#just like that irresistible tickle of 'they will probably destroy each other ... but what if they had a nice time together instead' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solarflarefanfiction · 6 years ago

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Solar Flare 5

AN: I know Bella is very emotional, but she is 17, and despite what she thinks, she’s highly emotional, coming out of a deep depression, and has an understandable fear of being abandoned.

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“Jake” the cold night air blowing against my overheated skin tickled against my skin as if I’d been shot through with electricity.

I heard harsh breathing and realized Jacob was not gone, just standing beside the truck, bent over with his hands on his knees and breathing heavily as if he’d just run a very long way.

“Jake!” I scrambled over the seat, banging my knee against the gear shift, and almost tumbling head first out of the cab in my haste.

I reached out a hand, wanting to rest it against his back, see if he was alright. But had I hurt him in some way?

“Jake! Are you okay?” I asked instead, hand half extended.

“You-You didn’t stop me,” Jake said, sounding breathless. He grasped my hand and stood up. His face was flushed, and flushed further when he glanced over at me.

“Stop you from what?” I climbed back into the truck and felt Jake’s hand briefly brushed my hip, as if to steady me.

He was blushing heavily as he climbed in after me, his eyes still glancing at me and away.

“Stop me from—“ He blew out a breath “What we were doing. Bella, you were fine with that? With me- with us…”

Now I was blushing deeply as well, my face atomically hot in a way much less pleasant than the fire that had swept through me before.

“You don’t want…”

He laughed suddenly putting a hand over his face.

“Bells, what part of that felt like me not wanting you?” He ran his hand through his now short hair, as if he’d forgotten that it was now close shorn.

“But you…”

“God, that was—are you trying to kill me?” He laughed again and turned the car back on.

“I don’t understand” I whined, hating myself for doing so.

“Bella…did you really want our first time to be…that?”

Now I flushed anew, in a whole new shade of humiliated.

The truth was, it hadn’t occurred to me where what we were doing might lead. I had been pure feeling; I’d been running on instinct and heat and want.

“I’m sorry,” I said chastened. Why hadn’t I stopped, even thought of stopping? Why had it always been Edward who pulled away, who had never been carried away, had worried about virtue and taking things slow?

Was it something about me? That I got out of control, like some kind of crazy virgin nympho? Or was it that I just wanted him, wanted them, much much more than-

“Bells, no, don’t cry.” Jake looked over at me, alarmed, pulling over the car once again, to reach and pull me across the seat toward him again.

With my face against his shoulder (when had he put his shirt back on?) I felt better and worse, and perversely, my tears fell freely.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I cried, nonsensically, while he awkwardly stroked his hand down my back.

“Bells, I’m not mad!” he said desperately. “I thought you would be! I just grabbed you! I practically mauled you! I was surprised you didn’t slap me, push me away. Now that I know you’ve never…never…” he broke off, blushing. “Shit. I want to to be different for us, is all, the first time at least.”

My tears were drying rapidly, my heart lifting absurdly. I was being so so stupid. Assuming the worst. Jacob wasn’t…him. He’d promised to never ever leave me. He loved me. He loved me.

“Really?”

Jacob sighed in apparent relief. “Of course. Jeez, Bells, I love you.”

“I love you too, Jake.”

I peeked up, conscious that my face must be terribly splotchy and red. But we was looking at me with such a look, such a beautiful look. I couldn’t look away.

He coughed finally, looked back at the road.

“So, can I drive you home now? I’d rather not risk Charlie’s wrath tonight.”

“Just tonight?” I teased, leaning against him. I’d been stupid, but I couldn’t really regret it now, filled with relief.

He looked at me, heat in his eyes, the same heat that had stroked its way up my body just minutes before.

“Gotta save up my credit with him while I have a chance Bella.” He grinned at her. “So try not to look too teary when you see him. I don’t want him to think I screwed up. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s gotten a bit more protective lately.

I laughed, wiping my eyes.

“You’d think he’d be used to me falling apart by now.”

“As someone who loves you, Bells, it’s not something you get used to.”

I reached over to pat his hand. “Thanks Jake”

He smiled, “Now, now. we can’t get started again. Keep those hands to yourself, Bells. I know I’m irresistible, but- “

“You are, you know. Irresistible.”

“Ah, come on, you’re making me blush.” But he glanced over and gave me one of the smiles that made me feel like I’d been filled with bubble bath.

It was enough that, when I got home, with my bag of purchases, and now in a kind of breathless good cheer, Charlie was apparently unworried.

If he saw any lingering redness around my eyes, well, he knew better than to ask.

The incident with Jacob started me thinking though.

The way he said, “us,” “our first time,” “when we,” he was talking about the future. Our future. A future in which we made love, and stayed together.

A future in which Edward really never came back.

A future where I moved on?

I knew it was odd. I loved Jake. It was probably too fast, too strange. The Cullens had left, and I’d been gutted for months.

Now I was in love with Jake, part of the pack. How long had I been in love with Jake?

But I still wasn’t making plans for the future. Not really. I’d forgotten how to think about the future.

I’d fought with Edward about going to college, about going to prom. What did those things matter, when I was going to be a vampire. I was going to have forever to go to college, to do everything.

Except I wasn’t.

Edward didn't love me. He'd left, forever. He hadn't wanted my love.

Jake loved me. And I loved him, despite everything that had happened. I loved him enough to want the future that i had left to be with him.

Things couldn’t go on this way. Falling apart, taking Jake with me. I needed to really decide to get better.

Easier said than done.

I needed a plan.

____

It sounded simpler than it was. I’d suffered a loss, a major blow, which had crushed both my heart, and my plans for the rest of my life.

But still.

I’d been in a fog for months. I’d almost died, and I hadn’t cared. I still felt afraid, so afraid, that I would lose Jacob too, and without him once again spiral off into the darkest parts of my mind and heart.

I couldn’t keep spiraling though, clinging to Jacob because I couldn’t bear to be alone, falling apart at each minor hiccough or potential set back. It would be like drowning him to save myself, and he would let me do it. He'd go down with me, fighting my demons when I couldn't or wouldn't until it destroyed him.

I couldn't quite think up a whole brilliant plan forgot to fix myself. But I figured out step one.

say goodbye

Which brought me to this lonely, almost invisible lane early the next Saturday morning, sitting with the car off, just out of sight of the grand house in the woods that had once been everything I wanted.

This is a bad idea Bella. Go home.

Oddly calm, I looked to the side and saw him.

Angelic and flawless he looked as if he were sitting beside me.

I hadn't seen hallucination Edward in a few weeks, likely by dint of spending few of my waking hours alone, and no longer indulging in my pursuit of self-destruction.

He was beautiful, and it hurt to look at him and remember all of my dreams. To remember that I still loved him. It turned out you could love two people at once.

But...it was bearable, somehow. Maybe because I'd been making a new life for myself, maybe because I'd simply adjusted to the pain.

Don’t worry. You’re human--your memory is no more than a sieve. Time heals all wounds for your kind. (New Moon 72)

It was one of the things he'd said that still haunted me. As if i was cursed with this sense that if ever I regained some semblance of peace and happiness I was proving that he'd been right. That I hadn't been able to love him enough for him to stay.

I turned away from Edward, and turned the car back on, continued down the little lane until I pulled up in front of the Cullen house.

It hurt.

If I had hoped that magically- and with the help of Jacob, but also Kim, Leah, Emily, Embry, Quil, Seth, even Paul, Jared, and Sam--that my pain had gone away, well, it hadn’t, of course.

Here, all alone in front of this place that represented more than almost any other what I had lost, here the pain was still a burning wound.

I was stronger now though. I didn’t turn away and run. I didn’t fall to the ground. I stared at the big, empty house, now quiet and abandoned. It still looked more haunted now than it ever had when it was full of vampires.

“Hello, Edward.” Alice. Jasper. Carlisle. Esme. Emmett. Rosalie. I thought of them too, the strange, beautiful family I’d thought for one beautiful summer would be mine.

“I miss you. It’s isn’t like you said. It isn’t easy to move on.” I was holding myself, like always. Clutching my hands around my rib cage, as if it would keep me from falling apart, or collapsing.

“I wouldn’t have moved on, if you’d stayed. I would have been with you. Even as a human.” my lips barely moved, I felt like I was freezing from the inside out. But my voice still sounded so loud in the empty clearing, with only this vacant house to hear.

“I didn’t try and stay safe. How could you make me promise to be safe? You knew I would promise you anything.” I was so glad I’d broken those promises, and it was strange how that bitter joy sat in the middle of all my pain.

“I did it to break my promise” but that wasn't totally true.

"I did it for you, to feel close to you. But…I did it for me too. And now…I didn’t mean to move on Edward. But…”

The next part of what I want to say still felt like sacrilege “It wasn’t fair, Edward. How could I prove you right and move on? You left because I was too weak, I know. I wanted to prove you wrong.”

“Forever is a long time, though. Even if it isn’t as long as I thought it was going to be.”

My lips were cold and stiff now, and I couldn't get any more words out. That was okay. None of them were really good enough.

I took a shaky step toward the front steps, then another.

Soon I was sitting on the front steps, looking at my truck and the woods beyond. And I was all right.

I sighed around the pain in my chest. How could you say goodbye to people who didn’t want your goodbyes?

