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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, Bucky

Pairing: Nomad!Steve / Fem!Reader / Bucky (Stucky)

Words: 5114

Summary: You and Steve are worried about Bucky and don’t know how to fix things.

Warnings: Angst, Explicit language, explicit sexual content (threesomes (MMF), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (M and F receiving), anal sex, double penetration), explicit descriptions of consensual violence, age appropriate alcohol consumption, SMUT!!!, 18+!!!

A/N: Merry Christmas and hoe hoe hoe! My promised filthy treat for you all: my very first Stucky fic! This was a lot of fun to write but ended up way different than I had originally imagined. The smut is actually pretty fluffy (as fluffy as you can get with a threesome I guess). This is technically a continuation of my original “Birthday Gift” Nomad!Steve fic, though it takes place like a year later. I hope you all enjoy and have a very merry holiday!

“How’s that feel, Buck?” You asked, setting the arc-welder back on the tool bench as you sat back.

He flexed his fingers, testing the repairs you made to the neural link. “Good. You know you didn’t have to stay with me. I could’ve handled it on my own.”

The rest of the team was out on a rescue mission in Sri Lanka while the two of you hung back at your compound. His new arm had been on the fritz for the past few days, and he didn’t want to risk it crapping out on him in the middle of an op. He hadn’t planned on you staying, too, though you’d never joined the team on any of the other missions so he didn’t know why he was surprised.

“Right, you’re the one with years of experience with Wakandan tech. I’m sure Shuri would love to have a little conference with you about the intricacies of vibranium based neural networks.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes.

“Well, you don’t have to be mean about it.” He pouted, half-heartedly. It’d been a while since the two of you had some alone time, and he missed the banter.

You grinned at him. “Aww, Barnes, that’s nothing! Let’s test it out. C’mon, up.”

His smile disappeared quickly. “No, Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Jesus, Barnes. I’m not some little doll. We both need a workout. Besides, none of the other idiots ever wanna play knives with me. I know you miss it.”

You were right. Steve didn’t like relying on anything other than his fists since he gave up the shield and Nat and Sam definitely preferred guns if they were going to use any sort of weapon. But you and Bucky had a shared appreciation for the weight of a good blade in your hand.

“Fine.” He sighed. He knew you wouldn’t let up until he gave in, so he resigned himself to his fate.

He dragged his feet as he followed you to the gym. He’d been doing his best to avoid any close contact with you for the past few months. They’d been with you a little over a year now, ever since Siberia. When they found out about your history, Bucky bonded with you quickly over your shared tragedies.

But that only mattered so much, because you had Steve. And that was slowly killing Bucky.

He didn’t know how many more nights he could listen to the two of you. Granted, you managed to keep it down enough that the rest of the team didn’t notice anything, but his damn super soldier hearing made it seem like you were right next to him. The sounds of your wanton whimpers and low moans kept him up all night, his cock aching as he writhed in his sweat soaked sheets. He always had trouble looking at the two of you the morning after, and he could tell that things were slowly starting to get strained, but it was just too goddamn hard to be around you when he couldn’t have you, not that he would ever try. Steve was his best friend.

Of course, you had noticed how strange Barnes had been acting over the past few months, and you and Steve were starting to get worried. You were hoping that having some time, just the two of you, would help him loosen up and let you back in.

He arrived in the gym a few steps behind you and found you bouncing a sparring blade off the palm of your hand. You shot him a grin over your shoulder and tossed it to him, and he plucked it out of the air easily, giving a sigh at the familiar feeling as he spun it through his fingers. It would be nice to lose himself in a good spar.

“One or two, Buck?”

“One is good.” He said as he started to stretch himself out.

“Great.” You murmured, unzipping your hoodie and setting it aside before picking up a blade of your own and tossing it quickly between your hands, acclimating yourself to its weight. “Music ok?”

“Fine.” He didn’t know why you insisted on listening to music during your spar sessions, but he could admit it lent your fighting style a certain artistic flair.

The sounds of alt-J’s “Left Hand Free” came over the speakers and you let out a small sound of satisfaction. “Ahh, perfect. Alright, Barnes, I promise I’ll go easy on you.” You grinned at him as you tucked your blade against your wrist and dropped into a fighting stance.

He snorted at you as he headed to his corner. “Right, we’ll s… fuck!”

You barely gave him a chance to turn around before you were on him, your knee driving towards his midsection before you extended it at the last second to try to kick the knife out of his hand. He dodged at the last second but you were already ducking to sweep his legs out from under him. He dropped the knife in surprise as he went down and you caught it before it hit the ground and pounced on his chest, pressing both of your blades to his throat.

“Ha, that’s one for me!” You grinned down at him as you dropped his knife onto his chest before standing back up and heading back to your corner.

“You’re a cheater, Y/N.” He growled at you as he gained his feet, pissed he let you catch him off guard.

“Just preparing you for the real world, darling.” You shot him a wink as you shifted your weight back and forth, waiting for him to signal he was ready, this time.

His gut clenched when you called him that, and he had to steel himself. He was determined to not let you get under his skin today. He didn’t want things to get any more awkward.

You let him make the first move this time, and he ran at you full force, whipping his arm around to try to ram the blade into the side of your ribs. You blocked him with your forearm and he dropped the blade to catch it in his opposite hand and deliver a backhand blow to your side, which you just barely dodged. He brought his now empty fist up and drove it into your elbow and you dropped your blade with a grunt. He scooped it out of the air with the same hand as he sank to a kneeling position and brought the flat of the blade to rest at the juncture of your inner thigh on instinct, where your femoral artery would run. When he realized where his hand had landed, he drew it back with a hiss, dropping your knife at your feet.

“One for me.” He murmured, trying to cover the flush creeping over his face.

You didn’t notice, you were enjoying yourself too much. You flipped your blade up into the air with your toe and caught it before charging Bucky.

He barely had a second to prepare before you were flying off the mat towards his face. You looped one knee over his shoulder and the other around his upper back as you clenched your abdominal muscles then released them, whipping yourself back and flipping him over you until you landed on the mat with a slap and were straddling his chest. You started flipping your knife through your fingers when he brought his metal arm up and wrapped it around your waist, flinging you off him as he brought his knees to his chest and whipped himself into a crouching position.

You windmilled your legs until you were in a crouch of your own; chest bent low over one bent knee, your other leg extended to your side, holding your balance with one hand on the mat. He dove at you, trying to drive his blade towards your throat but you managed to wrap your thighs around his arm and your shins around his neck as you extended your legs and gripped his wrist, keeping in a hold. He brought his free hand around and punched you in the hip, knocking the air out of you as you buckled.

You managed to roll out from underneath him before he could bring the blunted blade to your chest and got him in a partial arm bar with your blade at his ribs at the same time he pressed his blade to your throat.

“Draw?” You asked after the two of you had stayed in that position for a beat.

“Draw.” He agreed as you released each other, rolling to his feet with a groan as you stayed on your back, breathing heavily. “Let’s take a quick break.”

“Yeah.” You sighed at him as you slowly climbed back to your feet and went to towel yourself off.

He grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge and tossed one to you before he started to chug. You held yours to your neck before taking a drink.

He watched you hungrily. You were damp with sweat and he was mesmerized by a stray bead of condensation that was traveling down the line of your neck to the valley between your breasts. Your hair was plastered to your scalp and your chest was still heaving. He imagined this was what you must look like after sex and had to school his thoughts immediately before they headed further down that path. He splashed himself in the face with some of his water to try to cool down.

You breathing had started to return to normal and you shot him a small smile, failing to notice how uncomfortable he was. “What d’you say, Barnes, one more round?”

He knew he should say no. He was having a hard time keeping his thoughts tamped down and was worried how his body would react if he had anymore close contact with you, but it was hard to care about that at this point. How much could one more round really hurt?

He tossed his empty bottle into the recycling bin and stalked back to his corner, not taking his eyes off you as you tossed your towel over the back of a bench and walked opposite him.

The two of you prowled around each other like a couple of cats, eyeing the other’s movements and trying to determine what your moves were going to be.

Bucky saw your eyes flick to the window for just a second, distracted by something outside, and he took his chance. He pounced on you, rolling the two of you over each other as he gripped the hand holding your knife and bent your wrist back until you dropped the blade. You wrenched your head back and connected with his face at the same time you drove your elbow into his diaphragm, causing him to release you.

You twisted your torso around and flipped yourself forward, bringing your knees to his shoulders and carrying your momentum forward to bring him to the mat with you kneeling on his chest.

He dropped his knife in the exchange but managed to bring a hand under your thigh and roll you until he had you in a half-nelson with top scissors, his upper body curled around yours as he pinned you to the mat.

His face was buried in your hair and he was inhaling your scent deeply before he could help himself. You were still struggling to get out of the hold when he tightened his grip around you with a growl. He could feel his cock hardening as it was pinned against the swell of your ass, but for the moment he didn’t care. He didn’t even feel you stop struggling, he just continued holding you in that position.

“Um, Barnes.” You murmured, your face pressed into the mat.

“Mmmm…”

“Bucky.” You said, more firmly this time.

“Shit.” He hissed as he released you and scrabbled backwards on the mat, holding one hand out to keep you away from him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Buck, it’s ok. It happens.” You said softly, a look of concern coming over your face when you saw how distressed he was.

“No, it’s not fucking ok. Goddamn it!” He drove his metal fist into the mat hard, making you jump. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait, Bucky…”

“No, just, leave me alone.” He said over his shoulder as he rushed out of the gym, determined to seclude himself in his room for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, Buck, how’s the new arm… whoa. Something happen?” The rest of the team had arrived back at the compound and Steve had come to check on the two of you. Bucky just charged past him without acknowledgement. “Everything ok, sweetheart?” He turned his intense blue eyes to you with concern. He had hoped you two might be able to get to the root of the awkwardness that had seemed to be growing between you three, but things sure seemed to be worse now that he was back.

He wrapped a massive arm around your waist to help you up from the mat and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“I dunno, baby. I’m pretty sure I figured out what the issue is. We should set aside some time tonight to talk. I think we should also lay off the PDA for a bit.”

He scoffed at that before taking a good look at you. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about it later.”

It took Bucky almost two days to come out of his room and when he did, he did his best to avoid you and Steve. Tensions in the house were high and it seemed everyone was walking on eggshells. You were hoping that a little Christmas celebration might help everyone loosen up.

It barely helped. Buck just sulked in a corner, nursing a glass of vodka and glowering at everything. At least everyone else seemed pretty cheery. He was at least grateful that he hadn’t had to listen to you and Steve fucking each other like animals for the past week. He had actually been able to get some sleep. But now the two of you were acting cagey. You kept giving each other longing looks before glancing furtively in his direction and he was pretty sure his restful nights were over. Everyone else started drunkenly up to bed once the early morning hours hit and it was eventually just the three of you sitting there in awkward silence.

You kept looking at him like you wanted to say something but didn’t know what, and all he could feel was a hollow ache in his chest every time you made eye contact.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone now. I’m sure you have your own celebrations you want to get to.” He said bitterly when Steve came to stand behind you and rested his hand on your shoulder.

“Shit, Buck, just wait.” You pleaded as he turned to go.

“No, Y/N it’s fine.”

“It’s not, Bucky.” Steve rumbled, his brow furrowed with worry.

“God, not you too, Rogers.” He said, exasperated.

“Bucky, please.” The catch in your voice startled him, and he turned back to you. “Just, come with us.” You whispered, extending a hand to him.

He wasn’t entirely sure he had heard you right, but then you were standing in front of him, brushing your mouth along the hollow of his throat as your hands rested against his chest.

He looked at Steve questioningly and was just met with a small smile as he started heading down the hall to your room. You drew Bucky along with you, softly kissing his neck as your hands wandered under his shirt to explore the plains of his back. He felt like he was in a dream state, his mind wrapped in a warm cocoon as he let you pull him along.

You reached your room and he felt you close the door behind you. He only had a moment to register Steve resting on a chair in the corner before your mouth was on his and all his other senses abandoned him.

You tongue moved past his lips softly and massaged his, drawing a moan from his chest. He wrapped his hands around your shoulders and buried his hands in your hair, holding your face to his like you were giving him oxygen.

He was drunk from the taste of you as he reluctantly pulled away to draw in a breath. Your scent filled his lungs as he sucked down air and he moved his hands to the front of your blouse as he ripped it open and slid it down your shoulders, exposing your breasts and making you sigh. His hands moved to swell of your chest as he ran his thumbs softly over the slope of your breasts, brushing them over your nipples and raising them to sensitive buds as he gazed at you.

He pressed his mouth to yours once more, running his tongue along the cushion of your bottom lip before his lips started traveling down your neck. His hands pressed against the small of your back as he guided you onto the bed. Once he had lain you down, they slipped down to your hips, following the band of your jeans to unbutton them and slide them down your thighs with your panties as his tongue laved over your nipple and you gave him one of those whimpers he had only heard through the walls before. The sound of it made him groan against your chest as he nuzzled you softly before kissing down the flat plain of your abdomen.

His hands brushed against the insides of your thighs as he worked his mouth lower and when they reached their apex he found you soaked with your arousal.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“Mmm, Bucky.” You sighed as his tongue brushed against the folds of your sex.

“Sshh, pretty girl.” He murmured as his fingers pulled you apart and exposed the small bud at the peak of your slit. He pressed his tongue against it softly before wrapping it in his lips and sucking.

“Oh, god.” Your breath rushed out of you as you arched yourself into him and you wound your fingers in his hair. His tongue massaged your clit languorously as he drew a single finger through the arousal at your entrance before inserting it into you and curling it. You gasped as he stretched you from the inside and bit your lip, fluttering your eyelids closed in absolute bliss.

He added another finger and you let out a soft cry, wrapping your thighs around his neck and begging him for more as his tongue increased its pressure and speed. The taste of you was like a drug on his tongue. He felt heady with pleasure as he drew more soft sounds from you. You clenched around him when he added a third finger and he eagerly lapped up the evidence of your continued arousal that seeped out around them as he fucked them into you.

You felt your desire coiling in your core as he curled his fingers against that sweet, secret spot over and over and when he wrapped his lips around you again and sucked, hard, you were finished. You let out a thin wail as your muscles seized with pleasure before trembling in your release. He felt your release seep over his fingers and coat his chin as you came down, slowly relaxing the muscles leading to your core. He slowly drew himself up to gaze down at you as he removed his own clothes, watching you twitch as he drew his shirt over his head as your release continued to pulse out of your cunt. He tossed his shirt to the side and dragged his jeans and briefs down his legs before kneeling between your thighs on the bed.

He tucked one hand under your neck and the other under your hips and drew you up until you were cradled in his lap. You felt the length of his cock sliding through the slick that was coating your pussy and you screwed your eyes shut with a moan, pressing your forehead to Bucky’s.

“Hey, open your eyes.” He whispered before nipping at your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth with his thumb on your chin. “I wanna look at you.”

You dragged your heavy lids open and stared into his eyes. His pupils were lust-blown and just left a thin ring of ice around endless pools of black. You felt him guiding himself to your entrance and he slipped himself in slowly, sliding you down on his length until he was fully sheathed in you. You let out a gasp when you were full of him, loving the feel of being stretched around his full length.

He started moving his hips slowly, grinding them against you as he brushed his lips against yours, never breaking eye contact. You matched his delicious, slow rhythm and sucked his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping it softly.

“I love you, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He pressed his mouth to yours hungrily, his tongue tangling with yours for just a moment before he broke away. “I love you too. You ok with me moving?”

You nodded your head and sucked in a breath as he moved a hand to your hip and fucked up into you suddenly. He picked up the pace quickly, rutting up into you and making you gasp. He fought to maintain eye contact as he felt your breasts bouncing against his chest each time his hips moved, but he wanted to watch you as you came apart around him.

One of his thrusts had his tip kissing your cervix and you let out a hiss at the sensation. He felt you clench around him as you neared another orgasm and moved his hand from your hip to strum at your clit. Your breath started hitching as he brought you closer and closer, the muscles in your abdomen twitching as you neared the brink. One hard drive of his thumb was all it took to send you over the edge and you collapsed against his chest, screaming his name as your torso rolled with the waves of pleasure that were wracking you.

Once he felt you relax he drew your head up for one more kiss before laying you back against the bed as he moved his hands to your hips and pulled you into him over an over. He gave Steve a nod and turned his attention back to you, mesmerized as he watched your perfect tits bounce with each thrust of his hips.

You gazed at Steve through heavy lids as he stood from his seat. He was already undressed and had been watching intently as Bucky fucked you, stroking his length as he watched him take you apart. Now he stalked over to you like a cat. He knelt down and pressed a hungry kiss to your lips as your head hung over the edge of the bed.

“You ready for me baby?” He asked, cupping your cheek in one massive palm as he stared into your eyes.

You nodded eagerly and bit your lip, not trusting your voice at the moment after all your screaming.

He gave you a quick peck before standing back up and bringing the tip of his cock to your lips, swirling the precum that had collected there around before he pressed it into your mouth.

You drew his into your mouth eagerly, swirling your tongue around his tip and moaning at the taste of him before he pressed himself into you a little further. Bucky hit you at a new angle suddenly and you let out a thin whine around Steve’s cock, making him hiss.

“Shit, I don’t think I can go as slow as I thought, sweetheart, get ready.”

You took a deep breath through your nose as he shoved himself all the way into your mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks as he started fucking your throat in earnest and tears started to leak from your eyes. You did your best not to inhale the drool that was running from your mouth as he rutted into you faster. Bucky had picked up his pace too and you felt yourself winding up for another massive orgasm. You were worried the combination of rhythms and lack of oxygen was going to make you pass out.

As you drew closer, you felt your two soldiers starting to twitch.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close. Buck?”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Do you need us to pull out, honey?”

