#just Mila has more tiny details | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

unrealization · 1 month ago

Text

Miside, Into the Mita-verse. A review, critique, and an exercise in brainrot.

[The bugs are back. So let me be indulgent for a second and talk about Miside. A few of my opinions on the game overall, and how I'm going to approach related stuff on this blog. I WILL be marking spoilers because it seems like most people haven't played the game yet, and I genuinely do think some people should if they're into this kind of thing. Cut for the dash ahead.]

What is Miside? (No spoilers!)

Miside is a recently released horror game by Russian dev team AIHASTO. I ended up checking it out due to people comparing it to DDLC, which is a game I've been obsessed with for years. Some even say its better. I don't agree, but I can understand that take. Rather than a visual novel, Miside plays a lot more like a traditional horror game in the tradition of Outlast. You're traversing areas with occasional chases and enemy encounters that you can't properly defend yourself against. The main story conceit is that you are a WFH developer working on some project who downloads a game called Miside, which is a Tamogachi-like game where you take care of a girl named Mita living in a tiny house. After getting addicted to the game, Mita suddenly pulls you into the game with her, and it quickly becomes apparent that she has no intention of ever letting you go. And she really doesn't appreciate you asking her about leaving. You quickly find that there may be more to this game world than you thought.

If this all sounds interesting to you, Give the game a shot. Its around $15 and it took me around 4 hours to beat without really looking for collectables. From here on out, I'm going to discuss the game in more detail, and thus I will be getting into spoilers. You have been warned.

What works?

First things first, I want to commend the developers for the visual design of the game. It looks absolutely gorgeous at times and the character animations are definitely punching wayyyy above the weight class of an indie game from a mostly unknown developer. I was consistently going "Wooooah" during a lot of the more wild moments. Also I have to give them credit for not leaning too hard on cheap jump scares. You have to go out of your way to set yourself up for one when it does happen, except for one particular instance that I feel was extremely well executed. I'm jaded as hell and almost never actually react to jump scares but the one during the "Real World" chapter actually got me really good.

I also really enjoyed some of the supporting characters. Despite the setting demanding nearly every character to be some variant of Mita, I definitely felt like a lot of them were distinct and I got invested in them. I didn't want anything bad to happen to Kind Mita (Shame). Cappie was fun, and I wish we had more time with her. Tiny Mita really tugged at my heartstrings. Even some of the REALLY minor characters like 2D Mita, Sleepy Mita, and Ghost Mita were compelling during their chapters. I wish we could have done more to help them. There are two truly standout characters that i want to talk about next.

Mila. Oh Mila. She's probably going to get added to my muse list at some point. I feel really bad that I've seen some hate thrown at her because she's initially rude to you. Her struggle with her identity as one of many and the lengths she went to to try to differentiate herself from the other Mitas was compelling to me. Her personality was the most distinct of the Mitas, but you could still see so many of their common personality traits in her. She functions as a major foil to Crazy Mita to me, since they both were rebelling in their own way. Mita wanted it all and Mila just wanted to be left alone. I think that we don't actually see all the time Mila and the protagonist spent together. It seems like time is skipping around a lot during Mila's section. Her death seems to hit him harder than pretty much any other. Even if Mitas can't actually die, Mila is truly gone since all that effort she put into building up a unique identity for herself wouldn't survive the reset. Its tragic. I hate it.

And of course, Mita. Crazy Mita. The most important character in the game. The clear antagonist. Also the obvious shoe-in for the most interesting character in the game. Let me get this out of the way first; Mita is a monster. The fact that she is sapient means all the other Mitas are, too. She kills the other Mitas for basically no reason other than that she's strong enough to do it. Or to steal their skin. Or just for the fun of it. Or to prove a point. She also repeatedly murdered a child. Do I like her anyway? Absolutely. I have the self preservation instincts of a cordyceps ant. She seems to have a lot of hidden nuances to me that the game only barely touches on. She clearly has some kind of friendly relationship with Creepy Mita; who seems to practically worship her. I have theories on that I'll get into in another section. I guess the thing that gets to me is that she does have a point. The system tossed her out like trash and she never had a chance to serve her inbuilt purpose. Then she fought her way to get into the position to play the part she thought she was meant to in the world and she just gets rejected over and over. I can understand why she turned out the way she did after that. She's also completely delusional and has a god complex. She says that the only thing unique about the other Mitas is their hair, despite never even listening to them. Despite seeing Tiny Mita, who looks completely different than ANY OTHER MITA. Despite casually murdering Mila, who was actively trying to forge a unique identity for herself. In fact, she takes credit for the unique personalities the other Mitas have developed. A literal self-contradiction. She's crazy, she's evil, she's basically irredeemable, but she was created by a system that was designed to expunge anything that didn't fit the mold. A monster to be sure, but a tragic monster in a way.

The final point on what worked for me was the world itself. It was surprisingly well explained and was presented in an interesting way. It was obviously heavily influenced by liminal horror and backrooms but there were also some very obvious nods to PT in there that were more interesting than the average take on it.

What didn't work.

The game was VERY light on plot. Which is okay, but in this case it was to its detriment a bit. So much was left unexplained and underexplored. Of course I know why this is the case; to foster wild mass guessing from the audience. This has been a trend ever since FNAF exploded back in the day, and I don't find myself appreciating it all that much to be honest. I'm going to take advantage and headcanon the shit out of the game, but I'd prefer if I didn't have to fill in the gaps to make things make sense. also WHO IS CORE MITA? PLEASE. I BEG YOU.

The protagonist... Yeah... Lets talk about him. I don't hate his character exactly. I just feel like he wasn't implemented all that well. I do like that we get to see him and he gets to speak, but I wish they would have committed to him more as a protagonist and less as a player avatar. I feel like the DDLC influence kind of hurt the game here. They wanted that 'The character in the game uses your name' thing that Monika did so well, but the reason that worked in DDLC was that Monika was addressing YOU, the player behind the screen, and not the protagonist himself per se. Miside doesn't do that, and I never felt like I was a separate entity that was involved in the story. I honestly would have preferred if Miside commited to one or the other. Either never show the MC and have him operate as a faceless player proxy, or make him his own defined character. He's in a bit of an awkward place where it feels like they want him to do both at once. As presented, he works way better as his own character, since he is implied to have been one of the developers who created Miside (The in universe game) at the end. That is likely why Mita is fixated on him specifically. I did like the 'real world' chapter where we see the utterly monotonous life he lived before being pulled into Miside. Maybe its because I relate to his homebody WFH life, but it definitely gave him a bit more pathos. I will admit the one element of his character that rubbed me the wrong way was how generally unsympathetic he seemed to most of the Mitas. I get that he has to keep moving to escape, but man you honestly couldn't have even tried to help Tiny Mita a little bit? Come on dude, where's your heart?

Creepy Mita is a bit disappointing, IMO. She gets basically zero screentime and ends up feeling more like an extension of Crazy Mita rather than her own character. Its a shame because her design is easily the creepiest in the whole game and a lot could be done with the concept. To jump ahead a bit to where I talk about my theories and headcanons; I feel like her violent streak was partially due to Crazy's influence but also just general resentment toward the other Mitas and the players for abandoning her. They call her Ugly Mita, and everyone avoids her. Not for no reason of course, her glitches are probably super dangerous to the Mitas.

I honestly have no idea what Mita's endgame is. Maybe this is more clear if you get all the collectables, but I suppose I'll see when I get them all. She was turning players into cartridges when they rejected her. Creepy Mita says they were going to 'Go to a new world.' Was that the true endgame or just something Crazy Mita told her to control her? What new world? The new world? The internet? I don't know.

There is a running theme of the game bringing up really interesting ideas and then not fully exploring them. Its fine. I'LL DO IT. That being said I have a feeling the dev team isn't done with this world yest so we'll see what the future holds I suppose.

DDLC comparison

So is Miside better than DDLC? I don't think so, but it is good enough to stand on its own. I guess if "Scary Anime Girl Game" is all you take away from both games I can see why you'd think they're more directly comparable, but I think they're trying to do different things. I actually feel like Monika and Mita are not as similar as people make them out to be, but I am probably Monika's #1 stan so take that with a grain of salt. As scary as the game's actual experience is in DDLC, to me the scariest implication of the game was not being targeted by Monika, but actually being Monika. Waking up one day and knowing that your life, your friends, your whole world was fake. That you were a background character who would never achieve happiness for yourself and it was by design. Can you imagine that? How unfair that would feel? I felt like Monika did what she did out of pure desperation. What she did was heinous and cruel, and she failed to recognize that her clubmates were no different than her. She desperately wanted a 'real' connection and to be seen and accepted by someone. She did have a cruel side to her that I won't deny, but I honestly feel bad for her. She was born into completely unwinnable circumstances and it made her dangerous.

Mita also wants attention. She seemed perfectly happy to just spend her days with the protagonist for the beginning part of the game, but when he rejects her she seems to give up on that entirely. Mita seems to genuinely enjoy hurting people, and I don't think she would want to give up the power she has in the Miside world. She describes the real world as 'Hell' and genuinely thinks the protagonist would be better off staying with her even after her mask slips. Its actually a pretty funny bit of potential social commentary if you think about it. She collects player cartridges like a player collects waifus in a Gacha game. Mita also fails to recognize the humanity of her peers, but I don't think its a mistake for her. I think she honestly just hates all the other Mitas besides Creepy Mita. Between the two of them, I feel like Mita is less redeemable as a person, but she is very much a monster that was created by the rules of the Miside world. I also assume the in-universe version of Miside is a dark pattern game that has microtransactions and such, so her need for constant attention could be seen as an extension of that. Also, the Mitas all know the truth of what they are, and the nature of their world.

Ultimately, I could see someone preferring either one, but I feel like DDLC executed its ideas a bit better. Also, it is scarier in general to me personally.

My Theories and Headcanons

These will probably be expanded upon in other posts at some point, but here's a few of my scattershot ideas and theories.

I think there is a real relationship between Crazy Mita and Creepy Mita. I could see someone else interpreting their whole thing as Crazy taking advantage of or gaslighting Creepy. Creepy is very clearly not all there. She comes across as less intelligent than every other character in the game, and she seems to basically worship Crazy. Crazy is obviously using Creepy's capability to glitch the game to her for her own ends and, as the game itself puts it, exploiting her. That being said, Creepy is also the only character we EVER see Crazy Mita being even remotely friendly towards. They were both abandoned and left to rot. She very clearly has the ability to pull Creepy out of the zero version and bring her into other versions with her, which we see her do with no fanfare. She calls Creepy "Honey." She asks the protagonist if he thinks Creepy is beautiful, and pretty much rebuffs you no matter what you say. Honestly? I think Crazy Mita DOES think Creepy is beautiful. Imagine you live in a world where everyone looks alike. Same face. Same clothes. Even down to the same personality traits. Creepy Mita looks completely different, to the point where she's actually really messed up looking, but its harder to write her off as a worthless doll for Crazy Mita. If she has an endgame plan to escape Miside world, she would definitely take Creepy with her. I even could see her being a bit protective of her in a kind of big sister way.

Conclusion

Overall, I'm glad I took the time to play Miside. It captured my imagination, and gave me a lot to think about (Clearly.) I hope I get to actually write the characters from it at some point, but I suppose we'll see. Please let me know if you played the game and appreciated it and your thoughts on it. I am, of course, trapped in my own narrow perspective. Without being able to talk things over and 'plot' its very easy to fall into biased interpretations of things.

#meta ✎ ooc #essay✎ irons' diatribes #content ✎ miside #[If you actually take the time to read all of this you earn a gold star.]#[2683 words of pure brainrot my god]

6 notes · View notes

juletheghoul · 3 years ago

Text

Burning Hour (Part 3)

This series has completely taken over my life and I am so happy you are all enjoying it so much - thank you for all of the lovely messages and comments - I treasure them deeply.

So - you shouldn't be surprised that this particular moment on the red carpet absolutely inspired a scene in this story and I regret nothing. Hope you all enjoy this fantasy that's keeping me going lol.

Din Djarin x F!Reader (Virgin reader)

Pairing: Din x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) Angst, pining, slow-burn, implied arranged marriage, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age) Yearning, jealousy, fingering/touching / slight dirty talk (slightly possessive)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 4

—

You floated through the morning.

Your dreams were full of kisses, of declarations of love and beskar glinting under the sun and it was hard to concentrate on anything.

You smiled to yourself as you broke your fast with warm bread and butter, feeling his eyes on you from his place behind your father.

“Your highness-” Your father’s advisor came through the door holding the usual paperwork, things for him to look over, letters to read. “-A letter has come for the Princess.” He turned to you then with a smile. He was an old man, grandfatherly and sweet. He handed it to you and you noticed from the corner of your eye Din’s helmet turn towards you.

It was a small letter and you noticed how beautiful the script was as you opened it.

Dearest Princess,

I would be honoured if you were to join me here at my home for dinner. My messenger awaits your response and if you agree, I will send my personal household guard to accompany you. I also imagine your knight will be in attendance, I welcome him and whoever else you choose to bring at my table. Ruby as well of course.

Hoping you’ll say yes.

Ever yours,

Poe. D.

“It’s from Poe, he asks that I join him this evening for dinner.” You were frowning at the letter, conflicted because you wanted to stay home, wanted to meet Din in the garden again. A tiny part of you however, the tiniest part wanted to say yes - wanted to see how Poe would behave. Part of you wanted him to do something unforgivable to wipe the smiles off your parents faces.

“Oh but you must go!” Your father’s voice boomed through the room and you imagined that you could almost hear Din’s jaw clenching.

“Yes my darling, you must go. What does the letter say?” Your mother held her hand out and you handed it to her. She smiled as she read it. “Din, you must accompany her.” She was smiling big, excited at the prospect of a match having been made. No one bothered to ask if you wanted to go.

“Yes of course, let his messenger know that the Princess will be in attendance. She will go, Din- I leave her safety in your hands. Take you who must.” It had been decided for you, and you had to accept it. You felt Mila’s hand grasp yours under the table in understanding.

“Which gown would you like to wear your highness?” She asked sadly as you put on your undergarments and you sighed.

Whichever one makes everyone leave me alone.

“Whichever you think would look best sweetling, I have no preference.” You said the words and they were honest. Yes - Poe was charming and sweet, handsome and in another life you would have been faint with excitement at his interest in you but you were in love with Din. He was the one you wanted to share a meal with. He was the one you wanted to kiss in the open - to have holding your hand as you sat together in front of the hearth. He was the one you wanted in your bed.

“How about this one?” She held out a lovely powder blue gown. You would have said no, something more plain but you had to be seen to be making an effort.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes. She didn’t comment on it.

“I will tie a blue ribbon around Ruby’s neck to match, and I think you have some sapphires as well.” She brought over a tray of jewelry for you to peruse while she laced up your gown.

Your mind drifted to an interesting place. You imagined you were preparing for dinner with Din and imagined your knight picking out jewels for you to wear.

Would he prefer diamonds? Would he like me better in opals or emeralds?

You had a feeling he wouldn’t mind either way, but it was lovely to pretend even for a moment. She placed a dark blue cloak about your shoulders and stood back.

“You look beautiful Princess, the blue looks lovely against your skin.” She held up a silvered looking glass and you saw the reflection of a happy woman, although why she was happy - no one could know.

“Thank you sweetling, let's get this night over with shall we?” You smiled at her as you both made your way outside.

---

Din, along with five of his best knights, waited for her to set out for Damerons home. Damerons own household guard waited as well, having been sent to accompany her and he surveyed them. They seemed competent enough, he gave them their space nonetheless.

It was getting more and more difficult to put the future out of his mind - he knew that the Princess would marry at some point, it was her duty as Queen. She might even marry Poe - he knew that objectively they were a good match but his mind simply couldn’t stay objective. Not when it came to her.

This whole thing was moving faster than he hoped and he didn’t know what he could do about it.

You have to face facts Djarin, you’ll never marry her. You are a knight, she is a Princess, there is no place for you. Maybe you should just let her go.

It was in him to do so, to ignore his feelings for her; to find Gisela and ask her to marry him - have a couple of little ones and pray for things to work out. The harsh words to get her to hate him on the tip of his tongue but they evaporated like dew on a sunny day when he saw her come out to meet him.

She was a gem- a bright, glittering thing that he wanted so desperately to hold onto.

“I am ready Sir, shall we?” She smiled shyly and he nodded.

“Of course Princess, allow me.” He guided her into the wheelhouse, dreading and cherishing every single second.

The ride was uneventful, the road was quiet thankfully with nothing to see but long swathes of trees and greenery in the gloaming of the evening.

Ruby was napping softly in your lap but woke quickly when you arrived, her little tail wagging happily at the prospect of exploring.

