,” you say, smirking slightly as he turns to face you.

“I think I'll be the judge of that,” he quips.

‘”I meant a horse,” you retorted flatly, spreading a map and Arianne’s journal down on a nearby table.

“Did you? are you sure,” he whispers in your ear, before looking down at the map from over your shoulder.

“Your daughter handed me this yesterday,” you say, ignoring the sudden heat rushing over your body and looking down at the map.

“What is that?” he asks

“Ariannes journal,” you reply.

“They must have broken into her chambers to get it,” he murmurs

“Broken in?” you question head turning back to him, causing him to return to his full height.

“She was under strict watch until, well now. What do the pages say?” Oberyn probes.

“ She’d been planning on leaving for some time, though she doesn't go into detail. I assume it's due to being locked up like a common prisoner. She convinced those that brought her food and guarded her to help her escape,” you say “My brother feared she would be murdered after our sisters death, so he kept her under close watch, ” Oberyn admits

“He made her a prisoner, in her own home,” you spit

“I did not say he’s reasons were valid,” he remarks, watching you eye him. “By the looks of it she was planning on heading to Norvos,” you state, making a mark on the large map. “which means if she's as smart as her entries would have me believe, they would have taken the longer cut through the desert, to avoid any bandit groups, or watchguards,” you continue, tracing the route down on the map, “do you know the surrounding terrain well?”

“Yes it’s flat sand mainly, a few rock forests, some dunes. The heat is the main concern, or perhaps the lack of water, and the scorpions of course,” he lists, unfazed.

“It's about a day's journey, so we will have to make camp at night, though I am more than capable of going alone, if you are needed here,” you say, turning to face him, giving him an out, assuming he preferred the comforts of the palace.

“I am needed to find my niece,” he assures you dutiful to his role as ever.

“Then we should depart as soon as we can” you say, as the stable boy reappears with another horse for you. It nudges its long nose into your back, pushing you forward slightly Oberyn's hand stopping you from hitting into his body. You turn, a smile spreading across your face as you chuckle in disbelief.

“rytsas uēpa raqiros” *Hello old friend* you whisper, resting your head against its snout.

“Seems you know one another, ” Oberyn says.

“I sold this horse three years ago to one of your palace guards,” you chuckle as it nudges into your face “or did you know that already?” you ask, looking back to him.

“I may be good, but I'm not that good,” he admits “ it seems destiny has brought you here after all.”

“Destiny or fate?” you question

“Does it make a difference?”

“All the difference in the world,” you say stroking the creature's long nose, its large eyes blinking at you, ears relaxed.

“She reminds me of you,” Oberyn states.

“Is it the hair,” you remark and he laughs, caught off guard by your making jokes.

“Perhaps, do you need a saddle?”

“I can make do without one,” you say, hoisting yourself up onto the back of your horse before following Oberyn out the gates into the Dornish wilderness.

“I wasn't aware they spoke High Valyrian in the north, nor that the schools taught it,” Oberyn states, turning around on his horse to face you. His eyes sparkled in the sun, the hint of playfulness dancing on his face as he began to engage you in conversation.

“gaomis daor” *they do not* you say smiling at the look on Oberyn's face as he tries to parse out the language from the multitude of others he had learnt as a child. Perhaps he should have paid closer attention to his studies.

“You don't speak it?” You ask, surprised considering his accolades. “Not as well as I should and not since my school days,” he admits, immediately regretting his decision when a wicked grin crosses your face.. “kostilus lo ēdā pikībagon tolī pār ēdā ēdas qogror ao'd gīmigon skoros vestran” *perhaps if you had read more, then you'd know what I was saying* you laugh, causing Oberyn to grumble before turning back ahead. You kick into a canter, pulling up beside him to continue your provocation. “kostilus nyke kessa ánghowa ao isse Valyrīha pār” *perhaps I will insult you in Valyrian then*

“I do know a few words, sīr urnēbagon aōha ēngos,” *so watch your tongue* he shoots back clumsily causing you to chuckle slightly watching his jaw clench eyes looking to you, almost annoyed. Seeing the look on his face you break off into a canter and he follows suite.

The two of you ride in relative silence until the sky sinks into a deep indigo, the black of night creeping up threatening to expose the stars.

“Shall we make camp here?” he questions and you halt your horse, hopping down to assess the area. You push on the few standing trees, sturdy enough to tie the horses too for the night. The area was open, exposed, but so was everywhere in the desert. You roll a dead log over and a scorpion scurries out. You stab it with your knife.

“Should do for the night, though we should keep watch just in case,” you say gazing up to him as he dismounts. Opening the side satchel and retrieving your provisions for the next day and a half. You break off a portion of the deadwood pairing it with the desert grass as kindling, blowing on the ember until it turns to flame. While Dorne remained hot throughout the year, its winter months were marked by cold nights, the desert retaining little heat and temperatures becoming frigid.

You shuffle through the bag you had packed pulling out a long rope wrapping it around the camp area.

“Afraid of snakes my lady?” Oberyn queries, a laugh dancing on his lips.

“Only the venomous ones,” you retort as you lay the rope flat, ends overlapping. “What about vipers?” he asks, prodding the fire causing the flames to flicker, the sparks beginning to burn bright as night falls.

“Gentler then I initially thought, still deadly however, always lying in wait. If pushed their prey doesn't stand a chance. I do hope I have no reason to fear a viper attack,” you respond as you drag the remaining driftwood into the circle huffing as you let it drop, slightly displeased that Oberyn had taken the optimal resting spot beneath the two trees. You drop to the sand propping yourself up, chest heaving. You shoot him a glare for not helping you as he throws you half a loaf of bread and some cured meats the palace chefs had prepared.

“You have no reason to fear me, though that glare has me fearing for myself,” he chuckles, tearing off a piece of the dried meat with his teeth. Your glare softens, something about the Prince often managing to lessen your frustration.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d be able to sleep outside your usual comforts,” you say, chewing on the salted meat, eyes looking just above his head.

“I attended a brothel before I left. Such pleasures make trips such as these much more… bearable,” he admits, tearing off a corner of the bread and popping it in his mouth.

“Especially when the return promises a warm bed and warm hole to bury yourself in,” you state, causing Oberyn to choke on a piece of bread coughing it up before breaking into a deep laugh.

“Did you parents ever teach you proper manners, or is it true the northerners are as brutish as the rumours claim,” he ponders gleefully, wiping his lower lip slowly with his thumb, eyes still on you.

“My apologies, must be easier for you to have a man or woman to bury yourself into at the end of such a displeasing trip with such unsatisfying company my prince,” you offer, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Perhaps I'll have to do something about that tongue of yours discipline you, seeing as no one else had bothered,” he remarks, eyes darker, slightly more dangerous than before. You squeeze your thighs together shifting your weight slightly, his words sending a sensation through you.

“Or you could save time and have me hung,” you offer, trying to direct your attention away from the heat pooling at your core.

“That would save me hours, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun,” he confesses, beginning to grow bolder as he watches your positive reactions to his words.

“This is all very improper,” you say stoically, “you are a prince after all, you should know better than to speak to your subjects in such an adulterous manner,” you prod,

“Princes are well known for disciplining those who speak out of turn,” he says

“All princes or just those who sleep with half of Westeros?” you chide

“You say that as if it is an insult, your puritanical Westeros beliefs would lead you to see me as a walking sin,” he states, head thrown back in a building laughter.

“Aren’t you though?”

“I see something I want and if they want me I take them, there is nothing wrong there,”

“Your daughter seems to think, you only invited me back to the safety of your home based on my appearance” you state, keen to find out if he merely saw you as another pretty thing to have.

“And what if that was true,” he queries

“then you're not the man I believed you to be. To show kindness to someone solely because of there face,” you scoff, shaking your head

“Perhaps you have mistaken me then, though I would have allowed anyone to stay safely in the walls if needed, besides I find beauty in all the sun shines down on,” he says, confused as to what he had said to upset you, you were beautiful he’d be foolish not to pursue you.

“I'll take the first watch,” you say, tiring of the conversation at hand.

“I…” Oberyn begins, but you cut him off.

“I insist, you are a prince after all and I am but a humble subject, my duty is to watch out for you,” you state, he raises eyebrows before leaning back against the tree crossing his arms over his chest and falling asleep.

The moon was bright tonight and it's cool tones paired with the fire’s warm hues illuminated the prince in a magnificent way. You study his handsome features as you try to unpack the feelings that had been clawing their way out of the cage you had built around your heart. You pull Robbs knife out holding it up hoping for some kind of divine sign you suppose, but nothing comes. You loved Robb, you thought of him every day and every day you hoped that he’d return, or that you’d wake up and he would be next to you, all of this nothing more than a bad dream. But you knew such thoughts were foolish, Robb was dead, he wasn’t coming back to you, at least not in this life. Your eyes rise once again to Oberyn. You watch his chest rise and fall, longing to feel his arms wrap around you, but this thought was equally as foolish. His flirtatious nature towards you was obvious, but it was the same with everyone. As he said, he finds beauty in all the sun shine down on and those he finds beautiful he brings to his chambers. You weren’t willing to abandon your husband for a brief moment of fleeting passion. Besides you were sure he’d be bored of you when the morning came. Your future held no such luxury of finding peace with another, no any hopes of that died long ago. You lean back against the log waiting for the sun to rise, problems always seemingly less heavy in the warm glow of the morning. The sun begins to creep over the horizon, the fire only embers now. You throw sand over it snuffing it out before lightly kicking Oberyn's boot. He opens one eye first, displeased as the being awoken as such much preferring waking in the arms of two or three, or four lovers, though he would have happily settled for a single individual had they asked. He looks up to see you illuminated by the sun, a golden aura radiating around you.

“Why didn't you wake me sooner” he asks, both eyes now open and alert to the fact you had let him sleep through the night. “Wasn't tired, besides you're much more agreeable when you're asleep,” you joke, smirking down at him. “You’re more agreeable when I'm asleep as well,” he retorts, causing you to chuckle

“Not far now my prince,” you say reaching your hand out and pulling him up.

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The sun radiates off the desert sand, a stark contrast from the cold of the night. You’re sweating heavily when you bring your horse to a halt, Oberyn mimicking your behaviour watching as you dismounted into what appeared to be yet another expanse of the desert. You kneel down on the sand wincing at the pull of an old injury. The surface is hot to touch. You run your fingers through the first few layers, it's cool beneath. Noticing a small dip in the ground you crawl ahead a few inches. You scoop up the sand bringing it to your nose, the smell of copper fills your nostrils, you dig a little deeper. The sand has clumped together. Liquid had been spilt here, but there had been no rain for at least a fortnight. This, this was blood. You stand up scanning for other dips in the ground, potential burials, any weapons, a trail of blood, but there's nothing but the small indentation where you stood.

“How old is Arianne?” you ask

“10 and 6” Oberyn responds, still mounted on his horse staring down at you doubtfully.

“Is she a slight girl?” you continue to question.

“Average sized,”

“Less than a large foot soldier though?” you ask, beginning to get frustrated with his refusal to directly answer your question.

‘Yes,” Oberyn answers, brow creased as the sun hits his eyes. Too much blood for a girl her age. Something glinting in the sun catches the corner of your eye and you bend down retrieving the reflective arrow tip. Only then do you notice the trails, likely left by footprints, evidence of hand to hand combat.

“There was a fight, it began here, but it's not where it ended, how many men were with her?” you ask

“Three,” he says, watching you staring in the distance towards a large dune “what do you see?” he queries, increasingly interested in the inner workings of your mind.

“Carrion,” you say walking back towards him.

“Vultures?”

“Could be a dead animal, could be human,” you say swinging yourself back up onto your horse and trotting towards the birds which scatter upon your arrival. The dune covered a deep windswept valley, large rock formations created by high speed winds decorating the basin.