You absolutely did not. You wrapped your legs around Bucky and your arms around Steve as another orgasm took you and you almost choked on the pleasure, your body writhing between the two men as they picked up their paces. They were seconds behind you. Bucky came first with a feral growl and you felt his spend spurting inside you, warming you from the inside as your cunt drew it all from him. Steve was last and caught himself on his left arm as his release ran down your throat, his cock twitching as you swallowed around his length.

Bucky collapsed beside you to your left, flinging an arm across your abdomen and pressing his face into your neck. Steve sat down heavily beside your face before twisting himself to lay on your right side, wrapping one of his massive legs in yours and placing a soft kiss on you lips before laying beside you.

You gave Steve a smile before turning over your shoulder to Bucky and nuzzling your nose against his, running a hand through his hair.

He pressed himself into your back and brought his metal hand up to cup your cheek as he kissed you deeply. His other arm wound itself underneath you and pressed you closer to him, splaying over your abdomen.

Steve started brushing his lips across your chest as he brought a hand to cup one of your breasts. You felt arousal starting to pool between you legs again at the gentle attention they were giving you. You brought your hands down to palm their cocks and felt them begin to harden in your hands.

“God sweetheart, you’re insatiable.” Steve chuckled against your neck. “Good thing we have Buck here now or you’d wear me out.”

You felt Bucky laughing against your hair as he started grinding his cock into your ass. You felt his hand move between your ass cheeks and gasped as his fingers brushed against your puckered hole before running through your arousal. “Where do you want us, love?” He whispered as he pressed one soaked finger at the tight ring of muscle before inserting it quickly, making you gasp. “I think she’s good with where we are Rogers.” He grinned at his friend over your shoulder as he stretched you slowly, waiting for you to relax before he inserted another finger.

“You sure, baby?” Steve asked after pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, yes.” You hissed at him as Bucky inserted another finger and you felt a fresh rush of arousal seep down your legs.

“Alright, beautiful.” He said around a grin as the three of you moved into a seated position.

Bucky was planting soft kisses over your shoulders as he dragged his erection through your folds, coating himself in your release before he pressed the head of his cock against your anus, and suddenly you were drawing him into you until he was bottomed out.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He hissed in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips as you moaned at the sensation of being filled with him and leaned your head back against his shoulder.

Steve brushed his tip against your clit before sheathing himself in your sex and your brain short-circuited for a second, your eyes rolling up into your head.

“Fuck, Y/N. Stay with me.” Steve hissed at you, concern coming over his face.

“I’m good, baby. Just needed a second.” You grinned at him once you came back to yourself.

“Alright, honey, we’re going to move.” Bucky warned you as his hips drew back before thrusting forward.

“Oh, God.” You could tell this was going to be short work. The contrasting rhythms they were setting was driving you to your breaking point faster than you thought possible and their mouths tracing your chest and shoulders was only adding to the sensation. You felt yourself already clenching around them and came suddenly, digging your fingers into Steve’s biceps as every muscle in your body seized and you vibrated with your release between the two of them.

They started picking up the pace then, humming as their lips brushed against your skin and you went into sensory overload. Your skin felt like it was on fire and every nerve was singing. Wherever their fingers touched you felt like you had been shocked with electricity. It was getting to be too much and you started to mewl unintelligibly as they moved inside of you.

Bucky nodded at Steve as you felt them starting to twitch inside you. “Almost done pretty girl, where do you want it?”

“Mmmm, inside me.” You whispered, completely fucked out as another orgasm wracked you.

Bucky pressed a kiss behind your ear and Steve pressed one to your lips as their hips suddenly stilled and they came inside you at the same time. You sighed as you felt their release leaking out of you and down your thighs and you let yourself collapse backward against Bucky’s chest. He carried you backwards until you were laying on top of him while Steve headed to the bathroom.

Bucky murmured soft praises against your hair as he rolled you over until he was spooning you, his metal arm wrapped around you as his other hand ran up and down the outside of your thigh. You sighed against the pillow when Steve returned with a damp cloth and ran it over the inside of your thighs to clean you off before he crawled into the bed with the two of you, pressing the front of his body to yours and pulling the sheets up over the three of you as you nuzzled yourself into his chest.

“Love you sweetheart.” He whispered, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to doze off.

“Mmm, love you Steve. Love you Bucky. Merry Christmas, boys.” You murmured before falling asleep between your two super soldiers, absolutely content wrapped in their warmth.

“Merry Christmas Barnes.”

“You too Rogers”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18

#stucky #nomad steve #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky angst #steve rogers x bucky barnes x you #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist here

AO3 link here

Author’s Note: And we’re at the penultimate chapter! Am rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!! Thank you for following this fic with me <3

He stays away from her over the next two weeks. He still picks Shino up from childcare - he’s never leaving his little girl again - but takes Osamu’s advice to duck into the kitchen the minute he hears the bell chime to mark her entrance into the shop.

‘Is everything alright with Atsumu?’ he hears her ask Osamu after a week of radio silence from him.

He imagines Osamu just shrugs, because his twin later gives him a look of askance that he ignores.

‘Meet me on Sunday afternoon? Was hoping to have a quick chat and pass something over to you since my arm is out of its sling.Osamu agreed to take Shino for a couple of hours, so don’t worry about her’, he texts her.

‘Fine’, she texts back. ‘Works for me’.

‘Hey’, he greets her as she opens the door, fighting the impulse to scruff his shoes into the ground like a nervous schoolboy on his first date.

‘Hey yourself’, she responds without heat, slipping on her shoes. ‘Shall we?’

He nods, turning on his heel and she follows suit, their footfalls matching in pace, though they angle their bodies to avoid each other’s gaze in the lift. They do not exchange a single word until they reach the car park, and he leads her past all the cars to a dim corner, lit by a single flickering electric bulb.

‘Atsumu - what’s this?’ she says, staring uncomprehendingly at the motorbike parked in front of her, the exact replica of the bike she sold when she got pregnant with Shino, albeit updated with a shining coat of new paint and the latest modifications, top of the line.

‘Surprise?’ he tells her, unable to hide a grin when she runs a hand reverently over the seat of the bike.

‘I can’t accept this, ‘Tsumu. It’s too much’, she demurs but he knows she’s fallen in love when she’s unable to tear her eyes away from the bike.

‘Sure ya can! I registered it under yer name, and paid for the parking fees for the year, and look! It even comes with a helmet!’, he assures her, crossing his fingers behind his back. ‘Ya can ride it whenever ya have time to yerself - I’ll make sure I or ‘Samu will take Shino-chan for a couple hours every weekend so ya can go break some speed limits on the bike!’

‘This isn’t a bribe, right? Or some attempt to trick me into agreeing into something I don’t want to do?’ she asks him suspiciously.

‘No - no tricks, I swear on my life. Look - I’ve signed the divorce papers, they’re in my bag. I just wanted to give ya the bike as a partin' gift’, he says, keeping his voice deliberately light.

She stares at him, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but he holds her gaze until she turns away, satisfied.

‘You never do anything by halves, do you ‘Tsumu? But thank you anyway’, she laughs breathily and his heart lurches to a start when he sees her slowly start to glow whilst fussing over the bike, exclaiming to herself as she admires the paint job and the extra compartments he’d gotten the mechanic to install.

Watching her brings back memories of their adventures together before Shino came along. She’d pick him up for a ride to the outskirts of Osaka on their rare days off, in search for a spot to lay their picnic mat down and shoot the breeze. They’d never found that perfect picnic spot, but that just meant that there were more places to explore, more roads to traverse, more adventures for them to go on. That’d all stopped once Shino came along, and he wonders if they wouldn’t be in such a state if he’d put in more effort to carve out more time for them.

And even before that - there was the time she’d surprised him by turning up in Kobe for one of his matches, sweeping him away from his confused teammates right after the match to celebrate over egg mayo sandwiches at 7-11. He suspects that was the day he’d fallen in love with her, half realising that she was probably the only person crazy enough to burn hours on the road on the back her rusty old bike right after an exam, just to stay up all night sitting cross-legged in a dim combini with mayo in her hair, listening to him ramble about his volleyball match.

Wow. 'Samu's right. Even the reason he fell in love with her was fucking selfish.

‘Hey ‘Tsumu’, he hears her say after a while and he looks up. ‘Wanna go for a ride?’ she asks brightly, twirling the keys around her finger.

‘Huh?’ he responds, genuinely perplexed.

‘A ride, you idiot. Don’t you want to find out how the bike feels on the road, especially since you’re the one who paid for it?’

‘Sure’, he says, a little lost - but then again she’s always found ways to keep him on his toes. ‘But there’s only one helmet’.

‘I still have my old one upstairs. Give me a second so I can get it!’ she rushes off, a spring in her step he’s sorely missed seeing and despite the ache in his heart, he smiles.

His smile vanishes the moment she kicks the bike full throttle and hurtles through weekend Osaka traffic at breakneck speed, making such sharp turns he almost falls off the bike if he weren’t already clutching her waist for dear life. ‘Oi! Look out!’ he yelps, as she weaves her way through narrow gaps between cars, seemingly deaf to the horns of outraged drivers behind her - and fuck he wants to puke but can’t because there’s no way that doesn’t end badly for him.

‘Slow down, you fuckin' maniac’, he manages to shout when his stomach gives itself up for dead, but the wind swallows his words and she only whoops in response. The neon city lights blur into a mess of colours and he runs through his repertoire of curse words. He swears she’s evil - it’s not enough that she’s killed him once by divorcing him, her insane riding is going to make sure he’s doubly dead.

They burst onto the highway in a squeal of tires, the city skyline fading into a sea of lights, and they’re both so focused on the road ahead of them, well – she is, at least, he’s trying his level best to stay on his seat - that neither of them notice the dark clouds gathering above until the first splatter of raindrops on the road.

The sky is threatening enough to make her swerve off the highway into a quiet neighbourhood, screeching to a halt at the nearest park with an empty shelter large enough to fit both of them. They jump off the bike, helmets dangling over their arm, and she catches hold of his hand as they splash their way through muddy puddles in a bid to escape the incoming storm.

‘That was amazing!’ she laughs when they reach shelter, twirling on the tips of her feet, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, looking so happy and bright and alive - like a bird spreading its wings to fly high in the sky, the way she used to be before their marriage broke her wings and shackled her to the ground.

If only he hadn’t been blinded by the false allure of his dreams to appreciate what was right in front of him - a woman bold enough to whisk him away from the clutches of deranged fans on the back of a motorbike, fierce enough for Osamu to assign her to deal with his bullshit - and most of all, crazy enough to marry and have a child with him. And he knows she isn’t his, not anymore, but he's a greedy, selfish man, and he wants her one last time, so he throws his jacket over her shoulders as a pretext for drawing her close to him, slanting his mouth gently over hers.

She stills for a second, and he’s about to pull away when she melts into him, tilting her chin up to grant him greater access to her lips. An unexpected heat coils in his stomach when she tangles her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, a thrill running down his spine as he loses himself in her familiar softness and warmth and groans.

She gasps, jerking away from him, tracing her bruised lips with her fingers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

‘Tsumu’, she begins to say, but he cuts her off, frantic with worry that he’s scared her off before he’s had the chance to say his piece.

‘I’m sorry - I know I shouldn’t have but I just...can I just say what I meant to say to ya before this?’ he asks, banking on the fact that she hasn’t slapped him yet, and to his relief, she nods.

‘I’ve thought about what ya said, and yer right - I’ve taken so much from ya I don’t deserve to ask ya for anything else, not when I should be the one making it up to ya for the rest of my life,’ he says, his heart cracking beneath his ribs (so it’s true, a heart can actually break) – because he knows now she’s lost to him, has been the second he'd forsaken his vows and stormed out of her life, but he gulps a breath to calm his pulse, forcing himself to continue on.

‘All I want is for ya to be happy and free - and if signing these papers is the price I have to pay, I’ll do it for ya’. Then he draws the brown envelope from his bag, holding it out to her with shaking hands.

She makes no move to take it from him.

‘Do you even love me, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks, her voice feather light, a wisp in the wind. ‘Be honest with me, you don’t have to lie’.

There’s a searing pain in his chest and he closes his eyes, losing himself to the undercurrent of regret pulsing in his mind.

‘I do’, he manages to choke out, peeling aside the rotting layers of vanity and greed and selfishness and pride to flay his chest open to present his heart to her, in all its bleeding, broken glory.

‘Yer everythin’ I could’ve ever asked for, and it’s killin’ me to watch you walk away - but I deserve it cos I’m a fuckin’ idiot for not realisin’ that sooner, and ya have no idea how fuckin’ sorry I am for hurting ya so badly and making you think that I don’t love ya - because I do, gods, I do, I love ya so goddamned much.’

‘Does our marriage mean that much to you?’ she stares at him, her eyes clouded with an emotion he can’t make out.

‘Yes’, he says simply, his response both a confession and a prayer. He makes no move to touch her, fearful that any misstep might tip them both over the edge, the storm of emotions swirling within him already threatening to swallow him whole.

‘Then ask me again, ‘Tsumu’ she whispers, her fists clenched, trembling by her side.

He blinks at her, but his confusion morphs into elated disbelief when she takes the brown envelope from him and rips it cleanly in half.

Oh.

‘Ask me again, ‘Tsumu’, she repeats, the clouds in her eyes clearing into pools of light. He wonders if it mirrors the rush of warmth and love and most of all - hope, overflowing in his heart.

‘Wanna try jumping off a cliff again?’ he asks, voice shaking, echoing the request he made of her years ago.

She steps forward into his waiting arms, her smile like golden sunlight spilling through grey rain.

‘Only if you promise to jump with me’, she says softly against his chest.

He catches her forgiveness desperately in his hands, and seals his promise with his lips.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #haikyuucreations #miya atsumu #miya osamu #inarizaki

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Back To You

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,266

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Some Fluff, Some Smut / Suggestive Themes, Some Swearing

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! This one is based loosely on the songs “Everytime” by Ariana Grande and “Oh My God” by (G)I-DLE. (Total bops, ikr?) There are some *spicy* moments in here, so prepare yourselves. Nothing too crazy, but it’s definitely something new for me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it; feel free to let me know what you think. Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

As Lisa watched you from the back of the room, her drink being clutched tighter in her hand with each passing second, she attempted to control her emotions. The current song’s strong beats pulsed throughout the house, the bass sending vibrations out across the floor. She watched as you spun around, leaning back and grinding slightly on whatever new person had been brave enough to approach you. Their hands were all over you, gripping your hips, your hair -- everything. The sight made her sick, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

“You okay?” Jennie asked, raising her voice loud enough for her friend to hear. Upon seeing the dejected look on Lisa’s face, she followed her gaze; just as her eyes landed on you, your dancing partner leaned in to press a kiss to your neck. Your head was tilted back, granting them access; Jennie knew that Lisa would be crushed.

"Totally." She seethes, clenching her jaw and rolling her eyes as you're bent over again.

Not even 10 minutes ago, she was the one dancing with you. The past hour had seen you two out there, bodies pressed close together, free in the rhythm.

But she lost you the second that she left to get a drink: everyone who had been waiting for the chance to dance with you took this as their opportunity.

Upon seeing her best friend so miserable, Jennie began to regret inviting you in the first place. The girls love Lisa more than anything and they want to see her happy; clearly, though, whatever you share with Lisa is anything but healthy. Every time they voice their concerns, she swears she knows what she's doing -- that she's capable of handling herself. It doesn't take a genius to see that she's not fine, but they do owe you some credit; she's seen some of her happiest times because of you. The only thing Lisa is certain of is that she can never seem to leave you. Anytime she thinks she's managed to let go, you're calling again, effectively pulling her back in. The situation is complex, feelings and fears mixing together in a deadly combo.

After a while, Jennie convinces her to spend some time with the girls outside by the firepit in hopes of taking her mind off of the situation. She agrees, and soon she's genuinely enjoying herself again.

~~~~~~~

Why, out of every other room possible, did she have to walk into this one? It's almost karmic, to the point that Lisa wonders if maybe she did something so unbearably heinous in a past life that she might be deserving of such punishment. She was simply looking for the restroom; never did she expect to witness this.

Perhaps you haven’t noticed her presence yet -- you're in someone’s lap, half naked with your hair mussed and lips swollen, your motions never ceasing for a second. Standing there, catching you in the act, Lisa's torn -- should she slip away and pretend like she never saw that? Or should she burst in and interrupt you?

Before she has time to react, the decision is made for her.

From outside the door, just a little bit down the hallway, another partygoer shouts out a slurred phrase to their friend, falling to the ground in a drunken heap. The sound catches your attention (considering it was loud enough to be heard over the music blasting from downstairs) and you look up. Lisa’s eyes meet yours halfway, neither of you knowing what to do at that point. She visibility tenses before muttering a quick sorry and shutting the door. Shit.

Your current hook-up is too busy leaving marks on your neck to even acknowledge what happened, their hands gripping your waist as they pull you in closer. While part of you wants to go after her, your mind is still clouded with desire -- your body overrules your better judgement, prompting you to continue on. You attempt to push the thoughts of Lisa from your mind, but every time your head is thrown back in pleasure, eyelids fluttering closed, the image of her sad eyes flashes before you. Why did she look so upset?

Lisa’s heart is breaking. After making her way down the stairs, she throws a goodbye to her friends over her shoulder before walking out. What the two of you have was never supposed to be complicated; quite the opposite actually. Neither of you can deny the energy you share -- the connection you feel anytime you're together-- but you aren't ready for a relationship. Lisa's always said that she isn't either, but it's a lie every time; she doesn't want to tie you down or hold you back from experiencing everything life has to offer, but she wants more with you.

She prides herself on being a strong woman, tough in the face of difficult situations. But the one thing she can't seem to get over is the fact that you're intimate with other people. It's not a new discovery by any means, but in the past she could always pretend like it wasn't true when the sadness would come on especially strong. After finding you like that at the party, though, she clearly can't do that anymore.

Once the two of you are finished, they quickly exit the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. With them gone, you can finally breathe and take a minute to think about what happened. Why do you feel guilty? Lisa has made it clear that she's okay with what you have going on, but yet something in her gaze told you the opposite. The way her face fell, brows knitted sadly, eyes cast to the floor -- it all sold her out, her real emotions on full display.