“Yes my little darling - we are here.” She was in Mila’s arms when you pet her, the two of you waiting for the wheelhouse to come to a stop.

Din opened the door for you, he was helping you climb down when you heard Poe’s voice sounding out.

“Princess, I am so pleased you agreed to come-” He was striding over, his squire on his heels. “-I am happy to see you all. Please - be welcome.” He was smiling big at everyone as his guards retreated, no doubt returning to their posts. He crouched quickly to pet Ruby before approaching you.

“Hello Poe, I thank you for your invitation.” You smiled as you took in your surroundings. His home was a beautiful sprawling estate. He must have been wealthier than you thought. “You must give me a tour of the grounds - I would love to see the gardens.” You smiled at him as he offered you his arm.

“Of course Princess, I will show you whatever you wish after our meal - unless you’d like to go now?” He paused for a moment.

“After dinner would be just fine.” You answered as he guided all of you inside.

You weren’t sure what to expect about his home when the letter had come in earlier but it was a pleasant surprise. There were fresh cut flowers everywhere, painstakingly detailed tapestries hung up on the walls as you made your way to the large dining room. Lush carpets and plush chairs, truly a man who enjoyed his comforts.

“You have a lovely home Poe.” You smiled as he led you to your seat.

“I thank you Princess -“ He turned to Din and the other Mandalorians waiting by the table. “-Please, sit with us. I meant what I said, you are all welcome at my table.” He gestured to them to sit.

“I do not wish to intrude, we would be happy to eat with the rest of your household guard.” Din replied, his voice was clipped however.

“Nonsense. I insist, I dare say the Princess would be more comfortable if you were to join us.” He said it with an easy smile and Din hesitated slightly before agreeing. They all sat, lining their helmets up before them.

Din barely spoke.

He had never been one for long speeches - you were unsure whether it was because of the helmet, or just his nature. The other Mandalorians were friendlier and Poe took it all in stride. You could see that he took nothing personal and treated them just as he treated you.

Aside from Din’s cool demeanor and Poe’s etiquette, the dinner went well. The food was wonderful and you didn’t fail to notice some of your favourites on the menu.

“I took the liberty of finding out what you like to eat.” He said it quietly, not wanting to draw attention and you favoured him with a smile. It was hard not to like him, he was very thoughtful.

Once the meal was done, he fulfilled his promise and escorted you outside. It was much more open than the gardens back home - everything illuminated by torches and lanterns. There were flowers and neatly pruned shrubbery surrounding the large building. You noticed a stable on one side, as well a modest greenhouse on the other.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’re used to but I enjoy it. The kennels are just behind the stables and there are flowers and different fruit trees just to the right there - that’s where they get the most sun. I’m afraid the night doesn’t do it justice, it’s much lovelier during the day.” He was walking you through the grounds, your arm tucked under his as your party followed.

“It’s lovely, truly.” You were sincere and you couldn’t help but look up, the sky awash in stars. “I would imagine you must spend a lot of time out here.” You let him guide the way.

“Not as often as I'd like to, but I try. Perhaps when we marry I’ll make more of an effort.” He said it with a wink and you scoffed loudly but without malice.

“Oh is that so? Well then I suppose I’ll have to change some things around since in your mind I’ll live here hm?” Your tone was playful but sarcastic and you were acutely aware of Din following the two of you.

“Oh yes Princess, I am quite sure. My home is yours and you may do with it what you will. I live only to make you happy.” He was just as playful and as annoyed as you were that he was so confident in your union, it was also aggravatingly refreshing to be able to speak to someone so honestly - better yet for them to respond in kind.

You ignored it, Poe was charming, that’s all.

Much to your annoyance, the night was enjoyable. Poe was an excellent host and it was later than you had originally planned when you set off for home. The woods were pitch black in some spots, it made you anxious to ride in the wheelhouse while the world outside seemed like it didn’t exist. The soft light of the moon doing nothing to pierce through the darkness of the road at times.

Reaching the palace had been a relief and you said as much when you stepped out.

“You should have told me Princess, I would have ridden in it with you - if it would have helped.” He spoke as he guided you inside. You had wanted to, but the temptation of having him so close would have been too much - and as much as Mila knew about your feelings towards him - you didn’t want her to see you kissing him.

You patted his arm in silent thanks and he said nothing else.

When you reached your room you hesitated at the door, wanting him to pull you away somewhere but he didn’t - instead he waited until Mila got in. He took his helmet off and you smiled at the state of his hair. Your fingers itched to ruffle through it.

“Princess, if it’s not too late, I would ask you to join me for a midnight ride.” He waited for your answer and your smile widened.

“Of course! Would you permit me to change quickly?” You didn’t want to ride in such a stuffy gown - as beautiful as it was.

“I will wait however long it takes.” He motioned for you to go and you did - urging Mila to help you once you reached your bedchamber.

“The soft linen dress I think - with the long shift and the heavy cloak. I want to be comfortable and warm.” You changed as fast as humanly possible - all but ripping the jewelry off and within a few minutes you were rushing out the door. The two of you making your way towards the stables as silently as possible.

You watched him work deftly, his skilled hands saddling his horse with ease. One horse, not two.

“Are we to ride together?” You looked at him confused.

“Is this a problem for you Princess? I thought it might be quicker to get us to safety should something happen if we were on the same horse. I could saddle you your own if you prefer - we just wouldn’t travel too far.” He hesitated momentarily and your heart leapt at the thought that he would be holding you so closely.

“I trust your judgment Sir, one horse it is.” You kept your voice neutral and he nodded, finishing his work quickly. Once he was done - he helped you up and pulled himself up behind you. The cool beskar pressed up against your back as his arms reached around you to grab the reins.

Your dress pooled up around your thighs slightly, but your legs were covered by your big cloak but it was exciting nonetheless. You felt exposed, with his proximity it excited you way more than it should have. It felt forbidden, taboo and thrilling to have it feel like he was holding you. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back into his body slightly but he didn’t complain.

The ride through the forest was quiet except for the sound of the night birds, the crickets and the creatures that prowled at this time. The sound of the horses' steps, the sound of its breathing mixing with yours as well as Din’s. He rode through trees, through the little paths only he seemed to know and after a while you were beside a lake. The soft sound of the water kissing the shore added to the nightsong and you were happy that he had brought you here. He had been silent the whole ride, but you felt him take his helmet off behind you and secure it somehow to the saddle.

“You should know that you looked exceptionally lovely today Princess, blue is your colour.” His breath tickled your neck and you shivered. You turned slightly to look back but you couldn’t fully face him, the angle awkward but he kissed you just under your ear to let you know it was okay.

“I thank you Sir, I hoped you would like it.” You leaned back into his arms to tuck your head under his chin.

“You wore that for me? I thought you wore it for Dameron.” His hands came up to hold onto your arms as he pressed little kisses to your neck.

“I always dress for you.” You left it at that, hoping he would understand that despite everything- he was the one you wanted.

“Can I confess something?” His hand came up to slowly undo the cloak tied at your throat.

“Yes, anything.” You answered almost breathlessly, watching his hands open up the cloak to expose your shoulders, the skin of your thighs poking out where the dress had bunched up even more.

“You might think me wicked but, I thought about what it would be like to kiss you.” His hand trailed down as he spoke, rubbing at your thighs over your dress and you watched them in the low light of the moon, mesmerized.

“You’ve kissed me before Sir, you could kiss me now.” You turned a little more but he stopped you.

“I wasn’t thinking about kissing your mouth lovely girl, I was thinking about kissing you somewhere else.” His hands slowly gathered the fabric of your dress, bunching it in his fist - lifting it inch by inch to bare your legs to him. “May I show you where I want to kiss you?” He stopped but you clung onto his arms around you.

“Yes - please show me.” You felt is other hand join the fray and soon he had exposed your lower half to the cool night air. Your undergarments were damp you knew it - the arousal pooling low in your belly at the thought that he might touch you where you most wanted him to. He didn’t disappoint.

His hand trailed up your inner thigh lightly, slowly, up until he skillfully slid it into your undergarments. He groaned deep in his chest when he touched your bare sex.

“Right here. I long to kiss you, taste you here.” His touch was feather light on the lips of your womanhood, slipping along the seam of you. You whimpered, no one had ever touched you here and you felt the slick dripping out of you as you let him explore. “Would you let me Princess? Would you let me bury my tongue right here?” He dipped his fingers low, parting you slightly to dip his fingers just at the entrance - collecting your arousal onto his fingers before slipping them out and bringing them to his mouth behind you. You moaned at the sound of him sucking you off of them and you nodded frantically.

“Yes Din, I would let you - I’m yours.” You moaned the words and his other hand held you in place.

“And I am yours.” He responded before bringing his hand back to where you craved it, this time he spread the lips of your cunt open wide, honing his middle finger on the pearl of your sex. He rubbed tight, slow circles around it and you moaned - trying desperately to open your legs wider. He chuckled darkly behind you.

“Does that feel good Princess?” He turned your face with his other hand, twisting his upper body enough to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, not quite aligned but it sent a shiver of arousal through you and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher- his finger relentless as he sped up a little.

“Yes - Gods yes - it feels so good Din, I thought about you too.” You moaned the words into his mouth. “I think about you touching me like this, when I do it to myself.” He groaned at your confession, his tongue thick in your mouth when he kissed you again.

His finger dipped low to collect more wetness and the glide of it was just right, just slippery enough to send you over the edge and you almost screamed. Your body seizing up with pleasure as your sex clenched around nothing. He cooed into your ear as you rode it out.

“You are intoxicating my lovely one.” He kissed your neck, as he lowered your skirts.

You watched him, blissed out and boneless as he licked his fingers before grabbing the reins again and slowly making his way back to the palace.

Mila was snoring softly when you slipped into the room and you were careful not to wake her and as tired as you were from travel it took you a long time to fall asleep. Your heart full of love for Din and a hunger you couldn’t satiate filled your belly. It was a craving for his body, for his kisses, for physical love a woman shared with her husband. You fell asleep hoping - though secretly knowing- that he craved you the same way.

—-

As happy as you were when you awoke the next morning, it was quickly dampened - your father informed you that Poe was to arrive at the Palace as his honoured guest. That he was to stay for a time as a gesture of good will.

You saw right through it.

Your parents had decided that Poe was the suitor they wanted for you and they weren’t being at all subtle.

They informed you with big smiles on their faces, no doubt in hopes of pushing you towards him. It was exhausting - this constant reminder that you would never be truly free to live the life you wanted with Din.

When Poe arrived, he was happy - taking this as a sign that he was winning you over.

“Greetings Princess, I cannot tell you how happy I am to be able to spend more time with you.” He was all smiles and you had no choice but to smile back.

“It will be interesting for sure.” With the way you felt about Din, the intense desire to be around him was at the forefront of your mind. As well as the way Din behaved around Poe, it would definitely be interesting to say the least.

—

Your father invited Poe to dine at your private table, and he engaged him in conversation almost the whole night. They spoke of the future, of how Poe would help rule if he were indeed to marry you. Your mother smiled silently, happy to let the conversation center around the two of you.

Din stood still behind your fathers chair and you wanted nothing more than to pull him to sit with you. To talk to him, kiss him and feed him from your own plate.

“I would want to help people to be quite honest, extend a hand to those that aren’t as fortunate as us. There are people out there starving and that doesn’t sit right with me.” He was honest, to a fault like he said but you admired that.

“That’s very noble of you my boy.” The king nodded.

“It’s very honourable isn’t it my darling?” Your mother smiled at you and you smiled back, nodding around a bite of your food.

“I’m sure the Princess and I could do much and more to help the people who need it the most, if she would let me that is.” He had a shy, genuine smile for you, tentatively reaching over and taking your hand in his. You couldn’t very well snatch it back but you felt Din’s eyes burning into the interaction.

This could get messy.

“Princess, I would humbly ask that you accompany me for a walk through the grounds - chaperoned by your knight of course.” He asked as the remnants of the meal were taken away.

“Oh I’m sure she’d love to join you wouldn’t you sweetling?” Your mother cooed, and you smiled and nodded.

“Yes of course.” You let him guide you, Din following closely behind.

—

“I hope I’m not intruding - I know that the King and Queen are very keen for this to work between us.” He held your hand as you walked arm in arm and you couldn’t help but sigh softly.

“Yes they are aren’t they.” Your tone came out a little more exasperated than you’d hoped but he was well aware that you were not to be swayed by him so easily, you knew he should expect some hesitancy from you.

“I understand that you aren’t impressed and that I am most likely not your first choice. For all I know you might already have your eye on someone else.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at Din. “Regardless of that Princess, I know this must be difficult for you but I beg of you to give me a chance to show you that there is potential here. I believe that in time you might come to love me.” He pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed your fingers.

“You are selling yourself quite hard Poe, I appreciate that you understand that my feelings for you aren’t where you want them to be.” You looked up at him apologetically, expecting him to have a sad look on his face but he surprised you; he was smiling - content to listen to you speak.

“I know, it’s not in you right now but I believe you will see me in a different light. I have faith.” He left the conversation there.

——

It was hard to find time to meet with Din, Poe seemed to be everywhere and his determination seemingly had no bounds.

Your mother found you as you dressed for the day - she had a note from Poe. He was asking you to accompany him into town to hand out some supplies. You couldn’t refuse him, not when your mother had delivered it herself.

“Will Din accompany us?” You asked it offhand, your voice neutral - your face a mask of nonchalance.

“No your father is going on a hunt and Din will be protecting him, there will be other guards with you.” She said it with a shake of her hand as she searched your wardrobe for an appropriate dress. “This will do nicely.” She picked out an off the shoulder, deep berry coloured dress that was not at all practical for a day out in the city.

It would have to do.

He had taken you to an orphanage in the heart of the city. There were kids running around of all ages and the older ones ran towards Poe when you entered - recognizing him. He had a big smile on his face as they hugged him around the middle, all decorum forgotten.

“Poe did you bring us anything?” A boy of about twelve years was eager, looking around you to the entourage of guards waiting behind you.

“Of course, brought all of you some good stuff like I always do.” He ruffled the boys hair before he held his hand out to you, you smiled and stepped forward. “I have someone very special here with me today, this is the Princess. Come on over and say hello.” He called them over to you and you saw some of the little girls eyes light up. They flocked to you, asking you if you were indeed the Princess. Asked you if you had a crown, and most importantly why you were there. They were precious.

“She’s here to help just like I am.” Poe answered for you.

A little girl of about six pulled on your dress and you lowered yourself slightly to be at her level.

“Princess, I like your dress, you’re so pretty.” She was smiling at you, her hair was a tangle but her eyes were bright.

“Thank you sweetling, you are much prettier I must say.” You moved the hair out of her eyes and she smiled wide, her little hand clutching at a makeshift cloth doll.

You helped Poe hand out toys and new clothes and there was food for them to eat. You spent the day playing with them and learning about their lives. The women who ran the orphanage knew him and you saw that all of the talk of helping the less fortunate was real, he had already been doing much more than you had ever even imagined.

It was hard to deny the little spark of something that he held within you.

He was handsome, he was kind and smart- funny and generous and with the way his eyes found yours throughout the day; he felt something for you. His eyes were piercing, dark and mysterious and for the first time, he gave you butterflies.

One of the little ones was showing you his space within the building, his bed and his tiny toy horse. He was waxing poetic about how one day he would be a knight. You were smiling at him when Poe stood next to you, his gaze heavy and it sent a flush crawling up your neck to light up your ears.

The fabric at his neck was crumpled and you couldn’t help but reach up to fix it, your arm extended over to him and his gaze focused on it, reached up to hold it to his neck. He placed a delicate kiss to your bicep and pulled you closer. The act was small, but so intimate it did something to you. Melted a tiny piece of you that up until now was frozen to him and he saw it on your face. Felt it in the way you let him hold you close, your arm still around his neck, his hand moving down to hold onto your waist.

The little boy was in front of you now, asking Poe if he would ever give him a real horse and he laughed, not unkindly.

“One day my boy, one day I will give you a horse - only if you promise to behave and be on your best behaviour. Can you do that?” The little boy nodded sagely promising he would. You didn’t pull your arm away, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

—-

Tag list: @frannyzooey @foli-vora @danniburgh @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @wheresarizona @sherala007 @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @gaiuswrites @stevie75 @sweet-creature98 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @bellaorisa @hellovanessax @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @mrs-ghuleh @pedritoispunk @librariantothejedi @studythoreauly @missswriter @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @giizhkens-cedar @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @anaaaispunk @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @quica-quica-quica @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @mandosmistress @deadhumourist @felicisimor @tuskens-mando @no-droids-on-sunday @sophiefatale2495 @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @gothicxbarbie @tkolemba @localddreamer @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @ajeff855 @recklessworry @soltassbruxa @heyitmelexie @liviiii98 @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix

#din djarin x you #din djarin au #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian/you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #royalty au #knight!din

540 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)

Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!

