#im not making any promises for quick uploads though but i figure i can just put this out there for now and see where it takes us <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tobesolonely · 4 years ago

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muse

A/n: hello everyone!! im very excited to put this out :-) i was going to make a long one shot but ive never written anything multi-part before and i wanted to give it a go!! also my first time with an oc 🌟so i hope everyone enjoys!! not sure when the next part will come out but i wanna upload at least once a week or every two weeks or something idk haha but anywayssss lmk ur thoughts!

biggest, biggest thank u to my love @harryysstyless for beta reading and being so encouraging<333 luv u!!

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Los Angeles was your newest muse.

You had always been the spontaneous type. It came as no shock to your family and friends when you told them you had purchased a one-way ticket and were moving across the country. Although your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter moving so far away from them, they helped you withdraw your savings and find a modest apartment in LA before sending you on your way.

Your reason for moving to LA was simple, really. You were a freelance photographer that felt your career was growing rather… stagnant. You had a thick portfolio and were proud of the work you produced, but your clientele wasn’t as impressive as you’d hope it would be after nearly six years of working at it.

And so began your desire to move from New York to Los Angeles— one big city to the next.

People who knew you often described you as ambitious, fiery, and an absolute go-getter. If your big move scared you in any way, no one knew any better. Your confidence never faltered— not even in the slightest.

After nearly three months of being in LA, you developed a routine of sorts. You’d wake up, eat a breakfast that almost always consisted of avocado toast and coffee, and go on a run. After your run, you would come home, shower, and decide how far you wanted to venture to take pictures that day.

Sometimes your roommates, Serena and Iman, would join you to keep you company. Although you’d never met either one of them before answering their ad for a roommate on Craigslist, you had grown extremely close to the girls in the few months that you’d known them. Despite the two girls being friends since their childhood, they never made you feel left out, and you fit in with them effortlessly.

During your short time in the city, there were so many places you had been, but still, even more you had yet to see. Serena and Iman, both native Angelenos, would often suggest spots for you to check out and even offer to drive you around— you were from New York after all, and at twenty-four years old, you were still not the owner of a driver's license.

“You’ve never been to North Hollywood yet, right Aminah?” Iman questioned as you all lounged around, trying to come up with a place you had not yet been.

“No, I haven’t really gone anywhere farther than walking distance,” you reply, looking around the cramped living room for your camera bag. “Or the places you guys have driven me. That was still considered Downtown though, right? Where we went the other day?” You were still getting used to how absolutely massive Los Angeles was.

“We should go to Santa Monica or something— wait, Malibu!” Serena exclaims. “We have to go to Malibu, Mina. It’s so nice there, you could totally get a bunch of good shots.”

“Yeah, we might even see a celebrity!” Iman chimes in, stifling laughter.

It was an on-going joke between the three of you. When you first moved to LA, you told your roommates that you couldn’t wait to make your way around the city because you were hoping to run into a celebrity. It was Los Angeles after all— you figured they were everywhere.

You quickly learned that wasn’t the case. Celebrities here kept a low-profile and even if you did encounter a celebrity, it’s not like you would approach them. “You’re not funny, Iman,” you tell your roommate with a roll of your eyes.

“Yes I am,” Iman quips, wiggling her eyebrows. “If we’re gonna go to Malibu then I gotta change. Can I borrow a cute shirt from anyone?”

A short twenty minutes later, the three of you were piled in Serena’s car on your way to Malibu. You’d heard of the city before and knew it was a wealthy area, but that’s about it. Your roommates promised you that out of all the beaches in LA, Malibu had the nicest ones, and lots of places to take pictures. Since none of you had anything to do, you all decided it was as good a day as any to have a beach day and get some shots of your roommates to add to your portfolio. Since you didn’t know anyone except Serena and Iman, the pictures on your camera from the last few months consisted entirely of nature and inanimate objects. While it was good practice, you really preferred to photograph actual people.

“Traffic is so bad today,” you say from the backseat after traveling approximately two feet in five minutes. Iman snorts from the passenger side.

“When isn’t traffic bad, Mina,” she turns to look at you, an amused look on her face. “Don’t worry about it. It always gets backed up at this fuckin’ exit and then as soon as we get past it there’s like, zero traffic.”

“Right! I always complain about how shitty this exit is. I have no clue who designed it,” Serena adds, skipping through songs on her playlist. “It’s still early in the day, though. I’m just hoping the beach won’t be too crowded by the time we get there.”

“I don’t care how crowded the beach is. I just don’t want it to take us forty minutes to find parking…”

You tune out your roommate's voices, instead choosing to focus on the traffic jam outside the car. To Serena and Iman, people who were born and raised in Los Angeles, the city wasn’t necessarily anything special. Sure, they loved how there was always something to do, but the bad drivers, traffic, and smog got old. The novelty of LA hadn’t yet worn off to you, though. You didn’t know how your roommates were content to sit inside the apartment all day when there were tons of things to do basically right outside your doorstep. You felt like you were the one convincing them to go out with you half of the time, and you didn’t even know where you were going.

After what feels like almost entirely too long but was really only half an hour, Serena pulls into a fairly empty parking lot. “Are we not allowed to be here?”

“Why do you think that?” Iman asks, squinting her eyes to read a sign. “It doesn’t say it’s closed. I mean, there are a few cars–– look.” She points to a few cars scattered around the parking lot.

“I mean, it is nine in the morning on a Wednesday. People are probably at work,” you tell the two girls in the front seat. “Besides, there’s someone in the parking booth. Can you even close a beach?”

Serena drives forward, rolling down her window. “I mean, I guess not. You can close the parking lot, though.” You hum in agreement. She quickly pays for parking and tosses her receipt on the dashboard before driving slowly through the parking lot.

“I love when no one’s at the beach,” Iman sighs, clapping her hands. “No one will get in the way of your picture-taking either, Meens.”

You smile at the nickname. “Yeah, that’s true. We picked a perfect time to come too, guys. The lighting’s great.”

“Really? Is it gonna make my skin pop?” Iman turns around and sticks her arm out, sensually running her fingers along it.

“You always look good no matter what the lighting’s like, Iman,” you reply, refraining from rolling your eyes at her. “You have the glowiest complexion out of all of us.”

“We’re literally all the same skin-tone, Aminah,” she retorts, crossing her arms.

“We have different undertones, though,” you answer. “So not really. Plus, Serena is way lighter than us! What are you talking about?”

“Should I park here?” Serena asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Why here? All these empty spots and you wanna park directly next to this car?”

“This is a good spot, Iman. It’s a parking lot. If they didn’t want anyone to park next to them, they should’ve taken an Uber and got dropped off.” She turns into the spot, quickly putting the car in park and crossing her arms to prove her point.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, smiling at your friends’ bickering. They were so close they were basically sisters. They argued sometimes and were quick to call the other out on their shit, and you loved it.

“I just think you’re weird for parking next to this car. It’s a nice car.”

“Who cares, girl?” Serena groans, exasperated. “We’re gonna be on the beach. They’ll probably be gone before we will.” She pops the trunk before unplugging her phone from the aux cord and stepping outside. Iman mimics her before flinging the door open as well and stepping out of the car.

You make sure your camera bag is closed all the way before situating it over your shoulder and climbing out of the car as well.

“It’s kinda cold,” Iman says, wrapping her arms around her body. “If I knew it would be so overcast I would’ve bought a jacket.” Serena hums in agreement and you look up at the sky, unphased.

“It’s like, seventy degrees?” you look at the weather app on your phone in confirmation.

“We get it, Meens. You’re from New York,” Serena teases, closing her trunk. She hands you a few towels and a blanket to carry while she rolls the cooler and Iman carries the beach chairs and umbrella.

“It’s a cold seventy degrees and you know it,” Iman defends. “Look at my goosebumps. I can’t fake this shit.” You shake your head at your overly dramatic friends and follow them down to the beach. You take off your sandals as soon as you’re off the pavement, wiggling your toes in the cold sand.

“We can set up pretty much wherever we want,” Serena points out, tucking flyaway curls behind her ears. “Where do you think the best place to be is, Mina? Y’know, so you can get good pictures?”

“It doesn’t really matter, to be honest,” you tell them distractedly, too busy looking around the beach in awe. Your friends were right–– out of all the beaches you’d visited in Los Angeles so far, this one was the nicest (and cleanest). “Maybe we can get a little closer to the water?”

The three of you walk for a couple of minutes before Iman abruptly stops, dramatically dropping everything she was carrying. “Let’s just set up here. There’s no one around anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“There actually is someone around,” you tell them, looking at a stranger who seemed to be fixated on staring at you and your friends. “Don’t look, but a cute guy is staring at us.” Serena and Iman immediately turn around, shading their eyes from the bit of sun that was starting to peek through the clouds. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away from where you were setting up.

...“Huh,” Serena says, turning back around. “Is it just me, or does that guy look a lot like Harry Styles?” She looks back over her shoulder again, but he’s no longer staring at the three of you, focusing on what appeared to be a book instead.

“Why would Harry Styles be at the beach by himself at nine in the morning?” Iman asks, unfolding a beach chair and flopping down on it.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s Malibu, dude,” Serena responds. You could tell your friends were about to start bickering again, so you quickly jump in.

“Doesn’t matter. Neither one of you would go up to him even if it was, so what’s the point in arguing about it?” They both raise their eyebrows at you.

“And you would, Mina? Bullshit!” Iman exclaims, laughing. “I dare you to go see if it’s him, and if it is, ask him if he wants to join us.”

“That’s weird! What if it’s not him?”

“Even if it’s not him, we’ll still get to hang out with a cute boy.” Iman points out. Serena nods in agreement and you can’t deny that she makes a convincing argument. “Just ask him if he wants a mimosa or something!”

“No, don’t ask that,” Serena interjects. “Tell him that you’re a photographer and you’re working on building a new portfolio. Ask him if he would be cool with you photographing him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Are you sure that’s not weird, Serena?”

“Aminah, trust me. I wouldn’t deliberately let you make yourself look weird.” Your roommate reassures you.

And so you found yourself clearing the short distance to where the handsome stranger was laid, half hoping it was Harry Styles, half hoping it was not. You couldn’t act like you weren’t a fan of him–– you thought he was incredibly attractive and enjoyed his music just like most people. If Harry Styles was the first celebrity you encountered during your short time in Los Angeles, you‘d never stop talking about it. Ever.