~~~~~~~

Two Days Later

"Can I come over, baby?" The pet name felt a bit foreign on your tongue now, almost as if you didn't have the right to use it after what happened.

She knew the words were coming, but she still felt her stomach flip at them. A simple "Mmm," came through the phone as your answer, and you soon set off for her apartment. You could tell she was trying to sound the same as always, attempting to disguise the uncertainty in her voice as indifference.

~~~~~~~

*Knock Knock*

The second that the door opens, you begin to apologize.

"Lisa, I'm sorry that you had to see--"

The feeling of her mouth on yours silences you, catching you completely off guard. Wasn't she upset? Despite the confusion, you don't move away; you allow her to pull you into the room, melting into her embrace as she pushes you up against the door.

The logical part of your brain is begging you to wait, to talk about what happened that night, but you can't find the strength to step out of her hold. Gently, her nails graze over your skin, mindlessly tracing little patterns as her soft lips press to your jaw.

Her hands swiftly snake under your shirt, caressing the warm skin of your abdomen, and she lifts her head to kiss your lips. After spending so much time with Lisa, you're able to read her well; every touch, tremble, and move has its own meaning, successfully communicating the thoughts that she could never say out loud. Her body never lies to you, and you consider it a trusted source for that very reason. With that in mind, you make a mental note to pay attention so that you might gain some insight into what she's feeling.

After stumbling blindly into the living room, she walks you backwards until your legs hit the couch; with a shove, you're sent falling backwards onto the soft cushions below. Her darkened eyes peer down at you, scanning over every inch of your body. Once her gaze settles on your face, she smiles widely; you're already turned on, and she's proud of herself. The air of the room thickens as she licks her lips, signalling for you to take your clothes off. She reciprocates before joining you, hovering over your form. Her hair falls into your face, gently tickling your cheeks and lightening the mood momentarily; the action draws a giggle from you, and she grins at the sound. No matter how upset she was, how hurt your previous actions made her, she would forever be under your spell.

The aura around you shifts back to its initial, tense state, thrilling you to your core. She bites your lip, granting herself more access as she nudges your legs apart with her knee. The feeling of her toned thigh connecting with your center sends you reeling, but she's quick to muffle your moan with a kiss. Every little move from her drives you crazy, only fueling your desire more. One of your arms wraps around her waist, aiding her movements on your thigh, while your other hand comes up to tangle in her hair. With a tug, you begin kissing down her neck, leaving dark marks on the tender skin there. Your actions pull a low groan from her, and you almost grow arrogant; your ego is soon put in check when she grinds further down onto you, her hips settling into a smooth rhythm. Your knees go weak at the sensation, your stomach tightening with each push and pull of her body against your own.

The pleasure rushing through you causes your eyes to flutter closed, mind only on Lisa. Your head falls back onto the cushion, and she jumps at the opportunity to gently -- teasingly -- wrap her fingers around your neck, the slightest bit of pressure added. "You like that, baby?" It's a rhetorical question: she knows you enjoy it, especially with the way that your pulse quickens beneath her fingertips, your skin heating up. She watches as your eyes peek open the slightest bit, only to widen upon seeing the lustful look she's giving you. Knowing that your words would surely fail you, you instead nod furiously, determined to answer her question anyway.

Her other hand travels up your stomach, past your ribs, and eventually lands on the material on your bra. In one motion, she has it off of you, sending it flying across the room with a flick of her wrist. When you shift your leg, brushing it harder up against where she needs you most, her breath hitches and her movements speed up. "Fuck, Y/N," she whines out.

"L-lisa…" The word is a mix between a stutter and a sigh as it slips past your lips; the very ones that are swollen and red from her fervent kisses. Seeing you like this -- watching you slowly come undone right before her, squirming and calling out her name -- is one of her favorite pastimes. She wants nothing more than to be the only one who has the privilege of seeing this show. You've drug her under completely, leaving her no possible way of escaping the love she has for you.

The couch creaks beneath you, its springs being worn down with every thrust of Lisa's hips, and the lewd sounds you're both letting out echo across the apartment. Surely her neighbors can hear what you're up to, and perhaps that should matter; it doesn't, though, at least not right now.

By the way she's pouring her all into it, giving you everything she has, you know she's hurt. She's trying to prove something to you, to show you how good she can make you feel.

You match her energy, both of you spending the next while pulling out all the stops to bring each other to release.

~~~~~~~

Deep maroon paints the dusky sky, streaks and hues of yellow and orange mixing in here and there. From your position on the couch, the curtain is parted just enough to give you a glimpse of the brilliant summer evening. The two of you must've fallen asleep after your third round, considering how much later it is and how rested you feel. Lisa’s skin is warm against your own, her body cradled in your arms underneath the blanket. With this peaceful set-up laid out before you, you decide to put your head back again and relax.

A few minutes later, quiet sniffles against your chest snap you out of your post-sex haze, causing you to quickly reposition yourself to look into Lisa’s eyes.

"What's wrong, jagi?"

Her eyes shut at the name now, tears wetting her long lashes at the action. How many other people have earned that titled? The thought of you holding anyone else like you're holding her right now breaks her heart.

"Don't you know?" She asks sadly, voice soft.

"I think so, but I need you to tell me." Sensing that this conversation will be a serious one, you sit up fully so that you can face her.

"I want to be with you, Y/N. I can't share you anymore." She dives right in, sick of always beating around the bush. This isn't the first time she's tried to make you aware of her feelings, but in the past she's always relented, chalking her confessions up to simply being caught up in the moment. Her tone lets you know that this time will be different, though.

"Lisa, we've talked about this--" The words come out sounding tired, but you're not sure what it's more directed towards: her and this recurring argument, or yourself. Perhaps a bit of both, seeing as how they're interconnected in many ways -- you're the root cause of the issues. You're tired of reminding her of your agreement, always having to be the one to crush her spirits time and time again; but what's more, is that part of you is tired of fighting your feelings for her.

She's perfect, even in the ways that she isn't, and you know you don't deserve her because of that. You're a deeply flawed individual, too much of a coward to face your feelings and be honest. All you've ever known is running, and the idea of being open and vulnerable with someone so important to you isn't something you can deal with. You've tried pushing her away -- keeping her at arm's length, hoping she'll see that she deserves better than you -- but it never works. You're far too selfish to give her up completely, and she's too in love to leave.

"Don't say it," she pleads, fresh tears being wiped away as soon as they fall onto her skin.

"Why am I so special, huh? You could have anyone in the world and you choose me? I'm a nobody; I have nothing to offer you." The words are whole-heartedly earnest, honestly surprising you a bit.

"I don't know why, Y/N. Don't you think I've questioned that myself?"

You shake your head, taking a minute to gather your thoughts.

"Tell me that you don't feel the same. I need to hear you say it." Her tone is final, attempting to hold strong. She's trying to do this in order to move on, but both of you know it's futile.

"I can't do that." You refuse to lie to her.

"Why, if you're only interested in me for sex?" You curse yourself for allowing things to get to the point that she'd believe something like that.

"You've gotta be kidding me. I care about more than that, Lisa; I'm just trying to protect you."

"From what?" She inquires, quirking an eyebrow as she crosses her arms. She's growing frustrated just like you; you can feel it.

"Me, damnit! I'm not good for you; can't you see that?" You're exasperated at this point.

"Why the hell is everyone such an expert on what's good for me? The girls, now you -- evidently everyone gets a say in it but me."

She has a point, so you tell her to continue.

"All I know is that I want you, Y/N. I wanna be the person you wake up next to, the first person you call when you have news to share; your person. I know you're far from perfect, but when have I ever asked you to be? You're a fucking mess, but I want every part of you."

Did she really just say that to you? Your mind tries to process how the hell you managed to have such an incredible woman so ready and willing to not only stay by your side, but actively want to be there. No one's ever cared enough to be different; but Lisa is the difference that you've been searching for all along. She's seen your struggles; you've told her more about your past than anyone else, and somehow it's only made her want to stay more. How you had been such an idiot before is beyond you, but you can't put all of the blame on yourself. Having a person like her in your corner is rare; you're just happy you had this epiphany before you let her slip away.

She's looking into your eyes, intently searching for an answer in the deep pools as she waits for you to respond. The nerves that she's worked hard to suppress bubble up within, sending a sinking feeling to settle within her stomach. She holds her breath upon seeing you slowly lift your head higher, a special sort of twinkle in your eye.

"I'm so sorry, Lisa; for everything. You're the best person I know, and the absolute last person to deserve what I've put you through. I'm just scared. You're different than what I'm used to and I don't know how to deal with that. But I want you, too."

She can't contain the smile that works on her lips, tugging the corners up in the most adorable way possible. Her heart is soaring now, starting to feel like it's being repaired as she fully registers your words. She's been dying to hear you open up -- to let her in -- and it's finally happened.

"Yeah?" She asks, seeking reassurance that this is really happening before she gets her hopes up.

"Yeah." You declare, reaching for her hand. "I'm ready to try." A gentle kiss is pressed to it, serving as your way of confirming your feelings. For some reason, kissing her hand has always felt sacred to you; thus, you only do it on special occasions. She's noticed that fact too, so it means so much more to her that you chose to do it now.

"Come here." She utters, leaning back and opening her arms for you to join her. She wants to hold you. With a wide smile, you quickly do as she asks; her embrace is one of your favorite places in the whole world, and you'd never miss a chance to be in it.

Your head is on her chest, the sound of her steady heartbeat making its way to your ear, comforting you. She rests her cheek against the top of your head, taking in the tropical smell of your shampoo. I'll have to get her some more, she thinks to herself. She can't wait to spoil you.

Now, with the cosmos finally finding some semblance of harmony, the two of you begin your journey together. It won't be easy, but the love you hold for each other is too strong to let go to waste. Lisa’s shoulders are free of the previous weight they held, her heart no longer bound by the shackles placed on it. She's free to love you, to show you that you're worthy of a good, kind love -- the type that's patient and honest -- and she's never been happier.

#lalisa manoban #lisa manoban #lisa x reader #lalisa #blackpink #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #blackpink x reader #lisa x fem reader #blackpink smut #blackpink angst #blackpink fluff #kpop #kpop scenarios #blackpink scenarios #let-them-read-fics #jennie kim

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calumxkisses · 4 years ago

Text

One Last Dance | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst

warnings: death and blood (not too graphic)

summary: servant!calum au x princess!reader.

a/n: hi! i’m still not really good with au imagines, i changed the request a little because i had no idea how to write someone getting beheaded. sorry for beign late and hope you like it!

you should read this imagine while listening to: the night we met

✰ ✰ ✰

“I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes for the last time. You see his soul leaving its body and, as much as try to shake it, you know that he’ll never wake up. His face lies on your hands, leaning against what was once the dress of your dreams, once white, now stained in red, the diamonds on the corsage reflect the hell you are experiencing as your lips cry out in pain.

His lifeless body is lying on the floor, getting colder and colder and you can't think of how it was transmitting heat just a few seconds before. The sword that took your happiness away lies next to your lover's body, its owner is now gone but you know where to find them, they rest in the same rooms where you once took refuge from nightmares and sought peace.

Peace. A word that sounds almost funny now, so taken for granted and appreciated now that it's gone.

Peace, that you felt as you were lying on the hill, far away from the castle, with your head on Calum's lap, while your hands intertwined daisies and his mouth told tales of monsters and princesses, princes and weddings.

Peace was what you felt when his hands, calloused by all the hard work done during the day, caressed your face during sleepless nights, in the dark, hidden from prying eyes and from a world that would never accept your love.

Peace was what you felt when his strong arms made you spin between laughter and kisses, in that white and gold room, on that same floor that now sees your smile transformed into pain and your kisses transformed into tears.

The crown falls from your head as you lower your face to caress his face and it makes a shrill noise, like a broken dream, and like never before you hate all those stones and all that iron. So many times you have prayed to be normal, to do a humble job, to wear old and filthy clothes and to be free to be able to look at those eyes in the sunlight, amid the laughter of children and the screams of peasant sellers, while some little girls looks at you and dreams of a love like yours, where nothing matters besides you.

You feel your heart tug, break, get stab, every second is more painful and you know that it'll never stop hurting.

The sun is rising from the window on your right, the mirror reflects the first rays of the sun that struggle to shed light in the darkness of the night.

Soon, someone will walk through the door in front of you, unaware of the love that has been interrupted and of the life that has been sacrificed for an alliance of peoples, for a stupid belief in social classes and gold, land and castles.

They will cross the threshold of that door, mentally repeating the chores to do just to see the princess cry over the body of a humble servant, too young to know things like love but grown up enough to fight for it. They will wonder what happened as they cover their shock with their hands and crouch down next to you, making sure you’re okay and telling you to dry your tears, because the people must not see the darkness that is hidden behind the castle gate.

And while their clothes will try to clean the blood from your hands, you will have to explain how the king, the man they acclaim so much, is unable to love, such a simple thing compared to the thousand daily feats for which he gets celebrated.

You will have to tell them about the way his sword pierced the heart of a young boy, unarmed and full of hope, without hesitation.

You will have to tell about the way he looked you in the eyes and the ice that surrounds his heart, how he did not care for the happiness of his daughter, the same daughter he shows and compliments in front of generals and other kings.

He was not supposed to know, not like this. Your father was supposed to see your love from your eyes and know about it from you, he was supposed to listen to you telling him how much Calum meant to you and to bless your secret marriage, not finding it out from jealous servants and interruping it with a murder because he promised you to someone else.

So you close your eyes and squeeze his body even closer to yours, its scent fills your nostrils and surrounds your body. Your mind starts wandering and you let it go, every place is better than the reality you are living.

He was just a boy! He had his whole life in front of him, he had humble dreams and a passion for life that only children have. He was passionate about what he did, he enjoyed learning new languages while cleaning horses and serving kings of distant lands, he loved playing a small instrument he had found in the garbage but which he treated as the most precious of treasures.

And no matter the time it was outside, he was able to bring sunshine even on the darkest days. He did his work with dedication, never left anything unfinished and helped others whenever needed. How were you supposed to move on?

He knew you loved the stars and had walked miles just to learn facts about astronomy from the best of astronomers so that he always had something new to tell you. He had been taught how to write so that he was able to tell you how much he loved you even when he couldn't speak. He had collected every flower on the lawn of the castle and put them in a small jar for you, so that you could admire their beauty even in winter.

And when the tears ran down your face, he had embroidered a handkerchief on purpose to be able to dry them, because such special tears could not be wasted.

As your mind wanders through the memories of his spontaneous kisses when he passed by by chance, you hear music in the distance.

The piano plays sweet melodies, surrounding the two of you like a warm blanket during a winter day. You stand at the center of the white and gold room, on the ballroom floor. Your white long gown whisks against the ground as he holds a hand in front of him.

He stands before you, looking beautiful as ever. His suit fits him perfectly, his brown eyes drawing you to him.

“My love.” He whispers with a sad smile on his face. There’s no trace of blood in his clothes and his eyes are still sparkling with life inside of them.

“Calum.” His name is the only thing you’re able to say. You know that it’s just a dream and any word won’t express enough what you’re feeling.

You don’t want to close your eyes, the fear of losing him again it's too much to even risk blinking. You can’t leave him again, you just can’t.

“Don’t be scared. You have a whole future ahead of you, love. You’ll reach your goals, make your dreams come true, you’ll have a happy life and I’ll be there, always by your side.”

“But you won’t be really there! We had so many plans for us, like that little house in the countryside and you promised me to teach our future children all the fairy tales you told me. It's not fair.”

You see a tear running down his face, his hand wipes it away but the sadness in his eyes can’t be wiped away that easily. Not anymore, not with a kiss or not with a sky full of stars. He won’t see them anymore, he won’t feel the sun on his skin or the warmth of the fireplace in your secret place, over the hill, to the right of the lake.

“You had a life ahead. We had so many things to do, so many dreams to fulfill, so many lands to explore. I can’t do this without you.”

“You can and you will. You are a bright, intelligent woman. You are capable of doing anything you want. I know we had so many dreams for us, but I'm sure you’ll manage to make them true in your own way. I will always be next to you, you will not see me but I will make sure that nothing else happens to you. You deserve to move forward, to become the woman you are meant to be. I believe in you. Now, come here, please. Let me hold you one last time.”

And you know that you can say whatever you want but any word will make him come back to you.

He takes your hand, holds your waist and pulls you closer. It’s a familiar thing for you, you’d danced this way a thousand times before, in this very room, the enchanting music enveloping your new world, just the two of you.

This time, thought, is different. He was about to fade away forever, you’d have to leave him behind, his smile would never bring joy to your life anymore. It feels like heaven but hurts like hell.

So, as he pulls you into his embrace, spinning you around the room, you try to ignore the tears that are running down your face. You just want to enjoy the warmth of his hugs and his hand on yours for the rest of your life, is that too much to ask?

As the music comes to an end, you feel his hands shaking and the tremor on his voice as he whispers: “It’s time to go.”

“One more song, please.” You whisper, burying your head into his shoulder, tears brimming in your eyes.

So he spins you around more, his hands never letting yours go. There’s not much time left and you know it.

“Do you remember the night we met?” You ask, a smile forming on your lips at the memory.

“I do, we were just children but I remember every detail. You were wearing that small red dress, too caught up on the lanterns flying in the sky to notice that I was looking at you. I explored all the castle and yet you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And when you finally saw me, instead of screaming at me because I wasn’t doing my job, you asked me if I was okay and if I had eaten enough, before telling me the story of the lanterns.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay before boring you with my words.”