Now, when I was waiting for him to appear, my phantom Edward was nowhere to be seen, and it was just me and my memories.

My tears were warm as they splashed onto my freezing arms.

I let myself cry without holding back, or feeling guilty, or pretending I didn't feel anything.

It felt like goodbye. It felt like I would drown. Again.

I sat for a long time, as the sun rose higher in the sky and finally poured full force over the front of the house.

I was stiff from sitting on the hard stairs for so long, and shaky with a mix of too much crying and most likely hunger.

But I was all cried out, and it felt weirdly good. There was relief, rather than the dark never-ending despair I only half-remembered from the time right after Cullens left, or the blank emptiness that followed.

I should go home. See Jacob. My heart was lighter now, though I hadn't done anything but cry over the same pain that’d been bothering me months.

Oh, but there was one more thing I needed to do.

I didn’t really have any Edward keepsakes. He’d made sure of that when he left.

I had the wreck of the speaker I’d pried out of my truck. It didn’t have many Edward memories tied to it (which was probably why he hadn’t take it with him). I’d decided to bury that here, because I needed to be rid of it. Seeing it, all I could remember was the desperate pain I’d felt as i clawed it out of my truck in the first, terrible days after they left. Frantic but tearless, like a wild creature.

But I’d found something real to bury here, to bury with this dead version of my future.

It was my prom dress from last year.

I retrieved the trash bag with the torn up speaker, my pretty, still not me, dress - now tucked in an old shoe box, and a spade I’d dug out of Charlie’s garage.

Luckily, the dirt in Esme’s garden was soft, and easy to dig, because I wasn’t so caught up in my plan as to relish unglamorous hole digging.

Still crouching in the dirt and placing that sad, beautiful, totally wrong prom dress at the top of the little grave felt right. Piling the dirt on top of the box and patting it down until you couldn’t even tell where the hole had been was satisfying and physical.

Goodbye Bella...Cullen

It still hurt to think that, the most forbidden of my forbidden thoughts. But it was true, that was who I was burying. That idea of the beautiful, perfect, vampire me. The me who would keep Edward for a thousand lifetimes.

“Owoooooooooo” A howl in the distance pulled me out of my reverie.

“Jacob?” I asked no one at all. It was absurd to think that I could distinguish his howl from the others, let alone from what sounded like miles distance. But even so, as I heard a second howl answer the first, I was sure it was Jacob.

Was he in trouble? What if the vampires had attacked?

“Jacob!!”

I scrambled to my car, brushing my dirty hands on my jeans and flinging myself into the driver’s seat, fingers shaking and fumbling with the keys. The old truck seemed to take forever to start up, and I turned it too quickly, almost fishtailing out of control before I’d gone anywhere.

My phone rang as I was barreling up the Cullens’ long drive, but I couldn’t answer it without crashing the car, and so I ignored it, instead turning, too quickly, onto the highway, heading for La Push, and hopefully, if not Jacob, at least one werewolf who could tell me what was going on.

The empty highway seemed ominous, even though I knew the stretch from Forks to La Push was never high-traffic. I couldn’t focus on anything like speed limits, not that my truck would be winning any speed awards anyway. I jumped whenever I thought I saw something in the forest beside me, and the truck jumped too, almost swerving off the road a couple times.

It seemed to take hardly anytime, and also much too long, before I was pulling up in front of Emily’s house - where I’d driven without consciously choosing my destination.

“Jacob?!” I cried, in a stumbling run toward the front door.

“Bella,” two voices said, almost as one. Emily was coming out the front door to her house, looking concerned and confused. And Leah was striding out of the forest, looking relieved and annoyed.

She was also naked, and I shot my eyes back to Emily, feeling my face heat up.

“Leah, did something happen to Jacob?” Emily asked, coming towards me with concern to grasp my shoulders and hold me upright.

“Bella!” Leah repeated. “What's wrong? Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was—I heard the howling, was it Jacob? I thought—something must have happened, so I just came here. Emily, where’s Sam? Where is Jacob?”

Emily looked more concerned now “There was a distress call, from Jacob. I don’t—Leah?”

I followed her gaze back to Leah, keeping my eyes trained on her angry face.

“The distress call was for Bella. Somehow, someone slipped through our patrol. And when Jake went to the house to check in—you were gone, had been gone for hours. No fresh leech smell, no sign of a struggle. But gone.”

A car was pulling up, recognizable as Jared’s, with Kim looking a bit pale in the front seat.

I turned to look for a split second and out of the corner of my eye saw Leah explode back into a wolf and give one more howl.

Jared, halfway through scooping Kim out of the car, slowed, setting her on her feet beside him and taking her hand to gently tow here toward Emily and me.

“What’s up guys? I heard the call, but I had to go get Kim. False alarm?”

“It looks that way.” Emily sighed, dropping her hands from my arms and smiled tentatively.

“It sounds like we’re about to have more company. Why don’t we all go inside.”

Kim, looking dazed, widened her eyes at me in question. I shrugged.

Jacob hadn’t actually thought I was missing, had he?

Leah was the first to follow us in. She’d thrown on a long, loose cotton dress, and stalked in as if in full battle armor.

“I repeat: What. The. Fuck.” She said, glaring at me.

“I don’t understand! I just went…to run an errand. I didn’t sneak out! I didn’t think anyone would worry! I’m fine!”

Leah gave me a measuring look, then blew out a breath, looking calmer.

“So what you’re saying is, Jake’s an idiot?”

Jared snorted, dropping heavily on the couch, which made a creaking protest, next to Kim, an arm draping over her narrow shoulders.

“Nothing new, then. Now what?”

“Now, I guess I break out the emergency rations.” Emily seemed to have regained her calm, and headed for the garage. Kim perked up, snapping out of her apparent confusion.

“Ooh! I’ll help, do you have any blueberry? I’m starving!”

"But, Jake--"

Leah snorted. "Oh, he's coming, don't worry. They all are. In fact-" She tilted her head, scowl deepening, then turned back to the door.

A moment later I heard it too, the unmistakable sound of Jacob, bellowing in anger and pain.

"BELLA! Bella! Damn it, Sam, get off me! I know what Leah said! Bella!"

"Jake!" As always, his pain called to me, and I hurried toward the door, only to find Leah immovable, blocking my exit. She flung the door open, but shook her head and block me when I tried to duck around her.

"No. He's not in control. Idiot."

"Bella!" Jake shouted, striding unbelievably quickly toward me, looking like a storm cloud and shaking all over. "Where the hell were you!? Are you allright?"

"Leah, it's fine, let me go." She didn't. Jake saw and his face darkened with fresh anger.

"I'm fine Jacob- I just was running errands!"

Sam and Paul, who I'd paid no attention to, stepped in front of Jacob as he stepped toward the steps up to Emily's.

"Get the fuck out of my way Sam." Jacob snarled. Literally, it was a sound not meant to come out of a human throat.

I made a failed attempt to duck around Leah and saw Embry and Quil lope up to flank Jake, smiling but looking nervous and placating.

"It looks like she's fine, Jake, you saw what Leah showed us. Now just take a breath. You'll scare her." Embry smoothed. Quilt seemed less calm, shaking slightly himself, in that unsettling way the wolves all did when they were in danger of changing.

"It's fine, I'm not-" I tried to interject, but several things happened nearly simultaneously: Jacob's hand shot out and he shoved Embry, hard enough to send the smaller (well, less giant) boy flying back across the drive, narrowly missing impacting with my truck. Quil danced back several feet and exploded into a wolf, narrowly missing stepping on Seth, who'd been hanging back, uncertainly, causing Leah to curse and burst away from the doorway toward her brother.

"Enough!" Sam ordered sharply. "Jacob, you need to focus. You are not going into that house if you are in danger of shifting."

A hand dropped onto my shoulder and I started.

"Not so fast, Bella" I could feel the tension humming through Jared, but his face and voice were mild and calm. "Jake won't thank us if you run out there and he really does lose it."

Jacob was glaring between Sam, Paul, and Jared. He looked suddenly at me, face unreadable, and then cursed, and dropped his hands to his knees and took several deep breaths, shuddering, but moving toward normal human movement. The werewolves and I (and Kim and Emily too) all watched silently for a moment. Quil lay down with his head between him massive paws, and Embry limped to sit on the front step, scowling, but not looking seriously angry. Leah dragged her brother toward the house, glaring at Jake.

After only a minute, though it seemed much longer, Jacob was just bent over, hands braced on his knees, no longer breathing hard, or shaking as if he was bursting at the seams.

Jared relaxed fractionally, letting go of my shoulder and I darted forward toward Jake, tripping down the stairs with no control, but miraculously on my feet, I flung myself at him, arms extended. He caught me and held me for a too-brief moment, and I could feel the echo of his recent fear.

"What happened Jake? Why did you think I was missing? Did she come near the Charlie's house again?"

"Where in the hell were you Bella?"

"I just had to run some errands?" I repeated what now somehow felt like a very lame excuse, still bewildered. "I didn't think--"

Jake held me back at arm's length and frowned down at me.

"So you just snuck out, not letting anyone know, not warning anyone, for some errands?" He demanded. Like I'd purposely avoided him.

Well, I was glad that nobody was around to follow me. That was private.

It wasn't fair. I could feel tears building up somewhere deep down, but it wasn't fair. Why should I feel bad? I didn't want to worry Jake, or any of the wolves. But I wasn't some prisoner, or a helpless child.