When you’re almost to him he looks up, dog-earring the page he’s on. After making eye contact with him, there’s no mistaking that this is Harry Styles. You pinch the back of your hand, urging yourself not to freak out. He has a knowing look on his face and you’re grateful for your darker complexion that hides your blush.

“Hi,” you speak first, stopping a few feet away from him. “Uh, my friends and I are just uh, we’re... you know.” You internally wince at your inability to form a coherent sentence. His gaze never breaks from yours and you look away first, growing shyer by the second. If you thought he was beautiful on Instagram, he was even more gorgeous in person. It was incredible.

“Hi,” he finally says after a brief moment of silence. “‘M sorry if I was starin’ at you ladies a moment ago. I jus’ usually never see anyone else this early out here. Are you a photographer?”

You almost ask him how he knows when you realize your camera is still hanging around your neck. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” He’s still staring intently at you.

“Would you like to sit?”

You look over your shoulder at Serena and Iman who were pretending to be preoccupied putting on sunscreen, but you know they were waiting for you to come back with the man you now knew to be Harry Styles.

“Oh, my friends are waiting for me,” Harry looks up at you patiently, waiting for you to continue speaking. “I was actually going to photograph them. I’m working on building up my portfolio. I understand if you can’t for… I dunno, legal reasons? Or if you just don’t want to–– and that’s fine if you don’t, but would it be okay if I photographed you as well?”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. It’s kinda boring jus’ readin’ out here on my own,” he agrees quickly, surprising you. Harry stands up and stretches a bit before leaning down to gather up his blanket, towel, water bottle, and book. “What’s your name? I’m Harry.”

You know that Harry knows that you know exactly who he is, but the fact that he introduced himself to you makes him even more endearing. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aminah.”

Harry extends his free hand to you. “It’s very nice to meet you, Aminah.” You love the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth.

As you approach Serena and Iman, their eyes go wide when they realize it really was him. Serena nudges Iman and you know without even having heard it that she’s saying, “I told you so!” Harry stops a bit behind you, smiling at them.

“Hello,” he starts. “S’okay if I join you ladies? Aminah here extended such a nice offer that I jus’ couldn’t pass it up, but wanna check with the two of you first.”

Serena’s mouth is shamelessly hanging open, and you realize that she may have been a bigger fan than she let on. Iman answers for them. “Of course! Mina’s building her portfolio and I bet it would look like, super cool, if you were a part of it!” Harry nods, setting the few things he had with him down.

“I don’t think I would even be the center of attention if ‘m sittin’ beside you beautiful ladies. I’ll jus’ act as a prop or something,” he flashes them a dimpled smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your names? I’m Harry.”

“We know,” Iman answers a little too quickly. “I’m Iman and this is Serena.” Serena gives him a timid wave.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you all. Are you guys from around here?” He lays his blanket beside all of your stuff and sits down cross-legged, not once breaking eye contact with any of you. You had no idea how he did it.

“We live Downtown. We’re only over here so Mina could get some good pictures, she’s a photographer,” Iman answers proudly. “She’s amazing, but she’ll never admit it.”

“Iman…,” you trail off. “Stop, dude.”

“It’s true,” Serena jumps into the conversation, now seemingly over the initial shock of who was sitting barely two feet away from her. “She’s the best photographer I know.” Harry turns to look at you, an amused look on his face.

“That’s a hefty claim. I can’t wait to see your photography skills, Aminah.”

“They’re just hyping me up,” you reply, making a mental note to yell at your friends for embarrassing you once the three of you were alone again. “I’m not that good.”

“That looks pretty professional to me,” Harry says, gesturing to the camera that has not yet left your neck since arriving at the beach. “I bet you’re just as good as they say you are.” You look away, hiding your face. Iman, being the wing woman she is, can tell you’re growing flustered from all the attention and moves the conversation away from you.

“Do any of y’all want a mimosa?” Before anyone can even answer her, she’s popping open the champagne and handing the orange juice to Serena to open. Harry politely declines, as he drove himself to the beach that morning. You and Iman are ultimately the only ones who indulge in a drink since you were the only ones not driving.

Talking to Harry was like catching up with an old friend. He wanted to know everything about the three of you and whenever he felt the conversation was becoming too much about him, he quickly changed the subject. Harry learned that Iman and Serena have been friends since the second grade when Iman pushed some boy off of the monkey bars for teasing Serena. He learned your favorite take-out spots, your favorite bars, and what freeways Iman and Serena tried to avoid at all cost (it was the 405, which he agreed with). What seemed to intrigue Harry the most, though, was him learning that you just moved from New York and had never even been to Los Angeles before moving.

“Why did you pick somewhere all the way across the country that you’d never even vacationed at before?” He had a look of confusion written across his face. You shrug, not really knowing the answer.

“I mean, I’ve seen it on TV shows and in movies. That doesn’t count?” you joke. Harry still looks utterly bewildered.

“I mean… no?”

Serena laughs. “We were just as confused as you were, Harry. We were scared for a moment when she moved in because we were like, oh shit, what if she’s insane? You know? Like, what sane person would move all the way across the country to live somewhere they’d never even vacationed before?”

You let out an offended, “heyyyy”, lightly smacking Serena’s thigh. “I just needed a change and I’m a drastic person! I either go all-in when I do something, or I just don’t do it at all.” You defend yourself.

“I actually think that’s really fuckin’ cool,” Harry says after a moment. “Sometimes I wish I could just… up an’ go. Y’know?” you all nod, and it falls silent again. “Well, should we take some pictures now?”

Any intimidation you felt to photograph Harry disappeared as soon as he started posing for you.

Being that he was a major celebrity, he was no stranger to posing for a photoshoot. Harry was ethereal–– you knew the pictures of him would most likely require minimal to no editing. Serena and Iman also looked incredible, and you were thankful to have such gorgeous people as your muses. You were taking pictures of them in various places around the beach, only stopping once it started getting too crowded. There were starting to be too many people in the background of your shots and Harry wanted to get going, not particularly in the mood to be recognized. The three of you decide you should get going too. You had more than enough pictures to go through and besides, you were all starting to grow hungry.

Harry follows the three of you to the parking lot, keeping his head down the entire way. The closer you got to Serena’s car, the sadder you got. You didn’t want to stop talking to Harry and photographing him. However, you knew you were just in the right place at the right time, and it was likely that you’d never cross paths with him any time soon–– if ever again.

“Thank you for letting me photograph you,” you tell him sincerely once you were almost to Serena’s car. “That was really kind of you. I can promise you I won’t post them anywhere without your permission or like, disclose the location or anything like that.”

Harry finally looks up, determining you were far enough away from the crowds and he was no longer at risk of getting recognized. “It was my pleasure, really. Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends. It was a lot of fun getting to know you all.” You feel your body heat up.

“Where did you park?”

“Right there,” Harry points straight ahead. “You?”

You let out a loud laugh, causing Serena and Iman, who was walking slightly ahead of you and Harry, to turn around and look at the two of you. “We parked right next to you! Iman was getting on Serena for parking next to you because the lot was pretty much empty when we got here this morning.”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess it’s fate that we crossed paths then, yeah?” You let out a quiet hum in agreement, stopping a few feet in front of Serena’s car. You hear her and Iman debating on where you should stop for lunch, but you were waiting to see what Harry would say next.

“Aminah? After you get a chance to look at those pictures, do you think you can send them to my manager? His name’s Jeff. I’d love to see how they come out.”

“Oh yeah, of course! Do you have his business card or something?” You were excited that Harry actually cared to see your work but based on the couple of hours you spent interacting with him, you learned he was just an overall insanely kind person.

“I can jus’ put his contact info in your phone? If you don’t mind,” his gaze falters, a sheepish look on his face.

“Totally! Let me just unlock my phone,” you dig in the pocket of your shorts, pulling your phone out and unlocking it with your face. You hand it over to him and while he’s looking down typing you glance over at your roommates who had shocked looks on their faces. You would explain to them later that he wasn’t giving you his number, just his managers, but for now, you’d let them think he was giving his number to you out of all people–– a total stranger.

Harry hands it back to you a few moments later, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you again for such a great morning, Aminah. I’ll let you get goin’, don’t wanna hold you ladies up any longer,” he waves at Serena and Iman. “It was really nice to meet all of you. Hope to see you all again soon.” You notice that his gaze lingers on you for a moment when he says that, and you feel your body heat up for what must have been at least the tenth time that day.

The three of you watch as Harry unlocks his car and throws his items haphazardly into the passenger side before climbing in, slamming the door shut. His car starts immediately afterwards and he gives you a quick nod before quickly backing out of the spot, leaving. None of you say anything for a bit, just processing what just happened. Serena is the first one to speak, her hand on the handle of her car door.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Harry fucking Styles?” her voice raises at least two octaves and you know she’s about to have a mini freakout. “Did he ask for your number, Meens?”

“No dude, he just gave me his manager's number. He wants to see how the pictures come out after I edit them,” you tell her, opening the backseat of her car. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, that’s definitely a big deal, Aminah. Stop being so humble,” Iman tells you, exaggerated annoyance lacing her voice. “Did you see how he looked at you? When he said, ‘Hope to see you all again soon’?” She puts on a terrible posh accent.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, shaking out the blanket and beach towels before throwing them onto the seat. “Where are we gonna eat?”

Iman and Serena pile into the car as well, telling you about the three restaurants they were stuck choosing between. You hum distractedly, typing the name ‘Jeff’ into your contacts to see if Harry left a number and an email, or just an email. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the name is nowhere to be found in your contact list. You chalk up the mistake to Harry just forgetting to press ‘save’ after creating the contact and figure you can just find his manager’s contact information on the internet somewhere. As you’re scrolling back up through your contact list, your eye lands on a name that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

Harry Styles.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles one shot #uhhh idk what else to tag this #enjoy!!

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jebbysaysrandomstuff · 3 years ago

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I wanted to try creating a fanfic, but I don't have an A03 account yet, so I'm doing it on here instead.

Hello! Im aware I have been away for a while, I have had lots of school work to catch up on, but I just finished S1 of Demon Slayer on Netflix (If you havent watched it I highly suggest you do before reading this) And decided to create an MCYT X KNY/DS Fanfic, and the ones I see on A03 usually consist of Tommy taking Tanjiro Kamado’s place and Techno taking Nezuko’s (Tanjiros sister) And leaving whoever else is left to be other demon slayers or hashira.