The maze stretches a few hundred miles, as you begin to descend your foot kicks something heavy, causing you to curse the gods loudly as Oberyn arrives by your side. Before he can ask if you’re injured your on your knees digging at the area, pulling out a metal shoulder piece

“One of yours?” you ask

“ Yes that our sigil” he says, watching your nose scrunch in disgust.

“Do you smell that?” you ask.

“No,” he admits

“Death,” you say, his face hardens as you continue down the dune, following your nose through the rock formations. Oberyn follows you curiously through the naturally formed maze. He sees you standing, and his eyes follow your line of sight up until he sees what has stopped you. Three bodies slowly decomposing in the heat, skin pecked at by scavengers, a large pile of ash beneath them.

“Must have been her carriage,” you say crouching down, most of the pile had blown away only the heavier fragments left, a few large pieces of wood and metal, you brush it away, revealing a locket among the ash. You pick it up dusting it off before offering the locket to Oberyn. You watch his knuckles turn white clutching at the chain. He’d given this to Arianne for her birthday.

“Is she,” Oberyn hisses, an anger radiating through his body.

“No. There's no sign of a burnt body, ” you reassure and he exhales,

“These men they did not deserve this death even if they plotted against the crown princes wishes,”

“I can lead a party out, another day make sure they are returned to their families and buried properly.” “Thank you,” Oberyn says..

“ This was an ambush,” You assure, it was carefully planned out, but how could they have known that she was planning on leaving? “but it…” you continue, shaking your head letting your thoughts trail off.

“What?” he asks staring down at you in wonderment

“It didn’t occur here,” your forehead scrunched a look of perplexity and complete concentration etched on your face “why did they move the bodies here, and the carriage just to burn it, that’s a lot of effort.”

“To hide the evidence, they knew we’d come looking for her,” Oberyn offers as an explanation.

“ If they had burnt it where it occurred then buried it, we'd never find them. This” you say painting to the bodies “this was a warning, posting them up like this they knew we would find them here. Why here, why not where the fight occurred.” “To discredit them in death” he offers again, watching your head suddenly look up, eyes scanning.

“How many men,”

“Three,” he repeats “All trained in combat?”

“They would have been at least able to hold a spear, to guard the princess,” before he can finish, you turn on your heel and rush back to the horses, remounting and heading back to the skirmish site.

By the time Oberyn reaches you, your elbow is deep in the sand. Oberyn was right, these were good men, ones who deserved a burial. A similar thought would have likely crossed the minds of the ambushers. Returning to wherever they came from with even one dead body would be too much of a task, they would have had to abandon their fallen. But they wouldn't have abandoned their religion, a burial at an unmarked grave is better than none after all, and one skilled dornish fighter would have taken down at least one opponent. Your nails fill with sand, the heat scorching your skin and you dig towards your answers. He watches as an arm appears and he crouches down next to you about to help unbury the rest but place your hand on his chest. Gripping the dead man's hand you lift up his hand, a ring, a golden lion forged into existence, eyes looking up to him.

“Lannister” he spits

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The two of you stroll through the trees dressing the mountain, the cover of shade paired with the sun going down offering a cold more resemblant of your home especially as you climb higher towards the peak. Despite your initial uneasiness about being led far into the mountain alone with one of the deadliest men in the seven kingdoms, he had assured you he merely wanted to speak freely away from the court. As the trees part you come upon the mountain top where snow was beginning to fall. Your eyes then go to a series of ancient ruins, a hearth burning in the middle, tapestries draped along the pillars and a bed made up, with furs. Your heart skips as you turn to look up at Oberny who for once looks nervous.

“You said you missed the cold, this is as cold as it gets here, a small thank you for finding the evidence needed. I do not think anyone else would have figured it out,” he says as a feeling you hadn’t felt in years coming over you.

“Thank you” you whisper, kissing him on the check, warming him through, “but I'm sure any good tracker would have found the same,” you state, pushing back off him and turning to face the outlook, attempting to hide your sudden embarrassment.

“There are guards a mile down shout if you need them, thought I doubt they would be able to protect you better than you could protect yourself , i'll collect you tomorrow, if you’d like,” he says

“I’d like that very much,” you admit, and he smiles before heading back towards the woods.

“Prince Oberyn,” you call, and he stops turning back “Thank you,” he nods and walks off

You remove your clothes and stand in the breeze allowing the chill to ripple over your body until goosebumps form. You smile and let out a slow breath a cloud forming in front of you, as snow falls lightly around you. It was a reminder of home and you close your eyes, a tear falling as you exhale. You walk towards the ruins and settle under the sheets, the crackling of the fire lulling you to sleep until you hear footsteps approaching, multiple men.

You grab your dagger and throw it. It hits one in the jugular, blood spurting out as you roll out of the bed and duck behind the ruins near the body. You’re preparing to fight when a spear pierces the air impaling one of the approaching figures causing the other to turn towards the woods. He doesn't make it far. A strong arm stops him and slits his throat. You relax when you see Oberyn appear from the shadows.

“Lady Stark, I heard of an attempt, I apologize for...” His words are cut short and his jaw drops when he sees you walk out from behind the ruins to your tunic pulling it over your naked skin.

“Careful, my prince you'll catch flies,” you chuckle, before dragging one of the bodies over the cliff.

“I can see why he screwed over an entire kingdom to marry you,” he says, doing the same with the assassin closest to him.

“You couldn't see that before you saw me naked? Help me with this,” you say, grabbing the final man's feet as Oberyn grabs his arms.

“Even more so now. You have more scars than I had thought, do you have a favorite?” He asks as you both throw the body down the mountain side.

“I do, care to hazard a guess,” you say, wiping your hands clean.

“I'd need a longer look,” he offers, raising his eyebrows.

“Of that i'm sure, I must thank you again for tonight, seems as though my life is owed to you twice over,”

“Perhaps I can ask another favour then, As for now it's late and a long walk back, so I will be on my way,” he bows his head before turning on his heels.

“Why don’t you stay, as it's such a long way down,” you ask, eyes down, suddenly feeling overly exposed, more so than when you stood naked before him.

“Only if you wish,” he says, surprised you’d allow him to stay in the same bed as you.

“Only if you think you can brave the cold for the night” you say returning to the bed after reclaiming your knife. He joins you shortly after, removing the top half of his attire, despite preferring to sleep completely bare, he wasn't about to make you feel uncomfortable. He shivers in the cold, while this chill was likely nothing to you, Oberyn had rarely spent time in anything below comfortably warm. His shiver continues even beneath the furs and you feel it.

“I'd like to see you In the north, you wouldn't last a month,” you murmur, turning to your side facing his direction.

“Are you saying I'm soft?” he asks, remaining on his back, head turning to you, a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

“No, but you're not weathered,” you state, sitting up removing one of the furs covering you and placing it over Oberyn who looks up, the warmth of your breath clouding in the air, as snow falls lightly around you, not a goosebump on your body.

“Not like you late husband” he questions pulling the blanket up to himself and you ignore him, laying back down. “Do you think he would truly wish you to be alone? To live the rest of your life without pleasure?” Oberyn, queries, upset at the notion of you alone.

“No…but,” you begin,

“but what, you do not do him a disservice by allowing another to give you love.” Oberyn stresses, begging to warm.

“Is that what you offer?” you ask, a look of suspicion on your face.

“Yes,” he offers earnestly, shifting up onto his arm so the blankets fall slightly.

“As you do all you find appealing,” you state, eyes locked on his bare chest.

“yes, and no,” he says, hand going down lifting your eyes to meet his “I enjoy divulging in all of life's pleasures, my body belongs to all those that catch my eye, but my heart I do reserve that primarily for one” he says softly, your heart now beating faster than it ever had.

“Reserved” you correct, quietly.

“Ellaria was my greatest love, I would have kept her with me until the end, had the Lannisters not taken her from me,” his hand now dancing over the wound above your shoulder, eyes still boring into yours, leaving you nowhere to hide.

“Then you know how I feel,” you whisper breathlessly.

“No, my heart is willing to accept love again because I knew that is what she would want. I fear you are unable to see that it is what your husband would have wanted as well,”

“Part of me died that day on the docks, part of my heart will always be with him, but today I thought...maybe” you stutter, a tear falling from your eye rolling down your cheek, you go to brush it away embarrassed, but Oberyn beats you to it. Gently wiping it before running his thumb softly along your cheekbone.

“It is not a betrayal of your love for him, I do not presume you to abandon him, I wish merely to bring you some semblance of joy.”

With that you roll over so you straddling him and he sits up hand reaching to the back of your head pulling you down to meet his lips. A fire builds inside you upon contact and your hands move to your tunic, only parting from his lips to rip it from your body. You look down hesitantly, unsure it was what he would have expected, or what he wanted, not as pretty and smooth as those of the brothel. Oberyn no longer shivering even with the blankets fallen to the side, eyes drinking in every ounce of your being.

“Are you sure?” Oberyn asks, hands running up and down your sides.

“Yes,” you say firmly, before leaning down kissing him again.

He'd kept you close to him in the night even after you’d tried to pull away to the other side of the bed. You had been right, one appeal of the cold was being trapped beneath the naked body of one you loved. He wakes first, trailing his fingers lightly across your body until he sees your eyes bat open.

“Now I really understand why he risked his reign for you,” Oberyn whispers, kissing your scrunched up forehead. You yawn, detaching from him and maneuvering onto your back as His hand trails over the wound above your shoulder “ this is your favourite” he states and you look up to him, “I guessed correctly” he laughs at the way your mouth hangs open.

“How?”

“You can track lands, I can track bodies” he says, placing a kiss over it trailing up to your lips.

“Can you now?”

“I thought you knew that, based on your loud approval last night,” he remarks and you shake your head chuckling slightly “If you don’t remember, perhaps I can remind you this morning” he says nipping at your jaw and dipping below the sheets.

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You return together the next morning only to see the crown prince pacing frantically

“Brother, come now a council has been called,” he gestures for you to follow and you do

“Who is this?” he asks, pointing at you.

“Someone who has a stake in the game”

“ Arianne is in king's landing, confirmed today by this letter penned by Cersei herself,” Doran confesses as the advisors close the doors to the marbled room.

‘What?” he spits, tearing the piece of paper from between Dorans hands.

“They have taken her, stating she was plotting to murder the Lannister princess,” Doran says

“Was she?” you whisper to Tyene who shrugs her shoulders.

“She awaits a trial, a trial by combat” Doran continues

“Bastards,” Oberyn exclaimed, hands slamming down on the stone table. “ Send me brother, I will fight for her, I will get you daughter. I have done it once, I shall do so again.”

“If you go they kill you in the streets,” Tyene pipes up, causing her father to turn to her.

“I’d like to see them try, ” Obery spits, more fire than you’d ever seen radiating around him, as the room breaks out into pointless bickering.

“Let me go,” you interject all those in the room turning to face you.

“And, why would I allow one of my brothers whores to go and retrieve my daughter?” Doran scoffs.

“because, I would very much like to gain some kind of revenge on those who butchered my husband and all the events that occurred the night of the red wedding.” You say pulling down your hood, exposing your identity to the room full of strangers.

“Lady Stark, but you’re supposed to be dead,” the grand maester whispers.

“Medical marvel,” you assure

“And you would fight for us,” Doran queries Tyene and the rest of the scattered sand snakes staring at you.

“I would,if any of your family ventures to Kings Landing they will be killed on sight. I on the other hand am the last person they would expect to show up. Though, I must admit my business there may extend over to a few other debts the Lannisters owe me”

“This activity?” another council member begins to probe

“Would only occur after Arianne is safely back on a ship,” you see Oberyn fidget “with proper antivenoms, anti poisons, everything and a skilled healer on board, just in case”

“You would remain there for how long after?”

“Only for a few extra hours perhaps a day, you would have no role to play in my removal, I am more than capable of finding my own way out,” you promise

“Who fights for the Lannisters?” Nymeria asks,

“They say a man carved from stone, reanimated from the dead, the size of two men” The grand maester begins, “It's rumoured the queens sorcerer managed to salvage the Mountain after Oberyn's victory.”