“You could have never bored me. You were the first one to show kindness to me, to treat me like one of yours.”

“Your heart is richer than any king's treasure, Calum.”

As the music fades and the weak flames of the candles in the room flick out, he holds you even closer, not bothering to hold his sobs any longer. The ballroom is getting colder and his body it's not as warm as it was before. He’s starting to feel lifeless again but you don’t want to let him go.

You’ll come back to reality, where love is hated and war is celebrated. You’ll have to pretend to be fine, showing a smile that hides an unimaginable pain. You’ll look into the eyes of your father and the irises that once never failed to reassure you will now be the reason for your cold heart.

Mostly important, you’ll have to live in a reality without Calum in it, without his smile in the morning or his kisses under the moonlight. A reality that was certainly not worth fighting for, not as much as the love you were meant to live.

“I love you too, always.” You whisper, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes, filled with so much sadness that it was almost unbearable. He smiles.

You open your eyes, your body still lays close to his, his eyes are closed and his voice is not asking you one last dance.

There’s a small smile on his face but you’re too distracted by footsteps outside the room to notice it.

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

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Bad Girls Don’t Get to Play

Summary: You’ve been a naughty girl, Private, thirsty for the Captain’s attention while he’s busy leading the base. Time for you to learn some freakin’ respect and patience.

Pairing: Captain BDE Syverson x You

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: SMUT! Masturbation, really dirty language, abuse of power, pleasure denial.

A/N: This was a request made by @hcfavoritegal I’ve been a good devil and happily obliged! Thanks once more to my amazing @agniavateira for being my editor! Happy FuckDay! Title: Bad Girls Don’t Get to Play

“Your bratty attitude has been on my last nerve,” his deep southern accent thundered behind you as the both of you walked into the stuffy little room. There was a small shove at the arch of your back, forcing you further inside before the captain shut his office door. You turned to look at him, crooking up one eyebrow, focusing on how his long fingers tinkered with the lock.

Huffing like an angry bull, he walked right past you, his large body bumping into yours with obvious intent. He moved to claim his spot on the worn-out leather sofa, body slumping down so heavily a loud thud filled your ears.

You glanced quietly at the hulking man: legs spread out widely in his seat with his groin bumped forward for display, the outlines of his large cock were prominent, undoubtedly presented like some sinful temptation.

“You’re just thirsty for some attention, aren't ya, Private?” he asked with menace on his smooth baritone and in his piercing blue gaze. That look couldn’t be mistaken for anything but hot, angry desire. It made a chill run up and down your spine, spreading throughout every nerve.

“I…”

You tried to speak, yet only one word came out, quivering on your tongue like a thin thread snapping with force. You always saw yourself as strong-willed, but this man had some power over you, and it wasn’t just the impressive size of his body against your smaller frame and his higher rank. He gave away an enigmatic force that left you burning for him. If he told you to come, you’d come on your knees.

Syverson smoothed his hands over his thighs, drawing more attention to the forbidden delight between his legs. The worst part is that you knew the undisclosed desire that hid behind those camouflage trousers, and how satisfying it was. “You think I’m okay with you touchin’ me and flingin’ that hot ass of yours, while we’re both on duty?” he paused, sucking his pouty lips in and fleshing his tongue over them briefly. “Have no one ever educated you about patience, kitten?”

You frowned at him, clenching your fists tightly until your knuckles turned white. You’ve always been a hot-blooded woman and the fact that Syverson was the gods’ gift to women didn’t help either. It was as if your body constantly yearned for his touch, making you frustrated whenever he refused to provide it.

For him, it was all about the army. He was patient, immune to your spells during those long hours of hard work. But when the sun came down and he’d finally have his break, he’d come and claim, plunging all his pent-up frustration inside you until you’re searing inside.

You wanted to either slap that smug smirk off of his face or spread your legs and sit on top of it, knowing very well how strong these arms are around your inner thighs.

“You don’t pay me any attention at all lately!” You snapped, raising your voice at him which only granted you a dangerous grimace. For a moment, you wondered if you should apologize to your captain. But before you even managed to muster a second thought, Syverson lifted his hand, fingers curling inside to gesture you to come hither.

Not saying a word, you made your way toward him, feeling numb in your legs as if the blood began to drain from them. With just a gaze and a gesture you were already following his rules and it had nothing to do with him being the captain anymore. It’s just how Syverson was. Dripping of confidence and power, he made men and women cower at his striking presence.

His hand went over his jaw, stroking his beard and looking up to meet your face while you stood waiting between his legs.

“It’s called duty, Private.The job comes first.” He spoke dangerously low, letting his eyes trail up and down the pleasing shape of your body. “You wanna keep this bratty attitude up?” he tested and shifted slightly in his seat, adjusting the growing hardness in his groin.

“Yeah, at least until you’d pay me some attention. I’m not some toy you can pick up whenever you’re bored.” Your heart pounded in your ears as you spoke, knowing very well you’re only making things worse for yourself. But once that onslaught of complaints spilled from your mouth. it was hard to stop. “You’re not the only one with needs here!”

Syverson sat listening to your whines while a wide, scornful smirk spread across his face. “Sit down over there,” he commanded, tapping the empty spot next to him. The glare he gave left you no place to even think of protesting. Submissive as you’ve never been before, you did as you were told. With trembling legs you went to sit next to Sy while looking at him with fear and anticipation.

His hands still rested on his thighs, nails slightly digging onto the fabric of his trousers. His eyes scanned you with dark lust, looking you up as if you’re a tasty treat.

“I think it’s time to teach this brat a lesson about patience.”

Not saying anything else, Syverson began undoing his belt. The sound of metal clinking sharply as the buckle unclasped did nothing but make your pussy clench with excitement. When the zipper slid down and freed his bulge, you wanted to straddle his waist immediately and take him inside of you.

A delicate wanton moan left your lips instead, showering his beautiful cock with admiration as it stood vast and solid between his coarse fingers.

“You’re gonna sit there and watch like a good girl, without moving a muscle.” he threatened, allowing his long digits to run up and down the thick shaft while emitting a small groan that made your chest sink.

“And you’re going to say exactly what I want you to say. If you break the rules, I’m going to deny your pleasure for weeks. Is that understood, kitten?”

The sight of his cock made your mouth water and your cunt throb, wallowing in your own sticky juices with harrowing desperation. Your eyes flicked along the ridges and veins that decorated his huge erection. Syverson beamed at your response, his callous thumb caressing the bulbous head, circling and smearing the pre-cum drops at the tip.

“Tell me how much you want this cock inside you Private, and be specific.”

You gaped, smitten at his demand and cruel set of rules. Sy had a nasty mouth and he would say the most profane things while fucking you. Secretly you loved it, but you were never able to bring yourself to speak back, you simply moaned or said yes to whatever it was that he said he was going to do to your body.

His hand began to make its way up and down his girth with achingly slow tugs. This entire time he was looking straight into your eyes. His defined lips parted while he feasted on the sight of you, not missing how your nipples hardened through the fabric of your shirt as your entire body prepared for a joining which was brutally denied.

“Fuck, Sy…”

The desire to touch yourself never felt this excruciating, even just to stroke and squeeze your breast or your fucking knee.

“You’re gonna keep me waiting, Private?” He teased you, a vicious smirk lighting his face.

“I want you to bury your gigantic cock deep inside my pussy,” you fulfilled his wish, nearly mewling these words came tumbling out of your mouth. In an instant, you realized they did nothing but increase your painful need to be stuffed by him.

Syverson groaned with a grin, shutting his eyes for a moment while squeezing himself. He imagined your sweet warmth tightening around his cock while he pressures himself into you.

“Yeah, you want me defiling your tight little pussy, babygirl?” he asked in his low velvety voice, now accompanied by small husky grunts while his breaths became heavier.

“Tell me, tell me how big my cock feels inside you.”

You bit your lip so painfully it hurt, your core pulsated as if furious for not being granted what it needed.

“You’re so big, Captain.” You paused, having to swallow the dryness in your throat as he continues to squirm and groan “I want you to throw me on your desk and fuck me like a slut, you’d make me sore for days.”

A pleased guttural groan escaped his mouth, you finally began following his rules and hearing how much you wanted him made his cock red and aching for release. His hand locked tightly around his cock, squeezing in a pace that grew more and more urgent.

Although he never broke eye contact, his eyes fucked you a dozen times harder than he ever did. His glare made you feel as if you were being defiled. You felt naked, wanting to be exploited by him in ways you never imagined possible.

You couldn’t help but squirm in your seat, intoxicated by the sight of this beautiful man. His scarred face was covered with a sheer layer of sweat, his blue eyes were now hazy and the very vocal groans that came out his throat had you soaked beyond imagination.

“Fuck Sy, please, I need you to fuck me so bad.” You begged, pouting desperately and clenching your thighs together to fight that lonely feeling inside you.

His free hand reached for your knee in an instant, forcing your legs apart while he shook his head with a disapproving glare. “Nah ah. Patience, babygirl, you touch yourself now I’ll make sure you won’t come for a whole month.”

The touch of his hand on your knee made you shiver and moan, increasing the raging flutter inside your core. You wanted to cry with how needy you felt. This beautiful beast had you locked in his twisted little game while he enjoyed every inch you were prohibited from having.

As if you were locked out of heaven.

“Say,” he rasped breathlessly, his control beginning to slip. “Say you want me to come inside that pussy.”

His hand stroked faster and faster, the sounds of his skin slapping reminded you of the sounds your bodies made together. And his breath, fuck, even the sound of his breath made your chest sink as if there were weights atop of it.

“Please,” you begged again out of frustration. You were just as breathless as he was, and your lungs felt empty. “Punish my pussy, Sy, bottom me out and fill me with your cum.”

You watched as his testicles became stretched and clenched upward, his cock throbbed, swelling larger while he tugged himself with fury and growled like an animal. You moaned to urge him, biting your lower lip and shifting on the sofa helplessly.

“Yes, Sy! Give it to me! I want it so bad!”

His hand landed on your knee with might, making you jump as he squeezed you hard. A loud grunt erupted from his chest and then a deep sigh of release as he breathed out with bliss. You gasped with him, watching as his thick liquids glazed over his hand.

He felt no shame, nor disgust, breathlessly staring as if what he did was liberating for both of you. Well, it wasn’t. You were flushed, breathing in fumes as you watched him climb down from ecstasy. His pupils were expended, his lips were slightly red and he licked them while smiling at you with mischief.

“Next lesson, I’ll teach you how to clean that potty mouth of yours.”

__________________________________________________________

#Henry Cavill #Captain Syverson #Captain Syverson Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanficition #Captain Syverson x You #Captain Syverson x Reader #Henry Cavill x Reader

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years ago

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One of the Bad Ones

From a little thought of mine <3

Masterlist

Pairing: (platonic) female!oc & crosshair

TW: sad/depressing thoughts, a little bit of human experimentation, self-depreciation, PTSD

Word count: 1895

QUICK NOTE: this is a concept with my oc Dain and her (platonic) relationship with Crosshair. Dain is a chiss jedi who hates the republic. She was the TechnoUnion's test subject years before Echo got there. She was rescued by the Batch and Co. when they went to rescue Echo. If you want more details, let me know!

There were good days and bad days for Dain. This day would be one of the bad ones.

Hunter and Wrecker were getting some much-needed rest, recovering from the day before. Tech was messing with a small part of the hyperdrive in his bunk with Echo helping, not getting the rest they needed. That left Dain piloting through the ridiculous amount of traffic on Pasaana, their new mission destination, with Crosshair as her co-pilot. A content silence consumed the ship, only Tech’s fiddling with a blow torch, Hunter and Wrecker’s soft snores, and the clicking of controls filling the cramped space.

Dain was consumed whole by her usual track of mind. The horrors of Skako were always her first destination. It was hard not to think about it, she was there for years. She constantly had to rhyme off the different things she could see, focus on the light reflecting and refracting around the ship, squeeze her eyes shut and dive into the life forces of her crewmates to bring her back from the fluorescent-lit laboratories and chilling surgical tables. Her limbs disobeying her commands as her captures messed mercilessly with her eyes. She could feel the tiniest of needles embedded in her iris, the sorry excuse for a numbing agent being injected.

She could still feel the helplessness that she constantly felt every second she was conscious on Skako. The bacta tube she was confined in when the surgeons needed a break still haunted her. Her long hair frail and coarse flowing like a separate entity, her oxygen mask so tight around her face practically another body part. She felt like she was being slowly and carefully pulled back to it, she could feel the warmth of the liquid seeping up her calves and past her knees, almost above her waist.

“You okay?”

Those few words violently pulled her out of the tank she was sinking into.

She didn’t feel the little drops staining her cheeks. Of course she wouldn’t, she was too messed up to feel the things that made her organic. She saw a sparkling on her cheeks refracting the light of the speeders and pods held up in front of her.

Dain quickly wiped them away. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Simple question,” he said, his usual snark present.

“I am perfectly adequate; I don’t know where you’re getting your ideas from.”

“Your bullshit doesn’t fool me,” Crosshair sighed.

Dain whipped her head around to his dead serious face gazing out at the fully stopped highway. “I beg your pardon? I am not, as you say, bullshitting.”

“You’re suffering. You really think this act is convincing?”

She was perplexed.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He went back to prepping the ship from its parked mode to move a couple inches further.

Dain did her part in guiding the ship the few little inches. They stayed in silence for quite a while, Dain trying to stay afloat by following the train of speeders and pods zig and zagging across miles and miles towards the capital city. Crosshair had propped a tiny black book on his raised knee, sketching away like he always did when he had extra time.

“How could you tell?”

Cross continued with his pen. “Hm?”

“How could you tell?” Dain asked a little louder.

“Well crying doesn’t cover anything up,” he gestured with his pen to her newly wet cheeks.

She quickly went to work wiping them dry, the force drawing a deeper blue to her skin. She dropped her hands in her lap in defeat, her shoulders sagging. “I can’t control it.”

“Nothing special.”

“I misspoke. I can’t feel it.”

Crosshair seeded his sketching of the pods and speeders.

“I remember what lacrimal feels like, seeping from the tear ducts,” she continued. “But I just... I don’t function like that anymore.”

He didn’t know what to say. What do you say to such a horrific fact? What did they do to you?

“I, um, overshared. Apologies.”

“No,” he objected. “It’s, uh, fine.”

Dain sunk into her seat, pulling her knees up to her eyes instinctually. Making herself as small as possible eased a little itch in the back of her mind.

She was a leader before all of this, she didn’t want to shy away into a corner and fade away in her own shadow. She stood with purpose and commanded respect. She was a decorated soldier, higher in rank than most Jedi. She had a family who she loved and who loved her. She depended on the Wolffe Pack as much as they depended on her. She was one of them.

She held a burning passion against the Republic. She fought to someday end the war so she could help burn it down and build something better in its ashes. Something that didn’t negotiate living being's lives like they were poker chips to be tossed in a pot.

It was all gone. It disappeared. She only wanted to melt into the soil, maybe help the earth flourish with trees and wildlife beside a rushing river. She didn’t hold a passion for anything she used to. She wasn’t the leader she needed to be, she didn’t have a family, she didn’t have anything to fuel her anymore. She was empty and purposeless. Maybe I’m better off melting into the earth.

“Here.”

Crosshair tossed the little black book and the pen to Dain, landing in the space between the armrest and herself. Dain stared at it for a moment, unsure of what he was playing at.

She slowly unfurled herself, her feet setting on the floor without a sound and her nimble hands bringing the book and pen to her lap.

“You can’t stay in there forever, you know. It’ll drive you insane,” he started.

Dain’s shoulders deflated. “I know.”

“It’s impossible.”

She eyed him wearily. And I thought this was going to be a pep talk.

“You just have to escape long enough.”

She stayed silent and a small bit of intrigue nipped at her fingers.

“Try it,” he gestured to the open landscape in front of them.

Dain shimmied to the edge of her seat to prop the book to a blank page against the dash in a free spot of any controls.

“Any requests?” She asked without an ounce of cheek in her words, only what seemed to be defeat.

“Nothing you can remember.”

She looked around the desert in front of her. Only a city that looked like a birdbath all those miles and miles away and the pods and speeders backed up were to see. Nothing she could see really sparked interest in her, nothing ever did anymore.

Just as she was about to toss the book back, she found her subject. A little patch of orangey clouds against the scorching sun. The entire sky was filled with them, the light bouncing off every fluffy edge and casting long shadows, but this patch’s edges were sharply defined and outlined against the glowing of the sun. There was no double meaning, no metaphor she could attach to it. Nothing sad to see in the clouds, it just looked graceful and meaningless.

She scribbled away on a page, not having enough energy to criticize her chicken scratch. She remembered a piece of advice from someone she hadn’t thought about for what felt like decades. You always get caught up in what you think you’re seeing, not what’s actually in front of you. Exasperated laughter echoed in the aftermath.

She proceeded with that in mind, trying to stay out of her head and only taking what was in front of her to transfer messily onto the textured parchment.

Crosshair was the smallest bit surprised the broken woman in front of him kept sketching away for more than five minutes. He half expected her to toss it back and retreat into whatever hell her mind had become.

He didn’t believe it when Anakin told the rescue team on Skako that it was Force Marshel Dain Lec in the bacta tank, floating eerily like a dead specimen with a tight black shirt and shorts that gave away how much she looked like a dead, decaying skeleton.

She was basically a myth in the GAR. Force Marshel Lec was one of the most decorated soldiers in history; her battle plans and strategies were studied by captains, commanders, and generals. The Bad Batch admired her work, it was exactly their style of getting things done. But she only worked with Commander Wolffe and his battalion, she didn’t ever grace the rest of the GAR with her presence. The fact that she was one of the only Chiss serving the Republic only added to the mystery of Dain Lec.