"I didn't sneak!" Not a great comeback, admittedly, but it felt good, in a way I couldn't place.

"Well, you didn't tell anyone where you were going--"

"I didn't know I wasn't allowed to leave my own house without your permission."

One of the wolves, who of course we're all still there, inhaled in a pained sounding sympathy.

"We are trying to protect you, in case you haven't noticed!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've never complained, and I appreciate you doing so much, risking yourselves, hunting Victoria..." I was losing the initial flush of my anger, recalling all the sacrifices the wolves, most of them my age or younger, were making for me. Tears of frustration were burning in my eyes. Why could I never fight for myself?

Because you need him to love you.

I glared Jacob, with the most sincere anger I could manage.

"I came over here as soon as I heard the howls. I was worried about you, you jerk!"

"We tried to call you," Leah said, in a carefully neutral tone from the steps.

I remembered my phone ringing and colored.

"I was driving over. I couldn't answer without crashing the car, I was driving too fast."

Leah nodded, and I realized what the movement I’d seen out of the corner of my eye had been.

“Yeah, that’s true. She was a menace on the road. Almost crashed like 5 times.”

A huffing laugh came from one of the other wolves, as Jacob closed his eyes as if in great pain.

"Jeez, Bells, you are going to be the death of me."

I half-glared, confused now that the tension was quickly dissipating.

Jake sighed and shook himself, looking at me with a less certain glower.

"You should have left a note or something."

I scowled at him, despite feeling like the world was righting itself.

"You could have called me before jumping to conclusions." I paused, noticing how tired Jake looked now that he was no longer furious.

I reached out a tentative hand, pausing just for a moment in hesitation before I grasped his.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Jake.”

He ran a hand over his head, in that way that always tugged at my heart, because it meant he’d forgotten again that he’d cut all his beautiful hair off.

“Yeah, well, I guess I could’ve…” he trailed off, looking uncertain and weary. He would have always over reacted. Who knew better than me, except perhaps the pack, how absolutely deadly the vampires could be.?

I stepped forward hesitantly, placing my hands over his still tense arms.

“Nothing is going to happen to me, Jake.”

He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me.

“Shh. Don’t jinx it, Bells.” His voice had a smile in it now though.

“You don’t believe in jinxes” I poked him in the side.

“I might start.”

“Jerk” But I was feeling pretty unjinxed as he tugged my toward the house, and the telltale smell of warm muffins and family.

#twilight fanfiction #jacob x bella #jacob x bella fanfiction #Team Jacob #solar flare

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phantomoftruth · 6 years ago

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An Aspiring Coven Flips the Coin: Complete Edition

I figured due to things being spread out and such, it might be nice to put my recent 3 part coin flip story into a single, large post so you can read the whole thing here as a Halloween treat^^. Happy Halloween everyone!

NOTE: This story turned out very long, thus, I put it under a break. Click below to read the whole thing!

It was a Friday night, mid October, as Janice, Nessa, and Quinn huddled around the table in Janice’s locked dorm room, gazing at the magic coin with excitement and consternation. The room had its stack of text books, but they were easily dwarfed by the owners clear fixation on the occult. Books of magic and witchcraft, compendiums of folk lore, myths, and monsters filled shelves and fought with crystals and candles for space. Though for now, they simply had the lights on, showing art of fairies and creatures that ranged from wondrous to dark hanging from the walls.

Janice, the owner of the room, and the one that found the coin, clutched her occult diary to her sweater-clad chest. “So, we each flip once, and whatever we choose applies to the three of us together, good or bad, and we’ll take our turns by seniority. You both agree as well?” Janice was a 3rd year studying folk lore and mythology that hid her height with an unconscious slight hunch, and concealed her pale, shapely body with plain clothes. Her strongest feature was the wild mane of black hair that often concealed her face, spilling all over. She was the founder of the would-be coven, and while she fidgeted a bit as she spoke, her mania for the occult carried through in her voice and gleaming dark eyes that she fixed on her coven-sisters.

“Hey, I’ve got no problem,” Nessa spoke with a smirk and a casual shrug of her sun-tanned shoulders. “You’re our fearless leader, and even if we switched it around, I’d be second regardless.“ Nessa was in her second year, pursuing a liberal arts degree secondary to her appetites. She had a pear-shape to accompany her slight pudge, and knew how to work her hips for dancing and fucking. So what if she liked to eat? The guys she snagged didn’t mind her love of cooking, or her big fat ass, and her favorites always were the ones she could throw her weight around with a bit. She licked her full lips, toying with a bit of brown hair, green eyes hooded as she pet herself lightly, speaking with a bit of husk in her voice. “Besides~ Just thinking about what that thing can do is getting me warmed up.”

“Yeah! You didn’t even have to share this with us at all! Sure it’s scary, but it’s once in a lifetime! There’s no way in hell I’m passing this up!” Quinn pounded the table as she spoke, her 80s cut top with her current horror favorite, Scissor Sister on it slipping to reveal a shoulder bathed in freckles, brown eyes brimming with vigor. 18, it was her first year away from home, pursuing theater, costume design and practical effects. Sitting next to Nessa only made her flat chest and curveless body even more pronounced, as though puberty had simply skipped right by, leaving her to her freckled skin and short, shocking red hair. Nessa teased her about her lack of a bra and her lack of sex in general, but her passion for horror movies and monster make up made her passionate about her studies.

The three reached over the table, joining hands as they spoke together. “As sisters we swear.”

Sitting back, Janice took the coin, and made the first flip. “If the coin lands on heads, then grant us the power to make people into monsters. If tails, let us become monsters, each to our type.” So intoning, the occult manic flipped the coin.

It landed on tails.

The changes were steady but irresistible, and each girl was consumed by their own transformation, forgetting the world and each other as the magic took them.

Janice clutched her diary to her chest, panting as the darkness of her hair drained down and spread over her body like ink drowning paper, staining her skin into a dull black hide, and leaving her hair pale like moonlight, drained of all color. There was a chill on her that made her muscles taut and her nipples hard and every touch a tingle as her already wild hair grew like madness. Janice gasped as her hair didn’t just grow, but moved, alive and caressing her body, teasing her even as it rooted into her clothes, ripping them. A surge moved through her and the already damaged clothes were destroyed as Janice grew even taller as sleek, sinewy muscles pulsed into being. That same pulse spread to her extremities, as her fingernails became moon-colored claws, and even her toenails grew sharp and pointed. Her tongue turned black, running over gleaming, pointed teeth, while the darkness in her eyes grew even deeper. Her living hair touched her diary, and she could feel a pulse in it as well. She didn’t fully understand it yet, but all her notes on the occult, her studies of creatures, all her passion and obsession was part of what she was now, and she needed it.

Rising to her feet, Janice looked towards a full body mirror hanging on the wall, and while she now had killer abs, she was forced to duck down to see her face and shoulders. She had become some kind of black-skinned, statuesque ogress, wearing nothing but the hair on her head that even now gently swayed in a phantom breeze. Thinking about it made it stop however, and she realized she could control her hair like her body. With that, other things clicked into place. She was a predator made to stalk darkness. She felt the strength, the confidence. And her book. It gave her magic, and protected her life. She had to keep it safe, and keep filling it. The more she filled it, the more magic she would have. More power. Despite herself, the thought did make her tight pussy twitch, and a stray strand of white hair wrapped and tweaked her glossy black clit, making her shudder.

Nessa’s pussy twinged just a moment before an orgasm wracked her body with pleasure, drenching her in sweat that quickly made dark stains on her clothes, even as the crotch of her yoga pants darkened with wetness given her lack of panties. Her nose twitched, even as warmth suffused her, dazing her slightly. She was sweaty, but it felt good. Clean. Right. She smelled right. Fuckable. She stuck her tongue out to taste the scent and found herself drooling like crazy, letting her tongue loll limply. That drool pooled on her swelling chest that snapped her bra and strained her top, which turned to tatters as the change spread from her chest through her body, making everything soft and heavy and thick and ripe. Her arms were meaty now, and her stomach was round like the full moon. She couldn’t see her pussy anymore, but she could feel it, feel the waves of heat spreading to her legs and thighs as she just kept gushing which her stomach gurgled soothingly, like a stream. Nessa’s yoga pants desperately clung to life as long as they could, but suddenly snapped as her hips grew, becoming brood-bearing. Even keeping her newly weighty legs closed would require effort, naturally exposing her plump, juicy pussy and fat clit. Her ass followed suit, filling and thickening and jiggling. Doors would be a challenge in her new future.

Nessa’s pussy pulsed again, finishing her with the most drastic, monstrous changes. Her tanned skin darkened and shifted, becoming a mottled mix of earth browns, mossy grey and swampy green, chased with orange hints of a harvest moon. The sweat on her body thickened, becoming a permanent glistening on her now hairless skin. Her nipples fattened and darkened, oozing something thick and syrupy, and her cunt followed suit, making a puddle on the dorm room carpet. Her lolling tongue grew and grew until it was frog-like, tickling her nipple, tasting her own sweet syrup. Her brown haired turned to a curly wave of Spanish moss, and all over her body, things began to grow. plants sprouted in her new hair, shelves of fungi sprouted along her back and under her heavy breasts, holding them up, and a mushroom cap, like a hat, sprouted from her head. Mycellium grew where her webbed hands and feet were on the carpet, and random plants were growing in the pool of her pussy-syrup. Whatever she was, she was ripe as a fruit, fertile and milfy as fuck, and as she came back to herself, she tested her tongue as her webbed hands roamed her body, stroking her belly and seeking her needy greedy pussy. It took some stretching, but she could reach with both hands, and despite probably weighing double what she did, her new body was plenty flexible. Perfect for breeding~. Just thinking the word made her clench as a spurt of plant life sprouted all around her.