Im going to upload this fanfic, only 1 chapter so far as Im not sure Im too confident in this AU, as my grammar sucks. Without further ado though, Enjoy chapter one. (Warning, Gore?- I mean theres dead bodies, And me being terrible at creating chapter names.)

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Wilbur was fairly well known in the village that resided not too far away from his home. He was the oldest brother to two other siblings. Though that number quickly dwindled down to one after his father and slightly younger brother (It’s by a year in this AU) left for some training of some sort. Luckily, Wilbur was able to make a stable income for himself and his younger brother Tommy, who is only 10. Tommy was a special kid in Wilbur’s eyes. After all, it had been 4 years since his other family members left and Tommy was the only family around, so he may treasure him more that he did Techno or his father Phil.

12/02/1920

Wilbur was getting ready to leave to the village, he was going to sell coal to the people residing there and see if they needed any assistance in doing anything. He trusted Tommy to stay home, not alone of course, he had a distant relative in town for a while, so they offered to look after the 10 year old while Wilbur was selling his coal. But as he said his goodbyes and left, he couldn’t help but feel that he has somehow made a big mistake. Shaking his head, he pushed the feeling down, he trusts that his family will remain safe in the house they live on up by the mountain.

When Wilbur arrived into town, he was immediately bombarded with people wanting to buy coal or asking for his assistance in return for some money. By the time that Wilbur was actually done with selling coal and helping people out, he had filled more than half the basket with money. Unfortunately it was getting late and he had no way of getting home in the dark unless he wanted to get lost, he also couldn’t find a way to tell the others at the house that he would be late…

“Hey Wilbur!” A familiar voice called to him, “you need a place to stay tonight, there’s no way you’ll make it back to the house in time.” Wilbur turned around and saw a familiar face, it was the baker of the village, Niki. She was always so kind to those who lived for visited the village (Her baking is also great too!) Smiling, Wilbur started walking towards the baker’s home. “Thank you Niki, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Of course!” She smiled kindly, “After all, we can’t have you going out at night, there may be demons lurking around!”

Wilbur made a confused face at that. ‘Demons?’ He thought, ‘I’m sure it’s just a myth, I’m sure parents just use that to keep kids in check.’ Niki laughed at the confused face Wilbur pulled when he mentioned demons, but soon stopped laughing when realizing he really didn’t know what demons were. “Wait, you’re being serious?” She asked while setting up a bed for Wilbur to sleep in for the night, “You really don’t know what demons are, Wil?” Wilbur shook his head at her question, getting up to follow her into her kitchen where she started getting ready to prepare a meal for him eat before going to bed. “No, Should I know what ‘Demons’ are, Niki?” He asked, he was really confused as to why she had looked so shocked at the question. She sighed. “Why don’t we talk about this while you’re eating?” As she said that the noodles she was boiling were finished and she put them into a bowl with some broth in.

A few minutes later, the two are sat down opposite each other. “So... are you going to tell me about these ‘demons’?” Wilbur asked, while eating. Niki nodded and started to explain. “Demons are these man-eating creatures that only come out at night or when the sun is away, as the sun can kill them.” She said quietly, Wilbur wondered whether Niki had experience with these demons to know that they eat humans. “My father was eaten by a demon a couple years ago.” Niki said sadly, “So in order to keep demons away I use this wisteria plants to keep them away, as its poisonous to demons.” Niki soon ended the convocation after that, seeing as she quickly said her goodnights and took away Wilbur’s empty bowl, he can only assume she doesn’t like talking about them.

Going to bed half an hour later, the uneasy feeling had increased, after hearing the story about demons, he could only worry for those around the area, and Tommy and that distant relative he could never remember the name of. He fell into an uneasy sleep, only dreaming of what these demons are like.

When Wilbur woke up the next morning, he thanked Niki for the hospitality and promises to bring more coal the next time he visits the village. And with that he took his basket of money and started making his way up the mountain.

Wilbur figured that he was only 5 minutes from the house now, but he couldn’t help but slow down, usually increasing in speed to go see his brother, but the uneasy feeling had returned and only grew worse when making his way up the mountain.

Then that’s when it hit him. He didn’t need a great sense of smell to tell that there was a strong scent or blood and decaying bodies somewhere around the mountain. Worried for his family, he ran up the mountain once the house came into view. He was met with a bloody path leading into the house. He followed the path and was met with the decaying body of the family member he trusted to look after Tommy, he really regrets not learning their name, but they showed up so suddenly and it’s was them three for a while. Speaking of bodies, Wilbur took a step into the house and saw Tommy laying on his back, a small wound on his head. But he was still breathing, his baby brother wasn’t dead, despite the amount of blood leaving his wound. Quickly thinking, Wilbur picked up his brother, putting him comfortably so it looked like Wilbur was giving him a piggy-back ride, and dashed out the house into the village. Hoping he could find some medical assistance to help the brother he raised. Halfway down the mountain, Tommy had started shifting a lot, and groaning, this confused Wilbur as he tried to get Tommy to calm down, but Tommys constant struggling ended up with them falling down a slope. Tommy was quick to get up and lean against a tree. “Tommy!” Wilbur yelled out, his voice full of worry for his baby brother, “Toms, you don’t need to walk, I can carry you to the village, don’t worry!” Wilbur started moving towards the 10 year old until he was suddenly attacked by said 10 year old. “Tommy, What are you doing?!” Wilbur yelled out in fear, he wrestled Tommy while thinking of what to do until he saw a distant shadow coming closer….

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That was it! I do take feedback, constructive feedback that is, not hate.

Also give me some ideas as to what breathing forms the other MCYT characters can do, as I'm wanting to make this original in my own way, basically using the least amount of canon breathing forms,

#demon slayer au #MCYT X KNY #MCYT X DS #demon tommyinnit #sleepy bois inc #dream smp au #More like 2/4 SBI until Chapter 2/3 havent decided on which of the two I wanna have a reunion #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #Technoblade is mentioned #Philza is also mentioned #niki nihachu

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bjy-on-ao3 · 4 years ago

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Omg, i just read your dionysus fic, over indulgence, and holy shit, it was amazing! I really liked how you characterised him, and reader too, i just dont know what to say other than i absolutely loved it! I'd love to see more hades content! Maybe with Ares this time? He is always so smug, and somehow can be both very intimidating while staying super polite.... Im howwible with prompts, but maybe one where reader is a priestess of athena and somehow catches ares's attention?

I hope you don’t mind stuff rough. I hope this satisfies your want for Ares, Anon!

In the game, Athena and Ares don’t seem to really like each other all that much, so I figured any priest/priestesses or disciples of her would have been warned about him. It also made sense for me that many of those people would double as great warriors/soldiers skilled at defense, but also in battle overall.If you’re looking for something warm and soft, please turn back. I really can’t see Ares in a gentle light, and this fic will contain blood/bloodplay, biting, bruising, and Ares getting a kick of out it all. Dubcon only because Reader agrees to the conditions of Ares being able to take what he wants if they lose. (As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Tags/Warnings Biting, Blood, Bloodplay, Combat, Creampie, Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader Insert, Sadism, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex

Summary Reader - priestess and champion of Athena and fresh off becoming victor of a tournament held in honor of the gods - has an encounter with the most bloodthirsty god of them all: Impressed, Ares offers them a boon should they best him in combat - though if they lose, Ares may take what he sees fit.

Fic Friday

Shieldmaiden (F! Reader/Ares)

The day had been a long and arduous one, filled to bursting with adrenaline and quick-thinking. Oft enough, your days were composed of training or ceremonies, or helping those who sought aid from the temple to Athena you served. But dawn that morning had heralded the start of a tournament lasting till Helios drove the sun beneath the horizon once more. In a way, those who fell quickly were rewarded with a reprieve from the constant bouts, as even though the humiliation of defeat burdened them.

Even on the heels of victory, by the time the battles had concluded, you were tired and sore, marred with minor bruises and a few nicks and scrapes. It was nothing that a good night’s sleep and some poultices wouldn’t solve, though. ‘All worth the honor of winning such a tournament’ you told yourself. Unlike some combatants, you hadn’t killed an opponent, seeking to shed the least blood possible. Your efficiency had no room for excess. But no amount of hard-won praise and self-satisfaction could change that you were looking forward to curling up and resting until the sun rose on a new day.

Traipsing back to the temple in the glowing purple and red twilight, however, a voice caught your attention. “I must say, your performance today was quite impressive.”

To your credit, you didn’t jump or flinch away, becoming stock still and turning slowly toward the source of the voice. “Who’s there? Whom do I have privilege of impressing?” You asked cautiously, unable to strip all the irritation from your tone. You had patience remaining, though you were loath to chat with someone over your victory when you would much rather be in your bed.

Your eyes landed on a tall figure you somehow hadn’t noticed before - a man - stance regal and straight. Something about the posture gave off a sense of nonchalance as well. Clad in armor of ivory and gold, accented with long shards of black and the eerie glaring face of a beast on the chest plate, he radiated an aura of menace, accompanied by a bloodlust so tangible you could almost taste it on your tongue, hot and bitter. Eyes like smoldering coals plucked from a roaring hearth stared at you intently.. Combined with the simper spread over his lips, you couldn’t suppress the chill that raced up your spine.

Something in your gut twisted uncomfortably, and you resisted the urge to put a few more paces between the two of you. Even if it hadn’t been for the myriad weapons crossed over his back, or the impressive armor, the man would have seemed someone to be cautious around, someone you shouldn’t trust. Everything put together set you on high alert instantly, the instinct of fight or flight rising in your chest like a bird taking wing. Something primal shrieked at you that, for once, flight might be the preferred choice.

“You fight rather viciously for one under my dear sister’s wing,” the man mused, his tone light, but formal.

“I asked before - who are you?” you pressed again, not interested in mincing words. You didn’t like how easily he spoke to you or offhandedly disparaged your goddess.

“Oh, no hesitation to be found. Perhaps Athena neglected to impart all of her wisdom to you after all.” you bristled at the insult, taking a deep breath and trying to relieve some of the tension coursing through you. “I am Ares, and I desired to see the prowess of my sister’s little owl before my own eyes.”