“But those are just rumours sprouted from venomous tongues, as such my offer still stands,” you assure.

“No,'' Oberyn interjected, eyes narrowed at you, shooting daggers. Your head turns on a swivel, furious.

“Why not? I am capable” you explain.

“Did you not hear them, the mountain fights for the Lannister”

“I've taken down worse,” you snap, all semblance of properness lost

“He’ll kill,” you he states calmly , his eyes stormy

“He didn’t kill you,” you retort

“No but I killed him and yet he is still alive, whatever that man is, is long gone,” The two of you locked in a glare, you failing to find a response that wouldn’t paint you as childish.

“Then we're in agreement, we find someone else,” he punctuates making you feel like a scolded child. The tension hangs heavy on the room, unsettling a few of the council members as your eyes bear into his before leaning back against the wall. As the meeting ends Oberyn waits by the door, but you refuse to move, you shoot him a glare and he raises his eyebrows shaking his head before exiting the room.

“Prince Doran, a word if I may,” you ask, as he passes by you. He hesitates but nods to his two advisors to carry on and turns to you.

“I will go, I will defeat the Mountain, or at least secure Arianne a contingency plan if all else fails.”

“My lady, I am afraid my brother will not have it...” he states.

“Your brother doesn't control me, and as you said I am just another of his whores. I am free to make whatever decision I see fit,” he sighs, scanning you up and down assessing whether you could be successful.

“You are sure you can retrieve her,” Doran asks, looking up into your eyes searching for the answer.

“I am sure I have a better chance at it than any of your family, ”

“We will have a ship on standby for you the following day,”

“No need, I do not expect to return from this,” you mutter and his eyes narrow, “I am no fool, the odds are not in my favour I fear, but I must try...” you pause nodding your head “I must try and make things right.”

“Oberyn?”

“Will know nothing of this, nothing of this meeting, or of this plan, hold a ship for me if you wish but do not hold out hope.”

“Arianne returns alive” he demands.

“I promise you that” you affirm before he calls for an advisor to escort him out the room.

As you exit the council room you begin towards Oberyn chambers. If you were to be gone tomorrow you knew where you wanted to be tonight. As you open the door you chuckle at the sight before you, Oberyn entangled with two of his lovers, both resting against his chest, sweaty and panting slightly. He leans over to kiss the man on his left before addressing you.

“I did not expect to see you here tonight,” he says as the woman bites at his jawline. “Why's that?” you question. “I thought you were going to rip my head off in that meeting,” he chuckles, pulling the woman's hair back to kiss her.

“I don’t enjoy my ability to choose being removed,” you scorn.

“Is that all you came to say?” he questions.

“I suppose, goodnight Prince Oberyn…” you begin, turning to exit, hoping to call him on his bluff.

“Vorian, take Fryenne to my guest chamber, show her a good time,” he says, slapping the man's ass as he exits the sheets. “Will you not join my Prince, I have always wanted to try a Targaryen,” she whispers into his ear, blushing slightly.

“Not tonight my dove, we have business to discuss,”

“Perhaps another time,” she says wistfully as she approaches you, running her hand up your arm planting a soft kiss on your lips before exiting. Your mouth hangs open brows gently creased at the sensation, your eyes following her out the room.

“You like that one?” Oberyn smirks as you draw your eyes back to him “one night with me and you’re a convert to my lifestyle,” he remarks shifting out of the bed naked as the day he was born walking over to the counter and decanting wine into a goblet.

“Do you wish to have this conversation fully clothed?” “I did not come here for a conversation,” you admit.

“Then why are you still dressed? Strip,” he demands, you narrow your eyes at him. He walks towards you, eyes darker “You would disobey a prince?” He asks, walking behind you, lips ghosting along your neck. “Strip. You will listen to me tonight especially after your performance in that meeting. You should know better than to speak out of turn,” he orders leading you towards his bed.

You're awake, watching the night pass until the first light begins to creep into the room. Oberyn's arms are wrapped around you, his warm breath hitting your neck. You had tried to leave earlier but his strong grasp had trapped you in place. If this was to be one of your last nights on this earth, you were glad to have spent it in his arms. You lie there until you feel him stir, mouth peppering kisses on your neck.

“I wish to go to the brothel, will you join me?” he mumbles into your neck and you shake your head.

“I can refrain and stay here for the morning,” he starts.

“No go on I am just too tired,” you whisper, kissing him lightly.

“Then rest I will return later,” he kisses your nose, then your forehead before rising and dressing

“Oberyn,” you say sitting up in the large bed pulling the silks up to cover your chest.

“Yes?” he says watching as your mouth opens. You’re trying to find words to express your feelings, but they never come.

“Nothing,” you say, offering a small smile. Oberyn makes it to the front door of the brothel but something in his stomach feels off. A feeling that had been growing since he left you, it was something in the way you had said his name in the cold light of day, almost as if you were saying goodbye. His steps get more rushed as he approaches the palace, swinging the doors to his chambers open. He looks to the handmaid who shakes her head in confusion. He swallows his rage, you wouldn’t have disobeyed him so blatantly, you wouldn't have left him without warning, without a goodbye. He walks quickly towards the garden until he finds Doran, his hand caressing a rose.

‘Where is she?” he demands, already knowing the answer

#prince oberyn x you #oberyn martell x y/n #oberyn martell x you #prince oberyn #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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jemelle · 4 years ago

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the truth about aaron hotchner

co-developed and written with @apologetically-apologetic!

so we all know there’s some fuckery surrounding hotch’s age, right? the wiki says 1971, his hospital records say 1966, and he was in high school in 1987. it’s easy to assume that all of that is just a series of continuity errors, but what if there were a deeper truth?

aaron hotchner is a spy. his mission: monitor spencer reid and penelope garcia, both people who have been id’d by the us government as having the potential to be extremely dangerous.

at first, he doesn’t get why. he asks his handler as much: “reid and garcia? the ones that were throwing gummy bears into each other’s mouths?”

but over time he starts to see it. reid may not be able to fire a gun, but hotch watches him untangle complex problems in minutes. he watches garcia break into highly secured files and thinks “this is why” (then reid trips over his shoelaces and garcia calls them “her furry friends” and he forgets)

the number one rule of espionage is not to get attached. hotch does alright at first, using his position as superior to distance himself. slowly, though, his walls begin to crumble, and before he knows it he’s in way too deep.

on his vacations (because Of Course his vacations are just a cover, that’s why he never wants to go) his handlers ask what reid and garcia have been up to.

"well, reid successfully talked down two delusional unsubs, helped defuse a hostage situation, and also was very nice to my son. garcia opened 17 sealed records, accessed 56 traffic cams and 23 security cameras, and also bought my son about 70 outfits."

his handlers are somewhat concerned, but aaron’s always been a good agent, so they let it slide. and life would continue indefinitely like that, except for the fact that that’s not aaron’s only secret.

you see, hotch might be a spy for the us government, but he’s also a deep cover mole. born in moscow during the height of the cold war, he was sent to america as a teen. his mission: infiltrate the us government by whatever means possible.

his handlers haven’t been in contact for years, but one day they show up and they are Pissed. remember the “no attachments” rule? that goes double for deep cover moles. hotch was never supposed to fall in love with his high school sweetheart, never supposed to marry her, never supposed to have a son.

he won’t give them up, though. his mission may be what he was trained for, but haley and jack are something that he chose. he comes away from their meeting feeling like he’s won, that he can keep them in his life (that’s his first mistake)

aaron is their best agent, so the russians take desperate measures. but death is messy, so they do the one thing that isn’t suspicious, not in hotch’s line of work. they send a serial killer after his family.

it takes months, sure, but eventually they get what they want. haley is gone. they expect hotch to throw himself into work, now that it’s what he has left. instead, he does something they’d never have predicted.

he reveals himself to the team, explains who he is and why he’s here. they take it rather well, all things considered. reid and garcia are surprised to be considered threats, but it’s emily and derek who are most wounded. (jj just smiles serenely, and aaron is forced to consider how much she knows)

"i worked for interpol! i speak six languages! i could be a threat if i wanted to!" emily yells. derek has similar thoughts: “i kick doors down for a living! i’m not a threat?”

once they’ve calmed down, aaron tells them his suspicions about foyet. they’re livid. foyet was bad enough, but knowing that someone was pulling the strings, someone who’s still alive, sends them all into motion. (it’s then that hotch finally gets a sense of reid and garcia’s true power, and he’s never been more grateful to have them on his side)

after that, there are many sleepless nights and secret meetings and shootouts that end in tragedy, but also, eventually, a happy ending. and isn’t that what matters?

#criminal minds #criminal minds crack #aaron hotchner #celie talks #my favorite sitcom co-writer // abbie tag #this got long wow

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jazzistolkienfanfics · 4 years ago

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Cells - Kili x reader

Type: Imagine Pairing: Kili x reader Summary: when the Mirkwood Elves forget about a dangerous skin-changer in their dungeons. Warnings: ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’ Word Count: 998

Non-English, italicised words are in Khuzdul, the language of the Dwarves.

To put it simply, Kili was not pleased that, after all they had gone through already, and being tantalisingly close to Erebor, they had been discovered by Mirkwood Elves and thrown into their dungeons.

He didn’t mind the one they called Tauriel - but she had left abruptly, avoiding his eyes - and besides, it seemed that the Elf prince, Legolas, was falling for her. Kili did not particularly wish to be decapitated, so he too pushed his thoughts away.

He had been looking through the bars for some time, but eventually he turned and looked over his shoulder. The cell was far longer than he had thought, shadows cloaking the back parts so he did not know how long it was. He sat on the stone bench they had provided, looking at the miserable tray of food that had been thrown in with him.

For several minutes there was nothing but silence, as there should be.

Then, a quiet voice came from the shadows. “May I please have some of your food?”

“Mahal! Who’s there?” Kili started, standing rapidly and backing towards the cell door. Not that that would help. It was locked, obviously.

“Don’t be afraid, Dwarf” said the voice again. Kili tilted his head. It sounded distinctly feminine, but he was more paying attention to the fear that seeped through it. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I have been here for a long time, and I haven’t had food in too long.”

Overcome by curiosity, Kili took one of the slices of stale bread, holding it out to the vague direction the voice was coming from. Honestly, he was in a prison cell. He had nothing left to lose. “I trust you, then. I’m Kili.”

He heard footsteps, then a girl came into the light. She had h/l, h/c hair, s/c skin that was probably paler than it had been previously from the underground dungeons, and she was Kili’s height. However, the most interesting thing about her were her eyes. They were e/c, with hints of gold and silver that were entrancingly unnatural.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting next to him taking the piece of bread and eating it rapidly. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I haven’t eaten in ... ten years, I think.” She pointed at the wall across from them, which was covered in red tally marks (they were probably blood, Kili thought).

“Ten- holy shit, Y/N, how are you alive?” Kili blinked rapidly.

“I am not human, nor a Dwarf, Halfling or an Elf,” Y/N explained between mouthfuls. “I am a skin-changer.” She flinched, as if she expected Kili to hit her.

The Dwarf simply shrugged, throwing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth, wincing as the sourness kicked in. “We met one called Beorn.”

Y/N snorted. “Beorn and I are quite dissimilar. He can do this, right?” The girl stood up, and transformed into a hulking black bear that towered above Kili even on all fours.

“Yes,” Kili said weakly. “He can do that.”

The bear turned back into Y/N, who folded her arms and smirked. “Well, Beorn can’t do this.”

And suddenly, Kili was looking at an exact replica of himself, who then grew into Thranduil, who then glanced across out of the bars and turned into Thorin.

“Oi! King Under the Mountain, or whatever!” she yelled, taking on his voice. Thorin looked up at other-Thorin next to Kili and yelled in surprise, falling off his bench.