Quinn froze as the magic washed over her body, a tingling feeling settling into her skin. Her gaze was fixed, staring into space, but she could feel her body quivering, like the strings of an instrument just waiting to start, and her face fixed into a smile. She felt the familiar feeling of hair brushing her shoulders as every other hair on her body disappeared. A fresh wave washed over her, and she tilted her head down, looking at her hand as her skin went pale, then milk-white, and flawless as porcelain. All over, she could feel touches like invisible brushes, dotting all along her body, and she despite her new strange skin, her freckles were increasing, becoming intricate patterns from her shoulders down her arms, making art of her back, and continuing to expand, forming swirling, sweeping decorations. There was a click, and Quinn came back to herself, saw her hand as lines appeared and connected, forming new joints. First the fingers, then the wrist, the elbow, the shoulder. Without seeing, she could feel her body changing, becoming a puppet body. No, a doll body. Her head lolled when the change reached her neck, giving her a look at her changing body in her old clothes. She still had a slight yielding quality to her body, but there was a definite clicking as her new body settled into place. Some kind of plastic? Soft wood? It was silly to wonder when magic was involved, probably more so when it was her body she was thinking about, but she just couldn’t resist. Not to mention her body wasn’t going to be changing on its own again anytime soon.

The magic passed over Quinn one final time, and her quivering body was freed, no longer spellbound. She went to jerk her head up from its heavy tilt, and instead had a sudden moment of the world spinning as her head detached and rolled off into her lap. Which was freaky, but kind of awesome. Looking at her body, it was one of the most beautiful pieces she’d ever seen. Her skin was ghost-white, and flawless, decorated with countless freckled spots, like it was painted by elves. Picking up her own head, she felt her hair, marveling at it as she got a look. It was a real, deep red now, silky but with some curl. As the last of the magic took root in her, she couldn’t contain her excitement. Reattaching her head was simple enough. Seemed everything was detachable. Her fingers seemed dexterous enough, and she was brimming with energy without the slightly scrap of fatigue. Not knowing anything else, she could do a lot with this. Some parts, anyway, as she eyeballed her flat chest, and a quick check downstairs with her fingers revealed her crotch to be soft and yielding enough, but dry as only a sex doll could be.

Their transformations completed, the three friends finally looked away from themselves, taking in each other’s new, monstrous forms. Janice was easily the tallest, to the point that Quinn looked like a child next to her now, including being able to lift the doll-girl with only one arm. At Nessa’s insistence, Quinn stripped as well, revealing pointed nipples on an otherwise doll-jointed, sexless body, while the other girls took turns poking at Nessa’s swollen belly and budding garden growing out of the floor, which the broodmother herself was more then content to pick parts off of and eat as she teased a nipple.

“Alright Nessa,” Janice cleared her throat, not used to her new voice, though she did like how it matched her new body. “it’s your turn to flip. And be careful.”

“I’ve already got just the thing in mind~”

Nessa, now a slimy cross between animal and plant more than twice as wide as a human, took a few moments to stop teasing her new body and shift forward on her new big booty, grabbing the coin with green fingers. Despite her slimy, syurpy touch making plants grow, the coin itself remained shiny and pristine. Was it because it was metal, or magic? Nessa shrugged shoulders topped with budding growth, a gesture that now made her ripe and weighty body jiggle.

“I don’t know about you two, but this body is dying to FUCK. Love spells are witchy, right? And there are sexy monsters that seduce men and stuff yeah?” The other two monsters each nodded a confirmation in turn. “Right! So this is on point. And don’t worry, I’ll word it for you guys as well. Since it seems like Quinn’s not getting her cherry popped any time soon.” Nessa snickered as Quinn rolled her eyes as only a living doll could. “Come on girl, flip already.”

After waving a hand at Quinn, Nessa readied the coin. “On a heads, we will each get magic to seduce others and make them our servants, slaves, pets toys, whatever fits us best! If it’s tails, we’ll be reshaped and ruled by our fetishes, like to the point that we can’t help ourselves. And oh don’t act like you two don’t have them!” Sticking out her frog tongue turned into a slurp, and after sucking it back into her mouth, she flipped the coin.

The coin gleamed and rattled as it fell on the wooden table, before coming to rest. It landed on heads.

The magic bathed Nessa’s fertile form in pleasure, and her eyes rolled back in her head as her body spoke to her, teaching her as it changed according to her flip. Small branches of green and brown sprouted and curled from her back, bearing a mix of strange, fleshy fruits. Vines spider-webbed across her body and limbs, clinging to her slick ripeness and birthing grape-like clusters and berries that adorned her like decorations along her limbs, between her breasts, sprouting from her naval. Even when she bruised or crushed them with her motions, they released alluring scents. More mushrooms and fungi bloomed to life, and the mushroom cap on her head twitched, dusting her in a spore cloud as her body tensed, stomach gurgling.

Mother. Feed them. Embrace them. Breed them. Birth them.

Nessa slobbered as she came, feeling something squishy and round pop out of her thick gushy pussy. She was just so fucking FULL. She was already running over, and was sitting in a little marshy garden as the puddle spread under her oversized ass, a festival of smells and tastes that were wordlessly beckoning to something, ANYTHING to fucking breed her oozing cunt until they made something together.

Wet Mother. Green Mother. You are life. All beasts are soil. Dust. Clay children. They crave you. Desire you. Thirst for your blessing. Become one with them, guide them as your obedient children.

Nessa heaved a breath that made her heavy breasts jiggle, causing drips of syrup to spill onto the table, sprouting small patches of moss, and the communion ended. The broodmother looked at her body, already half-knowing what had happened to her. So weirdness aside, It was about tasting her, whether drinking her juices, eating the stuff growing on her, or breathing spores. She did lean her head forward to look over her stomach, between her legs. There was something that looked like a frog’s egg, the size of a large peach, jiggling on the carpet. I guess eggs count too. And ‘all beasts?’ That’s kind of nasty, but I guess I’m not human anymore either. Some pets might be fun though. Nessa’s frog tongue snaked out as she licked her lips, pondering fresh depravities.

The magic settled on Quinn’s doll body like gentle hands, dressing her in an invisible costume. She wasn’t just excited, but confident. Not just skilled, but graceful. Not just beautiful, but enthralling. Glamorous.

Faerie Maiden! Doll Maiden! Mistress of the stage! Here is the moon, and here is the night! How beautiful the darkness, dressed in starlight!

The magic suffused her, and Quinn shuddered. Everything was so vivid. Was this magic? Was she losing her mind? She couldn’t be drugged with a body that wasn’t alive right? But she was glowing, her skin giving off a pale, silvery aura. Colors were stronger, shadows sharper. Her imagination was running wild, suggestions of invisible creatures swimming across her vision. She was inspired. She was inspiration. Her fingers twitched to life, moving even as the words giggled their sing-song into her inhuman head.

Little miss, little miss! All the world’s your stage, and they are all your players, models for your fancy, canvas to paint with all your desires. Enthrall them, enchant them, give them new roles, new lives! Here is a princess, her hair in tresses, to tease and tickle and terrify. Here is a maid, with scissors and mask, to snicker-snip and aid your craft. Here are the puppets to dance on your strings, and here you are, to clothe them in dreams.

She was only vaguely aware of the impossibility her hands were performing, caught in the grip of her craft. At some point a chunk of the table had come off, and she molded the wood like soft clay. Her fingers snatched a shadow, pulling it like cloth. She’d produced a needle at some point, made of moonlight, and threaded it with a strand of her hair, stitching the shadow with feverish speed.

Chill them, thrill them, fulfill them! Make them laugh and make them cry, make them serve you and never die. Undress them first with your eyes, then your hands, and let them scream however you like as you paint them in enchantments. Each night a new performance! Each role you grant them a new beginning! Mistress of the stage, forever young, forever free! Spotlight or shadow, your place is wherever you choose.

The mask was finished. It was black wood, a polished, beautiful thing, chased with ruby red around its boarders. It was a domino, styled just to cover the eyes, and it made a sharp contrast against her pale face as she put it on. A quick scuttle to the mirror confirmed that yes, it looked as awesome as she imagined. Quinn still felt a bit lightheaded from the rush, but her hands continued unconsciously, picking at her old clothes as she sat on her knees, wrapping her head around her new self. So I’ve got fairy magic. Glamour. Like stage magic, or star power. Charisma. And I can make costumes and stuff out of just fucking whatever, and they’ll take on the role to match it, with me in charge as the director. Hmmm…Quinn actively stopped herself a moment, and got her hand to do a creepy clicky finger clatter, along with a 360 spin at the wrist. I bet I could make that go in reverse too. Like make it so no one notices me until I want them to. That sounds like a fairy thing, being invisible to prank people. Yeah, yeah…

The magic settled on the book in Janice’s hand, and she felt it like it was part of her as the coin’s power caressed it, transforming it into a thick, leathery grimoire, and she threw a clawed hand over her heart as she felt a responding pulse in her chest, and then another in her head. New words were writing themselves into existence, filling her book and her brain equally while her body thumped and her hair writhed, floating as though she was underwater. There was no communion, no rush of insight. The knowledge was just there, secrets of the unknown laid bare in her brain.