But it wasn’t just her bat shit crazy plans and strategies that she was known for, her humanity and empathy were only dreamed of. The regs all had their fair share of generals who hated them for existing, some even had the unfortunate fate of serving under Krell, but the Wolffe pack only spread the word of her immense empathy and compassion. Ruthlessness and compassion never went hand in hand, but somehow the universe broke logic and made Force Marshel Lec.

Crosshair couldn’t put the myth to the face. Sitting beside him, still sketching away on the consul, was a shrivelled and washed-out woman who couldn’t feel her own tears. Granted, it had only been a few months of her being dumped on them along with Echo, and she hadn’t been in the thick of the action yet, only drawing up plans and flying the ship, but he couldn’t imagine what else an escaped science experiment could do.

“You underestimate my abilities a staggering amount, Crosshair,” Dain’s permanently shaky voice broke his thoughts and sent him into a panic.

His thoughts staggered. “You- you-”

“Force users can’t read other beings' thoughts, but I can most certainly piece together the ones that float by.”

Crosshair thought someone raised the temperature in the ship by 20 degrees.

“I... I...”

“I’ve made the best snipper in the GAR speechless,” a small smile spread across her lips. “It’s perfectly fine, no ill will befalls this situation. I’ve endured far worse than the judgement of others.”

He didn’t know what to say. Again. He felt embarrassed over anything, over the fact he’d stoop to such lows. Why was he like this? Why did he have to point out the worst in people who were already suffering enough? Was it some kind of ego thing? Was he that insecure?

Dain tossed the book and pen back to Cross, making him jump. She looked at him intently, trying to catch his gaze that was anywhere but on Dain.

“Cross.”

He sighed and met her foggy crimson eyes. It didn’t seem like a confrontation. She brought her knees up to her chest again and fidgeted with something in her lap. How could she be considered a leader? Stop it.

Her gaze turned to one of sympathy. Pity.

“You should consider your own advice, you really think this act is convincing?”

He scoffed and leaned back against the co-pilot's seat, turning his attention to the backed-up traffic.

She sighed deeply, like the weight of the world was getting heavier with each conversation they had. “I’m still here, even if everyone here doesn't want me to be.”

A/N: HELLOO PEOPLE!! It's been a while!! I haven't been writing a lot lately, that's not true, I've just been writing a long marvel fic and making new OCs that no one's interested in I'm sorry for that. If you want more of my bb Dain, please let me know! I'd love to share her with y'all!! Go drink some water, get a snack, take a break, you deserve it so much!! I'M SO SORRY IF THIS WAS OOC, I TRIED MY BEST OKAY

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #sw #bad batch #the clone wars #tcw #echo #tech #wrecker #hunter #crosshair #omega #original character #anakin skywalker

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wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 4 years ago

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Angel (Pt. 4)

Harry Styles x Reader

A/N: This one was inspired by Harry’s song Only Angel. It’s five parts in total. If you like it, be sure to give it a reblog and check out the other parts linked below. Thanks, and enjoy <3

Warnings: Slight jealousy, some making out. Swearing. It’s long. Seriously.

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

Forty-five minutes later, I was all dolled up and in a cab on the way to the house where the after party was being held. Now that the situation with Harry was resolved, I was free to relax and fully enjoy my accomplishment. I had been working toward becoming a Victoria’s Secret Angel since I was eleven years old, and now, eleven years later, I finally was.

Giddy with excitement, I pulled out my phone to text Harry and tell him that I was close. He replied almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for me.

‘Good. I’ll be out back by the pool.’

I nodded to myself and put my phone away since the cab was pulling up to the house. Thanking and paying the cabbie, I stepped out. My stomach filled with nervous excitement, and I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the bustling house.

It was a modern two story with large windows that allowed me to see the party in full swing inside. Music could be heard thumping at the windows, and people could be seen walking around and mingling. I caught sight of Elsa on the second floor, looking out the window at the city, and waved when she saw me. Her face split into a wide smile, to which I smiled back, and she motioned for me to meet her downstairs. Nodding at her enthusiastically, I made my way to the large front door.

The music was louder inside, the deep bass thumping through my heart immediately. I smiled and waved at a few of the girls and other people I knew as my eyes searched for Elsa. It didn’t take me long to find her quickly descending the stairs, eyes searching for me.

“Elsa!” I called when I spotted her.

She squealed and rushed to pull me into a hug, “Y/N, you made it!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm and returned her hug, “Ya, sorry I’m late. I had something I needed to take care of.”

“Oh?” she asked, pulling back to look at me, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh ya, it just took a while,” I said with a reassuring smile.

“Good, now let’s get you a drink.”

Elsa kept me close to her side for the next hour, insisting on getting some alcohol in me and taking me to see the other girls. Every time I tried to break away, telling her I was supposed to be meeting someone, she protested and demanded that I stayed with her a little longer. Knowing how she could get when she drank and not wanting to upset my best friend out of the girls, I stayed. But time was ticking and I knew Harry had to be wondering where I was, if he was still waiting at all.

Finally Elsa became engrossed in a conversation with some photographer, and I was able to slip away. I knew she wouldn’t miss me so I didn’t feel bad about ditching her, especially since I had Harry waiting for me.

I moved quickly through the crowd in the house, making my way out to the pool. The view caused me to pause in my search for just a moment, insisting that I take in the lights in the trees and the fields in the valley below. Shaking it off before I could get too sucked in, I searched the crowd for my childhood love.

There was a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth set up to one side of the pool. A large crowd was dancing, and I briefly wondered how all these people got invited before moving my attention the the couched and chairs around the pool. Some groups were smaller than others, and there were even some people in the pool, but I couldn’t find Harry anywhere.

Sighing, I moved closer to the dance floor, hoping that he was over there. After a few moments of scanning the crowd, I was about ready to give up when I spotted his soft brown curls.

I realized that the reason I hadn’t been able to see him before was because he was laying down on one of the couches that had its back to me. Now, I saw that his head was on the lap of one of his band members, the woman who had played the drums. In fact he was surrounded by women, models to be precise. I rolled my eyes at how the young women leaned forward and ogled him as he spoke. Harry just basked in the attention, the exact same attention whore he had been since we were younger.

As Harry laughed, pushing himself up and out of his bandmate’s lap, I considered turning around, going back to Elsa, and getting black-out drunk. Harry was the same as he’d always been. He had always loved attention, especially the attention of pretty women, and right now, he had the attention of a lot of pretty women. I honestly didn’t know how I could compete with that, and I was jealous. I was now willing to admit that I was jealous of the attention he gave those women because I still loved him, and because of that, I didn’t want to be sober anymore.

Just as I was about to turn around and go drown myself in a bottle of vodka, Harry caught site of me. His entire face lit up, granting me with a large, genuinely happy smile and a view of his dimples. Looking away only briefly, he made a quick excuse to his group and in turn earned a knowing smile from his bandmate. Then he was pushing himself up and practically bounding over to me.

I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart melting at his enthusiasm. He was like a big puppy, so happy to see his person after a long day away. I realized that I was that person he was so excited to see, but refused to think about what that meant.

“Angel, you finally made it!” Harry called over the music, engulfing me in a giant hug as soon as he reached me.

“Hey, Harry,” I laughed, hugging him back.

I could feel the eyes of the models Harry had just left watching us as we stayed connected a few seconds longer than appropriate, but I didn’t care. Harry’s hugs had always been my favorite. He held you so close and secure, you just couldn’t help but feel safe. His hug brought out all of the feelings I was never good at hiding and didn’t want to deny anymore.

All too soon Harry squeezed me tighter then released me, pulling back to look me over. He whistled lowly and appreciatively at what he saw.

“Damn,” he swore, biting his lip, “you look gorgeous.”

I blushed a little but smiled. Alessandra and Elsa had helped me pick this dress months ago when I was first told I’d be walking as an official Angel, wings and all. I was worried that it was too much, but they both insisted that I looked amazing and this was the perfect place to wear it. Now, seeing Harry’s face, I was glad I did.

The dress was essentially simple, all tight black material clinging to my curves and stopping mid thigh. The stunning part was the neckline. A black collar twisted around my neck then parted at my chest, remaining open in a deep V that stopped just above my belly button. A harness shaped chain of crystals held the two sides closed and wrapped around my shoulders to drape delicately down the open back. At first I was self-conscious about putting so much skin on display, but considering I had just walked a globally broadcasted fashion show in nothing but lingerie and heels, I decided it really didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” I answered, giving Harry the same inspection he gave me, “You look pretty good yourself.”

He took a step back and did a little spin so I could see his outfit fully, making me laugh. He was wearing fitted black jeans and an open black suit jacket. Underneath was a loose fitting sky blue shirt with little white flower-like symbols on it. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned, leaving his smooth skin and a simple silver cross on display. When he moved, the swallows on his chest played peek-a-boo through the opening. His short hair sat as messy chocolate curls, a perfectly styled mess. All in all, he looked every bit the heart throb we both knew he truly was.

“Thanks, angel,” he grinned.

“Of course, but that sure is a lot of skin on display tonight, Mr. Styles,” I teased, trigging on the lapel of his jacket.

Harry laughed, dimples on full display, “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get cold wearing this dress in December?”

I shrugged, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips, “No. I figured if I got cold it’d be easy enough to find a man willing to lend me his jacket.”

“You’re not wrong there, love,” He said, glancing around, “you’ve already got them all starin’.”

I rolled my eyes internally, knowing full well that this wasn’t even the most revealing outfit here. It was obvious to me that Harry was jealous, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me kind of giddy. Seeing Harry again and resolving our past was bringing up feelings I’d been burying since I saw pictures of him and Taylor Swift for the first time. I had missed him and all the fun we’d had together. I was scared to admit it, but I hoped that the way he was acting, his choice to release that song, meant that he missed me too. Most of all, I hoped he wanted me back too.

Deciding that teasing Harry was fun, and that I wanted to see more of his jealous side, I looked around, “Really, you think so? ‘Cause I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time, and I wouldn’t mind finding a cute one.”

“Well I might know of a pretty cute guy who’s been looking for an Angel,” Harry hummed, pulling me against his chest.

“Ya?” I grinned as I placed my hands on his shoulders.

He nodded, “Ya, and right now he’d like to ask that Angel to dance.”

“I don’t know,” I teased, “if it’s who I think it is, this Angel might not want to dance with him.”

“And why the hell not?” Harry asked, pulling away in mock offense.

I grinned at him, disconnecting myself and preparing to run, “Because if I remember correctly, he’s not a very good dancer, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

He growled and lunged after me, but I just laughed and took off running toward the house the best I could in six inch heels. Harry caught me in no time, picking me up from behind and spinning me around. I squealed and giggled, drawing attention to us but not caring. Harry growled again, nipping at my ear as he carried me toward the dance floor. I laughed again, stilling in his arms so he didn’t accidentally drip me as he walked.

“We’ll see about me being a bad dancer,” Harry growled, placing me down on the edge of the dance floor and spinning me around to face him.

I chuckled as I stumbled against him, “Whatever you say Mr. Styles.”

Turning back around, I pressed my back against him front. I took a second to listen to the music, letting the heavy bass take root in my heart, before I started moving against him. The music guided my hips, prompting me to roll and dip with the beats. Harry stood behind me, stunned for a few moments, but quickly recovered and placed his hands on my hips. Matching the movement of his hips to mine, he danced with me. With a smile on my face, I slid my hand up to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled me closer and buried his face in my neck, pressing a kiss there. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of Harry dancing against me.

It had been a long time since I had danced with Harry. The last time was when I was 17, the same night we slept together for the first time. He had rented out the club with his bandmates and thrown a party. I tagged along with my brother, hoping to blow off some steam after a hard week, but never expecting that my crush would tell me he liked me back. I wore some skimpy shorts and a top, typical club attire, and Harry was pissed. He didn’t like all of the male attention I was getting, especially since a lot of it was coming from his bandmates. So when I moved to the dance floor and started dancing, he followed me.

That night Harry was quick to press against me, immediately matching my moves and whispering in my ear that I was asking for trouble. I just turned around and asked him how I could get into trouble with him always around to protect me. After that we danced for hours, and at the end of the night he kissed me and told me he’d been waiting to do that for years. I went home with him for the first time after that, and even knowing everything that happened after, I’d do it again in a heart beat.

“So,” Harry spoke up, pulling at my side to get me to turn around to face him, “still think I’m a bad dancer?”

I smiled up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck, “No, I never did. I was just teasing you.”

“Of course you were,” he huffed, pulling me even closer, “You always were a tease.”

I shrugged, “Your reactions are funny.”

“Hmmm, you think so, angel?” Harry hummed, leaning down to press his forehead against mine.

The music changed, playing the first slower song I’d heard since arriving. I didn’t recognize it, but it was obvious that Harry did because he smiled down at me. I realized why a few moments later when his voice drifted through the air. Rolling my eyes at his obvious pleasure over them playing his song, I allowed him to sway us to the beat. We danced in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. I laid my head on Harry’s chest and listened to the words of his song. It was soft and sad, but still good. I began to realize that I had been missing out by not listening to his album before.

“What’s the song about?” I asked, propping my chin on Harry’s chest to look up at him.

“This one?” he asked as he looked down at me.

I rolled my eyes but smiled at him, “What other song would I be talking about?”

He shrugged and returned my smile, “I don’t know what goes on in your crazy mind.”

I rolled my eyes again and nudged him, “So what’s it about?”

“Just drifting apart from an old girlfriend,: he answered with a sheepish smile.

I frowned, beginning to get suspicious of his avoidance of the question. Why didn’t he want me to know who it was about?

“Which one?” I asked, pulling back to look at him better.

Harry averted his eyes but answered, “Taylor.”

I made a face, old feelings of jealousy and resentment rising to the surface. I loved Taylor Swift’s music, and I thought she was an amazing person, but thinking about Harry’s relationship with her still upset me. She was, after all, the woman I thought he left me for. She was definitely a sore subject. Clearing my throat, I untangled myself from his arms and moved off the dance floor.

“Angel? Where are you going?” Harry asked, following close behind me.

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” I answered as I made my way to the back door, “I’d rather get a drink.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry, but I wan’t going to lie to you.”

Turning back over my shoulder, I shot him a small smile, “I know, Harry. It’s ok, I just need a drink.”

“Well, then let me get my angel a drink,” Harry said, taking my hand and moving in front to lead me to the kitchen.

After weaving through the crowd in the interior of the house, we made it to the kitchen. Harry didn’t ask what I wanted, but went ahead and made me a Malibu and Sprite.

“You remembered,” I laughed as I took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“Of course,” he said, leaning on the counter beside me, “It was the only thing that didn’t make you gag.”

I shrugged, no longer ashamed by my intolerance for the taste of alcohol, “It’s not my fault alcohol tastes so bad.”

Harry chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a call of my name from behind us. We turned to find one of my fellow Angels in the doorway, a large smile on her pretty face.

“Hey Romee,” I said, turning my body to face her more fully, “what’s up?”

She held her empty cup as she moved further into the kitchen, “Just needed a refill.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything as I watched her mix a drink. Romee was a relatively new Angel too, having been added just two years before me, but we weren’t close. Ever since I had been announced as the newest Angel she had been cordial, but somewhat cold. I had tried to show her that I wasn’t there to replace her, but it didn’t matter, we would never be friends.

“So,” Romee said after taking a sip of her freshly made drink, “are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

I fought the urge to role my eyes, unsurprised by her request. It was no secret that I grew up with Harry, and it would be obvious to anyone who had seen us together tonight that we were close. It was also obvious that Harry was a very handsome, very eligible young man, so of course Romee wanted the chance to properly flirt with him.

“Harry, this is Romee Strijd,” I said, “and Romee, this is Harry Styles.”

Romee smiled as she extended her hand out to Harry, “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You too, love,” Harry answered, giving her a charming smile as he bowed slightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, “Wow, what a gentleman. Where have you been all night?”

This time I did roll my eyes, taking a giant swig of my drink as Harry answered, “Oh you know, just looking for an angel.”

Romee smirked, taking a step forward so she could rest her hand on his chest, “Well lucky you, you found one.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head in my chest, flooding my body with heat and urging me to grab that bitch by the hair and haul her away from my man. But then Harry shot me a look over her shoulder that calmed me down. His eyes were playful, telling me that he knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t fall for it.

“You’re right,” Harry said, smiling and stepping around her so he could wrap an arm around my shoulder, “and she’s right here.”

A smug smile slipped onto my features as Harry pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and Romee’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“I see,” Romee said, her features relaxing into an obviously fake smile, “you’ve stumbled across the newest addition to our ranks.”

“I wouldn’t say stumbled, more like finally found what I’ve been searching for,” Harry answered without taking his eyes off of me.

I smiled up at him and laughed when Romee just huffed and walked away.

Harry made a face at me, “Oops, did I just get you in trouble?”

I shrugged and turned so that I could wrap both hands around his waste, “I don’t care. The look on her face was worth it.”

He chuckled, leaning down to bump his nose against mine, “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

I scrunched my nose up and nodded. It was great to see him chose me over Romee. It was even better to hear that he had been searching for me. He may have thought I’d given up on him, but he hadn’t given up on me.

“So,” I started, my tone teasing, “you’ve been searching for me?”

Harry blushed but didn’t deny it, instead closing to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from its place back behind my ear.

When he didn’t answer, I chose to keep teasing him, “So what is it about me exactly that you’ve missed enough to search for me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Definitely not how much you love teasing me.”

“Hey!” I protested, smacking his chest with my hand, “You like it when I tease. It means I’m giving you attention.”

“I guess that is true,” he conceded with a smile.

“You still haven’t answered.”

Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “Well, let’s see. Your smile…” He paused to trace my lips with his thumb, “your laugh…” This time he tickled my sides, causing me to giggle, “your voice…” He paused again, a smirk tugging at his lips, distracting me from the path his hands were taking, “your ass.”