Other-Thorin chuckled, and melted back into Y/N, who was now (your height). “Never gets old.”

After witnessing that, Kili was shocked enough that the only question he asked was, “Why are you taller than me now?”

Y/N glanced down at him and blinked, then she shrunk down to his size. “There you go. This is my ... default self, I suppose. I can change my height, but not other aspects of myself if I am altering this form.”

“So ... you’re a skin-changer, but not like the other skin-changers,” Kili said, already confused.

Y/N pulled back the sleeve of her f/c tunic, revealing a golden tattoo on her wrist in a language Kili couldn’t read - some kind of script. “That’s Quenyan for five, for there were five like me. Now, there are only two. I do not know where Ranwinne is now - but I was captured for ‘trespassing upon Mirkwood borders.’” She rolled her eyes. “Thranduil is a inbul-hibir fundhamâd-ublag. (Pointy-eared lembas-eater)”

Kili snorted, offering Y/N another piece of bread, which she gladly accepted. “Why did you never leave? Could you not skin-change and get out?”

Y/N shrugged. “I have been too weak. Thank you for the food, Kili.”

She stood again, changing into a f/c-and-e/c butterfly, fluttering through the bars and changing back into her ‘human’ form, making sure she was the same height as Kili as she opened the door to his cell.

Kili pulled her into a hug, Y/N’s arms freezing for a minute before she embraced him back. “Y/N, you’re the best.”

Y/N grinned, running to let out all the other Dwarves (Thorin not even thanking her, still being annoyed about being scared by her, and Fili congratulating her because of it).

Just as she came back to Kili, a hobbit in fashionable but destroyed clothes came running up the stairs, a jangling set of keys in his hands.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the hobbit moaned, seeing all the Dwarves already out of their cages.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle as she waved at the hobbit, who was shorter than her even when she was at Kili’s height.

“It matters not how we got out of these cells,” Thorin grumbled. “Bilbo, do you have a way to get out of Mirkwood?”

Bilbo nodded, and turned to lead them to the cellars. As each Dwarf filed past Y/N, they thanked her heartily. Kili was the last to pass her, and as his thanks, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

Hey guys! If you’re enjoying my stories PLEASE REQUEST because without requests I find it difficult to write for people I don’t find attractive. And I’d love to interact with you guys (thanks for all your love so far!)

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to heart this imagine, give me a follow and/or request (it makes my day so much!).

#kilixreader #xreader #thehobbit #thehobbitxreader #you #x reader #kili x reader #the hobbit #imagine

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derireo · 5 years ago

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A3! And What Sports They’d Play ↦ All Troupes

So.. I was talking to a friend about the sports we used to play in the past. I loved sports as a kid and thinking of Haikyu also pushed me to do this. All troupes are included, and individual characters gets their own sport and my take on how well I think they’d do in it!

Kind of went off on Autumn and Winter Troupe;; sorry.

Uh, E-Sports, of course. He gets absolutely winded from walking, so sitting down and competitively playing a game he loves is his dream. On particularly intense matches, he breaks a heavy sweat and needs a lot of water and snacks to keep himself focused and in the game.

He's a popular player and a great one as well! Sometimes he gets asked to host little bits of the tournaments he attends because he has such a big fanbase and he's awesome at entertainment despite his normally deadpan tone with jokes.

He has a lot of energy, so I think running in track or doing marathons would be good for him. Afterall, he's one of the first to run after Tsuzuru in the prologue of the game. He isn't the best nor is he the fastest runner, but his stamina is impressive and lets him outlast many of his competitors.

I also see him doing kayaking? Not competitively, but he definitely loves the thrill of crashing down small waterfalls and regaining his balance right after. The flow of the currents is exhilarating and he has a good sense of balance, so he'd rarely overturn in a kayak (which is absolutely dangerous by the way).

He wouldn't do any competitive sports, but skate/longboarding is something I can definitely see him doing. If he needs time to himself or just simply wants to chill, he'll go out and enjoy the breeze as he boards down the bike lane in the park or on the road, hands in pockets.

He becomes a bit of an attraction at skate parks though. He's always seen there on his board, headphones donned and hands in pockets like I said; effortlessly performing tricks that a lot of other skaters would struggle doing. People are very attracted to the sight, and he lures them in whenever someone finds out he's at the park that day.

He's already suffering so much and is always tired— I wouldn't put it past him to play shuffleboard. It's not a laborious sport, and he can play with anyone like his siblings or any elders who need the company. It's a slow paced sport and is great for sleepy Tsuzuru who needs a break from scrip writing. I don't know if there were any canon stories of him actually being involved in a sport at some point, but I think he'd be pretty okay at tennis or table tennis.

Tennis is a very intense sport so he didn't play it for long because practice cut into his studying, his part-time jobs, and his babysitting. Table tennis is similar to tennis with it's concept, except you can just kind of stand in one spot and don't have to run around as much. It's a fun game to play with his siblings since they enjoy it so much, and they always run after the ball so he doesn't have to do much other than play along with them and clean up when they're done.

I honestly have no idea with Citron. I don't remember any canon details of Zahra (I think that's where he's from?) so I don't want to assume what kind of environment he was in that would influence his choice of athletics, but I think he would enjoy swimming! In the beach event, he ran into the water happily with Kazunari if I can remember, and I'd like to think he had a good body type for water.

There's also another part of me that thinks he'd love skydiving! The thrill of jumping out of the helicopter and letting the winds beat against him as he soared down towards the ground below would be awesome. He's practically shouting for joy as he glides down and loves the look of the city from above. Impressively enough, he can do flips in the air and loves twirling around, much to the dismay of other skydivers as they fear for him.

He's not one for actively moving, but ballet seemed interesting to him and he wanted to try it out. He had no idea how intense ballet was, from strict teachers, to getting blisters on his ankles and feet, Yuki actually almost quit. What prevented him from doing so was probably watching a performance where his seniors were giving the juniors an extravagant scene to watch and they inspired Yuki to keep going.

I would have said acrobatics/gymnastics as well, but Yuki's arms aren't very strong and he doesn't like doing flashy things like that anyways (no offense...? I don't know, I haven't watched videos of this sport in years). If he did pursue acrobatics/gymnastics, I'm not sure if he'd be amazing at it, but he would definitely be decent! He's got the flare;;

Running! Since he was in track for a while and was rumoured to be great at it, he would definitely be doing marathons and track alongside Sakuya. He had great speed and a stamina to match so he's a terribly good opponent to go against if you like to get pushed past your limits. If he kept pursuing track he would train during late nights and early morning with Tasuku, who has his routine jogs at those times.

Absolutely adores the sport too! His team of runners were basically second family to him, so if he chose to return, he would have the time of his life growing as a sportsman with them. He would grow into a fine and very popular runner! Hitting his growth spurt would only make him an even more fearsome competitor as his legs would get longer and his intense training with Omi and Tasuku would get his stamina maxed out.

He has no time to do sports since he's always acting, so I honestly can't say what he'd do. He isn't the best runner either and extreme sports is out of the question since he's a bit of a scaredy cat. I guess he would enjoy a casual game of table tennis though? But despite liking the sport, I'm going to say that he kind of sucks at it. He understands the rules and everything, but his rhythm is off and he never manages to hit the ball back.

He's good at receiving a strike back though! He's always lucky at standing in the right spot with his paddle in the correct position to receive a smash hit, and that's basically the only time he wins a point because he catches his opponent off guard. It doesn't happen often though, so he still gets absolutely destroyed during a game of table tennis.

I believe Misumi would be amazing at track & field. He runs extremely fast for one, and he does parkour like no other; he would definitely place first in sports like long jump, high jump, pole vault, and sprints. He doesn't have a particular favourite event to do though, but always does his best when someone gives him an incentive to do his best.

Izumi and Omi offer him triangle onigiri? He's going to run as fast as he can! Jump as high as he can and as far as he can! No one will be able to stop Misumi. But then again, competitive parkour is a thing, I'm pretty sure, so he can just do that sport for fun and still place in the top 3 at least. He would be terrible awesome at Ultimate Frisbee, but the disc isn't a triangle, so. :p

Him? Sports? No.

I'm kidding. Do not know at all what sport he would enjoy playing, but billiards is something that suits him in my opinion. It doesn't have to be competitive, but he's greatly skilled at handling a cue stick, and his aim is impeccable. He's real lucky with trick-shots too, so don't go and start betting money with him; you'll definitely splurge all of your cash on him within seconds.

Sigh. It's super annoying that he's good at everything, and sports are no exception. He plays futsal with Omi and Tasuku the most, and is very light on his feet. He's so good that during competitive games he'll do a trickshot and score, or will play around with his check and do something like dribble the ball between their legs when they're at their most vulnerable.

I'm sure he would fall in love with ice hockey, though. Ice hockey is fast paced and is a contact sport so Banri would feel free on the ice rink. Good thing is that he's pretty good looking, so he's a fan favourite player. The cold air biting into his skin as he pushes himself across the rink to get to the puck is exciting and he loves body checking opponents into the walls (this also makes him a controversial player since he plays rough and dirty).

He'd be a monster at competitive martial arts. Taekwondo especially, considering his kicks come in hot and fast. His spinning kicks are ones to avoid if you go against him, but he's so quick on his feet and can kick higher than his head so you might get a quick KO if you can't read his body language fast enough. Judo is also high on the list despite it being more of a grappling and throwing sport, but Juza's quick reflexes make him a difficult opponent to beat. Normally wins a match using jiu-jitsu grappling techniques on the floor.

He would also be great at ice hockey. His large figure and quick feet would make him a great player, and his posture is always low to the ground so it wouldn't be easy to knock him over on the rink. Not exactly the best at dribbling the puck though, but give him a one-timer when he's open and he'll send that thing flying through the net. No one tries to pick fights with him on the rink though lol, he's notorious for one hit ko's.

Taichi gives off the chaotic vibes of Nishinoya from Haikyu, but he would suck at volleyball so I'm giving him badminton cause height doesn't matter too much I think as long as he's quick on his feet and is able to read the body language of his opponents well. His form would be perfect though and he's super agile so getting to that shuttlecock is no problem for him. He's got a bit of muscle too so he can send those babies flying!

Doesn't really use strategy most of the time, so he'll just keep hitting and receiving the shuttlecock however he wants until his opponent tires or until someone messed up a smash. No one else in Mankai plays badminton so finding him a coach is a bit difficult. He eventually learns other ways to hit the shuttlecock, so when he learns how to slice or do drop shots, he's a little monster on the court!

Oh, the sports he would play.. Obviously, he plays futsal with Tasuku unless you haven't seen his card where he's playing as goalkeeper! With that information, he would absolutely destroy volleyball teams as a middle. Now I don't know if calling middles 'middle blocker' and outside hitters 'wing spikers' is like.. a cultural thing, and I know that's what they call the players in Haikyu, but it definitely catches me off guard and really confused lol. So, yeah! Omi would be amazing as a middle in the front since he's so tall and can shuffle fast on his feet to block a front row opponent. He's like Tendou in a way where he's great at reading people, the only thing is that he's better than Tendou (no offense, I'm serious) because he doesn't need to guess. He already knows. UGH, I want to go off on volleyball (both indoor & outdoor), but this part is getting long. Lmk if you want to hear me talk more about A3! & volleyball.

American football/rugby. Don't tell me I'm wrong please, I'll cry. Both of these are a full contact sport, and looking at Omi's past and his physical structure, you can't tell me he would not obliterate everyone on the field. He is either the offensive guard or the tackle. He will not start offensive plays, but he will end defensive plays. He stops any player from tackling their centre and tackles those who try to hit a blindside. I don't know much about rugby other than it is just as rough as American Football, just with less protective gear. I'm stopping here because I'm thirsting too much for Omi rn.