The aspect of the Crone embodies wisdom, endings, death, repose, and the waning moon. Wisdom comes by the word. Any knowledge I add to the book is added to me, any magic or witchcraft I write, I can comprehend and perform. People are made of words, and I can take those words from them with the clutch of my hair, take their spirit with their breath, leave them mindless, soulless, in repose, in need of new words, any words I want. I can give knowledge, take it away, seduce, corrupt, control, consume. Take their names and I can make them slaves, swallow them up and they’ll be nothing but zombies, moaning obedience, while I tangle their ghosts in my hair and make them mine. I can rewrite people’s lives. And as long as this book exists as my soul, I won’t end.

It was terrible knowledge, but that only made it more alluring, intoxicating, and intensely tempting. The fact that she already knew all kinds of other folk lore and potential witchcraft only made it more inviting. She could play with it, just in little experiments, taking and giving back, or switching someone up. She could have a little cult bound to her in fanaticism, or drain people down to their dregs, putting their existence down to single words. Her flesh felt powerful, and her body was hot with desire, but it was a heavy weight on her soul as she panted. Her grimoire was a thick, black thing now, veined with strands of her pale hair, like spider webs.

The magic of Nessa’s flip settled down, finished, and the former college girls turned monsters gazed at each other, taking in their changes together as they shared what had happened to them, and the new power each of them held.

As nessa was preoccupied with fondling herself, Janice bent down and picked up the coin between two clawed fingers, offering it to the doll girl. “Alright. There’s one more flip, and it belongs to you Quinn. You’re free to flip whatever you think of that we can share. Choose wisely.”

Quinn, for her part, fiddled with the black shroud that she had magicked her former clothes into, adjusting it on her pale body for different styles.

“Hmmm. I do want to flip for sure, but before I do~” The doll girl smiled, eyes shining.

“I can’t be the only one that wants to try out what we can do now. Anyone else want to have some fun before I do the last flip?”

“Shouldn’t you just-”

“I VOTE DICK!” Both Janice and Quinn turned as Nessa cried out. Loudly. She was currently sitting in a frog squat, pickling some alien cucumber that had burst itself out of the growing garden that was Janice’s dorm room with her syrupy snatch. Each bounce of grey-green hips made Nessa’s overripe ass slap against the floor. As Janice’s room was on the third floor of the building, things were shuddering a bit.

Janice spoke up again, voice full of authority, and Quinn swiveled her head back to face her. “Going out now means the coin is here. I’m not leaving the coin alone, and there’s no way in Hell it’s leaving this room before the flips are done. And given that getting Nessa out of here isn’t really happening right now without people freaking, going out to play means bringing people back here. People you’d have to get fast. People that would be in the same place as the coin. It’d be a nightmare to make it work.”

Quinn looked back and forth between Nessa and Janice, one masturbating in a growing garden and tall grasses, the other tall enough that she had to look up to see more than her stomach, and ultimately let out a sigh. “I guess you’re right.” Her face immediately brightened up, however, transfixed with a smile. “That gives me an idea though! Here, give me the coin, I’ll do my flip right now.” After being passed the coin, Quinn played with it, expertly running it along her jointed doll-fingers.

So clearly, this,” she said, while wildly waving her free hand at Janice’s overgrown dorm room. The motion caught Nessa’s attention, and she pulled herself off the fat greenery she was fucking with a gooey plop. “This isn’t going to work for us. We’re magic. We’re monsters. We need a home base. A hunting ground. A lair. That’s what I’m gonna flip for!” Fixing her posture, standing straight as she could, pale arm fully outstretched, Quinn readied the coin to flip.

“Hey coin, here’s my flip. If heads, make this whole school our domain, us running the show and everyone accepting us and our benevolent rule. If tails, then give us a lair, for the three of us that we share together, where we can really live like monsters.” She flipped, and the coin rang slightly as it spun before Quinn caught it out of the air, slapping it on the back of her hand with a clack.

It was tails.

The effect was immediate. Janice’s dorm room faded away, becoming indistinct before vanishing completely. There was a single moment where the coven of monsters stood suspended in a colorless, soundless void, then reality resumed, rebuilding itself around their new location, their lair.

The sounds of society were gone with the campus, giving way to the music of a lonely, midnight wilderness. The lake was quiet, but the forest was alive with bugs and birds and frogs and things that weren’t quite what they used to be since Nessa made it her pleasure garden paradise. The forest was not the same either, invaded by a wild legion of strange fruits, vivid fungus, and unnamed plant life that only accelerated it’s transformation into a wet, fragrant swamp. But it was a pretty playground, and hard for a human to just stumble through, Of course, a little magic helped with that. There was even a grotto Nessa loved to use for a bit of extra privacy, and plenty of room in the depth of the lake.

Though she preferred the swamp and starlight, even Nessa couldn’t deny their manor was right where it belonged, in the heart of the swamp, looking over the lake, complete with secret underwater tunnel. The one she’d used to meet up with her coven sisters in the foyer they were standing in now. It was old and musty and spooky, but the mood was just right, all faded and elegant, with fancy stone floors and lots of double doors that made it easy to move around. Not to mention the big dramatic staircase in the center for the second floor. There weren’t any lights, and it wasn’t like they needed them, but there were debates about getting internet going somehow. Well, Quinn wanted it anyway.

New memories formed as the coin’s magic shaped the house to match it as a monster’s lair. Janice claimed the master bedroom on the second floor, less because of any kind of leadership and more to have a room and bed that accommodated her statuesque frame. It being connected to a study certainly didn’t hurt though, and evidence of her practice and experiments in magic and witchcraft came into existence at the same time as the memories of those experiments. The kitchen and the space outside as well showed signs of experiments, with the kitchen becoming a makeshift lab, and a large cauldron resting over the ashes of a wood fire outside. And then there was the library, still bearing a few weathered books yellowed with age and damp. It wasn’t haunted yet, but Janice was working on it, along with filling those shelves herself.

Quinn’s bedroom was smaller, but as sleep wasn’t really a thing for her anymore, with anything approaching rest just being collapsing into a creepy doll-slump, she didn’t mind. Especially given the rest of the house was more or less hers to romp around in. There was a studio that quickly crowded with her projects. Costumes and mixes of pigments, accessories and even puppets dangled from stings from the ceilings. The ground floor hard a large, ruined ballroom, complete with an aging stage. With her and Janice working on it though, she was sure they could come up with something enchanted~. There was even a little gallery with enough room for sculptures, not to mention paintings on the wall. It wasn’t originally her thing, but she was just bursting with energy now, and it gave a little variety over just costume work all the time.

Several sets of stairs going down were peppered into existence around the house, leading to a stony basement layer. Rooms for servants, humble even before time wore away at the few bits there, came into being, along with a cellar and places where the former inhabitants would have worked and lived, doing laundry, a second kitchen, and cunning slits for ventilation that endured. It was fairing fairly well considering the encroaching swampiness consuming the forest, with a bit of dankness that made it feel like a dungeon.

The coin’s magic moved like a tide, pulling away from the newly formed lair, taking root in the three monsters as it set about completing Quinn’s wish for the three to live like monsters. The former college friends were stunned, unawares as the magic dug deep, transforming them all in will and soul to match their new bodies.

Quinn felt her sight expanding, her spirit flying as though it were freed from gravity as her human grip on reality loosened and fell away. She was innocent, and careless, as only the Fae could be. Everything in the world was for her amusement, and boredom the only sin left. She understood now, mortality was something that could just be brushed away, just a thing that happened on the stage. Play. it was all an endless play, with the world as the setting and all the people in it hers to take and change and trick and terrify, outlets for her arts and crafts, pets for her fancies. Fear and awe were the bare minimums she was due.

Nessa quivered as her self melted, touching at something massive and countless and primordial. She was fucking the earth. She was the earth. She was life, wet, squirming life that was around before humans were a blink. They were just another kind of animal to embrace. Whatever taboos she had dissolved. All that mattered was her breeding, her pleasure, her flesh, her children, whether by adoption or birth, until they covered the whole earth. Everything would be green and quivering and alive, and they’d all eat and fuck and breed and birth and sleep and be reborn to doll it all again and again and again and again and again forever and ever until her blood was the one blood and everything was one again, united again in an everlasting dance of life.

Janice felt her hair embracing her body as the darkness that had changed her body before seeped down, staining her soul with haggish wickness and sadistic pleasure. The weight she had felt when blessed with that forbidden knowledge was gone. It wasn’t a burden, but something to embrace. Power. Power was something to revel in. Whether her flexing, steely muscles, her towering black-skinned body, or the witchcraft that suffused her with knowledge forbidden to mortals, power was a delight. And the only thing better than being powerful, was using that power. Not bullying the weak. No, that wasn’t quite right. To deprive others. Yesssssssss. Just the thought of it made her sex clench. To take everything they were, and leave them with nothing. To taunt them, toy with them, twist them about and humiliate them. Drink them down to the dregs until they were dull-eyed little dredges that would debase themselves to lose even more. Her black tongue slid across her sharp teeth, as her face split with a wicked grin as she took control of her hair, teasing herself to her new, sadistic desires.