With that he smacked my ass causing me to screech out his name. He just laughed, letting me slip out of his arms as I pushed away.

“Harry Styles,” I said, hands on my hips and a stern expression on my face, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged, still smirking as he took a step toward me, “Just answering your question, angel.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, “I was giving you the opportunity to be sweet but you ruined it.”

“C’m on angel, you know I’m just a dirty boy at heart,” he said innocently, still advancing toward me, “I can’t help it.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a step back, trying to keep distance between us. I knew from experience that we were treading in dangerous waters, and keeping our distance was probably the best option. Unfortunately for me, the kitchen didn’t agree, and the next time Harry took a step forward, my back made contact with the other counter.

“Shit,” I breathed as Harry crowded into my space, securing his hands on the counter on either side of me.

“You’re mine now,” he growled playfully, face only a hair’s width away from mine.

“Oh ya?” I asked, my eyes glued to his lips, “and what are you going to do with me?”

“‘m gonna kiss you,” he breathed.

He waited only a second to make sure I wasn’t going to protest before closing the distance between us. Our lips crashed together, each of us pouring years of pent up emotions into the kiss. Without missing a beat, I opened my mouth for him as I ran my hands up his chest to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry moaned lowly when I gave a sharp tug, chasing me to grin into the kiss. This only spurred him on more, as he pushed himself against me harder and deepened the kiss.

I moaned when Harry bit my lip, and he responded by grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the counter. My legs parted for him naturally as he slotted himself between them. Now that I could feel his hardening member pressed up against me, I couldn’t stop my hands from wandering down. Panting against Harry’s lips, I stroked his clothed member once before gripping it tightly. He moaned again, this time louder than before, stoking the fire inside me. Matching his moan with a small whimper of my own, my hands scrambled for the button of his pants.

“Angel,” Harry moaned, his voice sounding pained.

“Harry,” I answered back with determination as my fingers finally managed to pop open his button.

“Angel, wait,” he said more forcefully this time, covering my hands with his own and stopping me from unzipping his zipper.”

“Why?” I whine, still trying to accomplish my goal.

Harry chuckled lowly but didn’t move his hands, “Angel, we can’t do this here.”

Frowning, I looked up at him with pouty eyes, “Why not?”

“Y/N,” he raised a brow and took a step back, “I really don’t think you want to risk someone walking in on us.”

With that minuscule distance, the lustful haze lifted from my mind just enough for me to remember where we were. My eyes widened comically and I cursed, causing Harry to laugh.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, buttoning his pants.

“I can’t believe I almost fucked you in the kitchen of a house where there are at least a hundred people partying,” I blinked, still a little dazed from that kiss.

“Me neither,” Harry said, clearly amused as he helped me down from the counter and covered me while I fixed my dress, “I would never expect such deviant behavior from my angel.”

I rolled my eyes and slapped his chest, now fully back to reality, “Shut up! It’s not my fault I got carried away. I haven’t been fucked in five years.”

“Wait, what?” Harry stopped, eyes wide at my admission, “You haven’t had sex in five years?”

I blushed, but nodded, “Not since the last time with you.”

“Why not?”

I blushed even harder, “No one ever came close enough to you to catch my attention.”

“Is that right?” Harry asked with a smug expression, gathering me back into his arms.

I rolled my eyes, “Well that and the fact that I was always too busy to really look.”

“Well it sounds like you, my angel, are in need of a good fucking.”

I scrunched up my nose at his crude way of putting it, but didn’t bother denying it. Instead I said, “Think you could help me out with that?”

Harry grinned, lust lighting up his eyes, “It would be my pleasure.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #x reader #x y/n #ex!harry styles #ex!harry styles x reader #reader insert #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader smut #angel #part 4 #multipart #resolved angst

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inquisitor-of-hearts · 4 years ago

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Faded Lives (Chapter 6)

Solas/Female Reader, Solas/Female Lavellan

Chapter 6: I am patient with myself and others

Chapter Summary: It’s always the little things they do that you remember, isn’t it? AU.

Rating: Teen

on Ao3

All evening you were anticipating his call, but it had been hours that you had already wasted looking through magazines, half-engaged in other mundane tasks, so that at last you could not be bothered anymore. Maybe he did have a reason, you truly hoped it for him, but you wanted to push the thoughts off and take a bath. How long has it been since you had submerged your body, giving your soul the rest it needed?

Cautiously you lay your phone next to you, just within reach, resisting the urge to scold yourself for being so forgiving and naive, and with a soft step enter the filled bathtub. Something had to give. A warm shudder runs through your body at the contact made with the hot water, then it rushes to your brain and at once you are seating yourself, embraced by the gentle, yet powerful element. With your hair tied up, you relax against the ceramic, closing your eyes, feeling the steam rising from the bath.

As if urging to fulfill the prophecy that the one who waits too long and finally gives up will always be chased down, your phone rings. You had already plunged into your own world, your eyes open only reluctantly, but you reach out for the device on the counter regardless.

“You’re quite late” You notice the sound of your own voice differently, having not quite arrived in the here and now yet.

“I apologize” he says and immediately chuckles. “I must have disturbed you at a pleasurable moment.”

“Not what you think” you say, then after a second add, “maybe”

“Indulge me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” you laugh. “You know you could have messaged to say it was going to get late. Unfortunately, you could have added.”

“Unfortunately,” Solas is careful to pronounce it in the same way as you, “my heart, when I think of you, my mind goes to wander and becomes close to useless. My whole life’s work -- on hold, when I hear your voice again.”

“Sweet-talker” You smile. “So now is a convenient enough time to put it on hold?”

“You are still angry.” he notices discouragedly.

“Indulge me” You bite your lip as it forms to a devious grin.

“I have--” he breaks off with a sigh and you feel his defeat so strong that for a moment you wonder if you had pushed him too far. But before you can react, you hear him getting up, walking a short distance, closing a door.

“I have been thinking about you all day and all night. I wished you would give me a rest. Yet, I wished you would never me grant me rest.”

“Your tireless spirit is... pleasing, at the very least.”

“And at most?”

“Hiding a carefully sculpted lie.”

He chuckles, but you hear a sad undertone.

“I cannot undo what I did, it seems.”

You are both quiet, and you become uncomfortable, shifting in your position. So much for a relaxing bath.

“Can you call me back? I will get out of the bathtub, it’s getting cold.” you explain.

“Stay” he begs, so quickly and vehemently that you cannot help but laugh.

“I’m... getting cold though. I want get out and put on my bathrobe.”

“Do it while I am with you” he demands and you chuckle at the thought. It was awkward, intimate, and -- sweet.

“If I had understood you were taking a bath, I would have indulged you earlier.”

“It’s never too late, they say” You sit up and with your free hand run around the faucet’s handles while you consider refilling hot water.

“I will make up for it. I promise.” he says quietly. His argument has its effect on you, so that you decide to get up.

“If I slip and break my back, it’s your fault.”

“I could never make up for that, so do take precautions.” he advises.

You have to put your phone aside once, though Solas insists that you do not cut the line so he can hear you, “your body emerging, the towel drying your skin, the robe sliding along your curves”, he says, he wants it all. Then you pick the phone up again, walking over to your bed with him.

“Hmm... that was...” he answers in a hum as he hears you announcing your reappearance. “Where are you now?”

“Sitting on my bed.” you say and draw your feet up on it. “I can’t quite believe it was that enjoyable for you.”

“Not being apart from you for one second? Imaging you coming out of the water and getting dressed, a scene so private that I feel like an intruder for merely having my mind grasp it?”

“Well, if you say it like that... it does sound indecent” you agree, laughing.

“I adore you, my heart. Picture me kissing every part of your body as I kiss your soul.”

Involuntarily you blush a little as you spread and lay on your bed. You remember his kisses, and how good they felt on your skin.

“Solas...” For some reason it feels sacred to call out his name, and it comes with much more longing than you intended to show as you close your eyes and sense him.

Your talk continues for hours about all mundane and godly things, until at last you feel yourself drifting off. He invites you to, listens to your breathing growing steady before allowing himself to fall asleep.

#solavellan fanfic #solas x reader #solas x you #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #solavellan au fanfic

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seokoloqy · 5 years ago

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A Hunter’s Mark | knj (m)

➳ PAIRING: hunter!namjoon x hunter!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, f2l, Nevermore universe

➳ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

➳ WARNINGS: nothing too freaky, just making out, tiny bit of thigh riding action, yes I wrote c*ck, yes I wrote p***y but nothing else too detailed, implied smut, a little blood and injury

➳ SUMMARY: While Namjoon, the pacifist, has always been reluctant to kill beasts, you and him have officially been marked as hunters. Your first assignment doesn’t go as planned and it leads to confessions.

➳ A/N: you’ll be seeing a lot more of Namjoon in my necromancer fic, Nevermore! This is just a short little drabble expanding on the universe and Namjoons character ENJOY~

—

“Stop crying about it, Namjoon!” You shout, tugging on the back of his collar to get him out of bed. He’s been lying face down for hours and whining about the mark you both just received.

Today was your initiation as hunters. One of the rites included having a priestess sear a mark into your left eye that grants you the ability to see invisible supernaturals. It’s meant to aid you on hunts.

“I never even wanted this,” his muffled groan comes after you release his collar.

Namjoon has always been vocal about his disdain for hunting supernaturals. Despite his entire family being hunters, he refuses to follow the same path. He votes for living peacefully among vicious beasts instead of slaughtering them. He’s always had a weak heart. If he had seen the things you’ve seen—monsters tearing apart the innocent without mercy—he’d never hesitate.

“Everything is okay.”

He drags his face out of his pillow to look at you. His left eye, newly marked, is now a deep amethyst and where his pupil once was now in the shape of a pentagram. The pentagram represents protection from evil. It matches yours and all other hunters who’ve been marked.

“I saw a reaper today! She had this white veil on a-and scissors. How is that okay? I don’t want to see that!”

You’re starting to get frustrated with his whiny attitude. He needs to start seeing reality the way you do. Creatures like vampires and demons that prey on the vulnerable, sirens who seduce sailors to their doom with tempting songs, even mischievous fae that hide in the forest and lure victims in from town don’t deserve to live. They’ll never change like he wants to believe. All they do is destroy lives like yours.

You’d still have a family if they weren’t slaughtered by demons all for the fun of it. Experiencing tragedy like that is something Namjoon has never known and it’s exactly why he’s so naive to it all. You don’t want his delusions to end up killing him if he hesitates.

You don’t know what you’d do without him. Living a life without Namjoon is something you don’t want to imagine. It’ll be hard not to have his dimpled smile and warm hugs to comfort you or his intellect to get you out of trouble with the priestess. He’s always there to comfort and listen to your troubles, especially when dealing with the stress and fear that comes with being a hunter.

“Reapers won’t bother you unless they’re going to kill you. So please get up, Joon, I need you.” You grab one of his pillows and swing it at his head to motivate him.

He only glowers and buries his face back into bed.

“Come on! We have our first assignment,” you groan. “There are rumors that a vampire is staying at the inn.”

Namjoon grunts, shifting further away from you.

You settle yourself on the bed beside him, sighing dramatically. Your hand reaches up to card through his dark hair, leaning in closely to his ear. He can feel your breath on his blushing cheeks.

“If you don’t come I’ll go by myself without backup. And if I die I’ll ask the reaper to let me stay and haunt you.”

Namjoon visibly stiffens and finally turns his head back to you with a glare. He pushes himself out of bed and begrudgingly gets his things together.

—

The two of you walk towards the inn where the vampire is rumored to stay. At night the town of Nevermore becomes a quiet eerie place. The citizens never wander around at night in fear of being captured by anything lurking in the dark. Their biggest fear being so close to the ocean is the seductive siren’s song that is known for luring people out of their homes while they sleep.

You’re used to the emptiness at night with nothing but the ocean waves to calm your nerves. You glance at Namjoon who has been shuffling his feet behind you the entire time.

“Don’t be so mopey.”

He finally speaks up, “We don’t even know if this vampire has killed anyone.”

You roll your eyes. “Even if this one hasn't killed before, it will eventually. We need to stop it before that happens.”

“They don't have to kill,” Namjoon mutters. “If they find someone willing to give blood.”

You click your tongue, already knowing where he’s going with this. The kingdom to the North and its controversial vampire army that survives off the blood of volunteers.

Somehow they’ve managed to tame a whole group of vampires to serve them, but as a hunter, your instincts tell you those vampires are just waiting to attack unsuspected.

That kingdom doesn’t allow hunters, so it remains a mystery to you whether or not they use volunteers or sacrifice up their citizens as lambs to slaughter. You vote for the latter.

But there’s one thing that’s for sure. On the battlefield they’re the ruthless monsters you’ve always known, ripping apart the enemy and dancing victoriously in their blood. Their army is an unstoppable beast that is too dangerous to exist.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you groan. “As if anyone is insane enough to offer their blood to a blood thirsty vampire. Now come on. We still have a vampire to hunt.” You extend your hand out to him which he reluctantly takes, allowing you to drag him along. Your fingers curl around his hand, feeling the pulsing warmth.

“Right,” he sighs, following after you towards the inn.

—

Your first hunt isn’t going as well as you’d hoped.

Your body collides with the wall, knocking all the air out of you.

You both arrived at the inn and found the room where the vampire was residing. It seemed startled when you entered, pretending that it wasn’t going to harm anyone and that it only wanted a place to rest.

You didn’t believe a word of it, but Namjoon hesitated, giving the vampire the perfect opportunity to lunge at you.

Namjoon rushes toward you instead of drawing his weapon to kill the vampire.

“No,” you cough, scrambling to pull yourself off the ground and find your blades. You see them across the room, too far to get to in time. “Kill it! Forget about me.”

Namjoon ignores you, kneeling next to you to check your wounds. The vampire scurries out the window, dropping down five floors, a feat not too difficult for a monster.

“You’re letting it get away!” You push yourself onto your feet and dart towards the window just in time to see the vampire run off down an alley. You moan, palming your face, “the priestess is not going to be happy about this!”

The priestess at the hunter’s sanctuary may have a kind hearted and innocent facade when she’s sitting on a cushioned throne giving advice or caring for injured hunters, but when she snaps at those who allow beasts to get away, they’ll be lucky to walk away unscathed by her wrath. However, you two being brand new hunters, she might be lenient with punishment.

She’ll have to send another hunter to deal with your incompetence. You wonder which hunter will have to deal with this mess.

“It’ll be okay,” Namjoon tries to say, attempting to calm you down.

“Our first hunt,” you mutter dejectedly.

“It’s fine,” he brushes off, “let’s just go back to my house.”

—

“Don’t touch me!” You hiss, slapping his hand away from the scratch on your arm. You’ve had plenty of time to simmer over your failed hunt.

“I said I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeats, “I should’ve jumped in before he could grab you.”

You scoff, “that’s not why I’m angry. I’m angry because you let that vampire get away.”

He shouldn’t have run to you and you shouldn’t have let him convince you not to chase after it. By not pursuing the vampire and finishing the job, it already breaks the hunter’s code of fighting till your last breath. You're afraid of what the priestess will say most of all.

Namjoon crosses his arms. “I’m not sorry about that.”

You ball your fists at his words. How can he say that? Even if the vampire seemed to beg for its life it was all just a rouse to lower your guard. Now it’s free to go tear apart families because you two couldn’t kill it tonight. Namjoon had the chance to kill it but rushed to you instead.

“I can’t take it anymore, Namjoon! You can’t keep convincing yourself that these monsters will ever change!” You cry out, finally letting all your frustration flow. “You’ll get yourself killed one day and then I’ll have no one!”

Namjoon is the only person you have left. If he dies it’ll be one more person taken from you too soon.

Tears well up in your eyes as you stare at his shocked face. You move closer to him, almost blinded by the tears in your eyes as your shoulders begin to shake.

“Don’t leave me, Namjoon… I can’t lose another person I love.”

You love him and his tender heart, his sympathy, his selflessness. He’s the last person in this world who you love and trust. You’d do anything to protect him.

“You won’t.” His arms encircle you and he hugs you tightly. “I promise.”

“Then stop being so stupid.”

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, shutting your eyes as a hot tear runs down your cheek.

He’s always so selfless, running in front of others to protect them whenever there’s danger without thinking of what kind of consequences would come from it. And the unwillingness to believe in the cruelty of monsters paired with that recklessness will only get him killed. He can promise that he won’t leave you all he wants, but you’ll never be able to believe it.

He holds you closely until your body stops shaking and you’re no longer crying. You sit together on the bed, thighs and shoulders touching.

“Namjoon?”

“Hm,” he hums, staring down at his intertwined fingers.

You dab your damp cheeks, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “Should we pretend I didn’t just confess my love for you?”

You’re not sure how he’ll react. He must not want to say anything that’ll upset you further. He doesn’t feel the same way, you think. He sees you more like a sister he grew up with.

“Why? I-” Namjoon swallows, feeling his hands get clammy, “I love you too.”

“Like a friend or sister, right?”

“No, I’m in love with you.” He emphasizes in love, trying to get you to understand how he truly feels. Namjoon stares into your eyes, his shy hands coming up to cradle your face. “I love you, ___.”

For a second time tonight, tears begin to well up in your eyes. This time you’re overjoyed.

“Swear by the gods!” You want to hear it again. You want to savor his words for as long as you can. Living the life of a hunter doesn’t guarantee a long, virtuous life. There is only one rule a hunter lives by: slaughter as many monsters as you can or die fighting.

For as long as you have left, you want to hear the words I love you.

“I swear by the divine gods above, that I am in love with you, ___,” he laughs, looking down at your smiling face.

Without hesitation you push your lips onto his, throwing your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

Namjoon, stiff and unsure at first, gradually relaxes and cups your cheek, returning the kiss.