HOO, baby! When I looked at Sakyo, I just knew he would be able to do something with swords, so I chose kendo/fencing. Keno is a traditional martial art stemming from Japan and is practised with wooden swords. I won't say I know much about the sport, but it is definitely tense and is very noisy. Noisy because kendokas/kenshis shout whenever they strike, this is to show their spirit. Sakyo kind of hates shouting during the sport, but it definitely lets off some steam and gives him more momentum when he strikes.

I also think fencing because there are swords involved here too, it's just that it seems to be more of a European sport and has some sort of specific footwork involved. The piste may seem a bit narrow as well compared to kendo where they have a whole floor to themselves, so Sakyo doesn't practice fencing as often. (The clothing he's required to wear for this sport is also quite stifling as well.)

I'm ngl, but I didn't know what sport to give Tsumugi, omg, so I ended up giving him cup stacking. You know, you remember; I feel like you should do some research if you don't though because cup stacking was a huge thing in the early 2000's (?) and kids were setting world records here and there non-stop. Tsumugi uses his hands a lot for things like gardening, tutoring, bouquet arranging, etc, so he's deft and talented with them.

As long as he puts his mind to it, cup stacking is a piece of cake for him. He doesn't play anymore, but every now and then he'll look at his old kit in the corner of his room and will set it up with Tasuku in the lounge room for everyone to have a go at it. He loves the thrill and the way his adrenaline runs through his veins as he focuses on trying not to mess up the stack down.

HOOOO! Okay, so we already know Tasuku plays futsal so I'm not going to bother, but man.. He would be the same as Omi in volleyball; an absolute monster of a middle player. He's well rounded in the sport, so his coaches/team actually refuse to switch him out with a libero/defence specialist. His digs are almost on point with the setter, and he's always at the right spot when receiving, making sure no one gets an empty spot on the court.

When he's in the front blocking or hitting, he's almost always successful, and since he trains a lot with different drills and regimes, he perfects a lot of things like tipping, tooling, slicing, and even setting. His height added along with his vertical makes it almost impossible for opponents to block him, and when he's feeling good in a game, he'll start doing things like float serves and jump serves. If he's feeling any better, he'll play around and start doing slide hits at the front or will hit from position A on the back court (left corner facing the net). He'd also do swimming!!!!!!!!! BUT THIS IS GETTING TOO LONG

Definitely would do archery/darts. He's got impeccable aim if you take evidence from his outside work chats with Banri and has no problem pulling the string on a bow. Archery is difficult and I am not lying. Pulling the string until it's taut takes a large amount of strength and it digs deep into your fingertips, leaving calluses after one or two pulls.

Figuring out the trajectory and weighing in the factors of weather (if you're outside) takes a lot of skill and practice, and Hisoka always manages to hit the centre of the target with no hesitancy with his release of the string. His hands are all rough from the string digging into his fingers all the time, showing you how long he's been practising the sport.

I don't think Homare was very athletic growing up. I'm saying this only because his body type is quite lean and he's a poet after all who seems to stay inside more often than not if he isn't meeting with an editor/publisher. I think figure skating would suit him very well as it is an elegant and cold weathered sport. I also think he would fall in love with the suits if Yuki made them as they'd sparkle brilliantly and show off his flare as a skater.

He figure skates as a casual hobby rather than competitive, but he definitely makes a lot of famous friends in the community due to his whimsical personality and beautiful posture.

Kyudo (Japanese archery) was a sport that popped into my mind for Azuma, despite the strain it puts on the skin of his fingertips. His skin is very delicate with how much he takes care of it, so he wears a glove on his dominant hand to protect him. Kyudo seems to be more of a peaceful archery, and with the sight of Azuma in the kyudo uniform, the scene in front of you would be quite serene and calming.

I also think he would be great at figure skating since his body is lithe and he has lovely facial features that would complement the body suits that Yuki would create for him. His long hair flowing in the breeze he creates as he glides throughout the rink would be gorgeous along with the way his body looks as he does an axle in the air. His performances on the rink are always mesmerising, and he'll receive a few claps from fellow rink goers when he's in the centre just casually practising.

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thatesqcrush · 4 years ago

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Fall From Grace, Pt. 9

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Fandom: The Good Fight. Reference: S4, E.4, “The Gang is Satirized and Doesn’t Like It.” CW: Angst, language, fluff. AN: Our lovely REE was on The Good Fight for all of 3 minutes so I am taking lots of liberties. I am obsessed with the anti-Barba. He was just delicious.

WC: 2313

Six months.

It had been six months since you moved to the East Coast and enjoyed all that NYC had to offer. However fast paced Chicago seemed to be, New York City moved just a little bit faster.

You had crammed a bagel with an obscene amount of cream cheese in your mouth when a plethora of emails with electronic case filings came through your inbox. You switched gears and began associating the files with the respective cases when one in particular caused you to freeze.

STR Laurie

Bryan Kneef, Esq.

233 South Wacker Drive, Suite 8000

Chicago, IL 60606-6448

Attorneys for Defendants

APPEARANCE OF COUNSEL

LIBERTY LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY,

HOLBROOK SECURITIES LLC (Defendants)

Allison Kensington (Plaintiff)

Pearson Specter

Civil Action No. 10-cv-3752

TO THE CLERK OF THE COURT AND ALL PARTIES OF RECORD: PLEASE TAKE NOTICE that the undersigned is admitted to practice in this court, and hereby enters an appearance as counsel in this case for defendants. Please serve all papers related to this action on the undersigned.

By: Bryan Kneef

STR Laurie

[email protected]

Attorneys for Defendants

You swallowed the half-chewed bagel, grimacing as it scraped your throat as it went down.

“Motherfucker!” You swore loudly, slamming your hand on your desk.

“Am I interrupting?”

You jumped in your seat. You looked up and found yourself face to face with Rachel, who was standing in your doorway.

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Oh, uh…”

“Safe to say you saw the notice of appearance.” Rachel remarked, her brow cocked.

You nodded. “Yup.” You smacked your lips on the end of the P, emphasizing it.

“I wanted to know if you still wanted in on the case.” Rachel sat in the chair in front of you, her arms crossed. You had been at the firm maybe two weeks tops before you spilled everything to Rachel about Bryan.

“Yes, I do.” You replied. “And before you ask me if I'm tough enough to be in there, I want you to know that I am tough enough.”

“That's not what I wanted to ask.” Rachel replied. “I want to know if you think it will rattle him.”

“Frankly, I think it was purposefully done.” You sighed. “Is there a deposition?”

“Of course there is. Monday.”

The week surprisingly went quickly, and Monday came before you knew it. You looked over your appearance in the mirror. Suddenly your go-to pantsuit and button down didn’t cut it anymore. You hemmed and hawed in front of your closet and settled on a crisp white top and a muted grey pencil skirt. You popped the collar slightly and rolled up your sleeves.

Your mind flew to the memories of what happened whenever you did wear pencil skirt – somehow it’d end up over your hips or by your ankles with Bryan bringing you to the height of pleasure. You pinned your hair up and kept your makeup minimal, with the exception of a bold lip.

Your heels clacked against the pavement of the city’s sidewalk as you approached Pearson Specter. And sure enough, Bryan was in front of the building, pacing while on the phone.

You ducked your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you. But curiosity got the best of you and you looked over your shoulder as you entered through the revolving door. Your eyes met Bryan’s as he pivoted while on the phone. You quickly turned and hurried into the building.

---

Bryan walked down the hall of the firm after being directed to the conference room. He was anxious to see you. He knew he was playing with fire being here in New York. When the case fell in his lap, he knew he had to see it through and maybe, just maybe, see you. He missed you immensely. Truth be told, no other woman had ever gotten to him like you did. Through the glass, he noticed you setting up and his pulse quickened. Bryan rapped on the door before swinging the door open.

“Good morning.” You clipped. ‘Shit. Stay strong’ you thought to yourself as you drank him in. You nearly forgot how good he looked in his three piece suit. His gaze was smoldering and you shifted uncomfortably in your stance.

“Y/N.” Bryan greeted, with a small smile. “You look well.”

“How’s everyone in Chicago?” You replied, ignoring his compliment as you stapled some paper together.

“Good. You’re remembered fondly.” Bryan replied.

“I mean, can’t say I am surprised.” You retorted, as you finished organizing the conference table. “I’ll be sitting in on the depo, just so you know.”

“You think being in the room is going to keep me from doing my job?” Bryan asked, his brows furrowed.

You pointed at Bryan and then at yourself. “Aren’t I the reason you even signed on counsel?”

“Liberty Life is my client. Of course, I had to show up.” Bryan replied.

“So what – you figured you’d orchestrate this stunt and then –”

“I didn’t orchestrate shit.” Bryan sighed, irritated. “I am doing my job.”

You cocked your head and leaned over the table slightly. “Is this a joke?”

Bryan walked around to where you were standing. He was dangerously close to you and your eyes met his. “I miss you. Can’t we just talk?”

You stood silently, racking your brain as to what to say. “About what? Us? What is there to say? Our relationship…”

You moved to push back some hair when Bryan noticed the sparkling bracelet on your wrist. “You are wearing it.”

You looked at the tennis bracelet. “Oh. Yes. It’s beautiful. Thank you. It was very generous of you.”

Bryan reached for your hand and at the same time, Rachel entered the room. “Am I interrupting?”

Bryan shirked back his hand. “No. Just catching up. Reminding Y/N that Chicago has better hot dogs. And that we should have never let her go.”

---

The deposition was grueling, lasting a few hours. Bryan was relentless in his questioning. As he fired his questions, your mind was transported back to the case you first helped him with and how you got to watch him in court. Your whatever it was, with Bryan was complicated and was tempestuous. Deep down though, you still had deep feelings for Bryan. You spent your first month in New York crying your eyes out, wondering if you had made a mistake leaving.

You escorted your client out and then returned to gather the rest of your belongings. You paused before entering the conference room again, watching Rachel and Bryan speak. They shook hands and you wondered what that was about.

Finally you took a breath and entered. “Everything okay?”

Rachel smiled. “I think we’ll be settling. Bryan has made a very generous offer.

You smiled. “That’s great. I am happy to hear that.” While you were happy for your client, you were disappointed because you knew that Bryan would be leaving town. You groaned inwardly, hating how Bryan caused such a mix bag of feelings within you.

“Walk me out?” Bryan asked.

“Sure.” You blurted out, not even giving it so much as a second thought.

The walk to the elevator bank was silent. Finally, Bryan spoke. “Can we go out to dinner?”

You raised a brow and sucked in a breath. “That … sounds sincere.” You searched Bryan’s eyes and realized he was indeed being genuine. “Okay.”

“Is your number the same?” Bryan asked and you nodded. “I’ll text you the details. I’ll see you tonight.” Bryan replied as the elevator dinged, signaling its arrival.

You bid Bryan adieu and went back to your office. Despite the piles of work on your desk, you found yourself distracted. You couldn’t focus one bit. Your mind kept going back to the events prior. You kept checking your phone to see if Bryan had texted you.

Groaning, you took your phone and threw it into your drawer. You opened a new browser window and were just about to throw yourself completely into your work when your phone buzzed loudly from inside your drawer.

It was Bryan. Reservations made at The River Cafe. 7pm.

You texted back. See you then.

You threw your phone back in the drawer and dropped your head into your hands. “What have I gotten myself into?” You wondered out loud. You knew you were playing with fire and that there was a real possibility of getting burned, but you looked forward to the date.

“It’s two people sharing a dinner. Nothing more. You got this.” You muttered to yourself. Part of you knew it was a lie. Part of you figured if you said it enough times, you’d believe it.

You left work an hour early to get ready. The River Café was situated right on the East River, just a hair south of the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. You knew you needed enough time to get back to your apartment in Chelsea and then all the way down to Brooklyn. You decided to wear a cream-colored tulip hem skirt and a black lace deep v-neck blouse. The material of the blouse was quite thin and you decided to forego a bra to avoid lines. You knew your outfit was dangerous with Bryan. Simultaneously, you wanted Bryan to eat his heart out and maybe tempt fate so you could get dicked down.