At last, the magic completed, the coin vanished, leaving the three monsters with their new lair, new minds, and new lives, all thoughts of the coin gone.

Quinn giggled and straightened her dress.

Nessa slobbered, fresh growth growing from her needy body.

Janice picked at her claws, and looked at the former college girls, full of evil intent as she leaned forward.

“The night is still young. NOW, what shall we do for fun~?”

#coin flip #mind control #corruption #monstergirl #complete

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reignmyworld · 7 years ago

Text

It was always you - Roman Reigns x Reader

Summary: You and Roman are best friends that are both working for WWE hence why you often share a hotel room when you have to travel from town to town. On one of those ocassions you realize that he seems to be trapped in his thoughts and it takes you a little bit to realize that he must have fallen for someone. And as his best friend you of course think that you have a right to know who the lucky one is.

Warnings: fluff

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader

“Home sweet home”, you exclaimed as you were tossing open the door to your hotel room, pushing in your suitcase with Roman following you, closing the door after you. You and him grew pretty close while working for the WWE hence why you had no problem sharing a room with him from time to time when you were traveling from town to town to wrestle in new cities. “Have your standards really dropped that much to call a hotel room home?”, he laughed as he was placing his suitcase in the next best corner. You couldn’t help but laugh as you said: “Everything where I can rest for a little time is home to me. You should understand that.” He chuckled as he answered: “Oh don’t worry baby girl, I do. How about ordering some food via room service and checking out the television program then?” You were absolutely okay with that suggestion and just 20 minutes later the both of you were sitting on the bed while eating your burgers and fries, discussing your latest matches. “I still can’t believe that you fell over the ropes.”, Roman chuckled with you sticking out your tongue before you laughed out loud, answering: “Oh just shut it. It’s not like that had never happened to you. Besides that I wanted to try a new move and failed miserably. I learned my lesson and won’t ever try that again without practice.” You were chatting along for quite some time before you decided to watch Y/F/M.

As usual you were cuddling up to Roman as he often replaced your pillow and you had to admit that you liked the feeling of having him close to you, being able to not only hear but also feel his soft chuckles whenever a particularly funny scene came up that made him laugh. You tried to focus on the movie, you really did, but you felt that your eyelids grew heavy and before you could change it you had been fallen asleep. While you were sleeping cuddled against his chest, Roman couldn't help but watch you in your sleep. He was holding you close to his body, gently stroking your arm a little bit, being completely trapped in his thoughts. If he was honest he had no idea what he was doing there. You were his best friend after all and yet, having you in his arms now, felt more like caressing his lover. He should get rid off those thoughts rather fast. He was pretty aware that there wouldn’t ever be more than friendship between the two of you and yet he was aching to touch you, to be with you, to kiss you. He couldn't help but imagine how it would be with you by his side, you being so much more to him than just his best friend. Roman couldn't even tell when he developed deeper feelings for you or whether they had been there from the very beginning on. All that he knew was, that it was getting harder and harder with each passing day to not overstep the boarder that was clearly marking you as best friends. And he also knew that he couldn’t tell you about what he was feeling because he was way too scared that it would destroy the friendship you had.

Roman slightly cringed when he heard your soft voice say: "A penny for your thoughts." He caught his breath soon after asking you: "Shouldn't you be sleeping? How long have you been awake?" You smiled up at him, answering: "Long enough to watch you staring at me. What were you thinking about Ro?" Roman instantly gulped hard, not really knowing what he should tell you. He couldn't possibly admit to you what you meant to him, could he? He just tried to play it off by saying: "I was just trapped in various thoughts, nothing more." He gave you one of his most irresistible smiles and you could clearly feel your heart beating faster in your chest. How you just wanted to reach out for him, capturing his lips in a soft kiss but before you could do so, you immediately reminded yourself that he was just your best friend and nothing else. And that was probably how it would always be. So instead you just smiled up at him, responding: "You're a terrible liar, Roman and you have always been. I can clearly see that something keeps going back and forth inside your mind. Something you're having trouble wrapping your head around." Roman looked at you in disbelief. Could you really read in him as in an open book? Or was he just unable to hide his feelings for you although he thought that he was doing a pretty damn good job in doing so?

Since he wasn't answering, you studied his face a little longer, having to rely on all of your self-control not to reach out to him in order to gently cup his cheek. You had no idea how long you had stared at him before it slowly dawned on you. And although it did hurt, you nevertheless were happy for him. You moved out of his embrace, looking at him and smiling from ear to ear. You then exclaimed: "Oh my god you're in love.“ Roman looked at you in shock and just gasped: "What?" You laughed out loud before nudging his side, saying: "Come on Ro, I'm your best friend. I can tell when you've fallen for someone. That constant stupid but happy grin you're spotting, you being lost in thoughts, all those little things actually make it kind of obvious. Who's the lucky lady? Come on tell me, tell me, tell me..." With each "tell me" you were playfully pushing your finger in his side making him laugh out loud because you knew exactly how tickly he was. "Show me some compassion, I won't say a word besides that you're wrong." ,he laughed out loud while you were continuing "torturing" him. You couldn't react fast enough when Roman had thrown you over with you being pressed between the sofa and his body while he was tickling you now. You were laughing out loud, trying to get his hands off of you while you were gasping: "Stop it Roman or I will end up peeing on that damn sofa from laughing so hard." Tears were already running down your cheeks until Roman finally had some compassion with you. He helped you up while you were still giggling, drying your eyes before you looked at him and said: "You still owe me an answer, Reigns."

Roman smiled at you, answering: "Forget it Y/N, my lips are sealed." He really had to stop himself from just reaching out to you, showing you that it was you he was crushing on so damn hard. You just looked at him, waiting for him to say a word. You knew exactly that he would give in eventually when you were shooting him that look and Roman knew it quite well himself. So he just took a deep breath and said: "Okay okay you got me. I'm indeed in love." You were smiling at him, saying: "I knew it. Let me know all the dirty details. Who is she and since when are the two of you together?" Roman pulled you in his arms again, quietly mumbling: "She doesn't know about it." With you looking at him in surprise, asking: "I beg your pardon?" Roman just shrugged it off, holding you closer to him, answering: "It's just really complicated. I can't tell her since it would mess things up between the both of us and I don't want to loose her by telling her how I am feeling because I'm pretty sure that she doesn't feel the same for me like I feel for her. So I prefer keeping my feelings bottled up to myself and just go on the way I did till now." You looked him deeply in the eyes, wanting to know: "How long are you in love with Miss Mysterious already?" He chuckled: "If I'm honest to myself for years already. I have fallen for her when I first met her." You were shaking your head in disbelief before saying: "That's one lucky bitch. Seriously Ro, you should just tell her. I mean no woman in her right mind would say no to you. You're humble, intelligent, kind-hearted, funny and overall just one hell of a guy and an awesome friend. There are probably hundreds of women out there that would like to date you. Why shouldn't she want to?"

Roman looked at you, squeezing your arm gently before answering: "Because she's something special Y/N, she's not like the others." But you didn't seem to get the drift, responding kind of shocked: "If she doesn't want you she's out of her mind." Roman couldn't help but laugh out loud since you were completely unaware that you were talking about yourself and therefore basically bashing yourself constantly. "What's so funny about that?", you wanted to know from him, shooting him a confused look. Roman just chuckled some more before asking: "So you think that I should just tell her no matter what the consequences might be as soon as she knows?" with you responding: "Tell her, show her, just let her know. If she doesn't appreciate you, she's not worth the trouble and you shouldn't waste your time with her." Roman looked at you for a few seconds, trying to make up his mind before deciding that he could just give in as well. If it didn't work out in the end, it surely would hurt, especially with not knowing how the friendship with his best friend would continue then, but at least he could say that he had tried then, not having to ask himself for god knew how long whether you were returning his feelings. Before he could change his mind again, he was leaning down at you, capturing your lips in a sweet and innocent kiss before deepening it by having his tongue begging for entrance that you granted much to his surprise. You were even kissing him back and Roman didn't know whether you were just taken by surprise or whether you indeed intended to. As soon as the both of you broke the kiss, he was whispering to you: "It is you baby girl. It had always been you, Y/N. You're the one I have fallen for, harder than I could have ever imagined.“ Note: I actually just planned this as an one shot but I’m currently thinking of maybe adding a second part regarding reader’s reaction.

#roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns story #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fluff

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tryingtofeelanything · 7 years ago

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Do not wake me again

English Bungou Stray Dogs One shot Mostly SFW (but blood and injury + implied major character death depending on interpretation)

Hello, it’s been a while ! I’ve been so busy recently, I apologize for my inactivity. I still have some headcanons to come, I just need to actually stop and sit down to write them. Anyway, about this work. This my modest contribution for the @skkficexchange event, and my gift for @lenin-it-to-win-it (I really hope you’ll like this small thing !). I used their headcanon “elegical” for this one. So for once, the English version is posted first. I’ll post the French one soon. So, Merry Christmas if you celebrate it !