Both your hands move at their own volition to eagerly strip each other of their shirts. You run your hands over Namjoon’s toned chest. Despite his reluctance to hunt, he maintains a nice physique to keep up with you during training.

His hand glides over your bare stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and licking a perfect mark on your heated skin. From your neck to your shoulders, down between your breasts, he leaves evidence of his desire.

Your legs rub together, creating friction to barely satisfy the throbbing between them. Need builds up in you, threatening to explode, the longer he’s not inside you. Now, now, now, your body cries out for him. You need him so desperately, but…

“Namjoon,” you moan, pulling his attention away from your neck. “Can we do this?”

Should we do this?

Crossing the boundary between friendship and lovers is a big step. You’re afraid of what will happen if you both hand over your hearts to one another especially now when you’ve both become hunters.

“I’ve wanted you to be mine since the day we met.”

His mouth returns to the spot on your neck he favors, allowing his hands to wander again. Gently, he coaxes you to lay against his bed. When he pulls back from sucking bruises on your neck, his thick thigh presses against your core, sending a shock through your body.

Your hips move to grind against his flexing thigh, hungry for stimulation. It’s not enough to satiate the throbbing though. You can feel your underwear beginning to stick to your pussy from all the arousal.

Your arms are thrown around his shoulders when he dives back down and his hands begin to remove your restricting pants. They slide off without much struggle after you raise your hips and are discarded somewhere in the corner of his room.

Cupping your cheek to bring you close, Namjoon captures your lips in another heated and passionate kiss with tongues exploring each other's mouths. Your hands, craving for something to do, begin to wander downward, trailing down his toned back. He shivers under your fingertips raking over his skin. Your hands move down the waistband of his pants, working quickly to get them off and his cock free so you can see all of him.

“So eager,” he teases between uneven breaths, hissing as your hand wraps around him and teases his tip.

“I just want you right now.”

“Then go ahead and take me. I’m all yours.”

#bts #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #namjoon fluff #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts drabble #bts scenario #i hate tags

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realm-sweet-realm · 4 years ago

Text

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #(sort of)#susie campbell #norman polk #abby lambert #my fanfiction #Story: prison cell

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vonbaghager · 4 years ago

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just throwing my ideas onto my blog so they’re not buzzing around in my head anymore. DBD fan-killers: The Barber, the Abomination and the Ignited.

EDIT: And a new one, the Faceless.

The Barber, spawned entirely from a single mental image in which I imagined a killer that uses a straight razor as a weapon, cleaning it off by grinding it against a sharpening strop tied to the other arm.

Short lore blurb: Was an Old Time-y Barber, the ones that did both haircuts and surgeries. His own failing health had him search for occult methods to keep himself alive, using drawn blood as sacrifice. Eventually dove deep enough into occult lore to find out about the Entity, and became enamored with both the idea of eternal life in its realm, and with the creature itself. Strove to catch its attention by using the surgical prowess he’d learned to craft “masterpieces of agony” on unwitting victims, hoping that their pain and terror would draw the creature to him. Eventually, he received an anonymous gift: An immaculately-crafted straight razor that grew sharper as it cut flesh and bone until the victims didn’t even realize they had been cut until a single solid blow or attempt at exertion blew open all of their wounds at once.

Eventually fucked up and caught the attention of an Angry Mob, but by then had earned his place in the Entity’s Realm and fled into a foggy night, never to be seen again.

Base stats: 115% movespeed. 32 meter terror radius. Medium height (Freddy height).

Active Power: Masterpiece of Agony. Base cooldown: 5 seconds. Enter a special animation with a 1.5 second charge time, during which the Barber cannot make a normal attack but gains speed, up to 130% for up to 5 seconds. Lunging out of this state causes the Barber to madly swipe the razor out, striking every Survivor in the path of the lunge, afflicting them with a special status effect: Agonized. The Barber is greatly slowed for 1 second after the ability ends, whether he lunges or not.

An Agonized survivor’s bloodstains and grunts of pain are magnified until the status effect ends. If an Agonized survivor performs any strenuous action, such as fast-vaulting, dropping a pallet, or missing a check when repairing a generator, the Agonized state ends and the Survivor becomes injured while screaming in pain, potentially alerting the Barber. Being struck by Masterpiece of Agony while already Agonized harms the survivor as if they were attacked, meaning performing a strenuous action will drop them to dying. Agonized can be cured in the same manner as Deep Wounds.

Passive power: Sadist. The Barber’s movement speed and lunge distance is increased for every Survivor currently Agonized, hooked, or dead.

Unique Perks:

A Shrine to my Love: Your adoration for the Entity brings you comfort when you are closest to it. The cooldown of your missed attacks is reduced by [25/30/40]% while within 13 meters of the Basement. The wiggling of a survivor in your grasp has a [moderately/greatly/tremendously] reduced effect on your movement while you are within 13 meters of the Basement.

Serrated Hooks: You’ve made creative additions to the Basement, increasing the hold it has over its victims. A survivor on a Basement hook has their chance of escaping it on their own reduced [greatly/tremendously/completely], and is painfully aware of this fact*. A survivor pulled off a Basement hook is affected by both Hemorrhage and Broken for [16/20/24] seconds.

*the survivor receives a notification about the Serrated Hooks upon being speared on one, which lingers until they’re freed. Survivors rescuing their fellows from the Basement are also alerted to the Serrated Hooks.

Grasp of the Shrike: Yes, they will do. They will do nicely. The diamond atop the ring, as it were. You and the Entity become Obsessed with one survivor, clinging to them tightly and never letting go. The Obsession takes [0.5/0.8/1.0] extra seconds to unhook. Whenever the Obsession dies, another random survivor becomes the new Obsession after 13 seconds.

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

The Abomination, based on the video game archetype of “really fat guy with a grappling hook” that’s really just Blizzard but leaks into other games now and then.

Once a gluttonous ruler in the past, he wished for his feast to never end, sparing no expense to have food brought to him from all over the world even as his subjects starved in the streets. When death came for him, he fought with every fiber of his being to remain in the world of the living, tearing his soul free from death’s grasp and forcing it back into his bloated body. He continued to live, but did not belong, beginning to rot and decay even as he brought in the greatest doctors and surgeons to restore him, using the very people he neglected as replacement parts for his increasingly aberrant body.

Never one to waste food, the remains of those slain to restore him were added to his menu, and soon he discovered a love of the taste for the humanity he became further and further divorced from. Ironically, he became a much better ruler the more monstrous he became, if only because the healthy and fat citizens made for better parts and better plates, but eventually it was found out just where the criminals of this prosperous land were disappearing to, and the hideous ruler was threatened with a second death.

Knowing death would not let him escape a second time, he fled from his prosperous land, but soon encountered a problem: he had not stopped rotting, and without a supply of fresh parts, he would succumb sooner or later. He spent his every last coin and gemstone seeking a cure for this condition, slaughtering those he met upon the lonely roads as he fought to remain whole, and eventually he found a solution. He would never again taste the succulence of the world he was leaving behind, but the new world held a banquet for him that would never grow dull. He wished for a feast that would never end, and the Entity granted it.

Base stats: 110% movement. 44 meter terror radius. Large size (Plague height)

Active Power: Glutton’s Grasp. Base cooldown: 8 seconds. The Abomination is slowed as it lets down a lengthy meat hook and begins loudly twirling it around. Any survivor that comes too close to the Abomination in this stance interrupts it but is damaged by the hook as if attacked. Attacking while in this stance flings the hook up to 10 meters outwards, which is blocked by terrain. If a survivor is struck by the hook, they scream and are pulled 5 meters towards the Abomination and become slowed for 2 seconds. If the survivor is pulled directly adjacent to the Abomination, its middle splits open to unveil the Great Maw, which bites into the survivor, damaging them and causing them to become Mangled for 1 minute.

The hook can also interact with certain props. Striking a partially repaired generator stuns the Abomination for 0.75 seconds as a current runs through it but damages the generator as though it had kicked the gen, causing it to regress. Striking a dropped palette stuns the Abomination for 2 seconds as it pulls the wood into the Great Maw, chewing it to pieces.

Once per trial: The Abomination can stand over a survivor who has been hooked at least twice and use the Great Maw to swallow them whole, sacrificing them instantly and becoming hasted for 2 minutes.

Passive: Corpulent Corpse. The Abomination is considerably wider than other killers, making it difficult to sneak or dash past it if it’s in a narrow enough area.

Unique Perks:

Varied Diet. Even the most luxurious banquet can grow boring without variety. Each time you strike a survivor with your basic attack, gain a token, to a maximum of 4/6/8 tokens. Each token grants you 1/2/3% increased movement speed and vaulting speed. Striking the same survivor twice in a row causes you to lose 2 tokens.

Hex: Abattoir. This Hex turns the lockers within the trial into deathtraps for your victims. An injured survivor hiding in a locker bleeds profusely, creating a noticeable pool of blood. If a survivor lingers in a locker for 20/15/10 seconds, they become injured, or are pushed into the dying state if already injured.

Starved Rush. The scent of their flesh, the smell of their blood, it calls to you, driving you into a frenzy the longer you go without it. You enter Bloodlust [slightly/moderately/considerably] faster and do not immediately lose it if you break a pallet.

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

The Ignited. Had the mental image of someone undergoing an Oni-style rage transformation, except they burst into flames.

There’s not much of a story for this one tbh. Probably someone who was burned at the stake and called down horrific vengeance for their unawful destruction, becoming what they were accused of (a vampire, a witch, a werewolf, etc). The alternate tale that I like more is that they were just a pyromaniac that finally decided to burn down their own house with them inside so they could feel what their victims felt.

Base stats: 105% movement. 16 meter terror radius. Medium size (Blight height)

Active Power, Kindling form: Choking Smog. Base cooldown: 20 seconds. Unleash a cloud of black smoke the Ignited can perfectly see through, but which is completely opaque for survivors. The smoke spreads outwards to cover a 11 meter radius, choking survivors inside of it, causing them to loudly cough. Survivors in the smog are Exhausted and slowed. The cloud lingers for 6 seconds.

Passive power (Cinder Form): Building Inferno. The Ignited is unaffected by the trial’s fog. The Ignited can interact with piles of tormented kindling that spawn throughout the trial, gathering energy from each of them. The Ignited can also gather energy by damaging generators and survivors, and hooking survivors. At maximum charge, the Ignited can activate the secondary power to explode into their Wildfire Form. All the survivors receive a notification when the Ignited enters Wildfire Form as it shrieks in agony and rage.

The Ignited in Wildfire Form has a terror radius that covers the entire map, moves at 130% speed, and becomes taller than the Plague. A pillar of fire and smoke travels up from its body to signify its position at all times. Wildfire Form lasts for 1 minute, after which it drops back to Cinder Form.

Active Power (Wildfire Form): Pyroclasm. The Ignited charges up briefly and then blasts an incredibly wide cone in front of it (roughly equal to its FOV but only 6 meters in length). Survivors in the area are damaged, generators in the area begin regressing, and dropped pallets in the area begin burning and will be fully destroyed after 5 seconds unless a survivor slides across them. Survivors injured--but not downed--by Pyroclasm gain a unique status effect: On Fire! Survivors who are On Fire glow softly with flame and their auras are revealed to the Ignited, shouting and screaming as long as they remain On Fire. On Fire lasts for 1 minute, until the survivor is put into the dying state, until they vault a pallet or window, or until they stop moving and spend 3 seconds patting themselves down.

Unique Perks:

Smokesight: The fog thickens in your presence, though it’s no impediment to you. The trial fog is [slightly/moderately/considerably] thicker, though you see through it as if it were two stages lighter.

Hex: Fear of Failure: To build a tower so tall just to see it fall before you, it is a feeling that can invoke despair in any, and one this Hex enhances to self-destructive levels. If you kick a generator that has been repaired above [75%/50%/25%] progress while your totem still stands, the last survivor(s) to work on that generator shriek in frustration and are highlighted for 3 seconds if they are within [24/32/40] meters.

Hex: Trap in the Blaze: Lock them inside. Seal the windows, bar the door. Let them burn. Let them burn. Let them burn. When the exit gates are powered, this Hex flares to life if there is a dull totem for it to inhabit. The switch to the gates is partially infested by the Entity, slowing all attempts to touch it. Interacting with the switch takes an extra [3/4/5] seconds. Abandoning the exit switch causes it to slowly regress.

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

The Faceless. what if there was a stealth killer even more humanoid than the pig?

Not sure of a backstory here. Either a member of an ancient species trying to avoid total extinction, or an envious human who altered their own bodies with strange chemicals, vile magic, and horrible operations until they could look like anyone they wanted.

Base stats: 110% movement. 32 meter terror radius. Large size (Demogorgon height in true form).

Active power: Assume Guise. The Faceless loudly and grotesquely reshapes its body into the shape of a random survivor in the trial, letting all survivors within the terror radius hear the cracking and squishing just before the terror radius abruptly vanishes. The noises are noticeable enough to be heard a short distance outside the terror radius, akin to the Wraith or the Spirit vanishing. Any survivor within a 15 meter radius is briefly highlighted by Killer Instinct after the transformation is complete. While disguised, the Faceless has no terror radius and is treated by the game as though it were a survivor. If its aura becomes revealed by any perk or item, it appears as though it were a survivor, even if the perk or item reveals the killer’s aura only.

While it can crouch and sprint as a normal survivor, the Faceless cannot interact with props like a survivor can, with the exception of vaulting pallets or windows. It cannot open chests, repair generators, or sabotage hooks. When it assumes a survivor’s shape, it cannot copy any items they hold, nor can it pick one up or use them. If the survivor its copying is injured, it is not. Its voice as a survivor is ever-so-slightly distorted.

Assuming its true form is a horrid affair, stunning the killer for 2 seconds as it bursts from its former body. After transforming back, the Faceless is hasted for 4 seconds and Assume Guise is placed on a 10 second cooldown.

Active power (disguised form): Backstab. If the Faceless performs the healing action on a survivor using the secondary power button, it acts as though it’s healing them for 5 seconds, after which it suddenly strikes, afflicting the target with Deep Wounds and Hindered and beginning its transformation back.

Unique Perks

Hex: False Friendship. This Hex confounds and distorts your aura, leading your prey to blunder into your grasp. While the totem stands, any time your aura would be revealed, it appears as though it’s a survivor aura, and the survivor(s) reading your aura are highlighted by Killer Instinct for [8/12/16] seconds if they’re within 40 meters of you.

Subtle Sabotage: Your machinations are much more insidious than that of your brutish kin. After kicking a generator, the generator becomes Sabotaged for [60/80/120] seconds, regressing continuously even as it’s being worked on, effectively halving the speed it’s repaired at. A sabotaged generator loses this status if it fully regresses, or if the survivors working on it succeed [2/3/4] Great skill checks on it without abandoning it. Sabotaged gens are highlighted to the survivors, and survivors working on a sabotaged gen are aware of how much longer the status will last and how many skill checks are required to undo it.

Calming Emanations: Let them have their hope, if only so it’s more spectacular when it shatters. Each uninjured survivor reduces your terror radius by [18/20/22]%.

#dead by daylight #DBD #these aren't balanced but i had fun

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

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The Dragon Egg (Part 1)

This is my (sort of late) entry for the @secrettunnelatla event.

Summary: Azula’s metal music career put in jeopardy when a careless afterparty leaves her unexpectedly pregnant with Chan’s baby. Meanwhile, Zuko struggles to overcome his addiction as he works to get his own band off the ground.

Content Warnings: Language, Teen Pregnancy, Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, and Child Abuse.

It smells heavily of leather, disinfectant, and hand soap. Azula supposes that, that is a good thing. She tries not to twitch too much, but the discomfort is rather intense. More than intense, really. It is a mild, yet white hot pain. She tries to ignore the buzz of the needle and its attempts to remind her of its bite.

“First time?” Seicho asks.

Azula nods.

“You’re telling me that you can get a pair of snake bites, a brow piercing, and stretch your earlobes, but this is too much?”

Azula resists another flinch. “Piercings are quicker. The needle goes in…” she winces, “and then it comes out and it’s over.”

Seicho withdraws the tattoo gun for a shrug, “there’s no art to piercings.”

“Tell that to Mai.”

“She’s your bandmate, right?”

Azula shakes her head. “My brother’s girlfriend. She’s in his band.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I have my own band. We have a better sound and better lyrics.” She grips the edge edge of her chair. This time speaking ill of Zuko’s band isn’t a distraction enough. She isn’t sure why this is so hard for her. Chan and Ruon had gotten their ink without a hitch, and Ruon is a crybaby on a good day.

“Do you need a break?” The artist asks, withdrawing her tattoo gun. The hideous red, plastic cup that she wears as a necklace charm, bobs with the motion. Azula grits her teeth and shakes her head. If Ruon could get it done in one go then she can manage as well. By the end of it she will have a blue and gold scaled dragon curling around her arm and outlined with blue flame and lightning. And if she can manage it, twin dragonflies will shimmer on both of her shoulder blades.

The buzzing resumes and the pricking returns. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt so much as it does sting. And sometimes the stinging subsides for something more like a painful pressure. “Try to relax, it hurts more if you’re tense.” Seicho says.

“This isn’t exactly relaxing.” Azula frowns. The woman has finally finished the outline of the dragon. “And this chair isn’t comfortable either.” She may as well add that she is thirsty and hungry for good measure.

Seicho laughs, “I’ve had criers and fainters and a few boasting badasses, but I’ve never had a complainer.”

Azula frowns.

“If you want you can move to the bed.” She gestures to what looks like a dentist’s chair. “It has more padding and it’ll give your back a rest.”

“Alright.” While she is up she steals a drink from her water bottle. She tries to make herself as comfortable as possible on the bed. She hears the buzz of another tattoo gun on the other side of the parlor before Seicho’s comes to join it. Azula braces herself for more stinging.

“So what kind of music do you play?”