‘Little owl?’ the nickname distracted you at first, thinking to the tiny owls often depicted accompanying your Lady, but you shook your head and dismissed the thought. You hadn’t the time to concern yourself with foolish nicknames. “Lord Ares? Well, I have no desire to see you, my Lord,” you said. With the revelation of his identity, you felt even more uneasy. Ares, god of war and death, who was said to bask in the bloodshed and chaos of man. Athena had been certain her followers knew well of her violent half-brother. “I may not have all of my Lady’s knowledge, but I am wise enough to keep my distance from you and the needless death that follows in your wake.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, wary of each word and wondering if he might take offense from your rejection. From the tales told, the Olympians never took well to being ignored or spurned, but to indulge in the company of a god like Ares was no more appealing a choice. The look on Ares’ face remained pleasant, the corners of his lips set in a smug smile, and he let out a quick puff of laughter that would have been pleasant, had it not come from him.

“What a pity. Although I do not believe that choice is yours to make, little owl,” he began, closing some distance between you. You followed his movements intently, concerned he might draw one of the swords from his back and set upon you with every step closer. “Surely you do not think yourself beyond the bidding of one god solely because you serve another?”

Your hands clenched and unclenched nervously at your sides as you considered his words. Ares was right, of course. Being a priestess of Athena did not grant you any protection from other gods - not unless she interfered directly. And that kind of divine intervention was a rarity. You avoided his question and changed the subject, though you doubted he would be redirected so easily. The God of War was no fool.

“What do you really want? I’ve little time for games, my Lord.”

“I wish to see your technique for myself. Show me how that passion and diligence fares against a foe more than mortal,” he elaborated.

The blood in your veins ran cold upon his admission and your heart thudded so hard you wondered if it was audible from where he stood. Battling a god was firmly on the side of things you wished never to do. “If you think I’m dull enough that I would willingly engage the God of War, then you insult me, my Lord,” you said stiffly, trying to suppress your trepidation from worming into your voice and failing.

“What is it I hear beneath your bold tone? I trust one of my dear sister’s bold little priestesses, one of her champions, even, is not afraid of all things?” Ares taunted smoothly. From the way his self-assured smile twitched upward, barely, you knew he was enjoying your reaction.

“Fear and caution are not the same thing,” you denied fiercely.

“True enough, but it is not caution what gives you pause. If it puts you at ease, little owl, I will not take your life.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you scrutinized him intensely, finding no sign of whether he was lying or being genuine. All you found in those bloody eyes and stony face was cold calculation and an insatiable lust for violence. “Why should I believe you?” you asked, face twisting suspiciously.

“Because, beloved by my sister or not, if I so desired to kill you, I would have done so the instant you denied my invitation and spoke to me so disrespectfully.” He talked of ending you so casually it made you shudder, and you cursed yourself for it immediately.

It seemed you had little choice but to indulge Ares in whatever game he had in mind. “And if I agree - what is the benefit to me?” Ares had promised he wouldn’t kill you, but you saw no other purpose to fight him. You still weren’t sure he wouldn’t just kill you, despite his promise.

“Is serving one of the gods not benefit enough for you? What a greedy little owl my sister has found.” Again, Ares taunted you. You wondered if he was trying to make you angry enough to divest your caution and sabotage your battle prowess.

“That’s not an answer,” you spat back. God or not, you were tiring of whatever he was doing.

Fortunately, Ares cut to the chase. “Very well, best me and you shall have whatever boon of me you wish.”

“And if I lose?”

“Then, I shall take from you what I decide most fitting.:

“But not my life,” you added, still skeptical.

“You have my word,” Ares insisted. “Besides, would it not be such a waste to douse a promising ember when it could kindled and made to burn all around it?” he added in afterthought and once again the implications of his words unsettled you. “Now, I trust we are done with these tedious negotiations, hm?” he prompted.

Steeling yourself and willing away the stiffness and fear bubbling in your chest, you nodded. Ares had decided what the outcome of the discussion would be before he first spoke. There was nothing more to be said - at least not with words. Eyes trained on the intimidating figure of the God of War, you retrieved the shield and blade slung over your shoulders. You brandished them both, falling into the stance you were trained to use.

Across from you - hardly half a dozen feet off - Ares drew a weapon of his own. The sight of the curved blade incited your fear once more. The black blade was a ghastly thing, wickedly sharp and emanating a thick, billowing red haze the color of viscera. It was unmistakably a weapon befitting a god, and it made something deep inside you want to turn tail and run. But you knew running would be fruitless - all it would earn you was a head-sized loss of weight between your shoulders.

At once, the both of you moved slowly, following a wide circle, two shadowy beasts in the fading dusk searching for weaknesses and flaws. All of your training and wisdom told you to wait, let Ares come to you and make the first move. But you weren’t sure your reactive way of fighting would hold up against someone of his calibre. As Ares had implied, he was no mortal, and you could only imagine the horrible strength and skill behind his blade.

Ares shattered the heavy stillness abruptly, darting forward and making a low arcing swing up toward you. There was no hesitation behind the blow and you had the feeling if you hadn’t stopped it with your blade, his falcata would have carved a clean line into your torso. Ares may have promised not to kill you, but he wasn’t above grievously injuring you. He gave you little time to think on his intentions, however, another strike quickly following when you knocked his sword aside.

You caught that swing as well, on your shield this time, and your arm stung from the force that rang through it. Blow after blow rained down on you, forcing you on the defensive almost constantly, and even then, many near misses made you tense and wide-eyed. Eventually, you found some rhythm to his assault, and Ares even paused, granting you a scant few seconds to breathe and think. Still, you needed to analyze what you learned quickly - your enduring method of fighting wouldn’t suit well against his relentless onslaught. You had fought aggressive attackers in the past, but their strength and ferocity paled compared to Ares.

Eyes flashing to and fro, following the tuck and arc of his weapon, at the same time searching for openings, you readied to strike. You would need to be swift, perfect in your timing, and hold back nothing if you wanted any hope of breaching his flurry of blows. You took your chance when his fuming blade glanced off your shield at just the right angle to slide away, instead of adding more to the numbness in your shield arm. Dipping down, you swept your own blade under his arm and up. The metal scraped past one of his pauldrons and up, and your eyes shot wider when the tip of the blade reached out towards Ares’ face.

A swift kick pushed you back, leaving you winded, and you looked back up quickly. Ares was standing in place, a small distance away, but close enough to observe small details. His blade upheld in one hand, smoking menacingly, he lifted his free hand to his cheek, brushing away the slick of blood oozing from a diagonal cut across his cheek.Your heart fell at the sight of how little damage you had done. After all that time, you had given him what was barely more than what a mortal mine might suffer from a shaving accident. It was an ill omen when you were so used to your blade striking true and dispatching opponents in only a few strokes.

“Oh, what a splendid surprise.” Your blood may as well have turned to ice. Not at Ares’ words, but his tone.

Beneath the refined and formal speech, something almost excited could be heard. You had the sudden dreadful feeling that indulging the God of War’s little game had been a terrible mistake - even if there was no other choice. Excitement was a chilling thing to hear from a being who adored violence and death. You had expected anger, perhaps, or bitterness that a mortal had drawn blood against him. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a shock he liked to bleed as much as he liked to bleed others.

“Perhaps I underestimated you, little owl. Such skill seems wasted protecting others, do you not think so?” Ares asked, the hint of excitement vanished.

An indignation bubbled up beneath your dread, understanding Ares had meant your talents better suited to bloody slaughter and resenting that notion. You bristled, snapping back at him. “If I agreed, I would have served from the start, wouldn’t I?”

Ares ignored your response, as if he hadn’t heard. “I have seen more than enough, little owl. Our duel shall come to an end now,” he declared confidently. Again resentment and terror warred with one another within you.

When Ares bolted forward again, you barely thrust out your sword in time and turned his strike aside. The eerie cloud emanating from the blade seemed to have increased, tendrils of it whipping about, framing Ares ominously and obscuring your vision here and there. He didn’t stop at a single blow, striking out again and again as before, but with much more strength behind the attacks. The thought that your weapon and shield or arms might shatter from the force if things kept up flitted through your mind, distracting you for the barest moment.

Ares’ blade flashed forward, and your shield was thrust away, spinning through the air before crashing down and clattering to the ground. In a lightning quick motion, before you could bring your blade in to force his falcata away, the edge was leveled to your throat. You fell deathly still, the icy blade faintly touching your skin. One false move or a twitch of Ares’ wrist and all would be done.

The war god moved closer, grabbing your sword hand cruelly and twisting your blade from your fist. The hand that had disarmed you snapped to your head, grabbing a fistful of hair at the root and making you hiss. He drew your head back and the painful pinch of his blade scarcely cutting your skin made your pulse quicken. A warm trickle crept down your skin. Held between Ares’ hand and his blade, you dared not even breathe too deeply, so close were you to both.

Burning crimson watched you keenly, blazing with triumph and thet still unquenchable lust for blood. The blood you seeping from the shallow cut on your throat encouraged that bloodlust to greater heights rather than sate it. The thought made the space between you and the god feel heavy, airless.

“You fought magnificently, little owl. A far greater challenge even than I had foreseen,” Ares praised, not bothering to draw his weapon back. The tension hanging in the air, in fact, seemed thoroughly amusing to him, alluring even. You gathered all the resolve you possessed, fighting to glare defiantly at him. There was no room to show weakness. “How lovely that look suits you. Fearful, yet masked in defiance, even in the very face of death,” he drawled. You wondered if the god enjoyed his own voice as much as he enjoyed bloodshedl. “Do you believe me a liar?” Ares asked coolly after a moment of unsettling silence.

“I-” you opened your mouth intending to disagree, to ensure him you believed him - even if you didn’t trust him in the slightest -, but something stopped you. “Yes.” As the word escaped, you cursed yourself.

To your surprise, Ares’ proud smile grew. “Such an unwise thing to say,” he mused, “Are you trying to provoke me, now, little owl?” he asked nonchalantly, applying the scantest amount more pressure to his haze billowing blade. You winced, but quickly corrected your expression until your focus was on Ares once more. “No matter, our duel is over. Now comes time to take what I deem ample compensation for my victory.” At last, Ares drew back and took his falcata with him, and you could breathe again.

The start of a cold sweat broke out on your skin, and you felt clammy, except for the hot, sticky trickle drying on your neck. You swallowed thickly, willing your tongue to obey you, and spoke again after a moment of recovery. “So, what do you want? Out with it.” you pressed, perhaps too demandingly for one whom had been in your previous position. Yet with the blade no longer threatening to carve your throat open, you couldn’t help the annoyance and unease that crept into you.

“Tread carefully, little owl. I spared you before,” Ares reminded you casually, though the sharp warning edge suffused his words. He would take your insolence only so far. “Continue to disrespect me and I shall take your words as invitation to grant you a most painful end.” He paused, slipping his dark blade back where it belonged, before turning to you. “As the spoils of my victory, this ought to suffice.”