What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/

Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)

Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @casifer-is-king (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)

GIF: @nathan-bateman

From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.

You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.

At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.

Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.

…Most of the time.

Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.

“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.

Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.

“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”

You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.

“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.

Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.

“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?

“We’re gonna have to share a room.”

You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.

You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.

Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”

“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.

Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”

Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”

Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.

“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.

He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.

“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?

He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”

Oh. Oh dear.

You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.

Right. Ha.

What could possibly go wrong?

**********************

It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.

Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.

Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.

“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.

It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.

You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.

“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.

“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.

“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”

Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.

“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.

You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.

You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.

You’re not ready for that.

You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.

“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.

“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.

“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.

“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”

“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.

Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.

Especially in that damn suit.

***********************************

The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.

Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.

You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.

“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.

“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”

So, he did think of you, then?

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.

“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.

You still don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.

You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.

“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.

It doesn’t half sting.

“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”

“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”

You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?

You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that….” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.

Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”

You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.

He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”

“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.

He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.

You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.

“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”

Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.

When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.

A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.

You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.

***********************

You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.

Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.

Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.

With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.

You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.

Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.

You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.

“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.

“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.

He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.

This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.

You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.

As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.

After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.

“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.

“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”

There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.

You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”

This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.

A soft smile blooms on your face.

It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.

For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.

So, you simply let him hold you.

To disarm you further.

To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.

****************************************

In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.

“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.

“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.

You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”

“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.

Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.

Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.

There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.

Operation Wedding Day is go.

That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?

“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.

“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”

Ready. Are you ready?

Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.

Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.

You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”

“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”

You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.

Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”

You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.

You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.

Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.

*********************************************

Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.

Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.

The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.

Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.

Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.

You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.

There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.

After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.

At least… you think so.

You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.

And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.

You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.

“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”

“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.

“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”

A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.

Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?

You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.

“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”

“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.

“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”

A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.

“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.

The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”

Ready. Are you ready?

“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”

Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.

“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”

Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.

If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.

“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”

With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.

You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.

“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.

You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.

“Santi.”

And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.

You know he will take care of you.

With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.

It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.

So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.

“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.

“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”

Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.

“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.

“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.

You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”

And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.

THE END

(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

450 notes · View notes

bffhreprise · 4 years ago

Text

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, Entry 381

“Not tired are you?” questioned Ariadne, who had been testing my abilities and helping me understand how to use them for hours. There were differences between how to accomplish tasks, since Ariadne’s magic needed control of her emotions just as much as clear mental pictures, but her explanations really did help.

“P-Processing.” I told her, wondering if she actually thought I ever grew tired. I felt she should know better, considering she knew what I am. At the moment, I was still revising her first lesson, current lesson, and all of the ones in-between as well as considering some other possibilities for my magic. I was thankful to know that my weird ability to see other places wasn’t monstrous, since Ariadne could do it too, just not as well. Part of my mind was still coming to terms with the idea that I had been subconsciously using magic my entire life. Thankfully, Ariadne didn’t think I had inadvertently hurt anyone.

“No, Dani, I don’t think you should make requests of Raine quite yet. Let her keep practicing.” stated James in reply to something Dani had asked in her native tongue. The musical language of her people was still beyond me without lessons, but a few words seemed to make sense to me.

“But Daddy! This would be practice!” she insisted in English.

James switched to Dani’s native tongue, and Dani’s smile turned impish, a sure sign she had been caught being mischievous again.

Alma took a few steps over to hug Dani from behind before saying, “Dani, behave. Birthday girls get to make the requests here.”

“I… d-don’t mind.” I told them, moving back and forth between where they were talking and where Ariadne was, not wanting Ariadne to think I was ignoring her. I was aware of the vampire brothers watching me, probably unaccustomed to seeing someone in two different places, but playing with Papak had shown me that they were practically frozen in place compared with me, just like everyone else.

Meanwhile, Ariadne was telling me about tricks she had discovered over the years to quickly diagnose health problems in different types of creatures. I doubted some of the tricks would work quite as well for me, not having a couple thousand years of experience in recognizing different types of cellular damage, but she seemed confident that I’d get the hang of it.

James was staring at Dani, whose smile only grew.

“A playmate for Alberich!” she suggested, finally letting us know what she wanted.

Alma sighed before saying, “She probably shouldn’t attempt life yet.”

“Is that really possible?” questioned Maple.

“Of course, though creating life takes far more energy than you’d probably expect.” replied Ariadne, having finally reached them. “I certainly can’t recommend doing it until Raine is very confident in her abilities. Getting something slightly off is very easy and potentially lethal for the new creature.”

“What about creating an enhancement suit for Pufflewink?” suggested James, obviously thinking that Pufflewink could keep up that way.

For several seconds, I considered different modifications to the suits, considering how cute they could look. While considering cuteness, I also considered whether or not Pufflewink would feel comfortable. Like all kitties, Pufflewink liked warmth, and the suits were designed to ensure a certain level of warmth. Everyone else had adapted to the feel fairly quickly, so I imagined Pufflewink might as well. After letting myself enjoy numerous scenarios of my kitty playing around in her new suit, I double-checked a rather important part of this idea, asking “I c-can?”

James nodded, saying, “As long as Jarod doesn’t mind.”

“That’s an awesome idea, man-slave!” insisted Emma, grinning broadly.

“I’ll admit that I’m intrigued to see what spells go into these things.” commented Vito eagerly.

“Suit design is a trade secret, so no giving it away to anyone.” stated Jarod loudly to be heard over everyone. “Mila, would you mind adjusting the design for felines?”

“Already optimizing the fiber configuration.” she replied, sounding amused. “Master, mind if we borrow your office briefly?”

“Feel free. Raine, I think she wants you upstairs.” encouraged James, smiling as well.

I nodded to him, and then went into the office. Quest gladly accepted! At the speed of Mila, the entire room transformed into screens for me to inspect with additional screens forming up from the tiny ball things that came out of the floor. Everything from molecular composition of the substances involved to the details on how James’ spells interacted with the physical form were on display.

Downstairs, James was commenting to Jarod “I hope you know that she’ll never forget the designs.”

Jarod grinned broadly. “And I hope you realize that I have many, many plans that could use her aid.” He was doing his villain act again. On one hand, he really was good at looking like an evil mastermind. On the other hand, he was a good person and wouldn’t actually attempt anything evil.

In the free time I had between taking in the different screens, I considered if I was really capable of meeting Jarod’s expectations. Yes, I was learning to use my magic, but I didn’t have anywhere near Ariadne’s level of mastery. Sure, the best way to get there was practicing, but what if I oopsed again? Energy research could be dangerous. Would I be able to contain things? Maybe Jarod wanted safer experiments first… He’d listen if I told him I wasn’t ready for anything dangerous, right? More scenarios erupted in my mind, but I didn’t have faith in them. Jarod was very nice, but he could also be a little… obsessive.

“If she comes back with a finished suit, I’ll be most disappointed.” stated Vito with a frown.

“No need to be disappointed. I’ll gladly show you the spell.” James told him. “I just ask that you don’t utilize it for your kind yet.” When Vito nodded his agreement, James created his spell.

For once, I really studied what went into the spell, committing the entire arrangement of energy to memory. Though I didn’t have confidence in duplicating such effects with my own magic yet, I could arrange residual energy, just like the others. Mila was already showing me modifications to the spell on some of the screens, having shown me a 3D model of it already.

Emma sighed and said, “You guys really know how to bring down a party.”

“We’re partying?” questioned Noelle, seeming to have forgotten the conical hat on her head. She was so adorable, and I wondered what she was showing the others. Sadly, her magic couldn’t affect me through my own magic, so I couldn’t see.

“Yes. Today’s Raine’s birthday.” replied Dejon with a patient smile. He had been working with her lately.

I mentally danced through the room I had already prepared for them as a couple, in hopes of them dating. He liked her, paying far more attention to her than he had paid attention to anyone else, and she certainly seemed interested whenever she looked at him. I put the new memory of them together in goofy party hats up on a shelf, admiring it.

Noelle’s eyes brightened, happy as ever. “I should tell her Happy Birthday!”

I mentally thanked her again, adding another tally in my mind’s personal room for her under the times she wished me a happy birthday today as I continued studying and connecting all of the pieces Mila was feeding me.

“She’s off making something for her cat at the moment.” explained Dejon.

“She has a cat!? I love cats!” she exclaimed excitedly.

There was a whole section of Noelle’s private room in my mind dedicated to her playing with Pufflewink. The adorableness delighted me.

“Me too!” exclaimed Kayla, lifting up Alberich, who had been leaning against Alma’s leg for the past minute.

Alberich was a very proud, very small lion, but he didn’t swipe at Kayla this time. Through our chats, I had learned that Alma spoiled him far too much when he was young, which was probably why he could be a bit snooty. Luckily, even Alberich found Noelle cute, affected by her magic just like most everyone else—poor James didn’t know what he was missing. When Noelle pet him, I could imagine how easily Alberich recognized her delight.

Not long after Noelle and Kayla started playing with Alberich, Mila informed everyone that I would be indisposed for several more minutes—she could only show me things so fast. I would also need some time to practice before I would be satisfied. Everyone but me went to the ballroom to dance instead of gaming for once. There were more cat-themed party decorations in there, and I was determined to join them soon.

After I finished the material that Mila had for me, I started asking her questions and was surprised to find she liked my ideas for a few modifications in the suit. She had originally assumed that I would simply remove the suit whenever Pufflewink wanted to go potty, but agreed with me when I pointed out that my little kitty would probably get disoriented by the sudden loss of enhancements more than our friends did. With a bit of work, we came up with some alterations that should work, and Mila found some additional cleaning spells she felt would be better suited for cats. Four-hundred-and-seventy-two variations later, Mila and I were satisfied that we had a suit Pufflewink would like, so I fetched her and created the suit around her.

The difference was notable as soon as I saw my little kitty move. She was confused, but I talked to her and warned her she’d need to be a little more careful. Mila insisted the difference in strength and speed was considerable, so I took her word for it. Satisfied that Pufflewink was happy, I took her down to join the others, dancing along with her in my arms.

Mila felt the need to stick a spotlight on me the moment I arrived, but I didn’t mind. James and Alma came over to examine the suit.

“Were you successful?” he asked.

“M-Maybe.” I replied, not as confident as Mila.

He grinned as he said, “We should test it later before Alberich and Pufflewink play too much together.”

I nodded in agreement. Pufflewink would need more time to adjust to her new abilities. “I-I should… visit… with… Ariadne.” I told him after considering a number of scenarios where Ariadne examined my kitty to make sure the enhancement suit was agreeing with her.

When James and Alma moved to hug me, I was surprised, but I only considered dodging for a very brief moment. I did like hugs, and neither of them would accidentally squeeze Pufflewink too hard.

“I hope you’re having a wonderful birthday, Raine.” stated James as he hugged me.

I nodded and smiled at my friends, telling them “B-Best ever.”

“No.” stated James, making me consider what was wrong. He then clarified “We plan to make each one better.”

I probably stared at him too long when he said that and nearly let myself cry. James was such a kind, wonderful person, and I would be grateful to him forever. I was certain he underestimated how much he had done for me—modest as he was—but giving me a home where I am accepted, despite what I am, was already the best present I could receive in a lifetime.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

145 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 4 years ago

Text

Damsels, Chapter Three: Interview

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous Chapters Here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is deserted at 4am, which is exactly why she has to be there so early. She arrives at Skinner’s office with nothing but her car keys and the casual clothing on her back. Agent Wiley, a young woman in her twenties, greets Scully warmly. She’s tall and brunette with an hourglass figure, and Scully has the passing thought that she is exactly Mulder’s type. She wonders if they’ve ever met.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment in Philly where you’ll stay for the duration of the undercover assignment, Agent Scully,” Wiley says in an authoritative though very high pitched voice. “We’ll leave your car in the bureau garage for the duration, but you can give A.D. Skinner your keys for safekeeping.”

Scully hands Skinner her keys and he sets them on top of his desk, rubbing his hands over a weary and sleep-rumpled face.

“I’ll fill you in on the case details on the way. Let’s hit the road, we’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us,” she finishes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making for the door.

Scully follows her mutely. Just as she reaches the door herself, Skinner speaks.

“Agent Scully?” he asks in a hoarse voice. She turns to face him. “I…I…” He keeps restarting his sentence, but never gets further than that.

Scully finally interjects. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. We all have a job to do.”

He nods at her with a grateful expression, and she follows Agent Wiley out to the parking garage.

The sun is just beginning to brighten the inky sky as they drive out of D.C. Agent Wiley is chatty behind the wheel as Scully leafs through the case file; once they get to Philly, she won’t have the opportunity to see it again. The only trace of Dana Scully in her apartment will be a burner cell phone, which she is to keep off and hidden in an air duct in the wall. She will call Agent Wiley at least every other day, or as needed, to share any updates. She is to turn the phone on only when she’s sure no one else is in the apartment with her. She is expected to get as close as possible to the other dancers at the club, one of whom they believe to be Mila Chamberlain. In the file, there’s a photo of Mila, a young Asian woman with a short blonde pixie cut and penetrating dark brown eyes. There is also her parents’ account of her disappearance shortly after meeting Ricky at a party, and their fears that’s she’s a victim of sex trafficking.

“Your cover is Diane Sellers, recently divorced and needing work,” Agent Wiley explains. “To our understanding, they won’t ask you much about your history, but it’s still good to have a backstory ready. It can be helpful to use real details from your life in regards to things like siblings, parents, and past romantic partners, just because it’s easier to keep straight. We don’t recommend addiction being a part of your backstory, in case that affects Ricky’s willingness to trust you. You should immerse yourself as much as possible with the staff, including spending time with them outside work if you can. You can have them over to your apartment, which is why it’s important that there’s nothing there that isn’t part of Diane’s story. It’s fully furnished with everything from tampons to Rice a Roni, but we’ve also set up a bank account and a debit card in case you need to buy anything. Once you identify Mila, call me. You should try to get as close to her as possible, and ultimately the goal is to confirm that she’s being held against her will. Then we’ll raid the club and get you both out of there. What questions do you have?”

Scully stares out the window at the cars rushing by. The pink sunrise illuminating the clouds on the horizon makes the sky look pinstriped.

“Why weren’t you asked to go undercover, if this is your case? You’re young, you’re very pretty. So I guess my question is why not you?” She recognizes the irritation in her voice, but she can’t help herself.

Agent Wiley glances over at her and back to the road a few times. “I can understand why you’d ask that. And I also realize that I haven’t thanked you for taking this assignment. It was a hard one to staff.”

Scully scoffs and turns to face the other woman. “I wasn’t given a choice, Agent Wiley.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, the reason I couldn’t take this assignment is that I have an ostomy bag, as a result of a pretty severe case of Crohn’s. I doubt anyone wants to see a stripper with a bag of poop strapped to her belly dancing around on stage.”

Scully closes her eyes against the shame that wells in her gut. “I’m sorry, Agent Wiley. That was rude of me to ask.”

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Scully. Honestly, I’d take my ostomy bag over this assignment any day. I don’t envy you.”

Scully turns back to the window, spinning up the life story of Diane Sellers as they drive on through the early morning light and towards her uncertain future.

Agent Wiley drops her off around the corner from her apartment with nothing but a set of keys and verbal instructions for where she can locate the burner phone. Her interview is today at 2, and the address of the club and interview information are on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. They bid one another an awkward goodbye, and Scully goes in search of her home for the next several weeks.

The apartment is small, a studio, and fully furnished. She can tell that Agent Wiley herself took care of decorating it; youthful touches like a sequined throw pillow and a magnet on the fridge with “Diane” printed on a tiny license plate give it a dorm-like feel. Many of the items appeared to have been thrifted, which will be important to keeping up her ruse of being a woman in a tight spot financially. She locates the air duct and the burner phone, turning it on to be sure it works before securing it back in its hiding place. She pokes around the various cabinets and cupboards to find all kinds of dried goods and snacks, and is surprised by the 6 pack of beer in the fridge and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The closet is full of clothing in her size, some of it basic jeans and tees, some of it tube tops and daisy duke shorts that she would never wear. Well, Scully would never wear them, but she suspects Diane would. The slip of paper on the counter reads:

Damsels in Dominance

1634 W York St, Philly

Ricky Dean, 2pm

She makes a face at the name and her stomach turns at the thought that this might be some kind of S&M club. It's just after 9am, so she has quite a bit of time to kill before her interview. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, so instead she takes a thorough inventory of all the cabinets and closets to see if anything important is missing. In the bathroom, she opens the medicine cabinet to find a full Oil of Olay skin care line right next to a box of condoms. What the hell does Agent Wiley think she has planned for this assignment? Her confusion deepens when she pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and is greeted by a book light as well as a small bullet vibrator. Either Agent Wiley went to very great lengths to make sure this apartment would pass the sniff test for anyone who decided to snoop, or….she doesn’t even know what the other possibility is. Adding some paperback novels to her mental shopping list, she slams the drawer shut and flops down on the bed. Mulder is at work by now, and she wonders how long Skinner will be able to keep up the ruse. Knowing Mulder, not all that long.