You left your hair loose, just curling it slightly to make loose waves. You kept your makeup the same, just touching up your liner and lipstick. A spritz of perfume and a change of shoes to heeled strappy sandals and you were well on your way.

Your stomach lurched as the cab sped downtown to the restaurant. You watched as the city flew by in a blur and subconsciously you played with your tennis bracelet. The cab came to a stop and you found yourself in front of the restaurant.

Bryan was at the bar and the corner of his lips turned up into a devilish smile as you approached. Bryan wore dark jeans, a white button down and a matching navy suit jacket. The restaurant is gorgeous and the wafts of the various smells of food made your stomach rumble.

“You look gorgeous.” Bryan complimented as he embraced you into a hug.

“Thank you. You look great yourself.” You replied. You inhaled his cologne and emotions flooded you. ‘Relax.’ You commanded to yourself.

“I took the liberty of ordering you a glass of Malbec.” Bryan replied.

“You remembered.” You smiled as the bartender came over with a glass.

“Of course I did.” Bryan replied. “It’s your favorite.”

“The Catena Zapata Malbec Argentino for the lady, and an Old Fashioned for the gentleman.”

Bryan thanked the bartender, tipping him generously. You barely managed a sip when the hostess came over and seated you both at a table overlooking the East River – providing a clear shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. The view is breathtaking and you find yourself captivated by Bryan once more – all of the inner guards you had in place crumbled.

You both easily catch up over the last few months and dinner goes by quickly. Dessert is brought out and as you lick chocolate mousse off the spoon, you become acutely aware of Bryan’s lustful gaze on you. You give him a bashful look and you put the spoon down. Bryan paid for dinner while you excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

The weather was warm and the breeze was inviting so you decided to walk along the Brooklyn Bridge back towards Manhattan. The tips of Bryan’s fingers grazed yours and the feeling is electric. The second time your fingers grazed his, they interlock and you hold hands the rest of the way until you get to the midpoint of the bridge.

You take in the view of Manhattan ahead. Bryan stood next to you, also taking in the view.

His hand traced concentric circles on your back and you involuntarily shivered. Bryan tilted your chin towards him. “I—I had a really nice time tonight.” You reply and you are surprised by how genuinely you mean it.

Bryan’s gaze lowered to your lips and instinctively you parted them. People on the bridge walk by but your oblivious to anyone else around you but Bryan. He pulled you flush against him. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck. Bryan’s lips ghosted yours and then he paused. You both breathed in each other’s air and finally you gave in, colliding your lips against his. His kisses taste like the mousse you shared and the cocktails he had had during dinner. His tongue swirled against yours. Arousal shot to your core. A hand slipped up the slope of your side and somehow, discreetly, Bryan cupped your breast. His thumb ran over a hardened nipple and you let out a quiet moan. Finally you pull away breathless. Your lipstick was smeared and you could see evidence of it on Bryan’s lips. “Bryan we can’t do this.”

Bryan’s brows knit together and jaw tightened. He pulled away from you and faced the view of Manhattan. “Why? Because we’re on the opposite sides of a case now? I settled.”

You don’t reply and you could feel your eyes brimming with tears.

“I still love you. I haven’t stopped loving you. I know I hurt you. And I have apologized.” Bryan replied, his voice clipped.

“I know you have.” You replied. Your voice cracks and you kick yourself inwardly.

“Then what is it?”

“I’m afraid.” You admitted. “I am scared you’re going to hurt me again.”

“I will do whatever it takes.” Bryan replied. “It won’t be easy since you decided to move to the wrong city.” He adds with a slight sneer.

You laughed haughtily, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t have had to move if you just treated me like a human and not as if I were disposable.”

“I told you I didn’t do the girlfriend thing. And then things got complicated. And I fucked up. It was all fucked. I…” Bryan paused. “I said I was sorry for fucks sake Y/N.”

You knew he was baring his soul. You turn back to him, and cup his bearded cheek. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bryan furrowed his brow once more. “What the fuck does that mean? Does that mean you and I...”

You nodded slowly. “We’ll try again. Because the truth is that I still love you too. And we owe it to at least really try. No more hiding anything to anyone.”

Bryan pulled you into a kiss once more. The kiss was with such intensity, it left your breathless.

“Now would be the time for you to show me your bedroom.” Bryan growled in your ear.

You smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

TBC.

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#the good fight fanfic #bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef and reader #bryan kneef imagine #brian kneef x reader #Brian kneef and reader

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starlightsearches · 4 years ago

Text

Scoundrel

So my inbox decided to delete every request that I had, but lucky for me I actually copied them all down this time! Here’s three requests that I’ve combined into one story, hope you all love it!

Anonymous asked: Lol you reblogged a head cannon from @historymiss about kylo and his “scoundrel” skills and it is just so funny to think about, I’d love to read a fic by you about it. Maybe reader is some type of smuggler being hunted down by the first order and they get away but not before they impress each other with shady skills?

Anonymous asked: Ooh! How about a prompt? “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong” reader to kylo?

Anonymous asked: kylo x reader “is that blood?” “... no?”

Requests are closed ✨

Kylo Ren x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: some angst, language, mentions of sex pollen 😏, mild horniness, not a happy ending 🙁

There's no light at all in your hiding place, just the hard press of metal against your spine and the sound of your own breathing. You close your eyes, not that it changes the much, fill your lungs as quietly as you can manage and then hold your breath, listening closely to the sounds of footsteps as they move past you, the modulated mumbles of storm troopers as they head towards the exit of your ship. It's not easy to track their movements just by sound, but you don't think they found your stash, thank gods. If they all get off your fucking ship, you can be on your way in no time.

"Search completed, sir. No sign of the fugitives." You can just barely hear one of the troopers report to some silent supervisor, and your mind catches on the last word. Fugitives? Who were they looking for? Some people would pay a lot of credits for information like that. Despite its chaotic beginnings, today could still be a lucky one. You press your ear closer to the false wall that you hide behind, furrowing your brow in concentration.

"Complete searches of the rest of the ships, they’re here somewhere," there's a second voice now, and as soon as you hear it, ice floods your veins. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Shit.

Your previous confidence in your hiding place leaves immediately, but you can't move, your sense of self-preservation still convinced that he might slip up this time. You're startled from that delusion almost immediately by a loud pounding sound, and then the panel covering your little shelter gives way to blinding light.

You land on your hands and knees with a loud smack, the impact driving spikes of pain through your bones. Someone—a trooper you assume—is on you immediately, yanking your hands behind your back. As soon as your eyes adjust, he's in your line of sight, filling your view with an expansive blackness.

"You again," he's crouched down beside you, the words almost quiet enough to be a whisper, and said with a kind of reverence that might only exist in your imagination. It's been a long time since you last saw Kylo Ren, but it feels like no time at all.

"We can't keep meeting like this, Commander," you reply, coating your words in a healthy level of sarcasm to hide any trembling that could break through, "People might think that you're in love with me."

He doesn't respond, because he never does, but he lifts his hand to your face, rubbing his thumb roughly against your cheek, the seam of his glove scraping against your skin. "Is that blood?" he asks in the same even tone, raising his hand to eye level; you can just barely make out the dark red smear against the black leather.

" ... No?" And then after a beat, "well, it's not mine." Nothing changes in the man before you, but you hear a modulated snicker from behind, and the trooper mutters an apology when Ren shoots him what you have to assume would be a glare if you could see the face behind his mask.

"Search them," Kylo Ren stands to his full height, and you follow close behind, yanked to your feet unceremoniously by the trooper. Some might find this situation humiliating, being cuffed and patted down on your own ship, but you're able to ignore it rather easily, choosing instead to keep your eyes trained on Ren. He returns your stare, his arms crossed tight over his broad chest, fingers flexing rhythmically against the swell of his biceps. No, being handled like this doesn't bother you at all, but you think it might bother him.

Your weapons are removed one by one, and it's a few minutes before the trooper is satisfied, attaching the cuffs to your wrists and giving you one final shove to signal the end of his search. "Should I take them back to the command shuttle?"

Ren stays silent, and your mind kicks in to lightspeed as you try to come up with a plan. If they got you off this ship, your chances of escape would diminish greatly. You'd need to stay aboard, but how? Fighting both of them wouldn't be an option, especially not weaponless. You'll have to make this up as you go and hope things play out in your favor.

"Leave the prisoner with me for interrogation," he says to the trooper, and you stifle a sigh of relief, "I'll need to search the ship again." You try to keep your emotions in check as you watch the trooper walk towards the exit, following him around the corner and out the door with your eyes. It's just you and Ren now. You could make this work.

He breaks the silence as soon as you're alone, plucking the thoughts right out of your head, "you're not going to escape."

"That's funny, I think you said that the last time we ran into each other," you keep your reply light, your tone laden with a healthy dose of mockery so he won't look any deeper. It's not easy to play tricks on a man with powers like his, which is why you've got to keep him distracted, uncomfortable. After all, this is your arena—he'll have to play by your rules.

He takes you by the shoulder, pushing you further into the ship with a shove that's probably meant to be harsh, but there's no heat behind it. "You can't get away from me," he says, more emphatically. His fingers press deeper into your shoulder, a heavy grip to emphasize his point, like that’s all it would take to keep you with him. He should really know better by now.

You shrug out of his grasp with a little twist, turning to face him in the small corridor, chest to chest, your bound arms sandwiched between you, your own reflection staring back at you through the eyes of his helmet. "I wouldn't count on it, Commander. It's become a hobby of mine to prove you wrong." Your voice is barely a whisper, the heat of your breath creating little clouds of fog on his mask—you're closer than most would dare to be. It's dangerous, the way you get in his space, dangerous how you challenge him, but gods, do you like it.

He chooses to ignore you again, refusing to take the bait, and instead continues his path down the hall, pulling you towards the cargo hold. It's mostly empty right now, with a few scattered transport bins littering the corners—just empty enough to fool any asshole who might try to poke their nose into your business.

"What are you hauling?" Ren asks, unconvinced by your sparse collection, searching the hold with slow, methodical movements.

"I don't know if you could tell, but I'm actually between jobs at the moment," you kick a crate of broken blasters to sell your lie, but it's clear he's not convinced as he walks the length of the hold, searching for any signs of hidden compartments. You take the chance to look around, as well, seeing if there’s anything that might aid your escape, or at least help you get the damn binders off. It’s a waste of time—there’s nothing in here for you, and even if there was, you wouldn’t be able to get to it without Ren noticing. You look back at him, just for a moment, checking to see if he’s distracted enough to ignore your scheming. By then it’s too late—you hear the sound of the panel lifting first, and it's only a second before he's opening the crate hidden beneath, too quick for the cry that rips from your chest but gets caught on the way out.

"Spice, really?" He reaches a gloved hand towards the container of the innocuous-looking yellow powder and your heart threatens to leap out of your throat, your feet moving towards him of their own accord.

"Don't touch that!" The words finally break free as you throw yourself at him—you don't really have a choice. The impact is hard, hard enough to upset his balance as he stumbles backward, catching you in his grasp, his hands gripping at your shoulders to steady you, too. You’re anchored in his arms, but your breathing is coming hard and fast, the adrenaline making home in your veins even if the danger has passed.

"Afraid I might contaminate your supply?" he whispers the question, the words coming low and mocking through the modulator in his helmet. He thinks it's his turn to get under your skin.

"That's not spice," you say, breathing hard, panic still coursing. "It's a highly potent kind of pollen used to, uh, stimulate arousal. Getting even the smallest amount of it on your skin or in your lungs can create an effect that lasts for weeks." He goes still against you, solid as stone, but you can feel his heartbeat running rampant through his body as he realizes the meaning of your words. Neither of you dare to move, afraid of worsening your already precarious situation, even though you’re well out of reach of the container. The tension has sucked all the air from the room and you stutter, trying to bring it back, "there's a king in the Kazyk sector who pays me good money to haul it for him."