In an instant, so quick you had no time to wonder what had come over him, Ares was upon you again. His hand, having previously disengaged when he took his weapon away, returned, entangling itself in your hair again and forcing you to remain still. Before you knew it, Ares stepped uncomfortably close, bowing his head and slashing his lips across yours in a kiss that was neither delicate nor considerate. It was a kiss fueled by strength, full of teeth and heat that left you in a stupor.

Ares didn’t bother with the tedious task of coaxing your lips open with his tongue, choosing to bite down viciously, and blood oozed out to meet him. It slicked his teeth and tongue and your mouth fell open in a gasp of pain, and Ares thrust his tongue into your mouth. It swept along your teeth for a moment, before wrapping around your own and fighting it into submission. A heady metallic taste washed over you as you futilely tried to win the war of flesh. Blood. Your blood. Mixed with the coppery flavor was something more subtle, spicy and earthy at once.

When Ares relented and pulled away, you strove for breath, the taste of him and your blood lingering in your mouth. But he had only begun, giving you little time to recover. You had long enough to question why you had kissed him back - or had you been trying to fight him off? - before he jerked your head back and inclined his faced further. His lips, hot and the barest bit sticky, met the curve of your throat. He swept down your skin, leaving angry bite marks and blotches in his wake, until he was nestled against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, unprotected by armor and bared by your tunic.

He bit down again. Harder than before, and his teeth sank into you, another rush of blood welling up.You couldn’t control the pained cry that burst from your lips. You were used to injuries from training or battle, yet hardly in such sensitive places, and almost never from someone’s teeth. It burned when Ares lapped greedily at the wound and you hissed. His free hand had curled behind you at some time you hadn’t noticed, pressing you forward, the unyielding planes of his chest plate and pauldrons digging into you uncomfortable.

A new sensation was blossoming beneath the pain, one that should have been utterly foreign and unthinkable, given the brutality Ares was treating you with. Maybe it was the burning, hungry expression in Ares' eyes as he looked up from your skin, lips tinged red. Or maybe it was the crushing embrace he held you trapped in. Or maybe the way he held you utterly compliant and vulnerable in his grasp. Or maybe it was all of those things combined that made heat fill you from your core and pool between your legs. A dangerous, confused lust was rising - one it would have been wiser to reject.

“Such splendid sounds, little owl,” Ares said, his voice lower, a wild delight tinging it. “I desire to hear more. Do not disappoint me.”

With a rough push, your feet left the ground, and you tumbled backward away from Ares’ grip, too startled and dazed from the confounding feeling brewing in your belly and the painful throbbing in your lip and shoulder to catch yourself in time. You grimaced when you met the ground, making to prop yourself up. But Ares followed you, shoving you down completely and pinning you there. Again, his armor prodded uncomfortably at you. Past the pleated leather folds attached to the armor torso, something still distinctly hard, but much warmer prodded at you as well.

When large hands groped at your tunic - somehow both callous and perfect - some degree of sense insisted you stop him. But others argued with it. They insisted there was no point, this was the spoils Ares chose to claim. You wouldn’t be able to stop him if you tried. One devilish voice even craved more. Your internal debate crashed to a halt when Ares jerked your tunic down, the faint sound of fabric ripping lost to you. His lips fell upon your skin again where the fabric fell away, biting and sucking like he was trying to devour you. Many of them stung, not all as harsh as the bite to your shoulder, but several more drawing blood or leaving the areas soon to bruise, painting your skin in garish colors.

More pained sounds left your lips, gasps and whimpers and groans, though mixing more steadily into them were noises that belied some twisted pleasure. A hiss that became a moan. A gasp that turned into something breathy and thick. Something was stirring more and more hotly within you, transforming pain into a muted pleasure and adding fuel to the embers smoldering between your legs and in your belly.

Ares’ hands were as greedy as his lips, groping and kneading unmarred skin, roughly grabbing at your chest, pinching your nipples and making you cry out pitifully. Before long, he had covered your torso, shoulders, and neck in darkening bruises and blood, teeth marks and scrapes. Pulling away until he was looming over you like an ominous shadow, you could still make out the satisfied look languidly spread across his lips. His eyes seemed even more fiery, near crazed, as if he were high on your blood and pain.

“Such a careful, focused beast in the heat of battle. Now look at you, little owl, stained and trembling,” he purred, and his tongue trailed over his lips, cleaning the crimson staining them. “How beautiful a sight. The color suits you well.” He grabbed at your tunic some more, gathering the bottom around your waist, meeting the neckline he had pushed down. “As fragile and easy to see through as glass. Ought I shatter you like it, then?” Ares asked, greedily taking in the even larger expanse of flesh revealed to him. You wondered if he meant to litter the rest of you in similar marks.

Your lips parted, and you didn’t speak for a second, waiting for the mental gears to turn. Your only choice was the illusion of it, so you may as well as pretend your answer meant something. “Break me as you please, Lord Ares,” you told him, surprised to hear how your voice sounded. Strain and breathy, and the realization strengthened the heat and wetness at your center you couldn’t deny, likely plain to Ares’ eyes with your tunic no longer guarding it.

“How bold a choice of words, little owl.” Ares sounded pleased, possibly having expected you to retort defiantly, or have no words at all. Yet you had indulged his words instead. He trailed a thick finger gingerly over your throat, tracing over your racing pulse. “It would thrill me so to watch the life bleed from you.” You believed him completely. There was no denying in different circumstances Ares would revel in your death. “Alas, I shall have to make do sheathing a different blade within your supple flesh.”

A hint of excited impatience shone through as Ares sat back on his knees, leaving you to lie waiting in the dirt for what he would do next. With an iron grip, he grabbed your thighs, lifting them both off the ground and splaying them over his pauldrons, on either side of the crossed blades on his back. The cold touch of his armor on your overheated, abused skin made you shudder, and you watched as he lifted the lappets of the armor.

Your eyes lingered on what had thrust against you from behind layers of leather before, and you swallowed nervously. Ares was endowed impressively and in the embrace of a gentle lover that might promise a minor discomfort, but pleasure overall. Ares had shown no intention to treat you gently though - the ache and throb from the aftermath of his attention reinforced that - and you were under no illusion he was going to change that.

The new hesitation must have shown in your expression, a dangerous thrill creeping onto Ares’ own face as he brought the head of his cock to your folds. You thanked the stars that his brutal attentions had somehow elicited a perverse hunger from you, soaking your core. Though you imagined he would have fucked you raw whether or not you were wet. In fact, he might have enjoyed it more that way. Fortunately, his dick slipped slickly between your lips, gathering some of your wetness and pushing against your slit.

Ares didn’t take his time entering you, nor savor the moment, bucking his hips forward and splitting your cunt wide. You arched your back stiffly and hissed, both at the awful burn from the way his cock stretched you and the surprising satisfaction from the overwhelming fullness. You drew deep breaths, trying to adjust to the thick intrusion, fighting the pathetic whines that threatened to spill out.

Ares didn’t give you time to adjust to his size, rutting harshly against you, calloused hands digging roughly into your thighs. He leaned forward, bending you nearly in half, far enough a tendril of his silvery white hair brushed against your stomach, making your skin jump. The stretch ached to be sure - it would have even if Ares had been more thoughtful - but caught up in whatever perverse mood electrified the moment, there was pleasure bleeding into the pain.

Pleasure from the way he filled you so completely, creating a delicious friction that made your gut heat and tense. Pleasure from the rough slant of his hips against yours and his balls slapping your ass. Pleasure from the renewed vigor and sting of his lips and teeth attacking your neglected skin once more. It was agonizing and mindnumbing and enjoyable in a way you couldn’t have had any hope of explaining, at least not in a right sense of mind.

Each hard rock of his hips and searing puff of breath against your skin wore away at what little pride you retained, if you could claim to have any scrap left, looking such a mess. You might regret the memory later, but in the heat of the moment, there was no time for regrets or second thoughts. There was only room to try and enjoy what Ares had claimed as his reward.

As your dignity shattered and disintegrated like dust, the heat of your body and between your thighs grew, until you cried out into the air, the pleasure finally rising high enough to meet the pain and break loose from your throat between whines and winces. One loud cry that twisted and broke from another especially vicious bite must have gotten to Ares, eliciting an answering sound that was deep and primal.

Continuing to pound into your cunt, Ares looked up from his savagery of your skin, eyes glittering with amsement and lust of multiple kinds. His hot breath rolled over your bruised chest and his silky words rumbled over you. “You ought to thank me for my mercy,” he growled, and amidst the pain and pleasure you laughed to yourself. Mercy for a war god amounted simply to not killing you it seemed, even if the alternative was marking your body viciously and claiming it for himself. “Go on, then, little owl,” he compelled you, puncutating his words with a harder buck of his hips that left made you shout.

You opened your mouth, at first only pants and huffs and whimpers broke away. You gathered the words on your tongue he demanded of you. “Th-thank...aah...thank you, Lord Ares!” you cried out, surprisingly yourself. “Thank you f-for sparing me.”

He seemed satisfied with you pitiful answer, shaky and broken as it was, though he remained close to your skin. His pace grew stronger, faster, and he drew his tongue over some of the more bloody marks he’d left behind, coating his tongue again in your essence. His eyes swept hotly over his handiwork, bordering on frenzied. “Is it not such a wondrous feeling, to break bleed so, little owl?”

The smooth, husky tone of his voice, though it spoke such sick words - words you would have rejected in another setting - drove your own fervor higher, the molten spring of tension in your abdomen coming to the edge of its breaking point. You responded without hesitation, mind bent only on the promised releasen. “Yes, yes, my Lord!”

No more words fell between the two of you then, only the primal symphony of moans, grunts, groans, and gasps, enough to be heard by any soul unfortunate enough to be passing nearby. You hadn’t thought Ares’ thrusts could become any crueler, but as he chased and neared his own release, they did, until each thrust stung, hurting almost more than they pleased. His hands still clenched around your thighs and you could only imagine the intensity of the bruises that would be left behind - perhaps even worse than the many peppering your neck and chest and torso.

Despite the pain, your cunt squeezed around him, fluttering erratically as you danced on that edge so, so close. Until at last, it burst. But not before Ares finished with a sound so dark and heavy and alluring it could be called inhuman. Your walls embraced him even tighter as his cum filled you to overflowing, hot and wet, and you screamed and cried into the darkness of evening that had taken over.