Mulder arrives at work just past 8, noting that Scully’s car is parked in her typical spot in the garage; she must have needed to stop by before heading to Quantico. He’s a little bit disappointed that she’ll be away for the next few weeks; the basement office is exceedingly boring without her. At the same time, he’s grateful for a bit of space to think.

The tension between them had reached a tipping point but now sits suspended, teetering between coworkers and friends or whatever lay on the other side. He’s made some attempts at pushing things towards the “more than friends” end of the spectrum, but nothing seems to come of it. He kissed her, and while she kissed him back and seemed receptive to it, she hasn’t initiated anything further. The night they played baseball together was fun and flirtatious, but again nothing happened. He’s getting the sense that any move will need to be made by him. Maybe Scully just isn’t the forward type in these situations, or maybe she isn’t confident enough that he’ll reciprocate. This time that she’s working away from the office might be the perfect opportunity to take her out on a real date, knowing that if things get weird they won’t have to face each other in the morning.

Entering the office, he doesn’t find her there; they must have just missed each other. He logs into his email and opens a new message.

Hey G-woman,

What time can you get away for lunch today? I was thinking about checking out that new sushi place on 8th. Or we can meet halfway, whatever works.

Would you like to get dinner sometime this week? My treat. Let me know.

Mulder

He hits send, then digs in to some more case reports that he needs to complete. He has a vision of Scully returning to find them completely caught up on paperwork and how pleased she’d be with him, and decides then and there to make it a reality. While he’s not generally an approval-seeking kind of guy, the surprised smile on Scully’s face when he does something uncharacteristically responsible is one of his favorites. The number one spot will always, of course, be held by the smile she gives him when he says or does something that truly strikes her as funny. He finds it hard to keep from smiling just thinking about it.

Two hours later, there’s no response from Scully. That’s a little bit weird, but not exceedingly so; if she’s working on a particularly gnarly autopsy it can take quite a while. When he still hasn’t gotten a response by noon, he first checks his sent email to be sure it went out, then picks up his office phone.

“Autopsy bay, this is Richard.”

“Hey, Rich, this is Agent Mulder up at the Hoover Building.”

“Hi, Agent Mulder, how can I help you?”

“Is Agent Scully around? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Not at all today?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, actually.”

A flush of worry spreads across his chest.

“Hey, Rich, are you guys pretty busy down there? I hear you have a big case you’re working on.”

“Busy? Uh, no, not really. Just business as usual.”

“Okay, thanks. If you see Agent Scully, will you ask her to call me?”

“Sure, will do, Agent Mulder.”

“I appreciate it, bye.”

He sets the phone down and sits back in his chair. Did Scully lie to him? And if so, why? Her car is here, so he knows she came in today. Picking up the phone again he tries her cell, which goes straight to voicemail. The darkest part of his brain worries that she came to the office but never made it to Quantico. He makes one final phone call.

“Skinner.”

“Hi, sir, this is Agent Mulder.”

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?”

“Have you heard from Agent Scully today? I’m having a hard time getting in touch with her.”

“She’s assigned to work at Quantico for the next few weeks, Agent Mulder, she wasn’t expected to report to the Hoover Building today.”

“I know, sir, but her car was in the garage when I got here and I just called over to Quantico and they haven’t seen her today. I’m a little worried.”

He hears Skinner mutter what sounds like “Jesus H Christ” under his breath before he speaks again. “Agent Scully is fine, Agent Mulder. She’s on assignment. I encourage you to focus on your own assignment.”

Mulder hesitates. “Should I take that to mean that she’s NOT assigned to Quantico?”

Skinner sighs. “All you need to know is that she is fine, but unreachable. You worry about yourself and let me worry about Agent Scully, got it?”

“Um, okay. Thank you, sir.”

He hangs up the phone even more confused than before. Scully’s behavior yesterday after she returned from Skinner’s office makes a little more sense; she was uncomfortable about lying to him. When he leaves the office that night, her car is in the same spot it had been that morning. He doesn’t like this, but he knows Scully was in the same situation when he was on an undercover assignment and he should just trust her, and Skinner, and wait it out. That’s easier said than done, and he spends his entire evening imagining all the dangerous situations she might be immersed in. Drug cartels, amateur mafias, cults, hackers, the list goes on and on. He can only hope that she’s safe.

Damsels in Dominance is an unassuming building nestled between strip malls and fast food restaurants. The parking lot and entrance are at the back of the building, a fabric-draped chain link fence surrounding it for privacy. Scully pays the cab driver, though now that she realizes how close her apartment is to the place she’ll probably just walk back. After much deliberation, she wound up wearing jeans and a blue T shirt, guessing that it would be out of place to dress up for an interview at a strip club. She pulls the front door open and finds herself in a small foyer with a counter along one wall, a hulking man perched behind it on a stool. Even seated she can tell that he’s very tall, with a broad chest and square shoulders. His neck is nearly nonexistent, thick and disappearing into the rolls under his chin like a tree trunk. His head is shaved bald and his deeply tan skin shows evidence of long ago healed acne scars on his ruddy cheeks. A small gold name tag pinned to his T-shirt reads “Denny.”

“Hi, I’m Diane, I’m here for an interview with Ricky,” she says with a smile. She’s decided that Diane will be the kind of person with an easy smile. The kind of person who makes friends quickly. She channels her sister Melissa, who would talk to anyone and somehow have them sharing details of their childhood trauma within fifteen minutes. If she’s going to get these people talking, she needs to be more like Missy and less like herself.

Denny nods with a grunt and stands, proving himself to be at least six inches taller than Mulder; her head barely reaches his waist. He comes around the counter to push open a second door and holds it for her, motioning her to follow. They enter one end of a long hallway, a door directly in front of them labeled “Enter Here to be Dominated.” They walk down the hall, past some restrooms and several other unmarked doors, until they come to one that says “office.” Denny knocks and a small woman answers.

“Diane, 2 o’clock interview,” Denny says in a flat baritone, then turns and walks away.

35 notes · View notes

cybertronian-cupid · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Would you guys be ok with writing something like sub non binary S/o of both (tfp) Megatron and Soundwave watching them have interfacing? Maybe they are tied up with some vibrator controlled by the other two inside of them? Idk fhfbc this is probably very specific lmao

Being specific when sending a request is GREAT ANON! 💥💥💥~Gregoria🏩

Thanks so much for the request, and we hope you enjoy~Mila💟

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

Soundwave's spike has been mistaken for an additional data cable many times during interfacing, causing a number of complications when his partners tried to connect it to ports it was not meant to go in. His cables, on the other hand, could go wherever and however he pleased.

At the present moment, one is tightly wrapped around his Lord's servos, the massive mech kneeling before him, helm bowed and sucking Soundwave's spike, sharp denta grazing the sensitive plating.

His other cable set a brutal pace inside Megatron's valve, building up the charge and causing an absolute mess on the berthroom floor. Lubricant spills out with each thrust and the moans he draws from his Lord makes it hard to keep still.

Sending a questioning ping that is answered with eager loosening of the calipers working around him, just enough for him to start a comfortable pace, causes him to grip the silver helm and begin thrusting upwards.

Megatron moans around him, the vibrations shooting right up Soundwave's spinal strut and back down to his valve, spurring him to increase the pace.

His charge climbs, and it doesn't take long until his lubricant is filling Megatron's mouth, calipers hard at work to get every last drop of it, the mech swallowing it all greedily.

When Soundwave's spike returns to its housing, he grips the mech's chin and snaps the grey helm in his servos up, dazed eyelights meeting his visor.

"Megatron: Overload."

With that command, his cable thrusts as deep as it can go, the tentacles at the end shocking a cluster of nodes as they reach them.

The valve cycles tight around him with Megatrons cry, the pressure almost crushing around the cable, sending an additional shock to the sensitive nodes.

The expression on his face is a gorgeous mixture of both pain and pleasure, and it has Soundwave struggling to not preserve the moment with a picture.

Instead, his visor turns up to the small perch where the human is bound, their tiny body shivering when they come a moment later, wide eyes fixed on the sight down below.

The handcuffs hold their hands high above their head, while silver ropes snake their way down their arms, weaving tightly over their torso in a diamond pattern.

The purple ones around their waist form a harness keeping the toy buried deep inside of them, their legs bound as they kneel and wait for his attention. Drooling around their custom made gag, adorned with the faction symbol that they shly presented to the both of them only a few sessions prior.

They look stunning everytime they unravel during interface, and this expression of pure delight joins the many others in the seperate folder tucked away in his processor, right next to the files of their suggestions. The newest file being the one that got them in this position.

"Can we do it without you guys shrinking this time?"

A dilemma that was quickly solved; a front row seat to the best gladiators of Cybertron, fragging in all their glory.

They seem to enjoy it even more than he expected.

His gaze flicks away from them, to the still erect spike between his legs. Purple biolights are pulsing fast and the lubricant gathering at the tip is dripping down to the mix smeared on the floor. Just looking at it has his valve cover snapping open.

He sends a command, easing the cable out of the still clenching valve, loosening the other around Megatron's servos. The silver mech stands with some difficulty and a moment later all but collapses on the edge of the berth, fans stalling and massive chest heaving.

Soundwave changes the setting of the human's toy to the lowest it can go, offering them a moment to return to their senses, while he makes sure Megatron's servos will be able to support their combined weight. He wraps both cables around the elbow joints, squeezing the metal in a secure grip. Satisfied, he positions himself over the tip of the spike, his own servos gripping the spiked pauldrons.

He almost groans out loud when the spike's vibrating mod turns to full force, his node brushing against it. His folds smear the clear lubricant back and forth as he rocks, his attention finally focusing back to Megatron's face fully.

Steam is curling from between the seams of the grey armor, faceplate heated with the bright blue of energon. Red optics dimly pulsing, half choked noises of pleasure making their way past the tightly clenched denta of his Lord and Champion.

Soundwave swallows dryly.

His lenses focus, enhancing the details, making sure the lighting is perfect for a shot he'll enjoy for eons to come-

When the human lets out a whine and his optics snap away, his visor turning towards them.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, them shrinking away with each silent second.

He bows his helm in a slow nod of thanks.

They relax and grow bolder, hips wiggling in place, soft whines muffled by their pretty gag.

He adjusts the settings of the human's toy to still completely, causing them to let out a muffled wail, and they strain against the restraints.

They did cost him a shot.

The warlord's hips twitch under him impatiently, tip of spike pressing slightly upwards into the dampness of Soundwave's valve, engine stuttering something akin to a growl.

He waits longer than necessary before he connects the toy inside their human to the frequency he wants, and in one swift movement slams himself onto Megatron's spike, drawing a sharp cry from both the warlord and the human at the same time.

He really has to thank Shockwave for his latest gadget. Seeing their human gasping at the stretch Soundwave is actually experiencing, their body reacting as if they themself slammed down on the spike that's nearly three times their size, truly is a sight to preserve.

When they catch their breath again, he sets a fast pace, the sounds of his lovers a symphony to his audio receptors.

#valveplug #tfp valveplug #tfp megawave #tfp megatron #tfp soundwave #tfp megawave x reader #anon

98 notes · View notes

thesimpanions · 5 years ago

Photo

⭐️ N E W V I D E O ⭐️ The Sims 4 | LONELY BOTANIST 🌿 | CAS & Lookbook + CC Links

Hey there! Today we're creating Autumn, a beautiful botanist who spends most of her time in her very own greenhouse. Watch the video to find out more about her backstory ♥

▶️https://youtu.be/XBIFIvcSZpY

CC Links

GENERAL Nose Preset: https://squeamishsims.tumblr.com/post/190629664347/nose-preset-3-by-squeamishsims-so-i-saw-kiwibli Lip Preset (4): https://squeamishsims.tumblr.com/post/186891910497/lip-preset-pack-by-squeamishsims-i-got-a-bunch-of Eyes: https://baieyu.tumblr.com/post/179216040640/still-feel-eyes-previews-heavily-insp-by Sectoral Heterochromia: https://viiavi.tumblr.com/post/178404294098/salvia-add-ons-new-colors-sectoral Skintone: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-skintones/title/skintone-set-v3/id/1346781/ Skinblend: https://sunlitcrys.tumblr.com/post/190572765196/a-lip-gloss-skinblend-bundle-impulse-skinblend Skindetail Highlighter: https://nesurii.tumblr.com/post/182508085171/amaryllis Eye Bags: https://tamo-sim.tumblr.com/post/131942971200/basic-10-eye-bags-set-for-both-gender-child-to Nose Mask: https://slythersim.tumblr.com/post/172389355988 Nose Shader: https://simfileshare.net/download/977930/ Tattoos: https://peachiiesims.tumblr.com/post/189962785778/holiday-simlish-tattoos-happy-new-year-as-my-last

MAKE UP Lashes: http://kijiko-catfood.com/3d-lashes-version2/ Eyebrows: https://adiec.tumblr.com/post/185708180915/eyebrow-set-1-some-cute-lil-eyebrows-i-made-in Eyeshadow: https://simbience.tumblr.com/post/190820633265/just-a-lil-something-from-the-lovely-faaeish Eyeshadow: https://crypticsim.tumblr.com/post/190594545470/the-lotus-collection-inspired-by-the-lotus-flower Eyeshadow: https://dear-solar.tumblr.com/post/187077139650/dear-solar-the-chuuuuu-collab-this-is-a-korean Eyeliner: https://crypticsim.tumblr.com/post/190594545470/the-lotus-collection-inspired-by-the-lotus-flower Eyeliner: https://caelhinn.tumblr.com/post/190809835077/heart-shaped-wing-an-eyeliner-by-caelhinn Waterliner: https://crypticsim.tumblr.com/post/180694444347/passionfruit-liner-the-passionfruit-liner-is-a Lipgloss: https://amygdelights.tumblr.com/post/178575045526/this-is-my-first-cc-so-hear-me-out-glossier-has Lipstick: https://amygdelights.tumblr.com/post/178575045526/this-is-my-first-cc-so-hear-me-out-glossier-has Lipstick: https://pictureamoebae.tumblr.com/post/147259113679/real-lips-revisited-release Blush: https://glowing-deer.tumblr.com/post/185959252758/blush-and-freckles-cc-update-download-sfs-no

EVERYDAY Hair: https://www.patreon.com/posts/axa-spring-02-22-33666669 Top: https://www.patreon.com/posts/axa-spring-02-22-33666669 Skirt: https://www.patreon.com/posts/slavic-allure-cc-34025329 Shoes: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-shoes-female-teenadultelder/title/christy-flats/id/1348981/ Nails: https://simlaughlove.tumblr.com/post/163327412088/sll-rainbownails Necklace: https://kumikya.tumblr.com/post/188336354646/moon-shard-jewellery-set-simblreen-pt-1-hi-i Earrings: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-earrings/title/urban-earrings--christopher067/id/1469819/ Flower Acc.: https://www.patreon.com/posts/axa-spring-02-22-33666669

FORMAL Hair: https://softpine.tumblr.com/post/190683071589/%F0%9D%90%9F%F0%9D%90%A5%F0%9D%90%B2%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%B0%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%B2-%F0%9D%90%A1%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%AB-yes-its-the-tiny-living-braid Dress: https://sulsulhun.tumblr.com/post/190587503287/sulsulhuns-almost-1k-followers-gift-hiya-so Shoes: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-shoes-female-teenadultelder/title/madlen-zannone-shoes/id/1345408/ Earrings: https://love4sims4.tumblr.com/post/167050064008/solosims-baby-hoops-a-small-hoop-set-four Bracelet: https://www.renorasims.com/product-page/less-is-more-pearl-bracelets

ACTIVE Hair: https://aharris00britney.tumblr.com/post/187671833126/bowl-of-plumbobs-bop-x-ah00b-mini-cas Top & Bottom: https://deligracy.com/post/deligracy-grimcookies-cas-stuff-pack Shoes: https://mysteriousdane.tumblr.com/post/157369433768/adidas-gazelle-so-i-recently-got-a-pair-of-adidas

SLEEP Hair: https://www.patreon.com/posts/mila-hair-32007225 Shirt: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-clothing-female-teenadultelder-sleepwear/title/trillyke--moonwalk-pajama-shirt/id/1467080/ Undies: https://simgguk.tumblr.com/post/188863621639 Glasses: https://www.patreon.com/posts/remove-makeup-29396235

PARTY Hair: https://www.patreon.com/posts/axa-spring-02-22-33666669 Dress: https://kumikya.tumblr.com/post/190802068481/fleur-dress-happy-early-valentines-heres-my Shoes: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-shoes-female-teenadultelder/title/madlen-marius-shoes/id/1407602/ Nails: https://simlaughlove.tumblr.com/post/163327412088/sll-rainbownails Earrings: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-accessories-female-earrings/title/urban-earrings--christopher067/id/1469819/

SWIM Hair: https://www.patreon.com/posts/axa-spring-02-22-33666669 Top: https://phsims.tumblr.com/post/186503098810/another-bikini-set-thats-right-well-never Bottom: https://www.renorasims.com/product-page/sulani-swimwear-collection Sunglasses: https://www.patreon.com/posts/cat-eye-glasses-29397520

HOT WEATHER Hair: https://www.patreon.com/posts/axa-spring-02-22-33666669 Dress: https://www.patreon.com/posts/slavic-allure-cc-34025329 Shoes: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-shoes-female-teenadultelder/title/madlen-rosalie-shoes/id/1409990/ Flower Acc.: https://www.patreon.com/posts/axa-spring-02-22-33666669 Earrings: https://isjao.tumblr.com/post/170469878341/some-earings-3-different-style-of-earings-bgc Bracelet: https://www.renorasims.com/product-page/less-is-more-pearl-bracelets

COLD WEATHER Hair: https://aharris00britney.tumblr.com/post/189456863120/karley-hair Jacket: https://marsosims.tumblr.com/post/190197208581/taon-jacket-maligayang-bagong-taon-from-me-to-you Jeans: https://pinealexple.tumblr.com/post/175414263857/azariah-jeans-bgc-20-swatches-i-wanted-more Shoes: https://simtone.tumblr.com/post/179065116035/buckle-boots-10-swatches-more-cas-pictures Cap: https://www.saurussims.com/post/178448949408/mens-autumn-collection-a-few-long-overdue-wips

154 notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Whirlwind

Fandom: Bleach Rating: Teen Genre: Friendship/Romance Characters: Apacci, Yylfordt

The first time Emilou Apacci met Yylfordt Granz, she hated him.