“Disco pop.” She answers flatly. Sehicho has to draw back and wait for her laughter to pass. “We play metalcore. But Chan and Ruon want to experiment with…” it takes all of her soul not to shudder, “surfer rock.” Granted she can respect it as a genre, it isn’t terrible and it would suit the two of them well. But she can’t see herself providing vocals for surf rock and she doesn’t quite fit the aesthetic. At least she has Zirin to back her up on that, and so the band is perfectly divided like that.

“That could be interesting.” Seicho comments.

“Does anything about me indicate that surf rock is a good fit for my talents?”

.oOo.

Seicho looks her client up and down. Azula is an attractive girl, that’s for sure, it is more than a pleasure sitting in her chair--the girl has a reputation for being very particular and picky.

She studies her for a moment longer; small and slender with the slightest muscle definition. Her eyes glitter with thick black eyeliner, shot with a line of neon blue. It’s elegantly dramatic against a soft helping of black eyeshadow. Her piercings glint silver in the light when she turns to watch Seicho work. She notices a septum ring as well. Her hair is styled with a neat undercut, someone has artfully worked fiery patterns into the shaved part.

“That’s fair.” Seicho comments at last. She isn’t sure that she should make any other comments on the girl’s appearance, lest she makes a blabbering fool of herself. She supposes that she has a weak spot for piercings and sideshaves. “I don’t think that I caught your band’s name.”

“Blue Talon.” She gestures to the outline of her dragon. She had specifically instructed Seicho to put emphasis on it’s inky talon.

“I’ll have to listen to some of your music.”

Azula nods. “Give yourself a taste of culture.”

She fixes her gaze on the screen of her phone. Seicho catches the name ‘Chan’ at the top of the screen and the words, ‘still up for tonight?’ Seicho brings her focus back to the tattoo and resumes her work.

It is an underappreciated art, she thinks. A misunderstood one. She doesn’t think that people understand just how brave one needs to be to decorate a person’s body. Doesn’t think that they see the value in what she does.

Her art has a weight to it, one that her canvases will carry with them forever. Her art comes with a story and her parchment is flesh. Some tales are as simple as a reminder of one impulse decision (perhaps good, perhaps bad) at the end of a wild night, the story of reckless youth and a fun time. While other stories are so deeply personal that even she doesn’t know the meaning behind the picture she has brought to life on the flesh.

The elegance of dragging needles over skin in careful curves and sturdy lines is an art in itself. It takes a steady and loving hand to guide the needle in exactly the right ways. Calligraphy is renowned and loved, it is classy. Seicho doesn’t think that her job is much different than than.

They say that it is a rough and reckless job. They can’t seem to grasp what tedious work it is. The special sort of carefulness that goes into laying ink onto skin. She supposes that they have taken and ran with stories of shady, cheap shops with unsterilized needles and infected basement tattoos done by best friends.

She draws back for a moment to dab some excess ink from Azula’s skin. “How are you feeling?” She checks in. Her client gives her a simple thumbs up. With it, Seicho continues. The tattoo begins to come to life now, with an enticing shade of deep blue. She takes care to keep it from marring the golden outline of the scales.

As she carefully fills the scales with blue, she finds herself pondering how lovely it would be to have her artwork on the art of someone who has made it big. She hopes that Blue Talon will go far.

Occupied by her phone, Azula seems to be content for the time being. It would seem that the girl isn’t particularly interested in anymore conversation and she doesn’t try to force her into one. They don’t speak again until the final dragonfly has been inked on to the girl’s shoulder. Seicho flicks the tattoo gun off and sets it aside. “I can take a few pictures of the dragonflies for you so you can see them.”

Azula nods, paying only half attention as she inspects the dragon that now curls around her bicep. “It’s good work.” She says at last.

“Thank you.” Seicho smiles. She holds up her phone and the girl glances over it. “Hey!” She shouts as she snatches the phone from her hand. She watches Azula pull up her contacts list and add herself to it.

“We will be in touch.” She presses the phone back into Seicho’s palm.

She never would have thought that it would be so easy to get a rockstar’s phone number. Albeit, this particular rockstar seems to lack either impulse control or social graces. She is inclined to go with the latter.

“Feel free to give me a call if you think that the ink might be infected. Just follow the instructions,” she gestures to the aftercare package, “and that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Don’t wait by the phone.” Azula inspects her nails. “I have impeccable hygiene.”

Seicho damn near laughs. She has only exchanged a few words with the girl and she has already left quite an impression. Aesthetic aside and phone incident, she is strangely well-mannered, prim and proper. She isn’t exactly the sort Seicho is used to having in her chair.

She gives her hair a flick, revealing a golden ring bearing the Kasai family emblem. Were it not for that, Seicho would have never guessed that she was the daughter of Fire Lord Ozai. Thee Fire Lord Ozai, vocalist and guitarist of Fire’s Reign.

She doesn’t get the chance to request an autograph or a chance to meet her idol. She hears the shop bell rattle as the rock legend’s daughter shuts the door behind her and makes her way back to her car.

Seicho hopes that her hard work will serve the girl well.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Cupholder girl #Azula/Seicho #Zuko #Mai #Maiko #TyLee #Fanfiction #Atlasecrettunnel

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chidoroki · 5 years ago

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TPN ch180

(spoilers! i'm so broken)

I didn't want to be right. I didn't want to actually believe that Emma was lying. If anything, I thought she was just lying about staying with her family when they crossed over to the human world, knowing she would be separated, but this.. oh my god. This girl knew ever since ch143 that she was going to lose her memories of her family and straight up lied to them about it. Granted, only a few days passed from when she returned from The 7 Walls up until they all crossed over to the human world, but still, I.. don't know how to feel. I knew since the prison break she had great acting skills so I'm impressed that she managed to pull off yet another wonderful performance, but wow.. I really hoped she wouldn't! To keep such an important and life changing secret from her family, who are all so important to her, I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her knowing this while dealing with the entire capital attack and GF plantation raid. Fighting so hard and succeeding in achieving a bright, happier future for everyone but herself.. ow, my heart.

Some people are fine with the memory loss, others aren't. If anything, at least she's the only one who forgot? I think it would've been worse if everyone else forgot about Emma instead, so having the promise only hurt her is fine.. well, it's not, clearly, but you get what I mean.

And if demon god wasn't on my nerves enough already, the little prat decides to basically photoshop every family member out of the photos Emma kept this entire time. I'm touched she still had the photos in her possession, but now this upsets me so much. Upon seeing the first set of raws and learning Emma lost her memories, I hoped that she could possibly remember them by looking back at these photos if she still had them. But no. Demon god doesn't want me to be happy or get my hopes up. It would've been such a cool idea though. We know Ray originally requested the camera because he needed to strobe for the taser, but he continued to take pictures, not only to keep up the act to prevent Isabella from getting suspicious, but to give said photos to Emma because he knew how important their family is to her. I would've loved it if something so important from the first couple arcs came back at the very end to help Emma regain her memories.

Not only that, but demon god also got rid of her id number? Like.. really? I don't know why that bothers me so much but it does. I know the id brands just proved that the kids were meant to be nothing but food. Of course I know that they're all so much more than that and I should be happy Emma lost hers, because it truly means she's free, but the number was a part of her you know? It would've been fine if every cattle child lost their identifier, but since it was only her it makes me think demon god wanted it to be that much harder for Emma to remember her past and family. That's what bothers me. That even now, after they all crossed over and don't have to deal with demons anymore, demon god still has the audacity ability to make Emma suffer. If she still had her number, I'm sure she would've questioned it, much like Ray did when he was younger (my mind thinks back to ch28, that one memory of him looking at his neck in a mirror). Maybe she would've realized that the people in her dreams also have the same neck numbers, if only faintly. (it must be so weird for Demizu to draw Emma now and not include her number after all this time)

That leads me to wonder if Emma has questioned the rest of her appearance yet. I would assume she's still missing her left ear, since her hair is still covering that side, so does she ever wonder about why it's missing? What about the scars on her body? We personally haven't seen them, but you can't tell me her back and abdomen looks perfect and clean after getting stabbed by Lewis. Yes I know, scars heal with time, but the scar on Lucas' face was still recognizable after 13 years. Same with Zack and his many unfading scars. So does Emma question where hers came from?

Moving on, a month passes and still no memories, however Musica's necklace seems to be the cause of Emma's vivid dreams, like it somehow brings life to her feelings. We see the necklace constantly, not only because Emma wears it, but on volume covers and other color pages as well. It's always been shown off as this important item and yet it hasn't really served a purpose yet. Emma recieved the necklace back in ch51 and the only thing its done so far was show her that one old vision at Cuvitidala in ch101. It'll be a real easy way to solve everything by having the necklace just conveniently bring back her memories, so I get why some people might not like the idea, but at this point I'd be fine with it.

Figures she would end up in the human world with someone who can sympathize with her pain. Old dude lost his family due to war but at least he can remember them. He asks if Emma would want to see her family, if they're alive, and she remains unsure and lost. She doesn't know who these dream people are to her, why they call out "Emma" or why it makes her feel better.

This panel.. this one right here is what breaks me. Our girl is so upset and she can't even understand why. We know why you're crying hun, it's because you miss your family. Your memories may have faded but your feelings for them still live on with you! I have no doubt that love you just as much too! My poor girl, someone send me her location so I can go and hug her!

Emma might have given up trying to remember who she was and live a new life, but if she did encounter her family again, I hope she would be excited to meet them as new people. Maybe they could all start over. Over time they could gently remind her of her past, and if Emma truly can't remember, I hope they'll accept her regardless.

And a name change? I'm.. mmm frustrated. Yeah it makes sense since she couldn't remember hers and would need a new one anyway, but aahh, really? No id identifier, no memories, no name; it's like she's a new character. I was never a fan of the amnesia trope, like she's such a great character and gets built up wonderfully, and now it's like you reset her to zero. Yeah I know, deep down she's still the happy go lucky girl we all know and love, who's strong and capable to still smile even now, but.. man, idk anymore. This whole chapter hurts me.

There's a dim light at the end of the tunnel because we get a glimpse of Ray, Gilda and.. at first I thought it was Don but that person is way too short, so Phil? Regardless, I gotta give them some credit. It may have been a couple months, (remember, old dude said he could't call for help until spring and there's flowers in the ground now) but they've already managed to find where she might be in this new, large world. Please, turn around though! She's so close to you guys, she's right there! Notice her antenna or something, I beg you!

Demon god said that even if Emma met her family, she wouldn't remember them, but I still have small hopes. Emma claim's she stopped having the dreams and given up trying to remember her past, but maybe that short amount of time believing in them was enough. Aside from the necklace which connected her feelings to her unconscious mind, the five sense can also recall memories. Perhaps if she heard her name now, outside of a dream, something in her mind will click. Maybe she would get that warm feeling again she once longed for. Sense of smell and taste are usually most effective in bringing back memories so maybe just being near them or having them cook for her could also help. I know the sense of touch usually works for when you personally touch something, but if it's possible to also recall memories by being touched, then please, for the love of god, let Ray pat Emma's head again! He's done it countless time over the years.. can you imagine if upon meeting and learning that she has no memories, Ray is just like "no worries, you're still the same Emma to us," and while he pats her head, she's like wait hold up, major deja vu, I feel like I felt something like that happened before. I'm probably only getting my hopes up real high with that idea (since old dude just patted her head and nothing) but bro.. I would honestly cry if something so simple and nostalgic as a head pat helps Emma remember her family even the tiniest bit.

And yes, I'm worried Norman isn't around. Please don't let me be right again by having him stay behind due to his health issues. Just let him be in another search group somewhere else okay? I'll accept that. It's odd he wouldn't be working alongside Ray but whatever, split your best minds up to create equally powerful teams, that's fine. It only worries me because now we might not get one last full-score trio hug like I originally hoped! I swear having a hug like that as the very last panel of the series would've been perfectly fine with me after everything that just happened. But now.. aahhh, we'll see.

I can't believe the series ends next week. There's still so much I want to see and know. I pray there's a happy ending for everyone. I want Emma with her family. I want her to remember them. I want one last full-score trio hug. Shirai, don't let us down! You played with my feelings so much within the past year, so please make all the stress and tears worth it! Give me an ending that will satisfy me so much that TPN replaces Black Lagoon as my favorite series! Go ahead, I dare you! Ya see that beautiful panel? Give that to us and not have it be a fantasy! (pretty please??)

#the promised neverland #tpn emma #tpn manga #emma #chidoroki used chatter

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xoxo-nikki-xoxo · 4 years ago

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Just finished reading about your OC Arabella. I'm dying to know how the hell this girl died in Elijah's arms?!

Its a really dark story guy but if you want it well here it is!

Word count 1,142

Side note: I hope you guys enjoy! if you have anymore asks about Arabella send them in I would love to answer.

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The music was loud as Arabella entered Marcels new home across the river.

“I don’t know why I agreed to doing this Marcelus, I thought you said it was just a dinner catch up, then I go home.” Arabella says outside of entry door looking at Marcel

“Ma, I never said that, plus I want you to meet my crew, I want to show you what I have created” Marcel says as he opens the door. Looking at the people I smiled it was a good size amount of people. Marcel had guided me over to a boy who I presumed to be one of his good friends, sense he is the first I am meeting.

“Josh! I would like you to meet someone. So besides me being raised by Niklaus this girl right here was the mother I never had.” Marcel says as he puts his hand on Arabella's back guiding her over to Josh

“Oh, I uh- didn’t know you had a mom Marcel” Josh says looking at him then at Arabella smiling “Well my names josh! Hi, it's really nice to meet you” Josh says extended his hand out.

“Nice to meet you too Josh. It's good to hear that Marcellus has friends” Arabella smiles shaking his hand. As she shakes his hand, she can read he is a good person.

“Um not to sound rude or anything... But like what are you? You look like a vampir-”

“Josh you can't just ask the lady if-”

“It's okay Marcel, I get asked this question a lot. I'm a rare breed of vampire, like Klaus I'm a hybrid... But not a werewolf.” Arabella says turning looking at the candles, with a sort glance at the candle they soon lit “I'm also a witch”

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

You see when I was born back in Denmark sometime in the 1500’s I don’t quite remember the date anymore. Anyways my father, Alfred, was our coven leader. The kind of magic my family/Coven practiced was dark, it's called expression. It’s much more powerful than any forms of dark magic in the word. It draws of off energy, all types of energy actually. I was the 2nd oldest in my family, needing to add more members to the coven my parents had me. In hopes to be able to grow stronger as a whole

When my father learned of my lack of magic, he disowned me in the coven. Vowed that no matter what happened I would never be coven leader. My mother on the other hand loved me, I was her first daughter. She raised me well despite of my father disapproval of my existence.

By the time I was 16 my parents went on to have 2 more children, a boy and girl, Brinley and Ivy. Because I was disowned from my father, I wasn’t allowed to study or practice magic. But my mother would sneak me old grimoires so I can study the spells and potions. I wasn’t completely useless to my family. My father did at one point allow me to create positions for the coven. But unknown to my family though was the amount of witchcraft knowledge I had. I became and still am a master at using herbs and potions. That’s actually how I escaped my coven. I was able to slip in a simple sleep potion into dinner and escape that night when everyone was asleep.

That’s how I actually met my husband, Elijah. He found me wondering in town and took me under his wing. You see in my coven we all have a special birth mark on out wrists. It’s a symbol meaning Death. He recognized this symbol and took an interest in me, see his brother Niklaus had searched for my coven to break the cruise is mother put on him. So, when Elijah had found me, he thought he had found to perfect leverage against my family.

I remember quite well my human relationships with the Mikaelsons. Elijah took a romantic liking to me. Rebekah liked the attitude and fashion sense I had, while Kol picked at my brain about the witchcraft my family studied. And for Klaus he only cared about me because of the leverage I gave him. They were all quite charming Elijah being the most, over the course of the months I was living with them I fell in love with Elijah. His love hit me hard, and consumed my whole being.

The night I died Niklaus had forced me to drink his blood. It was the night my family was going to attempt to free Klaus of his curse. That was the same night my father had ordered my oldest brother and a few of the other local boys to kill me. Seeing as not only did my father not like me, but with me living with the original family was the last straw for him. He wanted me died and so he got it.

I was left to die in the middle of the road in town square. A show case of just how powerful my family was and a reminder to anyone who crossed my coven would be died. I remember the coldness of the ground on my body. The peace I felt as I was dying, I couldn't feel no pain. That’s when he found me, I was staring up at the sky my heartrate slowed. I clearly remember Lijah finding me

“No!” I heard him yell he had rushed to my side lifting me up putting me into his lap. He had bit his wrist and was putting it up against my lips

“Drink Bella... please... No-no-no. Not like this... You can't die like this” I had died in his arms.

The next few days where one big blur as I was trying to get my hungry under control. And well being a vampire. It came to be a big surprised when I was able to use magic.

I used my knew found skills against my family, after they failed to break Klaus cruse he granted me the permission to do as i please and o i did. I slaughtered my whole family. Killing my siblings in fount of my parents. Then them after.

My murders didn't end there that night. The whole Village fell victim to mine and the Mikaelsons rage. After it was said and done we watched on a near by hill as it burned to the ground.

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“wow I didn’t even know witches could be vampires” Josh said chuckling nervously

“Well I'm special” Arabella giggles looking up at marcel smiling.

“Yeah and I'm pretty luckily I had you Bella” Marcel says smiling as he goes to his bar “ Who knows what i would have turned out like being raised by only the Mikaelsons” Marcel adds smiling as he pours the 3 of us drinks.

“Well let's get this party started shall we!” Marcel says holding up a glass as he takes a drink. Arabella smiles taking the drink Marcel handed her.

“To Arabella for raising you right and onto letting you become a monstrous” Josh says

“To Arabella” Marcel repeats as we all take a drink

#nikki speaks #Arabella Mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #Kol mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #witchs

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