"Is it contraband?" His gaze flits from you back to the powder, and then back again. Even though you can't see them, the pressure of his eyes weighs on you, bringing a heat to your cheeks.

"Depends on who you ask. It is expensive, highly coveted, and notoriously hard to transport. It can cause . . . complications when moved, if you're not careful."

"Complications?" You feel yourself flush, your entire body uncomfortably warm—the temperature control on your ship must be malfunctioning. It's only made worse by your proximity to Ren; you can feel his heat passing through the thick fabric he wears, smothering you.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, Commander?" You had wanted to mock him again, using his title like that, but the whisper that leaves your parted lips is absent of any ridicule, your words so soft and wanton that it sends a shiver up your own spine. You can't help but wonder if he's blushing under the mask—if his thoughts are currently consumed, like yours are, by images of bodies intertwined, heady moans passed between parted lips, his hands—ungloved—exploring every inch of you . . .

Your wrists tug against their restraints, unbidden. It's a good thing that you're still cuffed, because if they weren't, you're not sure what would stop you peeling back those layers he wears, taking off that stupid helmet, finally revealing his face. What would he look like, laid bare before you? What would it feel like to be encircled in his arms with nothing between you but desire?

You ball your fists, fingernails pressing crescents into your palms as you try to remove these thoughts from your mind, forcing yourself out of his grasp with a sharp tug, trying to breathe again. Gods, what is wrong with you? Some of the pollen must have gotten into the air and made its way into your system. You turn back, hoping to confirm your theory, but the little pile of yellow powder sits undisturbed, and the air in the cargo hold is heavy and still.

"Just put the lid back on it. I'm not hauling anything else," you command, and to your surprise, Ren obeys, replacing the cover on the container gently so as to not disturb the powder beneath. He grabs you again, by the arm this time so that he can keep his distance, thank gods, not that it helps you cool off—the heat stays trapped beneath your skin for much longer than you’d care to admit.

He takes you through the rest of the ship, stopping occasionally to open one of the many hidden storage compartments scattered throughout, cracking locks, breaking codes seemingly without even trying. He finds all of them—even the ones you made yourself, ones you were sure nobody would be able to locate without your help. It doesn't matter anyway; you were telling the truth before. You're not hauling anything else.

You lean against the wall, watching as he rips away the edge of another panel in the floor, finding it empty, and you roll your eyes. "Not to be a dick, but can't people like you just feel if I'm harboring fugitives on my ship?" He looks up at you, and you hope he can’t see the way you’re still shaking, hope he can’t feel any of the shame you’re trying so desperately to hide. You need him off your ship—no more complications, no more interference.

"People like me?" he asks, with the slightest hint of laughter, just barely detectable behind the modulation. So he does feel it—your embarrassment, the leftover yearning that you can’t seem to elude.

You roll your eyes again, as if the movement itself could create the nonchalance you’re trying so hard to mimic. You want to be annoyed at him. You want to be unaffected, cool despite what just happened. But it’s not working. "You know what I mean. Couldn't you just sense them?"

"I know you're not hiding the people we're searching for,” he admits, sliding the floor panel back in place, “and I found all of these- "he gestures vaguely down the hall, the evidence of his handiwork littered along the corridor "-on my own." It’s hard to be sure when you can’t see his face, but you think he might be smug about it all.

You furrow your brow, thoughts humming, trying to piece together this interaction in a way that makes sense. When that fails, you resort to mockery.

“. . . So you've been ripping my whole ship apart for what? Just to show off?” Your heart jumps when you see him freeze—the physical changes slight, but not beyond your notice—a slow smile spreading across your face. You’ve got him now.

“You are trying to show off, aren’t you? I have to admit it, I’m impressed,” he stays where he is as you move closer, the visor of his mask trained on you, his muscles taut like he’s ready to run. Who would have thought that, in this scenario, you’d be the dominant one?

“That’s not-” he stutters—you can hear it through the vocoder, and you laugh, just a short, breathy thing. You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted from the goal at hand, but this is much more fun.

“No need to be embarrassed, I tend to have that effect on people. Everybody loves a scoundrel.” You flash him a cheeky smile, and he bristles, folding his arms over his chest again and standing to his full height. You can see the tension in him, practically pulling him apart. He wants to run from you. He wants to stay.

“Not me,” he says like he wants to believe it, but you can’t miss the way his voice shakes.

“You especially, Commander. The Order and its people are far too proper for someone like you. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

The silence that follows your words fills the space, leaving little room for air. Maybe you’re hallucinating, but he might inch closer, his fingers twitching, maybe to reach for the latches in his helmet, maybe to bury them in your hair.

The sound of pounding footsteps against the durasteel floor shocks the breath back into your lungs, but even as the trooper dashes into view, Ren doesn’t pull away.

“Sir, there’s a problem,” the trooper huffs, and after a pause, Ren rips his eyes away from you. The trooper hesitates, now, realizing that he’s barged in on what probably looks to him like a private moment. “Uh, there’s a small band of Resistance fighters attacking the troops, we believe they’re here for the fugitives.”

Ren’s immediately on the move, his cloak snapping from the speed of his departure, and you and the trooper glance at each other for a moment before they follow after Ren, and you do too, curious to see the commotion. Despite his limited headstart, Ren seems to have vanished from the corridors of your ship, no trace of him at all, the only sounds echoing through the hallway coming from your own footsteps and the soft jingle of the trooper’s movements.

The jingling. You’re almost to the door before you realize what that sound means, and you want to smack yourself. You can see the keys now, out of the corner of your eye. Escape had never been closer, and you almost missed it. You choose to ignore the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you about what had caused you to become so distracted. You don’t have time to think about it now. You have a plan.

The trooper startles when you yelp, tripping over nothing before you go sprawling, landing on the floor with a clang. You watch him from the ground as he stares back at you, hesitant, glancing towards the exit before his eyes fall to you again.

“A little help?” You sell it, make it look like a struggle as you try and fail to find your feet, but the trooper still doesn’t move just yet, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Then he takes the bait.

“Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, falling into him as he pulls you to your feet, bracing yourself against the duraplast of his uniform before pulling the keys from his belt with a deft tug and tucking them into your palm.

He doesn’t even notice, running as soon as you're stable, and you follow behind, spinning the key in your palms angling it just right until you hear the snap of release. You catch the cuffs, trying to limit the noise they make as they fall from your sore and stiff wrists. You’re free.

The trooper exits the ship immediately, off to help his comrades, but Ren is still by the door, deflecting the odd blaster fire. Most of the fighting is far past your ship, on the other side of the yard, but one or two stragglers have decided to aim his way. You watch from around the corner, listen as the sounds of fired shots ends with strangled cries. You move in behind him, getting close, holding the cuffs in place as best you can.

“Looks like the fight has moved on without you,” you announce your presence, and he turns to look at you, but your eyes are on the saber, burning bright and wicked by his side. “Impressive, but not very useful long range. Blasters are more . . . versatile.”

He gives you a hard look—a searching look—before raising his hand, the fingers flexing in his gloves. Your blaster, the one the trooper pulled off of you earlier, nudges past you on its way to his hand and you jump out of the way, hardly noticing the smooth movement with which he fires, the bodies dropping even from this range as he shoots into the crowd with perfect accuracy.

You’ve never seen him in action like this before. Despite the number of times you had come face to mask with Kylo Ren, he’s never used his powers on you. Something about the realization is frightening.

“We need to leave,” he says, interrupting your thoughts, “back to my shuttle.” He’s looking at you again, head inclined, like it’s a question instead of a demand. And the stupidest part of you wants to go. You force that part of yourself to be quiet.

He deactivates his saber, drops your blaster and reaches for you, his hand stretched out the same way it had only a few moments ago, but there’s none of the same power behind it; you still feel the pull.

“I know,” he says, and the cuffs fall from your hands because there’s no point in hiding anymore, “but . . .you still could-” he swallows hard enough for you to hear through the modulator, “-we still could . . .”

You walk towards him, your footsteps slow and even and he trembles, his fingers shaking again for an entirely different reason, and they don’t stop, not when they meet your waist, not when your hands grip both sides of his helmet, trying to find a hold against the cold metal.

“I’ll tell you what, Commander,” you say with a whisper, pulling him closer, close enough to rest your forehead against his, “I’ll go with you . . . the next time you catch me.”

It’s a smooth movement, unexpected—first you pull him close, pressing a kiss to the front of his mask, imagining the way his lips must be flushing in response, imagining what it would be like without the ridiculous apparatus in the way. He’s unbalanced, a little surprised, and when you push him back he doesn’t anticipate it, falling, flailing, until he lands with a thud in the soft mud outside of your ship.

“Until next time, Commander!” you call down to him as the hatch lifts, running to the cockpit as fast as your legs will carry you. You’re in a panic as you start up the ship, a shake in your hands that makes it hard to hit the right controls but you don’t stop until you hit lightspeed, trying your hardest to breathe.

You plug in the right coordinates and sit back in the pilot’s chair, brushing your hand across your cheek, picking up the stray moisture that lingers there. You don’t remember when the tears started. You’re not sure how to stop. It seems like today isn’t your lucky day after all.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren #my writing #requests #anons #historymiss

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ikevamp-annalyne · 4 years ago

Text

Annalyne Sonata [IkeVamp OC]

Hey guys! I am so verry happy to finally being able to officially introduce my IkeVamp OC, Annalyne! ٩(●ᴗ●)۶

This is a very long post, but I hope you won’t be discouraged and will enjoy learning a bit more about her, and the story I imagined for her (^.^)ゞ

I also commissioned the MOST AMAZING ARTIST EVER @lemonsqueazie for drawing my baby OC! ღවꇳවღ She is my favourite artist, and also an amazing human being that I love very much. She is so attentive to what you tell her, always doing everything to meet your ideas and make the best art for you! I highly recommend to check out her blog @lemonsqueazie alongside her Instagram and her DeviantArt post about her commissions! You can also find all the infos here.

NOW, ON WITH THE OC! (๑ゝڡ◕๑)

Name: Annalyne

Last name: Sonata

Nicknames: Anna, Nana, Lyn

DOB: June, 19, 1995 (25 years old)

Origin: French

Languages: French, English, Spanish, Italian, German, Japanese, Korean

Height: 160cm (5.25ft)

Sexuality: pan

Job: freelance fashion designer, blogger, gamer

Passions: fashion, drawing, eating, baking, cooking, videogames, reading, music

Phobias: larvas and maggots, bugs (except ladybugs)

Lover: Leonardo Da Vinci

"Heh? What is this? Kinda like a storage room?"

Annalyne is a very chill woman, taking things at her own pace and working hard towards her goals and dreams. When she doesn't work, she becomes a lazy slug chilling with a good book or videogames -part of why she is also a gamer-.

Her most prominent traits are definitely: her kindness, her humour -made of bad puns and references-, her caring side, her clumsiness and her supportive behaviour. Number one fan of her family and friends.

She will always go out of her way to make her loved ones feel loved, supported or just important. She can also easily throw hands if needed. No one messes with her or her close ones without getting punished.

She has a hard time trusting people. It looks like she is close to everyone, but she hardly confides in people. It takes a hecking long time to build a relationship of trust with her -due to some childhood traumas-

She is strong-willed and -way too- a tad stubborn. But she compensates by being very sweet and cute. She can be very anxious but eating calms her, explaining her chubbiness. Also, count on her for helping everyone.

She is very good at cooking and baking, and loves making things herself. She loves dogs, but honestly, she loves almost every animal ever. She has a talent with them, understanding them beyond reason: animals love her.

"Call me the PUNisher."

She is easily triggered by disrespect, racism, homophobia, bullying and abuse. She can kick your ass off if needed, being very rude and violent when angry -she already broke the arm of a racist, and slapped Shakespeare...-

Comte is the one engaging conversation with her, asking her if she likes this painting. She is hyper excited talking about it and Comte cannot help but giggle, finding a Da Vinci's fangirl in modern days being pretty rare.