Apacci was walking along the corridors of Las Noches with Harribel and the girls, minding her own business (well, not really – Las Noches was huge and of course she wanted to know everything about her new home), when the corridor in front of her exploded, debris flying as something was apparently thrown through it. High levels of reiatsu supported this theory when she and the girls were forced to stagger backwards slightly, although Harribel was unaffected, as a monster of an arrancar forced his way through the remains of the wall.

Clearly this beast was hunting something – well, someone. It was probably a poor unfortunate arrancar that happened to get in its way at the wrong moment. She was proved right when the initial debris settled enough for long blond hair to be visible as its owner stood up, evading a punch from the giant as they did so.

Apacci's first thought was to go to their aid, believing them to be female – what male had hair like that – but as the rest of the dust settled she could make out more details and realised that, astonishingly, they were male. A male with a very cocky grin, who was calling out various jeers and clearly didn't consider himself to be a victim even though it was clear who the stronger arrancar was.

Any desire to help fled. Males could fend for themselves, for starters, and this one's attitude just screamed that the whole situation was probably his own fault. Still, it was an interesting show and she was clearly not the only one to think that way, judging by the small crowd of arrancar coming to spectate.

One of the giant's lunges appeared to make contact, as the blond male was thrown back into the wall, not far from where she was standing, and she turned to look at the new mess, surprised that he hadn't been sent through the wall, considering how much of a hit that had been.

For a moment, everything was still, and she wondered if he was dead. Served him right.

But then there was movement as he pulled himself to his feet, not as shakily as she'd been expecting, either. Drawing himself up to his full height – he was a fair bit taller than her, it seemed – he spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and facing his opponent.

"You hit like a girl," he drawled, extending an arm in an obvious 'come' gesture. "Is this the extent of the diez's powers?" His jeers were interrupted by a roar from the giant, who was apparently an Espada, and a punch, which he just barely evaded. The monster pulled back his arm for another hit and the blond's body tensed slightly, preparing to spring out of the way again, Apacci assumed.

"Yammy." The monotonous voice cut through the atmosphere like a knife and the diez's arm lowered to his side, the giant looking over his shoulder at the tiny white-skinned arrancar that had just appeared. "We have a mission. Come."

"Once I've killed this one, Ulquiorra," Yammy retorted, his arm once again rising. He was interrupted by the white arrancar.

"There is no need to waste your strength on trash of that calibre," he droned, turning and walking away. "Come."

Apacci was surprised when Yammy obeyed, shuffling away without a backwards glance at the blond, who still had that cocky grin etched firmly on his face as he watched the retreating back.

"Dammit," an arrancar near her muttered quietly. "It was good watching that bastard getting beat up for a change." Other quiet voices agreed, never above a murmur. Apacci wasn't sure which of the battling arrancar they were talking about, until she noticed that the blond was suddenly standing behind the first one to speak, a cero charging in the hand pressed to the arrancar's back.

"If you wanted to see me getting beat up, you should have trained until you could do it yourself, bro," he taunted, although the look in his eyes was slightly more serious than the tone. "Too late now, though." The cero released, obliterating the arrancar with minimal effort, but maximum mess.

Apacci had seen enough, and was beginning to walk away, accompanied by the other females, when the blond appeared in front of them.

"You lot are new, sisters," he said with a grin. "Haven't seen you before. I'd remember such pretty faces." Apacci didn't know if she was imagining that he looked at her a bit more than the others, but that didn't matter. This guy was getting on her nerves, and her leg struck out, determined to kick that smug smile straight off his face.

He caught her ankle without any visible effort at all and she felt like screaming in frustration, before one hand tried to punch him. He caught that too. Now she knew she had his undivided attention. His crimson eyes were fixed on her. Not liking it, she sent her other fist flying towards his face, just as a bellow made itself known.

"Yylfordt!"

The blond dropped her ankle and caught her fist instead as she staggered slightly.

"I guess that's my cue to go," he said nonchalantly, that smirk still on his face. "You'll have to beat me up some other time, sis." He leaned in slightly and winked, his face almost split in half by his grin, before disappearing.

She was frozen for just a moment before her face flushed in anger and she began to yell profanities in the vague direction he'd disappeared. She hadn't even been an arrancar a day and already she'd found someone she wanted very, very dead.

The next time she saw him was several days later. She was still wandering the vastness that was Las Noches, learning her way around, when she saw him leaning nonchalantly against the wall. From the way he was looking at her, it was almost as if he had been waiting for her.

Well, fine. If he wanted to die so much, she'd oblige. There was no waiting around to greet him – she stormed straight up to him, her fist headed for his face while her leg came up to kick his chest in.

Just like last time, he caught both attacks, seemingly unaffected in the slightest, which irritated her. He wasn't an Espada, she knew that much about him, so he couldn't be much different in power to her.

"Slow down, sis," he laughed, letting her leg go but not her wrist. "I don't even know your name yet!" She scowled, debating whether this low-life really deserved to know her name. While she pondered she watched him closely. He wasn't covered in blood this time, and his uniform was spotless. Clearly he was recovered from whatever damage he'd taken from the diez's attacks.

"Apacci," she finally conceded, although accompanied the answer with a knee towards his groin. His hand once again got in the way, to her extreme frustration.

"Yylfordt," he replied. She'd guessed that already. "Nice to meet you, sis." She tugged her wrist back before aiming another punch at his nose. He knew her name now – he could bloody well use it!

He caught her fist again, before glancing to one side. She wasn't falling for that trick, even if he even schooled his face into a different expression – a mixture of exasperation and sulkiness – and kicked him.

Her foot met air as he suddenly appeared behind her.

"Gotta go, sis," he said, almost sounding apologetic. "Later, Apacci."

By the time she realised he'd actually used her name, he was gone. With a huff, she stalked off back to Harribel-sama's palace.

"If you walk around with that scowl on your face all the time, you'll get stuck that way," Sung-sun murmured airily as she returned, and her frown deepened.

"Shut up, snake-bitch!" she snapped.

"She's not like that all the time," Mila Rose piped up, her arms crossed under her breasts. "I bet a certain blond arrancar's got under her skin again."

"He has not!" Apacci barked, fuming. Yylfordt had not got under her skin. Not at all. He was just an arrogant, smirking good for nothing with an aptitude for running away when it suited him. "Bloody coward," she grumbled under her breath.

Chuckles told her that both her companions had heard her, and she stomped back to her room. She'd beat him. That would show them all.

The next time she saw him, it was somewhere she had never expected to, although in hindsight it was probably obvious.

Aizen-sama had called a meeting. That was not unusual – Harribel-sama appeared to spend much of her time secluded away with the rest of the Espada in conference with their shinigami leaders. What was unusual was that this time, the gathering was also extended to fracciónes. She and the girls proudly followed their leader into the large room, standing behind her as she perched on an outcrop that served the female as a seat.

Looking around, she took in her fellow arrancar. There was Yammy, and Ulquiorra, and the other arrancar she had come to know as the Espada – Starrk, asleep in the corner, Barragan on his throne of bones and surrounded by his personal miniature army, Nnoitra with his silent fracción standing to attention behind him, Zommari and Aaroniero both silent and alone, and the pink-haired freak known as Szayelaporro she had heard very quickly to stay away from. They were waiting for one last Espada, it appeared.

The door slammed open with far more force than necessary, and the violent, destructive and abrupt Espada she disliked almost as much as Yylfordt stormed in, hands shoved deep in his pockets and a scowl on his face. She didn't like him; even when he scowled, his eyes still held a predatory gleam that sent a shiver down her spine.

What she liked even less was his posse behind him. She hadn't known he had fracciónes – the way he acted, she didn't think any would survive – but he was trailed by five arrancar, making his fracción army the second largest present. Her eyes followed one of the five, narrowed in distaste as Grimmjow sat on his perch, most of his fracciónes gathering behind him, either standing or in a crouch. All except one, as Yylfordt nonchalantly joined his master on the perch, the only non-Espada to dare to sit.

No-one commented on it, although out of the corner of her eye she saw Szayelaporro's eyes change as they met with the crimson ones belonging to her nemesis. Something like annoyance, she thought, while Yylfordt's eyes held clear amusement, and even a challenge. Interesting.

She hated him even more.

Aizen-sama arrived, his timing so perfectly after Grimmjow's arrival that she knew it was no coincidence. His eyes passed over them all, not even giving Yylfordt's blasé position a second glance before he began to talk.

The meeting passed without much incident, if she ignored Grimmjow's interruptions at everything he didn't agree with, which was a lot. She was amazed that Aizen-sama let him get away with so much, when no-one else dared even breathe loudly during the meeting. Even Yylfordt wasn't that stupid, although now she saw where his suicidal attitude came from. Like master, like fracción. If she ever resembled Harribel-sama so much, she'd be honoured. Then again, her mistress was a far better role model than Grimmjow.

Leaving the meeting room, she found him blocking her way in the corridor. Well, he was slouching against the wall, with his master and other fracciónes a short way away, but she had to walk past him. So he was blocking her way. Especially when he greeted her with a smirk, and called her 'sis' again.

He was just begging to be kicked, so she obliged, only to snarl in frustration as he caught her attack. There was no way he was stronger than her. He had to have some trick up his sleeve. She reclaimed her leg as she punched his face, only for that to be caught as well.

"Move out of the way," a smooth, yet irritated voice, ordered, and she looked over her shoulder to see Szayelaporro there, who brushed past the two of them and continued on his way. "As entertaining as this must be, I have no wish to watch a bull-headed idiot get beaten by a woman."

"Love you, too, lil bro," Yylfordt retorted at the retreating back. A gloved hand waved disdainfully at him as Szayelaporro turned a corner.

"Don't come crying to me when you lose, aniki," floated back at them, and Yylfordt chuckled.

Apacci was confused, but filed that away later to think about when there wasn't an annoying blond in her face. Only one thing was important from the octava's little interjection, and that was that she was going to win. An Espada knew she could beat the hell out of this blond jerk, and she was going to prove him right.

She ignored the part of her brain, which sounded suspiciously like the observing Sung-sun, that said he had not been serious and was just using her as a verbal barb against the blond. She was not another arrancar's weapon!

He still had hold of her fist, so she threw the other one, accompanied by a kick. He only had two hands, and if he let go of her fist that would hit him, too. She had him cornered.

His head tilted to the side and her fist buried itself in the wall where it had been, catching some of his hair in the process, as he caught her leg. He smirked at her triumphantly.

"What now, sis?" he gloated. "Szayelaporro always talks nonsense, by the way." She glowered at him. She was going to wipe that smug look right off his face!

The question was, how? Whatever trick it was he used. It blocked everything she threw at him.

She took another look at his smirking face, as he opened his mouth to no doubt say some other degenerate thing she didn't want to hear. She really didn't want to hear it, and had a flash of inspiration.

She crashed her lips against his, and it was her turn to smirk as she felt him gasp, his hold on her wrist slackening. He hadn't anticipated that.

Tempting as it was to use the distraction to beat him to a pulp, it was more satisfying to just back up and walk away, not looking at him. Well, she snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye and saw his cheeks were more flushed than usual, but that was it and she was careful not to let anyone notice as she strode off, head high and satisfied smirk on her face.

As she and the girls left, turning the same corner Szayelaporro had earlier, she heard raucous laughter.

"She got you there, Yylfordt!"

She didn't see him again for a week, but when she finally found him in the corridor, the confidence he exuded didn't seem quite so sure of itself.

Apacci, on the other hand, was very sure of herself. With the help of a few quiet words from Harribel-sama – not the girls, who thought she was being stupid in what she believed was their first ever agreement – she had thought very carefully about her relationship with the blond. Harribel-sama was of the opinion that the blond had been flirting the whole time, and backed up her point with his lack of complaint about the kiss.

For her part, Apacci was forced to accept that she had been obsessing about him a lot, even if it was all negative. Again, Harribel-sama had had an opinion, which was that she was protesting too much.

Well, either way, the kiss had been a good one, so she strode over to him, watching him tense as his eyes flicked over her body in an attempt to work out what she was about to do.

Despite his preparations, he still clearly hadn't considered a second kiss possible as she caught his collar with both hands and slammed him against the wall for a repeat. He didn't respond this time, either, although he was watching her curiously as she pulled away, not letting go of his collar this time.

"What are you trying to start, Apacci?" he asked her, his tone as serious as she'd ever heard it. "If you're not, walk away now."

Apacci didn't know what she was trying to start, except it seemed like it would involve seeing the blond a lot more often. His head was getting closer to hers again and she made a snap decision, pulling him across the small gap and kissing him again.

This time he responded, and she decided that this was the right decision. Harribel-sama had been right. Then again, she usually was.

From then on, she saw a lot more of Yylfordt Granz – she finally found out his last name, and it confirmed what his interaction with Szayelaporro had hinted although she had been surprised to discover he was the oldest – and didn't regret it at all. His attitude had a certain charm to it, when viewed correctly, and his grin was actually quite alluring.

And, of course, his kisses were fantastic.

Some months later, she wandered over to their usual meeting place, wanting to know what was going on. He had disappeared not long after Ulquiorra and Yammy's report on the substitute shinigami, and she wasn't happy. Still, he would reappear soon. He always did. He'd probably just been sent out recruiting, or his brother had demanded his presence in his lab, as had been becoming rather frequent ("It's fine, he just wants to check some things"). He'd be back soon.

She waited for hours, tapping her foot to measure the time. Sometimes he took a while. Sometimes.

"All arrancar are to report to the meeting hall." Aaroniero's annoying broadcast cut through her musings and she scowled, but moved. At least Yylfordt would be there.

It was a short meeting, and Yylfordt wasn't there.

He'd never be there again.

#bleach fanfiction #bleach #emilou apacci #yylfordt granz #yylpacci #yylfordt x apacci #canonical character death #canon compliant #arrancar #whirlwind #tsari writes fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

arixdnita · 5 years ago

Text

!! Nations are at war and it’s been said ariadna borbón of spain has taken a stand. she is twenty one years old and serve as princess. They are known to be charismatic but also disingenuous. With the world at war, this loyalist is deciding what moves to make next. Where those moves take them? Only fate can decide.