When all was still at last, youtruly began to feel the extent of the damage Ares had done. He didn’t remain atop you much longer, not seeming to need to catch his breath, and when he pulled out of you, you shuddered, feeling sore and empty. Already tired before Ares had sought you out, and even more so after your combat, you were completely and utterly exhausted. Lying there, each pound of your heart making the bites and bruises pound along with it, you wondered if passing out in the dirt was a viable option.

Ares didn’t concern himself with your thoughts, however, or whatever it was you intended to do now that he was finished with you - for now at least. He just looked down at you, tucking himself back beneath the lappets of his armor and looking no worse for the wear. “Farewell, little owl. Do take care. And consider what I have said,” he began. “Your talents ought be used for something far more satisfying.”

You didn’t answer, letting your eyelids slide closed for a minute. When you opened them again, you were alone and the air was still and silent. You begrudgingly sat up, preparing to tackle the ordeal of standing and making the rest of your way home and to your bed. You wondered how you were going to explain your state to your fellows the following day.

#writing #fanfic #areas #ao3 #archive of our own #fic friday #update #weekly #request #anon request #tw: blood #tw: dubious consent

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paulvibe · 5 years ago

Text

The Assistant (Paul McCartney x reader) Pt. 3

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: this chapter is so boring and more of a filler. I am so stuck on it and can’t figure out how to get passed this fucking thing. I mean, I wrote chapters that take place after this one that are like three times the size of this one so like- im making up for this promise!!!!

September 1968

You were stocking up the snack table, when the studio door opened with a pop. Feet plundered down the steps of the recording room and your focus turned to the noise. Your eyes met the sight of Paul; seemingly lively today, a bounce added to his step.

“Morning darling.” He spoke, his voice giving you chills.

“Good morning Paul.” You spoke. His eyes sparkled when your gazes met, and his grin grew slightly.

“How’re you?” He asked while he grabbed a carton of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

“Tired. But who isn’t these days?” You spoke, turning back around. You mindlessly picked up some candies and started to arrange them. Paul lit a match and puffed the cigarette, resulting in trails of smoke billowing around you.

“You really shouldn’t smoke those first thing in the morning” You joked, turning back around. Paul inhaled as if to speak, but the door opening again startled the two of you. John walked down the steps, this time without Yoko.

“Morning. (Y/N) I need you.” John spoke, his voice calm. You nodded and quietly excused yourself from Paul, walking over to the long-haired man. He escorted you out the recording booth and into a back office of the studio.

“What’s this about?” You asked quietly, sitting into the desk chair.

“I need you to schedule some events for Yoko ‘n I” He spoke, pulling out his notebook. You let out a breath you’d been holding, grabbing a notepad and pen nearby.

“Of course,” You mumbled, “What’re the dates?”

John told you the dates and times, with the buildings and rooms that needed to be rented as well. Afterwards, you gazed at his face while he wrote a few things down on his notebook. He sported a t-shirt today, with some tight flared jeans. His round glasses had slid down his nose, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his hair was greasy.

“How’re you today, love?” You asked him softly. He gently placed the pencil down he had in his grasp, and looked back at you.

“M’ alright.” The man responded. It was rare John shared his feelings with you. Now a days he mainly keeps to himself… and Yoko.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked him. John sighed, and looked down at his lap.

“C’mon John love, speak to me.” You urged, scooting the desk chair closer to the chair he sat in. The man fidgeted with the pencil in his lap and then looked up to meet your eyesight. What was wrong with John?

“I’m fine, love.” He spoke, standing up and exiting the small office with haste. You sighed and slumped your shoulders.

-----------------

Later in the day the boys were scheduled for a press interview; mainly to keep appearances up. Klein was worried that the rumors of the band splitting were getting taken too seriously, thus a public appearance was expected. It’s taking place right outside of Apple Corps. with a stand set up on the sidewalk and microphones fixed to it. There was enough space along the sidewalk for the news companies to sit but, for more room, the street was going to be blocked off as well. The news as well as fans and spectators had started to fill in the sidewalk and street. Police kept the civilians separate so only legitimate press companies could ask questions. You were inside with the boys while the team took care of setting up the sidewalk. Mr. Klein was here as well, though he was mainly dealing with the crew.

“Alright, about,” You paused to look at your watch, “Three minutes til we need you out there.” You then glanced up and locked eyes with each of the boys. You met George’s first, he had a gentle gleam across his face. Followed by Ringo, who cheekily smiled. John was next, and it was a straight faced glance. Paul was last, he had a subtle beam about him. They were actually quite pleasant today; George and Ringo came in quite splendid moods, cheering up Paul and John with their humor. You began to usher them towards the entrance of Apple Corps, pushing past random crew members along the way.

Once outside the building, screams erupted from the spectators and fans. George and Paul politely waved while Ringo threw up peace signs. John, however, didn’t remove his hands from his pockets. They stood next to the other behind the large podium while people finished getting ready; Ringo and George lit cigarettes after settling in. You and Mr. Klein stood next to the doors and to the right of the boys while security personnel were on the left. The press were already taking photos, sending bright flashes to temporarily blind anyone who faced the crowd. As everybody settled in, Mr. Klein walked to the podium, pushed past the boys, and grabbed a microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Thank you for joining us today. We’ve got about twenty minutes with the boys here, so keep your statements quick and to the point. Alright, take it away; questions?” The press erupted, standing up and yelling. Klein pointed to a petite woman in the front row holding a notepad and pen.

“Ringo, Do you have any political affiliations at all?” She yelled over the murmuring street crowd. Ringo leaned towards the microphone, but John cut him off.

“No, he doesn’t even smoke.”

“I don’t even smoke,.” Ringo replied with a cheeky smile as he took a drag. The crowd burst into action again, hoping to be picked by Klein. He pointed to a man near the back.

“John, there’s a rumor in the Beatles paper that you might be leaving the group?” He yelled, holding a camera and a tape recorder.

“Rubbish, I’m contracted. I’ve been tryna get out for years.” John responded, his tone complimenting the dry sense of humor. You stood there looking at the vast amounts of people. Many of them were women, ranging from all sorts of ages. Men were scattered throughout the group as well. Some were just passing by, probably on their way to their jobs, others would stop and stare as if The Beatles were a foreign concept.

You’d zoned out and missed a few questions but didn’t realize until Klein’s voice drew you back in. He’d picked another reporter who eagerly bounced waiting for the crowd to quiet.

“Mr. McCartney, can you explain as to why you were at an intimate breakfast date with miss (Y/L/N) on Saturday?” The reporter asked. Your eyes shot open and over to Paul who remained calm and didn’t even turn his attention to you.

“We were discussing business.” He answered seamlessly, lighting up a cigarette. The crowd burst into action again, but you merely zoned out. Somehow, over the cries of civilians and yells from reporters your brain went quiet.

-----

“What the hell was that?” Klein questioned, anger laced his tone. After the press conference, the boys went back to working while Klein called you into his office. He paced the small room hands behind his back while you sat across from him.

“Was what, sir?” You asked in quiet tone. You knew exactly what he was talking about but didn’t want to admit it yet.

“You and Paul?” He answered, voice still heavy.

“We had breakfast, talked schedules, nothing more.” You responded, fiddling with your hands. The man shook his head and sat in his desk chair; you could see the strain on his face. The room was so quiet the boys could be heard yelling down the hall about one thing or another.

“Just, stay away from Paul.” Klein spoke after a few moments. Your chest felt tight with every word. “He’s always been a trouble maker.” Venom truly laced his tone. You knew Klein and Paul had never gotten along, but now it was almost as though Klein was controlling the bass players relationships now.

“Yes Sir.” Your gaze shifting to gather your things. You didn’t even bother to look at the man before you swiftly exited his office. The door closed behind you, and you sighed as tears burning your eyes.

You’d managed to blink away the tears with a few deep breaths before walking to the small communal kitchen. Thoughts raced your mind as you made a cup of tea to calm your nerves. Could Mr. Klein even control you in that way? He has no say over your personal life, what if Paul involved your personal life? You’d gotten this job as an advancement in your career, but was it worth it? As of right now it didn’t feel that way. Sure, it’s in your contract that you can’t date any of the boys, but it didn’t say you couldn’t flirt with them… or one specifically. It was frustrating.

Once you finished heating up some water, you grabbed a teabag and headed back to the recording booth. The boys laughing about something made you smile a little as you entered the room. John and George were talking about one of George’s songs while Paul played a little tune on the Piano and Ringo lit up a cigarette. Ringo’s attention turned to you and he let out a smile and wave as you walked down the steps. You returned the grin and sat in a small armchair.

They continued to play, sometimes doing separate things until it was time to run through a song. You kept your distance from Paul except for if he needed assistant help. Though Klein keeping a watchful eye from the sound booth was making it hard to so much as give the bass player a glance.

-----------------------------

A/N 2: I’m almost finished with the chapter after this one, and I’m going to upload it tonight, if not tomorrow <3 luv yall.

-------- ps here’s my masterlist ;) and Pt. 4

Taglist: @vixenstail <3

#paul mccartney fanfic #paul mccartney fanfiction #the beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles x reader

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linguisticswithlester · 6 years ago

Text

Let Me Memorize Your Eyes

Chapter Ten: Ding.

Rating: NR

Chapter: 10 /?

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: Mentions of fire and burn scars

Notes: Hey!! I am soo sorry it has been so long since the last time I uploaded. I recently moved for school and it has taken a while to get used to everything. Culture shock set in towards the end of week two so that was great.Anyway, I am sorry this is a shorter chapter than I would have liked but, I wanted to post something before 2038. The next chapter will be a good one, I promise and HOPEFULLY up by monday,,, we'll see!

Chapter Summary: In a heated game of Mario Kart, Dan gets a text message.

[Read on AO3]

[Start at the Beginning]

For the past two weeks, Dan has been walking Phil back to his flat at then end of every night. It makes the days pass by slow and the nights go by unbearably fast but, Dan wouldn’t change it for anything. Their talks about life and passions; what they want out of their futures and what they hide from their past. It's all been slowly coming out of the boys but, everything they have been hiding from and keeping in the dark is all starting to come to the surface.

Dan hasn't felt this comfortable with someone in a long time. Carol felt safe but, she lost comfort along the way. Dan felt like he could tell Phil anything and everything; an old movie cliche but, it was true. Phil could make him laugh and smile; just about anything revolving around Phil could make Dan smile though. It was the happiest he has been in a long time and Dan didn’t want to screw it up.