How she met Comte:

Annalyne lives near Paris and absolutely loves museums. Therefore she spends a hella lot of time in the Louvre, especially contemplating Da Vinci's works. She meets Comte in front of Da Vinci's painting Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

They spend some time debating and chatting over Leonardo Da Vinci's life, works of art and other controversies. He smiles a lot throughout the whole chat, since he wonders how his old friend would react.

How she ends up in Comte's mansion:

Comte bids her goodbye after they have finally seen Mona Lisa from up close. She thanks him for the delightful conversation, happy she has met someone as knowledgeable as him on her favourite historical figure.

She is taken aback, quite surprised, and thinks the mansion is a storage room. Maybe the man is actually an employee? She is curious though so she walks through the hall and stares at everything in awe.

When he leaves, waving his hand, his pocket watch falls and Annalyne picks it up. She chases after Comte all over the museum and sees him going through a door. She opens it and ends up in the mansion's hall.

Who she meets:

While discovering the hall, she stumbles upon Leonardo who's asleep. She doesn't want to wake him up but God, she stares for a good minute at the sleeping man. "I have never seen such a gorgeous man..."

She walks past him and continues looking for Comte. But then, Napoleon appears and asks her who she is, and what she does here. She tells him she wants to find the gorgeous blonde man to give him his watch.

He offers to give to him in lieu of her. But she is wary of him, a stranger. And Comte appears, the noise having caught up his attention. He recognises Annalyne and is surprised she is there. She gives him the watch.

The first dinner:

Comte gladly accepts the watch and asks her if she wants to dine with him and the residents of this mansion. Mansion? She stares at him, dumbfounded, and frowns. "Mansion? Isn't that a storage room or something?"

Comte giggles and promises to explain it all over dinner. Her trust for Comte and her love for food makes her accepting the offer. How surprised she is upon seeing all these people gather around a huge table!

She sits down and gets served by Sebastian, under all the surprised looks. Comte then proceeds on explaining it all to her: how all the residents in there are famous historical figures, and how she is the past.

How she reacts:

She is surprised, but she believes in timelapse, magic, etc. So she just stares in surprise and shock but is soon overexcited to meet all these people who changed history and inspired her throughout her whole life.

She will ask a bunch of questions to each of them, questions she has always been curious about, like the rumours and alleged controversies. Even when she hears about not being able to go back in her time, she is strangely chill about it.

"Well, there's no helping it! I will come up with a lie when I go back there!" But she will write letters and leave them -along jewels of hers- in places she thinks her friends or family could find them in the future.

Meeting her soulmate:

Sebastian shows her her room and then tells her to explore the mansion if she wants to. What she does! She then remembers the man sleeping in the hall? He must be a historical figure as well, but who can he be...?

She wants to know so she goes to find him and stumbles upon him, nearly falling on top of him. He seems awake since he is sitting on the floor. He had heard her footsteps so he smiles at her. "Well, who do we got there, Cara Mia?"

She smiles at the Italian nickname and tells him everything about her being here. He is surprised she is so chill about it but he smiles and introduces himself. "Well Cara Mia, nice to meet you. I'm Leonardo Da Vinci."

Upon hearing the name, her eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat. She stares, her heart beating faster every passing second. His smile is intoxicating and she cannot help but blush and stutter.

"W-well, nice to meet you, Leonar- huh Sir Leonardo? How, how should I call you?" He laughs."Leonardo is enough, Cara Mia." He smiles and pats her head before standing up. "Watch yourself, Cara Mia."

Her reaction upon the vampiric reveal:

After having talked with Comte and decided to stay in his mansion, she actually wonders how he could resurrect them. She decides to ask Sebastian, her new colleague, and he just shows her the Rouge and Blanc bottles.

"What's that?" She asks, pretty curious."Take a look and you will understand." She first goes for the Rouge and recognises the metallic smell of blood. She stares at Sebastian. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"They are all vampires. Except I, who is human." She widens her eyes, sueprised, and then goes "Aaaaah, that's how he did! Makes sense!" She smiles. "Is Comte the one who transformed them all or no?" "He did, yes."

"So, is he like, a pureblood vampire? A superior vampire who can turn humans into vampires?" "How do you know about this?" "Oh please, Sebastian. Cinema, animes, mangas and books are full of vampires."

Sebastian stares at her, bewildered. "And you are not afraid? They could easily feed off of you, even kill you." "Oh please Sebastian, they're more like puppies than wolves! If they were capable of this, you wouldn't be here!"

"Plus," she says while flashing a big dumb grin. "If they wanted to eat me, they would have already bitten me and emptied me of all my blood. They are not dangerous." Sebastian is shocked at how chill she is.

Her relationships with the residents:

She gets close to every resident ofthe mansion pretty fast, especially since she is not pushy, funny, kind, calm and knowledgeable on a lot of matters. They all grow a soft spot for her, even shyer and harsher residents.

Napoleon: they bond over cooking and baking. Also, since she is French, she can tell him about the impact he had on her country.

Mozart: music is common ground for them. She knows a lot about him and will sing for him, being allowed in the music room.

Arthur: writing sessions together, in his room or hers. They tease each other a lot and she is quick to react to his flirting.

Vincent: they are very close, bonding over drawing and painting. They talk a lot about art and have art sessions.

Theodorus: she doesn't let him win with his harsh replies and he likes that. She is strong and adores Vincent: he likes her a lot.

Isaac: she isn't pushy and gives him room so he likes talking with or teaching her a few things. They often meet in his room.

Jean: he likes how pure she is but she doesn't let him avoid her. She will do anything to befriend him and he gives in.

Dazai: sharing writing ideas brings them closer. They also laugh a lot because they are both airheads amd chaotic walking memes.

William: she likes his work but hates him. She will always avoid him, or shoot sharp daggers glares at him.

Comte: the father figure. She loves going to him to talk or when she needs some calm, and having tea together.

Sebastian: always laughing and teasing each other. She will flick his forehead when he assumes things for her.

Her relationship with her soulmate:

She is a Da Vinci's fangirl so of course, she is a mess around him. At first, she just blushes a lot, stutters a bit around him and she fangirls when he is not around. "Omg I can't believe I witnessed him sketching!!!"

They bond very easily since they both love arts. And Leonardo is very curious about her fashion style, her job, and basically how the world works in modern days -she spent an entire night talking about phones-

One day, he finds her sighing in her room: "what's the problem?". "Ah, nothing, I'm just, not comfortable in Comte's dresses. I'm more into trousers or skirts from my time." He is curious so she tells him about modern day fashion.

"Ah, so women wear pants and shirts. Whatever they want." She nods excitiedly."Yeah, and I hope one day men will be able to do so as well! Wear skirts and dresses and heels. But toxic masculinity is still pretty deep..."

"Wait for me, Cara Mia" and he dashes off the room, to come back later with a stack of shirts and trousers. "Here, take these. They're mine but for now, it will do. Tomorrow, we're going shopping for you."

And they do go shopping the next day, buying loads of men clothes alongside jewels and shoes. Also, they buy fabrics, needles and everything for Annalyne to sew her own clothes. He loves seeing her so happy.

She spends the next days adjusting Leonardo's clothes and the ones they bought to her chubby curves. And Leonardo surprises her by wearing a dress. They go have dinner like this: her in men's clothes, him in women's clothes.

Legend says every resident nearly choked themselves of either shock or laughter. And Leonardo and Annalyne really enjoyed it a lot and decided to do this at least once a week -Leo enjoyed the dress, actually-

The purebloodness revelation:

She catches very early on that he is a pureblood, without him even telling her. She is extra sensitive so she kinda feels auras and saw how Comte and Leonardo's eyes are similar. His genius made even more sense.

"Leonardo. Are you like Comte, a pureblood vampire?" She asked him while they were shopping for fabrics. Leonardo nearly fell out of surprise. "What are you talking about, Cara Mia?" "Well, you know..."

"Same eyes as Comte, genius who can do anything, super strong and intimidating aura. Open-minded as if you've already seen everything, and laziness that can be explained by already having done everything possible..."

He stares at her and then laughs, patting and ruffling her hair. "You're awfully clever and intuitive, Cara Mia. Yes, I am a pureblood. Does it change anything between us? "HELL NO!" she shouts. "But I've got questions!!!"

She drowns him under questions on everything he's done, seen, lived. They spend almost all of their time together, teaching each other about their lives and their knowledge. Residents are jealous of the Leonardo monopoly.

How it "ends" between them:

She is a strong woman and will go back to her time. But she promises Leonardo she will find him, right after returning to her time. He asks her what day it was, when she entered the mansion. "March, 15th, 2020."

When she leaves, while everyone is crying, Leonardo calculates. "Okay, gone for a month in her time, so she'll be in the Louvre in April, 15th, 2020. Ah. My birthday." He smiles. Almost 200 years, but it will be so worth it.

When she passes through the door, she is back in her time. Asking a guide what day it is. "April, 15th, 2020". The day they agreed upon, and Leonardo's birthday. She smiles and then proceeds to rush out of the Louvre to look for him.

But then she passes in front of Saint-Jean-Baptiste. Her favourite painting. A tall and gorgeous man is standing there, in a blue shirt and blue jeans. She feels it. She goes to the man, pats him on the shoulder, and asks: "Leonardo...?"

The man turns around, a huge grin on his face, bright golden eyes shining with love: "Was about time, Cara Mia..." she cries and throws herself at his neck; he spins her, crying as well, burrying his face in her neck.

"I missed you so much. Never do this again. 200 years was worth it but it was too long." She is a mess while crying. "I, I pwomiss Leo, I will neba leaf you again-" he laughs at her messy face. "Look at you, silly girl." He kisses her.

"I want you to see how much I love you in my eyes. They speak on my behalf."

Trivia facts:

She has a tiny water spray bottle she labelled as "Holy Water". Whenever a resident smiles or laughs, she opens it and "collects" their happiness. Thus, when one is talking shit about himself, she sprays the water on them.

"There, you have been blessed with Holy Water. Now love yourself or I agressively hug you." -the mistake on the label,on "thoughts" is intended, as it is is a mix between thots and thoughts, bitch thoughts she's gonna spray away.

She hates Shakespeare, Faust and Vlad. Whenever they pass by the mansion, she grabs the garden hose she labelled "Garden Hoes" and splashes water on them. "Oh no, you walking sin, stay away from my babies!"

She eats A LOT and puts shame on Theo when it comes to eating sweet things. They have pancake-eating competitions -and guess what, she wins-. She will be snacking 24/7 when nervous, anxious, sad and basically under negative emotions.

She listens to every type of music. She really enjoys any kind of rock music, and is also very knowledgeable on classical music. She likes to dance on Kpop and sing on Disney songs: her favourites are definitely I’ll Make A Man Out Of You and Why Should I Worry -in French-

She used to practice martial arts so she can beat the crap out of anyone being a little sh*t with her or her loved ones. She also has a very scary aura when furious, leading to most people just running away from her wrath.

She loves gossiping with Arthur. Whenever she knows about some rumours, or when she needs to talk about something that upset her, she goes to his room with coffee or tea. They both irradiate chaotic gossiping energy when together.

She is the mom friend, and becomes the mom of the mansion. She already told Jean to “get his bottoms in the living room to eat with all of them”, else she was going to kick his butt so hard he would be unable to sit or practice fencing.

All the animals LOVE her. Chérie is missing? She is cuddling with her in the patio. Lumiere is not under the bed? He is sleeping on her laps while she reads. King is nowhere to be found? She is playing with him in the garden. Snow White vibe.

She loves flowers and will put some all over the mansion. She puts one every day in front of every resident’s door, with a message written on a tiny piece of paper, something like: “You are a sweetheart and you deserve the best, keep going, dearie!”

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #ikevamp oc

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