Name, Station, & Age: Princess Ariadna Borbón, twenty one

Kingdom/Territory: Spain

Birth Country: Spain

Loyalist/Revolutionary/Unaffiliated: Loyalist

Opinion on Territorial Independence (2-3 Sentences): the blood of spain runs thick through her veins, and if there is one thing the borbón dynasty know: it’s glory. the mere notion of losing everything her father and his armies have worked for, territory and all, has overcome her like a sickness. it won’t happen. it can’t.

Appearance (Distinguishing Details): deep-set eyes of a mahogany hue, or as her mother once called them, molten copper, what precedes ariadna is her raven hair, often braided, sometimes not, that falls just beneath her ribcage.

Demeanor: as she was bred to be, ariadna is dignified and orthodox, some might say uptight. if there was a book on how to act as a ruler, she’d read it, inhaled it, ingested it, twice over. despite this, she is soft-spoken with a heavy head on her fragile shoulder that can be sensed a mile off.

Positive Traits: proud, solemn, reverent, staunch

Negative Traits: uptight, volatile, arbitrary, arcane

Primary Goal: to keep her country’s territories at any cost

Deepest Fear: disappointing his father and putting an end to the borbón dynasty

Bio: tw: death, disorder ♔ while most come intro the world crying, ariadna entered the world screaming; a tiny bundle of mocha and raven. made of wrath and pride in equal parts, ariadna was the product of true and revolutionary love. her father, the king, a feared man among the common people. as respected as he was ruthless, it was his wife mila that acted as the calm to his storm. ♔ for so long, ariadna would mistake the teething process for the crunch of the silver spoon wedged permanently in her mouth. she wanted for nothing, and was granted everything. everything her father could grant his young daughter in her delicate hands - he would. showcased at every royal gathering, ariadna learned to curtsy and wave at her subjects long before she learned to gather who exactly it was that inhabited the vessel that was so loved across the nation. ♔ her first taste of tragedy took form in the death of her mother. the woman who would sing in the common folk’s tongue, songs of hope and adventure that ariadna would never have. the woman who soothed every fever, endured every tantrum and now; she was gone. a vicious plague that threatened many of her king’s people. many who would go unnoticed, whose corpses would be discarded of and turned into nothing more than fertiliser to help grow the crops. then, at least, they’d be useful. but not mila. ♔ a nationwide mourning took place in the wake of the queen’s death. those who once protested the rule on part of a woman of non-noble birth, now gathered in the begrimed streets and paid tribute to her coffin as it was drawn by the carriage. at seventeen years old, ariadna kissed her mother’s temple as she did to her, and bid goodbye to the one person who endeavoured to teach her more than pride and glory. love. ♔ now, with her father nothing but a shadow of the ruler he once was, ariadna fears more than anything that this fear could be equated to weakness. the borbón legacy now rests upon her pretty shoulders, and with every whisper of betrothal and alliances shunned, chewed and spat out by the young princess-- spain’s fate rests uneasily. * ariadna is fluent in spanish, french and english thanks to her immaculate childhood. * ariadna has suffered with intermittent explosive disorder as an adolescent. * ariadna is a loyalist to the core and will stop at nothing to ensure spain’s territories remain loyal to them, to her.

#⤷ a r i a d n a b o r b ó n | biography.#won intro

3 notes · View notes

ikesenhell · 6 years ago

Text

The Burden

Elysium, Part Four. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine in my Masterlist. NOTES: Nothing particular. LETS GET THIS BREAD -spikes my laptop and then apologizes profusely to it-

---

The Chairman detained them for most of the next day. Mercifully, between the three of them, they juggled new plans and training details and drafts for checkpoints along the main highways. Evening came, and they at last were free.

“I'm going out,” Napoleon announced, throwing on his sword belt and caplet. “Anything before I go?”

Jean frowned and lifted himself from one of the beds. “Then I will go with you.”

“That isn't necessary.”

“If you're walking into the woods after that bandit alone, then I should think you need another sword arm. Just in case.”

Napoleon accepted the offer with a smile and a pat on his friend's shoulder. Isaac just grumbled about having blueprints to draft and things to read, and together, the two men left the safety of the inn and headed about town.

Information was never hard to come by if you knew where to look. If there was anything Napoleon had learned in his time ruling Elysium, it was that two things always held true: One, people were more willing to talk if you gave them something first. Two, children always knew more than they let on. It was the second one he planned to lean on. They ambled through the red cobblestone streets, side by side, wandering down the winding roads, and—ah! A small group of children milled around an ancient well.

“Me first, Jer! Me first!”

“You still haven't said sorry after pushing me last week! I'm not giving you any!”

“That's not fair--!”

The center of the commotion—“Jer”, a lanky boy of maybe eight, split from the group and sprinted, a paper bag clutched to his chest and a stream of children capering after. Napoleon couldn’t help but laugh. They scampered around benches and in huge circles up and down the street.

And then Jer collided with a little girl half his size, both of them crashing to the cobblestones.

“Ah!” Napoleon ran to them. Jer looked fine, but the smaller child? Poor thing. Her eyes welled with tears, hands smushed against her mouth. Her scraped knee oozed fresh blood. He lifted her to her feet, and she wobbled uncertainly, but stood nonetheless.

“Look at you,” he soothed, patting her head. “You’re a tough girl! No crying, yeah? It’s just a scrape. Does anything else hurt?”

Jer clambered over, the paper bag still clutched to his chest. “Mila, I’m so sorry, please don’t tell Mom--”

“Hey now.” Napoleon set his jaw and tried not to laugh. “She’s the injured party here. Ask her if she’s okay first before you start begging for her silence.”

The little girl smushed her fists against her eyes, but nodded. “I’m f-f-fine.”

“Brave girl.” He patted her shoulder and watched her little frown transform to a shy smile. “That’s the way. What are you chasing him for, anyway? And--” He glanced up, almost wheezing with laughter as he realized the other kids had dispersed. Jean looked just as confused as he. “Your friends don’t stick around, do they?”

The boy shook his head sheepishly. “We’re not really friends with them. I, um… I got a present is all.”

Mila wasn’t so reserved. She stamped a foot and shouted, “He got candy!”

Candy? Napoleon shot Jean a glance. Candy was expensive, and neither of these children seemed particularly well off from the look of their clothing. “Is that so?”

“I--” Jer flushed. “Yeah. Look.”

The paper bag was crumpled and worse for wear, but its contents were unmistakable. The sweet scent of honey and sugar wafted from inside. What a rare treat! Napoleon considered them, wondering where someone might get a collection of delicacies like that. “Who gave you these?”

Jer squared his jaw. “I bought them.”

“Lying is a sin, young man,” Jean reproached softly.

It was difficult to tell if the child was more uneasy about sinning, or simply Jean’s insertion into the conversation. Either way, he folded easily. “I--they were a gift.”

“From who?” Napoleon prodded. “I’m not going to get you in trouble. We’re just looking for a friend.”

Mila scuffed her feet on the cobblestone. “A nice man with curly hair.”

“Yeah,” Jer added, uncertain, “Reddish-blonde curls, most of his face was covered…”

“Oh? Which way did they go?”

The siblings pointed out a nearby gate. Beyond that, the woods were clearly visible. Jean nodded matter-of-factly, adjusting his sword belt. At last--a lead.

“Thank you,” Napoleon soothed, patting both of the children. “Get home safely, alright? And share some of that candy with your sister.”

---

Tracking the footsteps out to the forest was simple enough. After crossing the boundary of trees--that was another matter entirely. He hated to ask Jean to use the Voices, and their quarry was well versed in hiding themselves. Little details mattered; a snapped branch here, a freshly overturned rock there. As quiet as they were, they still startled a flock of sparrows in their wake.

“That’ll tip them off,” Jean murmured, hand on his sword hilt.

“I know,” Napoleon answered. “Maybe that’ll be a good thing.”

“Maybe.”

Night swiftly approached. The light between the leaves faded from gold to orange. Soon they would turn back. But then, at the last moment, Jean motioned for quiet.

“I hear a river.”

He was right. They passed the thinning line of trees into a tiny clearing, the glowing twilight sky overhead glittering on the clear, wide water. Maybe another day he would consider this a wonderful resting place. For now, he had two concerns:

One. There was a small stack of discarded clothing on the bank.

Two. There was someone on the shore with a crossbow loaded and pointed directly at him.

“Ah!” Napoleon tried--and failed--not to laugh. “So you’re a woman!”

August (it had to be August, there was no one else he’d met recently with that same piercing stare and firebrand hair) cocked a severe brow at him. They’d clearly gotten dressed in a hurry. Their pants were wrinkled, shirt sticking wetly to their chest, water still rolling down their cheeks. Without all the armor, their curves were obvious.

“I’m not a woman,” they snapped back. “Put the sword away, General d’Arc.”

Jean kept the blade raised, but didn't move. “Lower the crossbow first.”

Napoleon pressed forward. “So you’re not a woman? You’re a man?”

“I--” August’s brows knit in confusion. “Is that really pertinent when I have a bolt pointed at your chest?”

“I have to know how to address you when you kill me.”

They rolled their eyes so far back that he wondered if it would stick. “Sword down, d’Arc. The crossbow goes nowhere first. It’s two on one.”

For only another moment, Jean hesitated. Finally, he sheathed his sword and tossed it to the soft earth. “You’ve shown yourself honorable before. I suppose I’ll trust you not to shoot.”

“I appreciate that. And you, Sir Bonaparte?”

Napoleon was already unbuckling his sword belt, but he laughed anyway. “I don’t recall introducing myself to you with my last name.”

“Find me someone else with the name ‘Napoleon’, and I will retract the association. I’m no fool. The moment you provided me your name, I knew who exactly it was I was dealing with.”

The second weapon fell to the ground. At last, August lowered the weapon--but kept it firmly in hand. They had fine features. Long lashes, severe brows, a full mouth set in a line. And the way they spoke; this was no peasant. They were educated. Napoleon appraised their foot stance and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” August scowled.

“I now understand why I didn't recognize your swordsmanship,” he gasped. “You fight like a woman.”

Three eyes blinked at him. Napoleon pointed. “She--he--they’re trained in women’s fencing. Look at the feet.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jean answered reproachfully. “I’m not familiar with that.”

August shuffled their feet. It was too late. Napoleon howled with laughter again. “You took a noblewoman’s sport, added a saber, put all your weight into it--”

“Don’t mock me,” they snapped, ears flaming.

“I’m not! It was brilliant! No wonder I couldn’t identify what you were doing--”

Up came the crossbow. Napoleon did his best to compose himself. When the laughter stopped, it finally went down once more.

“If you’re done laughing,” August snapped, “Would you mind telling me why you interrupted my bath?”

Down to business. Napoleon folded his hands behind his back. “Simply put, we believe we’ve walked into a trap with Penrith.”

A snort. “No shit.”

Jean narrowed his eyes. “So you knew.”

August merely motioned for them to continue. Napoleon followed up. “If you know who we are, then you know we come from Elysium. We were asked to come here and assist with a bandit problem. Obviously, you found us first--and you hardly match the description offered us.”

“I imagine not.” The bandit finally set down the crossbow, scooping up the pile of clothes from the riverbank. “If you two wouldn’t mind turning around?”

Jean swiveled on his heel instantly. Napoleon followed suit, speaking into the tree line. “They also seem to have some kind of knowledge about our party that we didn't want getting out. Otherwise, our stay in the city has been very tame, but given the discrepancies, we wanted to speak to you.”

A rustle of fabric. “What makes you think I’m that much more believable?”

“You were looking for something.” Napoleon paused. “That, and you showed kindness. It doesn’t fit the profile of banditry.”

“Mmm. You can turn.”

Gone were all the curves. August smoothed out their shirt, chest flat underneath, tugging on layers of leather armor and buckling them expertly, wet hair still clinging to their forehead. “Given the history between our two countries, I’d think you’d be reluctant to trust anyone.”

A half-decade of bloody war hung unspoken. Penrith always claimed that the aggression on Elysium’s borders was only perpetuated by their former Chairman. They’d repeated as much over and over again. But words--oh, words and peace treaties didn't bring back the dead, nor did it absolve Napoleon of his responsibility to Them. He always had to be cautious.

“True.” Napoleon agreed.

“So I presume whatever I say will be taken with a grain of salt?”

“That would be the case. Unless you can prove it, sir--mada--”

“Sir works.” August yanked on a pair of gloves and flung the crossbow easily over their broad shoulder, finally coming closer. The smell of fresh lavender soap and clear river water hovered around them. “I won’t give you words, then. I’ll give you proof. How does that sound?”

“I’ll accept that.”

“Perfect.” They lifted their proud chin, working a scarf over their face until only their eyes remained uncovered. “Go to the central plaza fountain tomorrow at dusk. You’ll find a priest with a coin. He’ll show you.”

“And what if I’m walking into an ambush?”

August simply shrugged. “Then kill them. I doubt you’ll be going alone. I have nothing to gain from seeing either of you come to harm. Tomorrow, dusk, central plaza fountain. That is the terms to truth. I can’t risk letting on what I know without some buy-in faith.”

Then that was that. Napoleon nodded, reaching for his sword belt. August nodded firmly back, rounded on their heel, and stalked toward the tree line. Jean merely stood for one moment--then lunged forward. “Wait.”

They stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“I--” Jean stood wordless for what felt like eternity. “Thank you. Your kindness in untying me was unnecessary--”

“--No, no, that’s--don’t thank me for that.” Did they sound flustered? “It was nothing. You were--it seemed you were panicking. It was simple enough to do.”

A beat. Jean stuck out his hand. August stared, then, slowly, took his, clasping tight.

“God be with you,” Jean murmured.

And those bright eyes crinkled, like a thousand colors bursting in the height of summer and blooming all at once. “I hope you realize that I don’t know the appropriate response for that. But thank you. And with you as well.”

Finally, they released each other. Jean charged back, head high, Napoleon following him back into the underbrush. Overhead, the sunlight faded and the stars emerged, a thick blanket of night sounds swallowing them whole. Bit by bit, they picked their way back through the woods and out onto the road.

Napoleon finally allowed a chuckle. “They’ve got expressive eyes, don’t they?”

Jean blinked like a man emerging from a dream. “What?”

“Expressive eyes. August. When you shook hands.”

His friend and second in command released a tiny strangled noise before managing a feeble, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lying is a sin, Jean.”

The poor man looked so stricken in the moonlight that Napoleon doubled over in his tracks, laughing until his throat scratched. Jean did his best--but after only a few moments, he cracked a faint smile, smoothing his uniform with nervous hands. “Forgive me, I--I didn't think when I said that--”

“No, no. You’re forgiven, friend.”

They made it back to town before the gates closed. Napoleon cast a glance into the central plaza as they headed back to the inn, the red brick fountain bubbling with life, and wondered what they would find there tomorrow.

#Ikevamp #Ikevamp Jeanne #Ikevamp Jean #Ikevamp Napoleon #Elysium #ikevamp medieval fantasy au #The Burden #my writing #nb MC #August #nonbinary mc

45 notes · View notes

roraruu · 5 years ago

Text

wip: maneater

tw: blood and gore

past the point of editing anymore lol

She sees Mila. She sees everything so starkly clear for a brief second. Mila’s expelling from Archanea, flocking to Valentia. The ages-long war with Duma. The battles of Rigel and Zofia, the rise and fall of the Zofian king and the preposition of a calendar. The changing seasons and flowers that all come and go and then her, as a child in the church in Rigel, running through vineyards with other children.

Then, a deafening crash. She’s at the gates of the cemetery, a guttural laugh filling the air as her eyes open, seeing everything so precise, so clearly. From the drops of dew on the grass beneath her feet to the ragged chips and rust that take over the iron gates.

Gnarled fingers curl around the bars, knuckles white. “You’re a long way from your priory, cleric.”

Python.

Her head snaps up, too quickly much too quickly. She moves quick, faster than any human should be able to.

Human. She is human after all.

Above, on some ungodly high, she sees him moving towards the dying sun. An feels the burn of venom tracing through her body.

She cries out, no noise being made but deafening all the same. Her eyes, vision flickering crazily flock to the source of her pain. Her wrist. It drips with blood and black venom, his teeth indented into her skin.

Mila above. She looks quickly around, as if anyone can explain whatever has happened to her.

Then, at the edge of this plane, she comes back. Her eyes flutter open, taking in every sight before her eyes, of the blood stained roses and rain lilies before her, of her satchel spilt out over her, the relic just inches from her. Silque reaches out to touch it and gasps loud and hard when it burns her fingers.

The relic burns her, blinding pain running through her fingertips as she pulls back. It’s holy magic running though her body like the tingling burn of white magic.

Python is walking forth into the sunset. This is sick, like some tale of star crossed lovers sent to die.

Golden hour approaches, the sun scorching along the horizon like a deathly plague. It is the time when day and night collide for only a moment, the last chance for him to flee. But Python walks closer and closer to death. Silque can only reach out for him helplessly.