He was hot. Way too hot. At least too hot compared to the still quite chilly, spring temperature, making a slight breeze running between the high buildings of Yokohama. His heart, beating way too fast for the pace of his steps, could not deny the considerable responsibility it had in this reaction. It was frustrating. He was feeling like he was getting embarrassing teenage passions back, some that should only belong to the past. But well, this incontrollable emotional frenzy well and truly originated from his teenage years…

Keeping a blank expression happened to be something particularly intricate and the mere thought that everything was certainly displayed on his face with a traitorous sincerity only heightened the heat, located right between his cheeks. At least, the frustration caused by all of those unwilling reactions would be shown to everyone’s eyes. With a bit of luck, he could pretend it was a lack of consent to the current situation, as he was trying almost desperately to make others believe it. Foolishly. For two reasons. On one hand, because he was here willingly and had entirely agreed to the said situation, which was not deviating from what it was supposed to be for now. On the other hand, because it was not to Dazai he could hide the deepest truth of his thoughts.

The street was in a constant state of hustle and bustle, in front of their eyes, then behind each one of their steps. Right in between, some sort of enclosed but porous, transparent space, like a bubble, held a world apart for the two of them. Dazai’s hand was meeting his intermittently, a voluntary accident, an irresistible encouragement to entwine their slightly moist fingers. Their eyes were meeting each other regularly, following a wavering tempo ; with each time, surreptitious glances, inevitably attracting the other, like some pure instinct. Dazai sent him a smile full of gentleness every time. Chuuya did not know what to do with all of this tenderness ; no one had taught him how to receive so much at a time, and definitely not Dazai.

His ex partner’s hand broke the few resistances remaining between them and wrapped around his. His voice pulled him out of all of his questions with a not so familiar gentleness :

“Let’s make a stop here.”

In the space of a few seconds, he forgot to keep a pout on his face. His eyes stopped, attracted, as if under the yoke of a parallel force of gravity, in a chocolate-like ocean, before he realized he was supposed to follow the brown-haired head’s gesture, pointing a small, welcoming-looking cafe out. A new wave of warmth covered his chest, leaving a myriad of heady sensations there, just like some foam. All of them rushed to spot the perfect moment to steal one, or two, kisses between nosy eyes.

They reached his rib cage and stabbed right through his chest. A strong pain blinded him completely.

He calmly opened his eyes again under white sheets. Dazai’s body was pressed against his, their naked chest, hips, legs slowly gliding against each other to the rhythm of their breathing. Brown strands of hair gently tickled his cheek as lengthy kisses were continuously washed up on the pleasantly sensitive skin right under his ear. A bandaged hand slid its fingers between long, tawny-colored curls, stroking them, wrapping them around a loving forefinger, cherishing them like precious goods. His partner’s deep and warm voice whispered loving words between kisses. He could not understand their meaning, but he felt so peaceful, so… loved and loving, that he could not worry about it.

Despite his heavy and tired body, Chuuya turned a bit more towards Dazai. Seeking more warmth, more comfort… no, even, more fusion, he hunched even closer to him, nestling against the body, covered in slightly loose bandages. An arm welcomed him, sneaking around him. Rocked by the continuous whispers still going on right against him, he closed his eyes. His fingers could not stop from fiddling with the ring, warmed by his skin, and put around his left ring finger. The moment felt surrealistic, in the range of those one would not even dare to dream of. Maybe for the first time in his life, the young man felt contented, fulfilled.

Yet, on this moment, all he could acknowledge was nausea.

His knees crashed on the tough mattress of a hospital bed. The whiteness of the wall in the room blinded him. He closed his eyes, to avoid it as much as to fully enjoy Dazai’s lips that were submissively letting him devour them. He tilted his head, slid his hands on each side of the face framed with brown curls to keep it still, forced him to open up, to discover him again as if he did not know him inside out. A muffled moan vibrated against him. He did not let them catch their breath.

Dazai was shaking weakly between his fingers, still out of strength. He should probably act with more restraint. Chuuya could not. His partner, his cruel life companion, his… Dazai was panting right against him, was shuddering on his own because he was alive. His hands were still cold but not frozen. He had been afraid to touch them ; he was now holding them in his fingers, with enough strength to get sure they would not slip away from him anymore.

With the anxiety now subsided, he felt relief engulfing him with slow, successive waves. His kisses were getting less invasive, less hungry, were changing into stroking lips, into silent admissions. “I was so afraid”, on reddened lips ; “I thought I lost you”, on one of their corners ; “don’t ever leave me alone again” against a prominent bone of the jaw. The way the young man’s body sank back into the too hard pillow, the way he closed his eyes, the way he just let all of those gestures be, meant as many “I was too” “I did too”.

And yet, in this room that should smell like disinfectant and body heat, he only perceived the smell of blood.

The violent pain running through his rib cage made him open his eyes again, for good this time. He could hardly breath ; the oxygen was stuck halfway between his lungs and the outside. The blood flowing along his body was sticky and soaked him in a feeling of heat and frozen coldness in the same time. Except from the truly living body standing against him, this body that did not have to suffer from its strength pouring away like red water, burning against him as his own strength left him here and there. Dazai was holding him tightly while his muscles were getting gradually paralyzed because of this tremendous weakness ; his body heat was as unbearable as a wrenching flame, as his body could not find the needed energy to warm up anymore.

Ah, he was not hallucinating anymore. His diminished mind could not even grant him those last moments of break. He should probably blame Dazai’s presence on this brutal call back to reality. This Dazai was a bit less ideal. That had never stopped him from letting himself get attracted every single time, like a magnet, one too natural to be true.

The bullet in his thigh was causing the most important damages. Numbness from Corruption was destroying all hopes of recovery. It had blackened his guts, perverted his organs. The gentle effect of No Longer Human, like a lukewarm wave spreading its effects on every ability users, was giving him the last source of comfort. He had accepted it early in their partnership : like some light relentlessly attracting a moth, it was an enchanting feeling, a release from the devastating weigh of his own power cramming between his innards ; a momentary treatment, with illusory, but oh so comforting, results. Now, however, his body could not react to it anymore, and gradually escaped from his control, slowly extinguishing the flames of his consciousness.

A laugh, in which few traces of humor easily hided, shook him weakly. This mere shadow of a shudder immediately heightened the pain submitting his whole body to its mercy, forcing him to stop soon. With some difficulty, he could raise two eyes, with a slowly fading blue color, through eyelids that could not open fully anymore. Dazai’s dark irises looked almost too colorful to hold his gaze. The distress emanating from them was well and truly unbearable, though. The shadow of a question crossed them when faded blue met intense brown.

For split second, he could not tell if he was half lying on muddy ground, soaking in his blood, or in sheets vaguely smelling like Dazai’s perfume. It was this fragrance, he was smelling in a particularly strong way in a mix of death, violence and firearm, that granted him one last rush of lucidity, one enough to make him speak, whereas he could no move a muscle anymore.

“In the end… I’ve never been able to tell you that I love you.”

A strange light crossed Dazai’s eyes. He looked at him with a blank face for a while, before a sad smile appeared on his face, like a veil sliding from his head with gentleness, revealing a bit of honesty along his features. He whispered in his turn, not louder than Chuuya. As if he was loosing his ability to make physical efforts too.

“But you just admitted it, didn’t you, Chuuya ?”

“No. I never did. Genuinely. Not genuinely.”

Silence fell on them again. Speaking was getting far too difficult. The detective had understood what he meant. That’s what mattered. The embrace around him tightened even more. It made him feel dizzy ; but, in the same time, nothing else was holding him anymore, either his body, nor his consciousness. It only needed to drop him, and he would faint with it. Dazai was not allowing release that easily. For once, he was persisting on staying. For the first time. But as usual, he let him suffer until the end.

“It’s not important right now. You’ll still have time for that. You’re already halfway there.”

A few seconds were needed for Chuuya to realize who had just spoken. The young man’s voice was shaking so much that it was almost unrecognizable. And he was loosing his ability to perceive his environment more and more. He would have probably thrown up part of his guts, if his body had still been able to be shaken by spams.

Halfway ? Too far. No. He was almost there. So little time would have been needed…

Dull sounds and vibrations. Ah, some footsteps were coming their way. Allies, enemies ? Could they end his suffering instead of Dazai who would have never shown mercy until the end ? Finally, someone has came to release him. From Osamu Dazai’s shackle. From his physical embrace. From his mental embrace ? Would someone be able to cut those ties ? No, probably not. He should not get vain hopes.

Only a few steps away. It was so close. Was he about to reach it ? Right at this moment ? What ? For who ? Why ?

His head fell back against a scorching chest. It lifted to a rash rhythm. Panic ? Anxiety ? Or was that a normal rhythm he had just forgotten ? Darkness surrounded him. Ah, he could not keep his eyes open anymore.

Dazai always had cold hands. Yet, he suddenly felt so warm.

His lips moved on their own in a final delirium. In the very end, maybe Corruption should get the upper hand on Nakahara Chuuya.

“O grantors of dark disgrace,

do not wake me again !

I will endure my solitude,

Arms seeming already useless.”

“O eyes that open doubtfully,

Open eyes that stay motionless for a while,

Ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself,

O expectations, stale and dismal airs,

leave, leave this body of mine !

I enjoy nothing anymore but my wrecked dreams.”