Dan caught feelings for Phil and ever since he started walking him home, the feelings grew at an alarming rate. It felt like a rollercoaster; going up to the first drop was butterfly filled and then the drop takes your butterflies and makes them completely disappear but it takes everything else with it. Yet when the next drop comes, you just go with it; the anticipation and unknown still remains but, it's a hell of a lot of fun when it’s over.

Phil was one of a kind and Dan didn’t want to let him slip away; he laughed at stupid puns and made even dumber ones. He wore mismatched socks and never ties his shoelaces quite right. He had a fringe most days but, secretly wore a quiff when he thought no one would see. He dyes his hair black and it complements his pale skin. He covers his mouth with his hands when he starts to really laugh and he does this weird thing with his hands when he tries to put them in his pockets. Those things were endearing and Dan picked up on them everytime Phil did them. Dan couldn’t help his heart from fluttering when he sees that man smile or say something incredible inappropriate on accident.

Phil can get his heart racing from zero to a hundred and once it maxes out, it doesn’t go back down. Dan’s face is always flushed and now Becca has picked up on it. She knows they walk back home together but, Dan hasn’t told her anything else. Even though, she asks more about Phil than she does about Dan. She wants the gossip and Dan just doesn't want to give it up. Whatever it is that he has with Phil is something special and unique; it was Dan’s happy place and he didn't want to give it up even if they were just friends.

***

It was Saturday and Dan actually had the day off. They had managed to find a new hire at the shop, however, Dan had grown partial to the evening shift...or rather the man he got to walk home every night he worked it. But, the schedule did change and Dan didn’t have to work as much anymore.

He sat in his living room wearing his black Calvin Klein's with a switch remote in his hands racing other players in Mario Kart. He had a glass of tea balancing on the arm of his sofa that’s now gone cold as the races continued, one after another. His curly hair was pushed up in quiff fashion and his eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl.

“Get out of the fucking way!” Dan screamed at his TV set while waving his left hand in frustration. “Can people learn how to pl-”

Ding.

Dan was in such a rage that he almost didn’t hear his phone beep. He paused the game and looked around for his phone. He knew he was getting to invested into the game when it brought out actual rage so he grabbed his now not-so-hot tea and sat back into the sofa. Reaching over to his left, he swiped his phone that was laying face down on the spot next to him.

He had a text message.

It was from Phil.

Dan’s stomach dropped and his heart started to race a little faster. His face heated up and he knew that the red patch on his cheek would soon be a key feature to his face.

Phil (with one L): Hey Dan! I know we don’t talk much outside of the cafe but, i was just wondering if you wanted to go do something with me tonight? Maybe a movie? Or even dinner?

Ding.

Phil (with one L): I know it’s Saturday so you probably already have plans

Phil (with one L): so feel free to say no

Phil (with one L): (...)

Phil (with one L):

Dan’s face was decorated with a smile that only makes its appearance when Phil was involved. Phil just asked him to go out with him,,, well not like out, out but like just go with him to do something and Dan was ecstatic. Any thought of Mario Kart has completely vanished from train of thought and now all he saw was Phil.

Dan: hey phil! I would love

No, too strong.

Dan: hey phil! I would be

“So fucking excited actually,” Dan said out loud with a huff of breath twiddling his thumbs over the touch screen of his phone instead of texting it out.

Dan: that would be great i dont have any plans tonight so im all yours

Dan hit send and threw his phone towards the other end of the couch. His stomach was still hovering above his head when his phone beeped. He flung himself over to were his phone was laying and his palms grew sweaty. He picked his phone up and slowly turned it around to view the notification.

Carol: I saw this on the way to work this morning and it reminded me of you

Dan scrolled to see that she had sent him a picture of a Bowser action figure that was laying face down on on the sidewalk.

What the hell?

Dan typed out a quick reply about how that was actually him in his natural form and set his phone back down with the face of the phone resting on the couch.

Carol and him talk regularly. Things never went south and there wasn't a falling out; they remained friends and even became better at communication now that the pressures of a relationship were no longer present. However, she was not the person that he was looking for a response from at this moment.

Dan sat and tapped his foot, twiddled his thumbs, rocked back and forth, did whatever fidget that he could while sitting on the sofa and he still hadn’t gotten a reply back. It was going to drive him mad. Had Phil not liked his reply? Did phil find someone else to go with because Dan took to long thinking about what to say? Did Phil send it to Dan by accident? Maybe he really didn’t want Dan to go with him tonight; maybe it was a mistake.

Dan hopped up into a standing position and ran his hands through his curly hair. He decided that no matter what or even if Phil replied, he should actually get dressed for the day even if was past noon. He headed for his bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was a mess. His face was flushed and palms where clammy; he looked like a wreck. He turned his shower on and let the water heat up while he undressed which didn’t take very long because he wasn’t wearing much to begin with. He left his phone sitting in the lounge because he was the type of person that would check his phone a million times even while in the shower just to double check to make sure he didn’t miss the ding of a new message.

The hot water started to steam and the mirror was no longer a reliable source of reflection. Standing naked, Dan stepped into the shower. The water caressed his body in a gentle manner and his muscles started to relax at the pressure. He let the water cascade down his face, washing away his worry. He ran his hands over his arms and up to his shoulders only to find them in his hair. He opened his eyes and a white mist surrounded him, comforting him. He grabbed the bottle of soap and poured a decent amount onto his palms.

Reaching back up to his hair, he couldn’t help but see the scars that littered his body. His ribs, shoulders, arms; they all had the remains of severe burn marks. Red and painful at times, his body was a constant reminder of everything he lost and everything that fire took. A flash of red and orange appeared in his eyes; that morning replaying again and again. The screams and faces of those around and the fingers pointing towards the burning bakery. Hearing screams of panic as his grandpa was stuck inside the burning building and the smell of smoke as Dan hurled himself into the flames towards his mentor. Debris falling in flames while the fire took more of Dan’s heart as well as the room. Hitting him as he moved through the heat, the next thing that he remembers is blackness; a nothingness.

A white light waking him up only to tell him his grandfather didn't make it and the store was reduced to a pile of charcoal. His childhood and local hero was gone and Dan was stuck in a hospital bed; bound and wrapped for burns.

Staring out of the window that no longer held functionality, Dan was brought back to the present; his present. The shower that once held comfort and worth just felt empty and cold. He turned the water off and grabbed the towel that was sitting on the sink. Drying his scar littered body off, he headed to his bedroom to find something to wear. He settled for a black hoodie, ripped black jeans, and a pair of fuzzy socks. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he then remembered that he was waiting for a text from Phil. He jumped up and basically ran for the lounge; his hands glided across the walls as he sped through. Acting like a school-aged child, he dover for his phone. Scrolling through random notifications from tumblr and twitter; random texts from family, he had not gotten one from Phil. He leaned his head down and sighed.

The rest of the day, he kept himself busy. He did the laundry and cleaned his room, washed the dishes and put them away. Went to the store to get random things and organized his pantry. Still nothing; no ding or beep or flutter. Dan forgot how tiring having a crush was.

He sat down on the sofa and decided that he wasn't going to hear back from Phil tonight. He got on tumblr and starting rebloging; dogs, cats, text posts; memes, anything. Once Dan had forgotten about the text, he got one.

Ding.

Phil (with one L): Hey sorry about that, my meeting with the art gallery lasted longer than expected. How’s about we do both? Send me your address and I'll be there at 6!

Dan hastley typed up his address and could have screamed while doing so.

He spent the next 2 hours pacing back and forth and changing his outfit about 5 times only to go back to what he had on originally. He was getting more nervous with every passing second and his curls were getting more prominent the more he got anxious. He tried the internet hoping it would take his mind of things, and it did for a while until he heard his doorbell ring.

#lmmye #phan fic #phanfic #phan #dip and pip #dnp #artist/baker au #slow burn #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #happy ending #i promise #ao3 #fanfiction #alternate universe

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a-stray-black-cat · 7 years ago