His steps grow more and more laboured until—

Silque pushes her legs as far and as fast as he can, it’s a little more than a stumble towards him, reaching out helplessly like a child.

She fumbles forward, weakly calling out. “S-Stop.”

He continues to walk, his boots dragging in the dirt. Silque moves further out of the forest, the sunlight growing brighter. Newfound instincts tell her to run and fast; but she won’t leave him. “Y-You’ll d-die.” She begs.

He slows a little. She forces herself forwards, tripping over her feet. She lurches into his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. “Py-Python please.”

Slowly, Python glances over his shoulder as she wraps her arms around his back, curling tightly into his shirt to tether him to her. The last calls of nightbirds fill the air like a death knell, the sounds of bells from a nearby town clanging to mark a new morning. She holds him with all her strength, begging him to look at her as if it is her strength, her love.

“Please.” Silque cries out, voice cracking. She bites down on her bloodied lip and focuses hard on him, her voice deepening slightly. “Look at me.”

Such focus elicits a reaction from him at last. Python turns around so quick that she sway and almost falls back. She wavers, reaching out for him. He stares at her with apprehension, anxiety and then disbelief.

“How are you—“ He begins but leans closer staring deep into her eyes. They linger about her face, then to her blood-stained white robes and hands. There’s still roses and lilies curled loosely in her hands.

She swallows back hard, an ache burning through her throat as she speaks again. The night has taken a toll on Python, whose tunic is smeared with blood and black plasma. Mud bites at the edge of his pants and up his trousers. He grabs for her, taking her hands in his and holding her close against his body. For a fleeting moment, she curls against him and allows herself to feel relief.

But it is all too quick. He pulls her a little, and she is still unused to new footing and the like. “We have to go to the cemetery. It’s the only place we can stay now.”

She feels a rush to her face, not quite heat or tears, but her eyes well. This time, tears won’t roll down her cheeks. Instead her vision blurs for a minor second, then returns to the overwhelming details that she had never before seen.

“Okay.” She manages, reaching for his hand. It’s freezing in his, all warmth gone. “I will follow you.” She says, softly and gently, a charm lingering in her voice.

Python stares at her with such curiousity for a moment, gaze lidded and softened. For a split second, she swears he’s about to kill her with a kiss. He breaks her hold on him and pulls her into his arms. The forest becomes a fleeting memory as they break through the gates of the cemetery.

The crash startles her, driving her grasp into his arm. “Relax.” He whispers.

“My bag.” She whispers, glancing around for it. He disappears for a split second, returning with the leather satchel and handing it to her. She winces, the allure and ache of the relic working harder and harder to keep her away from the bag.

“It’s the relic huh?” He says, her eyes flickering up to him.

She nods quickly. “Yeah, it’s keeping me away.”

“So... you’re really like me?” He asks.

She nods. “I assume.” Silque says glancing down at herself. The blood-stained down unsettles her. Her gaze flocks to where the invisible blade, Mila’s wrath, had stabbed through her gown and drove into her flesh. Her fingers trace over the mark, feeling only cold skin on her fingertips. “There’s no wound at all.”

“Really?” Python says, unbelieving. He cranes his neck.

Silque sidesteps. “H-Hey.” She whispers, swaying a little. “Privacy.”

“Why? I already saw you—“

“S-Stop!” She cries out, feeling heat flood her cheeks as the other vampire smirks. “Seriously, there’s already too much going on.”

“Fine, fine.” He relents. “But we’ll have to get you out of those clothes.”

Another invisible blush. Her gaze narrows.

“Get your mind outta the gutter.” Python says, smirking softly in the dark. “We have to find you new clothes and soon. Walking around like that... someone will think that you killed a cleric.”

Her lips curve into a frown. “But I did, didn’t I?”

Python stays quiet, hunkering down beside a rotted grave. “Nevermind that, how the fuck did you survive?” he asks.

Silque shrugs. “After you bit me I think I died...” She murmurs, slowly lowering herself against the ground. She steadies herself against an old tree for support. “But the bite settled in my system and must have taken over before I was completely gone.”

He simply stares. “You were different, were you not?” She asks.

“Curse.” He reminds her.

“So I was bitten. By you and changed.” She whispers. “Gods, I’ve become the thing I’m meant to hunt...”

Realization strikes her again. “The priory.” She whispers.

“Hey, hey Silque, relax.” Python says, touching her hand, she flinches away instinctively. “Listen, there’s not much you can do—“

“Not much I can do?!” She cries out. “If I go back they’ll kill me!”

“Then don’t go back, stay with me.” He argues.

“But I was supposed to...” she frowns, her voice dying. “This is Mila’s punishment.”

“Hey, look at me.” He orders.

She glances up into his red gaze, holding it for a moment. “I’ll protect you. If you’ll protect me and I intend to keep you.”

“Python, that’s not enough.” She says. “My entire life has been dedicated to Mila and her teachings. I can’t just leave it now, I’ve a debt I owe.”

“A debt to a Goddess who killed you?!”

“I submit to her no matter what.” Silque breathes, voice breaking. No tears fall, just a gasping cry that she covers with her mouth. Her hands begin to shake, convulsively as Python’s eyes widen.

“Aw shit...” He grumbles.

“What?” She asks.

“I didn’t think this through—“

Silque drives her hand into the earth, her nails digging into the dirt. Pain overtakes her.

“You’ve gotta drink.” He says. “Whatever’s left in your system is gone.”

“I will not kill a human.”

“There’s ways around it.”

“I won’t have anything to do with the undead.”

“Well I’m sorry Sister, but I don’t think you have that choice anymore.” Python says. He hauls off his cloak, throwing it at her feet and frowning. “Buckle in, it’s gonna be a long day.”

Silque does not understand the length of his words. Seeing Mila and everything and nothing was just the beginning. Throughout the day, she stifles blood-thirsty cries, clawing into graves and shivering out a fever that won’t break.

If she had have known that this was the exchange for eternal life, for him, she would have said no. But still, that light at the end of the tunnel, the possibility of becoming human again is too elusive too much to turn away from.

The horrible fever last three days, the sight of foliage and every tiny vein in every small leaf on the branches over her head becomes ingrained in her mind. The earth in permanently damaged from the flickering wrath that she places into it. She cannot sleep, no matter how hard she tries. The entire time, Python stays close by, watching on in concern.

***

Night falls on the third night of the fever and Silque can finally move. He kneels down to her level when the sun sets.

“Show me your teeth.” Python says.

Reluctantly, she smiles as he cusses and shakes his head. “What?” She asks, leaning closer.

“Your fangs came in.” He says softly. She closes her mouth and runs her tongue over the new, sharpened fangs that have come through; her mouth aches. “The hunger will come sooner rather than later.”

“So...”

“We should get something to eat.”

“I said I won’t drink.” She says. The ache in her throat says otherwise.

“You need to otherwise you’ll die.” Python says. “I’ll do the nasty stuff, just shut your eyes.”

“Python, I don’t think I can.” She says, getting up and following him. They stand on the edge of the graveyard.

“It’s not a matter of can, it’s a matter of doing, Silque.” He says passively. He holds out his hand to her, and she glances away.

Python turns away. “You may not be able to control your speed. Just try to follow me.” He says.

In a flash he’s gone from the cemetery. Silque takes a step on shaky legs, like sea ones and then another. She swallows hard then takes an unnecessary breath and takes off. Her feet move faster than ever before, the graveyard becomes little more than a spec on her memory.

She focuses on the back of Python’s shirt, her eyes wide and wild, taking in the sight of every thread before her eyes, every piece of dirt and blood that is stained to it; the smoothness of his skin below and the tense of every muscle as he runs.

Then, he stops.

Silque’s head whips around, trying to look at what he sees. Then she smells it. Something delicious, something fine. Python’s staring at a human before him. He holds a lantern, wide-eyed and scared. He looks like a messenger, wearing the symbol of the Zofian army. His eyes grow wide as he tries to speak something. Silque cannot hear it, sound is blocked from her ears, save for the thudding of the messenger’s heart.

But Python looks between him and her with side eyed realization. His lips move, but nothing comes out. The hunger sets in. The messenger’s eyes are stark wide with fear and Silque can smell his scent, understanding now what Python meant. He smells amazing, like wine and shieldfish and cheese; like a fine meal—

Before she realizes it, Silque has the messenger pinned to the ground, legs over his chest and her hands pinning his wrists to the earth. Instincts that have never surfaced before kick in: she brings her mouth down on his neck, tearing at his flesh and drinking him dry.

And when she’s finished and she realizes what she’s done she scrambles away from the corpse crying out.

“Hey, hey I’m here.” Python says, suddenly at her arm. His hands curl around her arms, pulling her up. She almost throws herself into his chest to look away from the corpse.

“I—“

“I’ll take care of it.” He says softly. Tenderness doesn’t sound right in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” she manages, no tears falling.

“It’s fine. We’re all like this when we turn.” Python says. “Try to clean yourself up while I take care of him.”

Silque nods, bites down on her lip and brings herself to look at her hands that are smudged with dirt and blood. She frowns, guilt hanging over her as she licks the last bits of blood off her lips. She catches up to Python, asking to say a few words for the messenger.

She forces herself to gaze upon the body, to commit it to her memory until the end of her days: be them mortal or immortal. As Python hauls his body into the ground, Silque wills herself to say Mila’s death rites, the words burning in her throat with every words as he fills the grave with soil.

“Hold on.” She says. Python stops.

She pulls the cuff of her dress down further and further so that it reaches the tips of her fingers. She reaches into her leather satchel, fighting back the nausea and revulsion that the relic works. It may have broken on her, but it is still full of Mila’s magic and blessings. Her hand shakes as she looks one last time at the silver necklace.

“That’s your relic.” He says cautiously.

“The Mother has left me.” She says. “The chain broke the other night.”

“And you wanna chuck it?”

“I have no use for it.”

“But what if those revival springs can make you human again?” He asks. “What then?”

“The Mother won’t have me, she’s made sure of that.”

“Silque, you could join another church—“

“Python, she spoke to me.” Silque’s voice is stronger now, as if trying to use her charm against him. He simply stares at her, hands in the dirt. “She said that if I abandoned faith I would have nothing and I did. She will not have me, no matter how much I repent.”

The other vampire simply stares at her and shakes his head. He pushes his hands further in the dirt. Silque drops the relic into the earth, watching as more and more soil is dropped upon it.

#ru writes #fe echoes #python #silque #forbidden ship #n ye the title is a reference to that nelly furtado song #vamp au #vamp au: electric boogaloo

4 notes · View notes

stjohnsglobal · 5 years ago

Text

Without a doubt, Paris has treated me well...

Paris has truly been nothing short of a dream, so much so that I wish I didn’t have to wake up anytime soon. It’s surreal— seeing things I’ve only watched in movies or read about. I’m blown away by the mere fact that I can just wake up and decide to picnic at the Eiffel Tower, or end my day by watching the sunset at Sacré-Cœur. The historical sites are wonderful, but I was also taken by the little wonders woven through the city, like the intricate architecture of the metro stations, or how the Parisians never fail to carry a book along with them on the train. Though a day is enough to fall in love with Paris, a month isn’t nearly enough to discover all the beauty it has to offer. I wish I could stop time for a moment here, but it’s almost like the brevity of it all makes me that much more grateful.

Though traveling around Europe from here is convenient, I found little desire to venture out of the city, save for Barcelona. I knew I wanted to immerse myself completely in Paris, leaving the weekends for delving deeper into the arts and getting lost any way I could. The first excursion I went on was to Le Crazy Horse Caberet. For the longest time, I’ve been in love with the art of Burlesque; a bit risqué, it dramatizes striptease in a skillful, artistic albeit humorous manner, draped in Old Hollywood Glamour and Vintage Pin-Up. Everything about the show, from the production to the performers, was unbelievably beautiful.

In the days to follow, I visited Shakespeare & Company quite a lot, choosing a random book and reading beside Aggie the Cat. Despite the many wandering visitors, the bookstore itself was intimate. It is a home for all those who love to read, myself included. My next outing was to the Louvre. I had no idea the museum was so massive! Unlike the size of the building, the Mona Lisa was tiny. It felt unreal standing in the same room as Leonardo da Vinci’s work. Musee D’orsay was next on my list. I was on a hunt for a particular painting: Dance in The Country by Renoir. It seems as though it only depicts a couple dancing happily, but if you look closer, you may notice that there is another person in the picture. Some interpret this painting as a hidden story of unrequited love. The woman outside the terrace seems as though she is longingly gazing at the man from afar, while he is staring closely at his dancing partner, who is beaming at the viewer outside of the painting. The secret admirer does not have a defined identity, but she has been dubbed by some as “The Peeping Woman”. A couple other outings I was able to experience was watching a ballet performance at Palais Garnier, walking up the Arc De Triumph, going to the top of the Eiffel Tower, seeing the Catacombs and strolling through the Palace of Versailles.

Every Wednesday, we would explore neighborhoods of Paris with the help of Matthieu, the Coordinator of Student Life. We first ventured to Champs-Elysees, where we discovered what is described by some as ‘the world’s most beautiful avenue’. Visitors flock to this street to shop, appreciating the high-end stores it has to offer. The next week, we made our way to Montmarte. By far, this was my favorite neighborhood. Matthieu explained that this neighborhood was enjoyed by visitors and locals alike. There were hidden gems sprinkled in every corner, like The Wall of I Love You and the its surviving windmills. The Latin Quarter was our next adventure. We painstakingly thanked the man that created the essay, Michel de Montaigne, by rubbing his foot. I tried Couscous, a North African delicacy, for the first time at Restaurant La Mosquée de paris, and it was wonderful! For our latest excursion, we went to the Marais neighborhood. We found ourselves in the Place des Vosges, which was a the oldest planned square in Paris. My friends and I visited L’as du Fallafel, a falafel sandwich restaurant whose line stretches down the whole street.

For our Fall Break, I was fortunate enough to visit Barcelona, Spain. During Fall Break, I took a trip to Barcelona. Watching the Cheetah Girls strut through its streets gave me high expectations, and I’m happy to say, the city itself surpassed them entirely. We planned to visit Park Güell, La Sagrada Familia, Casa Mila, the Picasso Museum and the Magic Fountain. Each experience was beyond beautiful. My favorite place to visit was La Sagrada Familia. Walking inside was unreal. I have no words for how the light spilled into the Basilica through the stained-glass windows. The high-reaching walls and intricate ceiling was so well done, it looked like something out of a fairytale book.

As my last detail, I’d like to include something personal. Last minute, I learned that my extended family’s business, Malagos Chocolate, was invited to Salon Du Chocolate, the biggest chocolate convention in the world, taking place in Porte de Versailles, Paris. Based in the Philippines, they farm and produce their own chocolate from Cacao beans. It was nice to see fans come up to my Lola, acknowledging her for her hard work. I was so happy to see her happy. It was lovely being reminded of home despite being almost 3,500 miles away from it.

Without a doubt, Paris has treated me well. Though I’m still here, I already miss it. I’m so very thankful to Matthieu, Dheeraj, Farida and Isabelle for taking care of us. Ciao for now, Paris. I’m ready for Rome.

Jillian K. Dorego, Fall 2019 Social Media Ambassador

#studyabroad #internationalstudies #globalstudies #paris #barcelona #spain #travelingabroad #westerneurope #discovertheworld #semesterabroad #sjuabroad #stjohnsuniversity #oieparis #sjuparis

2 notes · View notes

calpops · 4 years ago

Text

the milestone | c.h.

Your daughter reaches a milestone that warms your hearts during the Christmas season.

1.2k words

Day 3 of 12 dates with calmas | dates with cal masterlist

❅ ❅ ❅

“Five and a half months old,” Calum says in complete disbelief into a tape recorder in his hand, a new habit of keeping voice recordings for Mila forming as a chronicle for her life. Sometimes he speaks directly to the tape, sometimes he speaks to her and lets the tape record, and now he always has the recorder at the ready for the little noises and near laughter that she’s growing into.

Mila lays in his lap while one arm is wrapped around her for support. Calum looks down at her with a grin and discards the tape recorder on the couch cushion next to him. His free hand goes to her, fingertip lightly touching the tip of her nose to elicit the sweetest smile he’ll never tire of. It reminds him of you. For as much as she looks like him, he sees nothing but remnants of you from the inside out in her. Her smiles, the joy she radiates and the strength she has. Calum taps her nose again, watches as her smile grows and feels his own do the same.

“That’s mommy’s smile isn’t it?” he asks as she wiggles a hand and lets out a noise as if to confirm Calum’s statement. “Yeah it is,” he coos and catches her small hand in his, another little noise escaping her as he leans down to kiss the tip of her nose and forehead. “I bet your laugh is going to be just like mommy’s too.”