#skkficexchange #bungou stray dogs #dachuu #soukoku #osamu dazai #chuuya nakahara #one shot #fanfiction #blood #injuries #character death #death

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pinelife3 · 5 years ago

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Sadness

The treatment of the breaking of the fourth wall in Fleabag is the most compelling thing I’ve seen all year. Throughout the first season, our protagonist Fleabag (played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge who also writes the show) would look at the camera to make witty asides. Usually a sarcastic remark or eye roll to hammer home that she’s sardonic, insincere, perhaps a little underhanded.

You’ve probably noticed how if you’re in a one-on-one conversation, it’s hard to rag on someone but that in a group it works (because you can pretend it’s good natured humour rather than a scathing attack on their very existence). In Fleabag, the breaking of the fourth wall is a way for Fleabag to safely ridicule whoever she’s speaking to. It’s also a succinct way of delivering backstory, revealing her intentions, and getting us on side. These interactions with the fourth wall are pretty standard, see: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Amélie, House of Cards, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Shakespearean asides, American Psycho. It’s an accepted device. But then in season two, when Fleabag speaks to us, someone takes notice, someone spots her dipping out of their diegetic reality as she speaks to us in ours.

I thrilled at this.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve seen everything - but I’d never seen this before. This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen on a TV show (forget the Red Wedding). This is a masterful trick, and great storytelling all at once - it demolishes a literary device. But most of the coverage of Fleabag has focused on how sad the show is:

People seem to like that: they like being crushed, enjoy being devastated. Why is that?

I’ve recently cried over two cowboy related things: Brokeback Mountain and Red Dead Redemption 2.

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I cried when I finished Red Dead Redemption 2 because I love Arthur Morgan so much: he was just the sweetest guy, and I was sad the story was over because we can’t go fishing anymore, or crash his horse into trees and fall, or fight gators in the swamps, or brush his horse while we cruise around the old west. I just felt so wistful for his life and the idea of bad guys working hard to be good in a changing world.

And then I cried at the end of Brokeback Mountain because it is objectively very sad. The shirts tucked inside each other which Jack kept all those years. The possibility that Jack didn’t know how much Ennis loved him. The life they could have had together, and how much they loved each other - but the families and relationships they destroyed along the way as well, because no one ever said what they felt.

I really liked both Brokeback and Red Dead, because they have great stories and characters. In Red Dead, I have so many fond memories - and for that reason it made me feel strong emotions. But I don’t like Red Dead because it made me feel strong emotions. I don’t like Brokeback because it was ‘crushing’ and/or ‘devastating’ - it was enjoyable because it was a beautiful story with tragic, poignant elements. I like the story - not that it made me cry. Most Fleabag reviews seem to focus on the sadness it made the audience feel as a way to recommend it to people.

Watch Fleabag - it will make you feel something.

Prepare to emote because Fleabag is preternaturally sad.

The discourse around the show on Reddit is similar:

Pffft want to feel really sad? Check out this scene from Synecdoche, New York:

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It’s very moving, kind of irresistibly so. And I think that’s because it’s calling out to that scared, bitter, self-pitying part of you which is always cringing in the shadows, waiting for someone to invite it out of the garage into the living room. This speech is designed to frighten you: you’ll make misssssstakesss and ruin your life. You won’t even know you’re doing it until it’ssssss toooooo late. You might think your life is nice - but that’sssssssssssss only because you haven’t ssssssssssseen how bad it will get. It’s giving you permission to feel bad without providing any reason to feel bad, and then it’s allowing you to wallow in that bad feeling. It’s poison.

I promise you, for 99% of people who watched Synecdoche, New York , life is not that bad. People in horrible, war torn places where they aren’t able to watch Charlie Kaufman films because no one dubs indie movies in Kurdish have it bad - and not just because they’re missing out on great films, but because they essentially live in a sandier version of Hell. Haven’t you ever sat in the sun with a dog and seen it look back at you and felt a perfect connection? Haven’t you ever fallen asleep, perfectly comfortable, tucked in beside someone you love? Haven’t you ever eaten pancakes with ice cream, or seen a huge mountain, or been really cold and then gotten into a warm bath? Haven’t you ever seen a baby fake-crying on the tram and then its mum tickles it under the chin and it laughs, and you see everyone around you smile because babies are so pure? Come on! You’re not Othello. Your life is pretty nice. Even Othello’s life was pretty nice right up until the end.

Pretty nice.

But boring. Right?

Pancakes? Cuddles?

How am I to thrill at sunsets and smiling babies?

Good. Now I’m sad again.

And if the realisation that you don’t have anything to be sad about (except for the ordinariness of the pleasures in your life) didn’t make you sad, check out this compilation of the 10 most depressing moments in Bojack Horseman (ranked in order from least depressing to most depressing!).

A major inconvenience of modern life is that most of us have supremely comfortable, happy, safe lives. And when something goes wrong, you can’t go on a tragic rampage and tear out your own eyes, beat your breast, or wail on the moor in a thunderstorm - even though that may be what you feel like doing.

Work sucks, no one respects me, and I messed up that section of the Excel spreadsheet so maybe they are right to not respect me: take me to a moor where my tears can blend with rain and my howls will be swallowed by the wind!

Ordinary people don’t get to live in a tragedy - and besides, there aren’t as many moors around as literature might have you believe. The most you can do usually is make a scene at a family dinner or isolate yourself at a party and then get drunk and walk home crying. Who would write a sweeping, romantic story about an embarrassing fuck up walking home drunk, feeling sorry for themselves.

Oh.

Wait:

And Now For That 2000 Year Old Mystery

Aristotle’s Poetics is the source of the word catharsis (in italics because it’s Greek which is the way I was taught to do it in high school - if only there were Greecian-alics, am I right?), which in common parlance today basically means any kind of dramatic release of emotions. Kickboxing is cathartic. Getting your eyebrows waxed is cathartic. Crying during an emotional episode of a TV show is cathartic.

Because the word appeared in Poetics, it's original usage related to the theatre, in particular the experience of an audience watching a tragedy: the release of emotions they feel in watching things go seriously wrong for the hero. For this reason, catharsis is often tied to anagnorisis - the moment of tragic realisation.

Oh god I killed my father and married my mother.

Oh god, that’s my son’s head on the pike, not the head of a mountain lion.

Oh god, remember when I messed up that bit of the spreadsheet and everyone knew it was me. Existence truly is pain.

You get the idea. It’s not enough that the protagonist is a fuck up: that matter needs to be brought to their attention and they need to reflect on it.

(A more proper (read: academic) definition of catharsis is: “an imitation of an action ‘with incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions.’” The emotions the audience feel echo what the people on stage are feeling. The jump scare in a horror movie scares the character on screen and the audience watching at home.)

Aristotle never clearly defined catharsis. So for all this time (2000+ years) people have been trying to infer what he meant from a couple of references to a pretty slippery concept. Even though the general public has their understanding of the word, academics still cannot agree on a definition. But we know what it means, roughly, because we’ve all experienced it.

Over the weekend I watched Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s other other TV show (not Killing Eve) which had an exchange between an artist and a drunk girl on sadness and how it factors into art:

Character 1: He’s my muse!

Character 2: Your muse?

...

Character 2: Like an artist's muse?!

Character 1: Yes, he is! You think meeting someone like Colin happens to artists all the time?! He gives so much.

Character 2: Yeah, sure, and you just lap it up and just slap it on a canvas.

Character 1: Pardon?

Character 2: "His pain is so beautiful." You're using him to indulge yourself.

Character 1: I am indulging? And what is this?

Character 2: This is a $4 bottle of wine.

...

Character 2: Sorry if I upset you, Melody.

Character 1: You don't upset me. You bore me. All you seem to want to do is drink and wank and drink and wank.

Character 2: Well, at least I don't have to wank other people's pain onto a canvas, and then shove it in people's faces and call it "my art."

Character 2 in this scene is played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. I can’t be bothered to explain why it’s relevant.

For the eternity of human brains, or at least for as long as preserved creativity, the most comfortable, secure people in the world have tried to experience the things tragic victims feel - perhaps so they can briefly know what it feels like to be a romantic figure struggling in an unjust world. A passport to feelings and drama we aren’t permitted in every day life. Catharsis is the word to express the reaction, but what do we call an audience who seeks out that sensation? Catharsis chasers?

It’s not insightful to say that people like to watch Fast & Furious movies because they’re exciting and perhaps audiences enjoy that excitement because their own lives are un-exciting. But commending a thing because it will make you sad seems aberrant in some way. A fast and dangerous car that will make you miserable. A roller coaster that will make you depressed. An incredible shootout in the streets of LA that will make you sob in the bathroom cubicle at work every time you think about it. I can’t explain the drive, but like Aristotle I will invent a new word, so that academics can never know what I meant but will still write at great length about it, so that it will slip into common parlance and be horribly misused until eventually, 2000 years from now, a girl can waffle on about it on her blog. And the word will be: scartharsio. Or maybe scorpithoniacs? Or sarcastiharsics?

Sadness is entertainment for a scartharsio.

ALL TIME HALL OF FAME: WAILING WOMEN AND MOORS

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Nobody knows what it’s like to be me, a sad woman who weeps on moors!

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I’m not being overly dramatic!

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#Fleabag #phoebe waller-bridge #bojack horseman #kate bush #wuthering heights #sense and sensibility #ang lee #kate winslet #othello #synecdoche new york #charlie kaufman #brokeback mountain #red dead redemption 2

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