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((First, lemme just say...I’m only uploading this because my best friend wanted me to- shhh, we’re kinda playing a game of hide and seek and she’s trying to find this account of mine, don’t tell her you saw me ;3 x’DDDD Ialsofoundoutthatshe’sshippingthese twowhich...I...Idon’tknowhowtofeelaboutthat...honestlymakesmelaughabit x’DDD Second, yes, the little story attached is about Christmas...I rarely get ideas for Christmas stories in December. Its always in like November or even the start of January. I do have one other Christmas-y type story Id like to write if I can find the time but we’ll see what happens. Im not the greatest writer but....I hope you guys like it ^^;;;; I got the idea when I was just screwing around, doodling whatever and I drew this and yeah....ideas for some reason xDD I might actually make a full, proper pic of this scene rather than just having sketchy chibi thingies.......maybe....we’ll see x//DD Also small bit of info just cause I feel I do need to put this here; after Infinite has completely healed after the final fight, Gadget ends up becoming too concerned for Valkyrie’s wellbeing- and everyone else’s wellbeing for that matter- since he doesn’t trust Infinite at all after all the crimes he’s committed so rather than just watching them through surveillance camera’s, he decides to move in with them which....well.....results in a lot of fighting between the two ^^;;; Though don’t get me wrong, I still absolutely love these two as a shipping, it’s just not a thing in this AU because I don’t think Gadget would be able to forgive Infinite for you know....everything that happens in Forces. Anyway! I think I’ve rambled enough...soo...yeah....hope you guys....enjoy the story....if not, I’m really sorry, I tried, I just had this idea and really wanted to write it down and just ahhhh x////DDD)) “Infinite!” Valkyrie gasped as the refurbished front door slammed violently against the wall to his left, causing the photo frames and windows to tremble and quake as she watched the fading, fleeting figure of the black jackal as he raced as far after from the small cottage as he could, ripping through the bushes and brambles with his razor sharp claws as he fled. Did he know where he was going? Of course not. But at this current point of time, anywhere was better than being inside that house that almost made him feel like the walls were caving in on him. Turning on her heel, the black cat ran for the rusted umbrella basket, grabbing the only umbrella they possessed- cobalt blue with golden rings- just in case while looking over at the crimson wolf who stood in the kitchen doorway, showing no signs of going after the jackal himself or even any signs of worry or concern for him. Not that she had been expecting much of a reaction from him. “I’m going after him,” Valkyrie announced, turning and speed walking for the door. “I know,” Gadget responded knowingly as he quickly followed the cat, grabbing her by the arm before she could run off. As she turned her golden orbs up to meet his own hazel ones, his voice turned more serious. “If you aren’t back here in five minutes, I’m coming after you.” Her ears fell back as her gaze briefly fluttered over the large red Wispon that sat beside the umbrella basket, its shiny, bright red metal almost sending shivers down her spine as images of what events would occur next if they weren’t back in time flashed through her mind. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her gaze, staring directly into the wolf’s eyes. “There’ll be no need for that,” she assured him as she freed her arm from his grasp turning and giving chase, making sure to close the door behind her with a gentle click. The sky above that had hours earlier been clear as crystal, was now shrouded in dark, menacing clouds that seemed like gigantic black sheep slowly floating across the sky, biding their time, waiting for the perfect moment. The many birds and woodland creatures that all day they’d been able to hear chattering and singing away had since vanished, causing an almost eerie silence to fall over the entire forested area. In all honesty, the day had gone from looking bright and full of life to almost as though the apocalypse was right around the corner yet again. However, the scenery nor the silence seemed to get to the black jackal as he stormed on, his fast sprint slowing into a light jog and eventually an angered stomp as he entered a rather open, empty field, the blades of emerald grass being long enough to lightly tickle his knees. Giving a heavy sigh, he dropped himself down onto the ground, bringing his knees up to his chest as he sat in absolute silence, gathering his thoughts and finally taking the time to properly think about today’s events with a clear, mostly calm mind. His housemates, the black cat who’d been with him for almost a year now and the crimson wolf he was certain was more than likely planning fifty ways to kill him in his sleep- not that he could even if he tried- were plotting together behind his back to try and put together a massive Christmas celebration, and he was just expected to be happy and jolly about it? To come skipping down the stairs like some sort of overjoyed school girl, singing one of those many repulsive Christmas jingles he knew was going to get stuck in his head for months to come? To put on one of those ridiculous looking Santa hats or reindeer antlers and group up for a “wacky, fun” Christmas photo? Chaos, no. Not over his dead body. They could keep all that “holiday cheer”, as one might call it to themselves thank you very much; Infinite did not want a single part of it. Christmas had never been a good time of year for the jackal, not even during his younger years. Thinking about this time of year, about the upcoming celebrations, about all the laughter and joy that was suppose to be had…it seemed to make the canine’s heart weight heavy in his chest. Though there were a handful of times after he’d become the Leader of the Jackal Squad that Christmas wasn’t too terrible. The first few Christmas’s they’d spent together hadn’t been anything really noteworthy but the previous year’s Christmas…now that had been something to remember. Placing one of his clawed hands over his scarred chest, he let his eyes slowly close as he allowed the memory to overtake his mind for a few minutes, allowing himself to relish in these precious memories of times now long gone. Behind his eyelids, an image began to bloom into vision; the very first thing he could see was a small campfire, sparking and burning fiercely in the darkness with a long, thin stick cradled over the top, held in place by two forked sticks to make a sort of mini spit roast for the rather large ham they’d managed to get their claws on. The fire began to light up the small area slightly, revealing a few shadowy, blurry shapes as they began to twist and form… And eventually solidify into several different, varying people- no, not just people. They were jackals. Jackals that had once belonged to his Squad. The Squad that had been like a second family to him. The ones he’d loved as though they truly were his biological siblings. The one’s he’d promised to protect, no matter what….and the one’s he’d failed that cold, dark night. Before he could be consumed by these other thoughts, voices began to reach his ears, dragging him back into more blissful, peaceful and heart warming ones. He could hear each member of his Squad as they began to materialize gathered around the fire on each of his sides. He could hear them joking, teasing one another, laughing….each voice was so different and yet he could identify each one perfectly, even though most of the time, they were overlapping and yelling over one another in their excitement and happiness. He watched quite proudly as each jackal ate their fill, being quite ecstatic to see them all properly fed for once. It was so hard for them to come by a decent meal on a regular basis after all. At the end of the day, they may not have gathered a lot of food for a massive, mouthwatering feast that would take them weeks to finish. Nor did they have a fancy plastic tree decorated with jingling bells or bright, shiny balls. There wasn’t a single present for any of them to open and yet they were just all thrilled to be together on this special day, relishing in each other’s company. The greatest gift they had on this day was each other. However it appeared as though Mother Nature did have one gift for them, which came in the form of a single snowflake which cascaded down, lightly landing ontop of the Christmas ham that hung over the blazing campfire. Snow. It had been what everyone had been looking forward to the most. And just seeing that single snowflake sent all of the jackals into an extremely enthusiastic, almost bouncy, energetic mood. Infinite felt the corners of his mouth twitch slightly as he savoured these memories dearly, as though it would be the last time he’d ever see them. He felt his lips twitch once more as his mouth slowly began to curl up to form a-- “Infinite?” Suddenly, the jackal jolted to life as he practically sprung to his feet, spinning around and facing whoever was behind him while opening his multicolored orbs as his heart raced madly in his chest as he took up an offensive position, preparing to attack however dared tried to sneak up on him. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of irritation as he met the worried, slightly fearful golden eyes of Valkyrie as she stood a few feet behind him, a hideous cobalt umbrella spread out above her head as she took two quick steps back in surprise. He let his eyes narrow slightly as he felt his body slowly relaxing as the scent of her slight fear reached his nose while he ran a hand quickly through his long white dreadlocks mere seconds before a light breeze blew past, ruffling them up again. “Oh…it’s you.” He grumbled in annoyance as he returned to his sitting spot, seeming to be about to pretend like the cat wasn’t there or that the blades of grass that were tickling his legs- and were also making him quite itchy- were the most interesting things to ever exist. Swallowing hard once she felt her heart rate slowly returning to normal as her friend took his spot back, Valkyrie managed to put a weak smile on her face as she tried to add a joking tone to her voice that just didn’t quite seem to stick. “Well someone had to chase after you and we all know it Gadget wouldn’t take the role.” “For good reason.” The jackal coldly responded, pulling up a few blades of grass and twirling them between his index and middle fingers as his gaze rose up towards the dark sky above. Valkyrie felt her tail beginning to wag out of nervousness as her ears drooped back, speechless as to how to respond to such an upfront response. So instead, she decided to get right to the point. “Infinite….do…you not celebrate Christmas?” She inquired, twirling the umbrella in her hands slightly. The silence that followed her question seemed to stretch on for what felt like years before finally, he responded. “I think it’s a pointless holiday. It’s nothing but a massive waste of time and money. If you and that fool are still going to celebrate, then I shall hibernate in my room until you are done.” Valkyrie felt a sharp pang of pain in her heart as she took a small step forward, a certain sadness yet confidence to her voice. “But we’re setting all of this up for you…” Infinite’s ear gave a small flick in response yet underneath his cold, distant exterior, he was quite surprised to hear these words. Yet his voice refused to give away his astonishment.“What?” “I thought it would be nice,” the cat continued to explain as her gaze drifted down, lingering on her dark boots. “I thought it would make you smile…I didn’t fully understand the concept of Christmas since I’ve never celebrated it myself so I had to get Gadget to help me.” A rather nervous smile briefly flickered onto her lips. “You can imagine how hard it was for me to convince him to help …” She rose her gaze, looking at the white splotch of fur on the jackal’s back as she continued. “But I managed to do it and together, we’ve spent the entire day decorating the house, finding a tree on such short notice and even cooking Christmas dinner together just to make everything as perfect as possible….if you’re not there, then we’re missing the entire reason why we’ve done this.” Infinite shook his head briskly. “You two can still celebrate together. I don’t need to be there; you just want me to be there.” “I do. Because it wouldn’t be Christmas if you’re not there to celebrate with us. You’re suppose to celebrate Christmas with your close friends and family…and well…” Slowly, the black cat came to stand beside the jackal, looking down at him with a bright, warm smile on her face. “You’re my best friend, Infinite. You’re basically like family to me at this point and I’d love to spend my first real Christmas with you.” Now that confession shocked the jackal more so than her first one. Closing his eyes tightly, he turned his head away from her, his bushy tail giving a few soft wags- possibly from happiness or more probably from nervousness- as he ignored the cat, her words still ringing loudly in his ears. He hadn’t heard someone refer to him as being like family since…. “Hey look! It’s snowing!” The jackal slowly opened one of his eyes, gazing up just in time to see the first few falling snowflakes of the season. To his side, Valkyrie seemed about ready to burst with happiness at the sight of the falling white flakes as a wide smile quickly spread across her muzzle, her eyes seeming to almost sparkle at the sight before them. “It’s so pretty…” “You make it sound as though you’ve never seen snow before,” the jackal inquired in an ever so slightly curious way, while at the same time, still managing to make it seem like he truly didn’t care about her answer. “I haven’t. Well…not until now….” The cat’s smile rapidly began to grow as she looked down at her close friend, her tail wagging rapidly in excitement. “Now it really is going to be the greatest Christmas ever! Come on Infinite, you have to come back and join in with us!” Infinite was still on the fence about this whole Christmas thing; a part of him truly wanted nothing to do with this holiday. He wanted to just go home, go to his room and barricade himself inside for the rest of the day. He didn’t want anything to do with this holiday that seemed to only make his heart grow heavy with emotions he’d thought he had long since become numb to. Yet another part of him didn’t want the cat’s efforts to go to waste. She was, after all, doing all of this for him. She’d even somehow managed to convince that kid to help out- something he knows must have taken her half to morning to achieve- and even gathered together a Christmas tree and most of what was needed for a Christmas feast- most but not all. It looked like they were missing a fairly big chunk of the food required but they did manage to get their hands on a ham so that was to be applauded, he supposed. The jackal let his shoulders sag as a heavy sigh escaped him. Then, he rose to his feet as snow continued to lightly fall around them, beginning to lightly dust the emerald landscape in a gentle shade of white. “Fine….but if this just ends up wasting my time, you’re both going to hear about it for the rest of the year….” At those words, the cat’s excitement and happiness seemed to explode as a rather high pitched meow unintentionally escaped her, followed by rather loud purring escaping her. “Thank you so much! I promise, you won’t regret it!” “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he turned, following the cat back to their small little home, tucked away from civilization, watching her from several feet behind as she was practically skipping home. The jackal almost felt his lips curling up once more; perhaps this Christmas wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

#sth #sonic oc #little story thing #infinite the jackal #Christmas story thing #I really dont know what to tag this as honestly #Im really really sorry if its bad #But if you've read it thanks for reading #It means a lot

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