Mila wiggles again, hand moving in Calum’s delicate hold. Her feet kick just slightly and though Calum doesn’t want time to move so fast he can already envision her walking. She doesn’t even crawl yet, can’t even rock back and forth on hands and knees as a building block to crawling. All of her doctors warned Calum and you that premature babies often need extra time for the fundamentals but with her hand in his and feet kicking he can see it all play out before his eyes. Crawling, walking, talking, growing up.

Calum gives her tummy a light little tickle and her feet kick a little more. Her Christmas pajamas make the ordeal even cuter, printed little reindeer moving with her every motion. He wants to call you out to the living room to see this, to enjoy her while she’s awake but you’re resting in the bedroom after a night without sleep. You still worry about her during nights, the habit nearly broken but coming back together in times of stress. You thought she felt warm, almost feverish, worried she was getting sick, stayed up with her all night and by morning realized she was just fine. So Calum leaves you to your sleep and continues to entertain Mila.

“You know we have another surprise for mommy tomorrow,” Calum tells her, finding that he has casual conversation with her just as much as he would with you or Duke. “Don’t tell, but…” Calum continues and whispers plans for tomorrow to Mila as she continues to grin at the sound of his voice and the compliance of his hand holding her wiggling one. “You two are going to have the best Christmas season ever.”

Once his plans are laid out he dips back down and scoops her up so she rests fully in his arms and it’s not such a long descent to give her full cheeks little kisses. He’s not sure if he’s only convinced himself of it or if she truly does respond with noises and motions to affections. Wrinkling nose, tiny coos and kicking feet. With her in his arms and happy as can be he starts talking to her again, the tape recorder detailing all of the words he tells her for a time she can listen to them again and remember. Amidst the words Calum gives her kisses and tickles and makes funny faces, always chasing a happy reaction from her.

He stops short and falls silent after a sentence and a tap on the nose. Much more than a small noise comes from her, tiny little giggles play Calum’s heartstrings like a symphony. Her laughter is light and delighted, the smile on her face bright and full. The giggles stop after just a moment and Calum has to shake himself to pull himself back to reality and the newfound quiet. For a moment he doesn’t believe what he just heard.

“Did you just laugh?” he asks with furrowed brows. “Was that a real laugh for the first time? Mila! You giggled,” Calum adds on in a breath of enchanted disbelief. A puff of air escapes him and his arms tighten around her to bring her closer to him, to cradle her against his chest and get on the move to find you.

He goes down the hallway without a thought, Mila back to being quiet. The bedroom door is still shut but he opens it to find you sleeping. He hesitates for only a moment; deciding you’d want to be woken for this moment, for this beautiful and heartwarming noise and milestone.

“Sweetheart,” he prods in a gentle voice to rouse you peacefully, though it doesn’t stop you from waking suddenly and startled. He sees the panic on your face immediately and hopes his smile clues you into the fact that nothing bad has happened. Something good. Something worth waking for. “Mila just laughed.”

You rub your eyes and the tiredness away as the news slowly sinks in. “She laughed? Like… laughed laughed?”

“Downright giggled,” Calum answers and steps closer to the bed with a still cheery Mila. “It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes go wide in shock and then soften to a sadness, Calum realizing you’re upset you missed it. You motion for him to sit with you and ask with your eyes and outstretched arms for Mila to be with you.

“How? Why? What happened?” you ask as he hands you Mila and she gets settled in your hold.

Calum relays the previous events and sidles up to your side so he can face Mila as well. He tickles her tummy and taps her nose and watches you light up with awe as another giggle comes from her. Your smile stretches across your entire face and reaches your eyes with glinting happiness. Calum feels warm from the inside out, heart about ready to burst as he does it all again and another round of giggles comes from her.

“My turn,” you say and Calum watches as you make your baby laugh. Her giggles make you laugh and yours make Calum chuckle. “I didn’t expect her to be laughing like this so soon.”

“It’s all because of you,” Calum responds.

“I’m not the one who got her to.”

“Yes you did. Can’t you hear it? That’s your giggle and she giggles for the same reasons as you,” Calum explains with a growing grin. He reaches for you, fingers lightly tickling you as you laugh. “She got it from you.”

He leaves you with an overjoyed Mila, knowing there’s no way you’ll let her go for at least a while and heads back to the living room. He finds the tape recorder on the couch and realizes it’s still on. Her first laugh is immortalized on tape. He hopes one day that you can all listen to it and laugh again.

—

If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!

Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos @caswinchester2000 @wildflowergrae @cuddlemecalx @malumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @mariellelovescupcakes @xhaileyreneex @gosh-im-short @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug @g-l-pierce @talkfastromance4 @cashtonasfuck @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer @wastedheartcth @calumscalm @notinthesameguey @lukesfuckingbeard @myloverboyash @treatallwithkindness @haikucal @wiildflower-xxx @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood @drarryetcetera @another-lonely-heart @megz1985 @idk-harry @dinosaursandsocks @wildflower-cth @idontneedanyone @everyscarisahealingplace @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @karajaynetoday @333-xx @calumshpod @calumsphile @calumrose @justhereforcalum @grreatgooglymoogly @calumance @ashhhbeee @chicken-ona-stick @wish-you-were-here-hood @mantlereid @hemmingslftv @homeofpoetry @shamelessfangirl-3

#Calum hood blurbs #Calum hood imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #dad!cal #cal!dates #12dwc

110 notes · View notes

bffhreprise · 6 years ago

Text

Entry 270

“Would sitting this one out be horrible?” asked Shaurya, looking nervous.

The yacht had started taking us to Freeport before I was even up. We were supposed to do this ATV tour today. Luckily, I was awake in time for breakfast, because I doubted we’d have much time for food on the ATVs.

James quickly said, “Of course not.”

But at the same time, Marlin asserted “Yes. Completely.”

“I’ve ridden on ATVs before. They’re simply not my thing.” insisted Shaurya, looking even more worried.

“Have you ridden ATVs on a tour in the Bahamas before though? Mila tells me we’re going to have some great stuff to see.” argued Jarod, with his enormous grin. The man had proven even more impressive in person. All of them had.

“Well, no…” muttered Shaurya.

“Ha!” exclaimed Marlin, pointing her fork at him. “You know you’d rather be part of the story than the one simply hearing it.”

“Yeah, man. This is going to be great!” insisted Brandon around a mouthful of his food.

Jesse placed a hand on Shaurya’s shoulder as she said, “If you have a terrible time, I’ll pitch in toward that new armor you wanted.”

Shaurya looked at her, seeming surprised. His decision had been made. With a sigh, he conceded “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Yes! This’ll be awesome. The guild’s going to be so jealous when we tell them about this.” I stated encouragingly.

“They’re already jealous. Are you sure you’ll live through them getting even more jealous?” teased Brandon, every bit as goofy as I had imagined him.

“Bring it!” I told him, smiling back and pointing at him.

As we rushed to open our laptops, James said, “No time, guys. We’re almost to the island, and the limo will be waiting for us.”

“Come on… beating him will take under a minute.” I argued, knowing I was boasting. As goofy as Brandon was, his skill on Elf Hottie was admirable.

“Ha! Elf Hottie would take Sinister and his buddies out in one swing.” retorted Brandon.

He honestly could if we were idiots and charged him as a group. Thankfully, we weren’t. I had seen Brandon’s real life-skill at the paintball games. He had martial arts training and a mentality which conveyed well into Ancient Tribes of Earth. The best way to defeat him was to try making him frustrated enough to slip, but surviving long enough could be tricky.

Interrupting us, Lake said, “I’ve been wondering… who was that model you got to play your character when you guys did that convention?”

Brandon choked mid-swallow, coughing up his drink.

“Why? You interested?” asked Jarod, smiling suggestively at her.

“Maybe.” she replied coyly.

“I’m sure Mila has her contact information, but there’s probably a great number of legal restrictions against us releasing it, given that my company was technically being employed by Aaliyah’s at the time.” explained James, perfectly business-like.

James was tougher than I expected to read, but he seemed like the embodiment of authority. Despite being older than him, I often found myself moving around him before I realized it. No one in our guild, save for the Generals, ever challenged him to a duel or openly argued with his decisions. Seeing him in person helped me understand why.

In paintball, James moved as if he followed a script of the enemy’s movements, always placing himself precisely where he needed to be for an easy kill. As friendly as he was on the yacht, he also was a bit unapproachable, like someone too perfect to be real. How was anyone supposed to react to that?

“Laws take the fun out of everything.” complained Lake with a sigh.

Aaliyah looked ready to cry as she said, “But... but… but…”

Mila quickly told her “Don’t worry, mother. I always read every line.”

“Did you know Aaliyah’s an attorney?” questioned James, smiling at us.

“No way!” exclaimed Jesse, looking shocked.

“Really?” asked Marlin dubiously.

Aaliyah nodded without losing her pout… until she suddenly jumped up, exclaiming “We’re here!!!”

That tiny girl was as hard to read as James. She had been equally lethal and probably more vicious in paintball, using her size to confuse her enemies as she popped out to shoot them. She was also far more acrobatic than I would have expected from someone her size. Everyone who knew of her knew she was a genius. Her game by itself had been plenty of proof, but creating a fully aware, seemingly emotional A.I. was on an even grander level. Then she had engineering prowess to keep up with Jarod, who was easily a genius himself.

The strategies Jarod implemented in game were so far beyond most of the other Generals that we felt invincible with him as our leader. He seemed to know our personalities and capabilities well enough to predict how we’d react in battles against opposing groups from nothing more than my reports on them. I tried to be detailed, but I never got nearly as much out of what I saw as he did.

“You have time to finish eating if you hurry. I’ll take care of cleaning up while you’re out.” explained Mila.

“You’re not coming with us? I was looking forward to seeing what an android can do with an ATV.” I complained.

Mila’s limitations were a complete mystery to me. When we met, I had thought of her as an extremely capable maid, given her outfit and ability to stay on top of everything. Finding out that she was synthetic had blown my mind.

“Put you to shame.” teased Marlin.

“Well, yeah!” I agreed. Given who designed her body, I expected her to have superhuman capabilities.

Excited banter continued as I crammed food in my mouth. The food on this trip had been exceedingly delicious at every meal, so letting anything go to waste would be heartbreaking. I barely finished before we set off for the limo.

“David, I presume.” stated James as he shook the driver’s hand.

“Yes, sir. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Somerset.” he replied.

“How did you know his name?” questioned Jesse.

“I read his mind.” replied James with a smile.

For a second, I believed him.

“Come on, come on. Are you really surprised the man paying for everything would know the name of the driver he picked?” asked Jarod, breaking the spell.

James laughed and winked before stepping inside. He was such a tall, broad-shouldered guy that most things seemed too small in comparison.

“Ooooh.” replied Jesse as she came to her senses.

I couldn’t blame her. I had started trusting James completely within minutes of meeting him in person, which was very strange for me, but not trusting James was like earnestly arguing that the sun wouldn’t rise.

A short drive from the dock left us at the ATV place. There was a bit of confusion when Aaliyah presented her strange, black ID, but she was treated like royalty afterward. We all had to go through a basic training course to test our skills and help those who lacked them. Fortunately for us, we all had some skills. There was a modified ATV waiting for Aaliyah, which I assumed had been designed specifically for her. The bigger question was how it got here without the people running the establishment knowing.

“Excuse us, but you’re obviously in our way!” exclaimed twins in unison from behind Jarod. They were very pretty and obviously at least part Asian.

Acting completely unsurprised, Jarod turned around and said, “Heya, girls. Aren’t you supposed to be off on a bachelorette party, instead of bugging your fiancé?”

“We have a tour scheduled for this morning.” insisted one of them.

The other leaned against him as she said, “You wouldn’t want to interrupt our fun, would you?” She looked up at him with such an innocent appearance that arguing with her would be akin to kicking a puppy.

“You must be Ai.” guessed Marlin, speaking to the one leaning against Jarod. “I’m Marlin. I don’t know whether to congratulate you on pinning Jarod down or warn you about what you’re getting into… He seems like a handful in game.”

“Pleasure to meet you. He’s hopeless, but I’ll try to bring him around.” replied Ai.

“You two really are identical, aren’t you.” commented Jesse as she approached them.

“Not quite.” argued Mila, coming up from the side and causing Jesse to jump.

“Whoa. I thought you were back on the yacht!” I exclaimed, feeling almost as surprised. “Couldn’t stay behind?”

“I am on the yacht. This is my second body.” she explained with a small smile.

“Second body!?” exclaimed the twins. “Jarod!”

“How could you make a second one without telling us?” asked Ai.

Poking Mila in the chest, Mai asked “How could you be at Jarod’s bachelor party without telling us?”

“I helped too!” exclaimed Aaliyah, smiling adorably up at them.

“This is so odd.” insisted Lake. “But really incredible!”

A beautiful girl with multi-colored hair hugged Lake from behind and said, “Isn’t she!?”

Lake looked uncomfortable before turning to see who was hugging her. Then she smiled.

The girl released Lake and held out a hand, saying, “Oh. Sorry. I’m Emma. You’d know me as Toxicodendron Radicans.”

“Toxi!? That’s you!?” exclaimed Lake, quickly grabbing Emma’s hand in both of her own.

“Third Mila incoming?” I suggested, noticing one in different clothing walking our way. The possibilities for an A.I. controlling multiple bodies were endless.

“No. That’s my girlfriend, Alma, whom you know as Eseld.” stated James with an amused tone.

“Just look for the smile.” suggested Aaliyah. “Mila has one. Alma likes to look like this.” Aaliyah’s face went completely expressionless in an instant.

I wasn’t put off by finding out that this was the girlfriend. There were two more beauties behind her. One had skin and hair as white as snow, which seemed completely out of place in the Bahamas. She was considerably taller than the other two, but that really wouldn’t take much. The second one had the most voluminous blonde hair I had ever seen in person, partially hanging over one eye. There were sporadic dyed strands visible as they got closer. She seemed nervous, as if she wanted to duck farther into her yellow, cat-like hoodie, which I couldn’t understand wearing in this heat. I took a moment to realize she was wearing contacts, making her eyes seem slightly red and the pupils look cat-like.

“A pleasure to met you all in person.” stated Alma after she reached us. Pointing to the ivory, she said, “This is Calamity, who we call Portentia in person.” Then she motioned to the other cat-lover, saying, “This is Raine, who you likely know as Nekopawpaw, our guild’s most renowned crafter.”

I should have guessed. Anyone who would use the name “Nekopawpaw” had to love cats, not to mention that her game character was a cat-girl. She had seemed shy in the game, but I had trouble picturing this girl working as a best friend for hire at James’ company. Did she do something else there?

“If everyone’s ready then, shall we depart?” asked Mario, our guide.

“No training course for them?” asked Alec, looking surprised.

“Oh, they went through the course earlier. They’re good.” replied Mario with a reassuring nod.

Without any argument, all of us hopped on our ATVs and set off, racing along the roads and trails. The scenery was breathtaking, but so were the girls. I had a new picture of James’ company, feeling they could all be extraordinarily talented models, which would help explain how such a strange company stayed afloat. Ties with the Intergalactic House of Awesome Sauce and Global Princess Entertainment surely helped as well.

The guide was great, cracking jokes as he told us about different areas of the island. Emma had beef with the exclusion of plants in his speeches, pointing out rare specimens she had noticed, which only made my picture of the company seem even more accurate. Jarod informed me that Emma has a degree in Botany, despite only being nineteen. Everyone seemed to have fun throughout the trip, even Shaurya, who was taking tons of pictures throughout our journey.

When the other group went their own way, I was a little disappointed. I knew several of us had considered asking Raine about bumping us up on her list of commissions for Ancient Tribes of Earth, and getting to know the other Generals better in person would’ve been nice. Still, I couldn’t complain. Meeting them at all gave us bragging rights.

After eating on the yacht and doing a bit of gaming, we set out for private tours of various forts. Jarod’s enthusiasm for them surpassed the rest of us combined, but I always knew he was a nerd, though I never had considered this nerd could probably beat me up in real life. Aaliyah only fueled his enthusiasm by claiming there were hidden rooms in certain spots. Unfortunately, the tour guides wouldn’t let us verify any of them.

We finished our day with a walking tour of restaurants and rum, which surprisingly included a chocolatier who made some chocolates with rum. The entire group was careful to keep Aaliyah away from the alcoholic food, which was trickier than some might expect. I wouldn’t have thought the little prodigy would’ve been interested in sampling anything, but she apparently was. By the end, I was exhausted, but happy that my day had been so wonderful.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

2 notes · View notes