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rourhksapocolypse · 2 years ago

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An ugly scowl on my face, I struggle to my feet. I look with sightless, shrapnel-destroyed eyes at the woman - the Inquisitor - that had once been a friend and fellow member of the Company. Behind me, civilians (Imperial, Rebel, Company, it truly made no difference) cowered, but I could feel their souls, their fear, their tiny glimmers of hopes and dreams for the future. 'I made this,' I think to myself in that moment. 'I dimmed those hopes. And I've rekindled them, just a little, simply by being here.'

But that was - while of galactic importance - irrelevant.

The sneering outlines of the woman I'd dubbed Jason, that Vader and The Emperor had dubbed Thirteenth Sister, smiled viciously. "Do you really think you can stand up to me? You don't even have a lightsaber."

'Bitch, we didn't even have lightsabers during the Clone Wars, yet we still held largely even with the Order.' I gave a rusty, pained laugh. "All that matters is getting these people out of this hellhole." I grin nastily, given the sentience of this semi-biological cave was so Darkside, so hungry for pain and souls, it might as well be even as I made my point. "Even you."

I told the Dagger's engines to start us moving, and Jason took that as an invitation to Force Dash up to me. If she'd been hoping to strike me down quick, she was in for dissappointment.

Pouring energy around my hands, I took the atmospheric, anti-demon armors I'd been taught long ago all the way up to near Ray-Shield levels around my hands and parried, pushing her back blow by blow. Wax On like in Karate Kid to push her Saber to her left, allowing a speedy strike to her sternum, Wax Off to push it to my left and a strike to her stomach. Ah, she'd grown used to the armor, created by the Company or by the Empire, and her own speed being far superior as she delved into the Dark Side. She'd never known the advanced lessons or Jedi lessons I'd experienced to created for myself, never known what it was to be truly challenged it seems.

She paused for a moment, and I didn't chase, simply resetting my stance and prepared for the likely sub-par insults. Instead, she combined Imperial Arrogance with sheer confusion and curiosity.

"Why do you even fight? You were Imperial not even three days ago, fighting by my side only a month ago, and yet you stand, naked and defenseless but for your 'force' and merely delaying me, allowing my troops to come ever closer to them."

It startled another rusty laugh. "Three days ago? You must not've heard. I fought The Emperor and won! Though he still breathes, I fought him then as I do now: Only skill and the Force, in order to save a life." Then I pressed on, ignoring her broadcasted shock. "And I never forgot what was important! I joined the military to keep his eyes away from the Company - from the better part of fifteen thousand potential Jedi, potential Inquisitors! To keep them from the brunt of the war when they didn't even know it was coming! You joined them like some demented version of Anakin Skywalker hunger for power and all!" I snarled then, animalistic. "You wanted power, control, the ability to do whatever you wanted. And they gave it to you at the cost of loyalty and sanity. I gave them just another cog in the machine and a ticking time bomb that learned where best to explode - because I knew from the beginning, from the very moment I was born, that Sidious, Emperor Palpatine, would encourage cruelty and senseless destruction and the creation of a Sith Empire, the likes of which you represent in your own final form. And I knew we couldn't stop him from succeeding."

She dashed, trying to cover her confusion with rage and an assault and I blasted her away from the kiddies that didn't understand, yet. As she rolled, trying to use her meager combat training to regain her footing, I rolled on.

"Plan after plan came to me. Destroy Palpatine. Assassinate his character. Seek out and destroy Plaguis. Tell the Kaminoans the truth about the chips and their scientifically upsetting flimsy story of being aggression inhibitors and the truth of Order 66. Spread the truth about Sidious. Assassinate leading members of the CIS. Hide. Become a mechanic, become a rebel, form and lead the Rebellion to Restore the Republic, Kidnap Anakin, kidnap the Twins and train them to be War Jedi. Plan after plan, I dreamed of the consequences.

"I dreamed of a galaxy burnt to a crisp. Of the First Order and Last Order appearing decades early. Of becoming exactly like you: A replacement for Vader.

"And then, one night, I came up with a terrible plan I discarded pretty much immediately. Join the Empire.

"Only, it doesn't fail."

There's shock and horror all around me. Well, tough. They're about to see what I lived through, and why I did it. Assuming they haven't worked it out yet, anyway.

"I hide us all, even from myself. As little as possible is remarkable to the outside world, we're just damn good at whatever trade we ply. We participate in the Clone Wars, but draw no attention to ourselves if possible. Plans to assassinate Jedi fall apart, certain battles change because we are here, there, and in a rare moment everywhere. We have the technology and skills because the very ship we lived on saw what I knew and started training people, advising theft and weapon-making and war-training and spycraft of all sorts, and by the time the war ends, we're rather adept at it. And then, we come to a pivot point. We could've become Great, Notable.

"instead I crash the ship, refinements to that one plan that doesn't fail - the first and only that never failed, since I stopped looking after that - leading to us hiding when we did not understand our enemy, preventing overconfidence even as our cultural being was shattered as I ruin our home and disappear. I knew what would happen - the rumors, the hatred, the grief - and i did it anyway, because that was better than giving the Emperor enough Force-Sensitive troops to conquer the known galaxy in half the time, quarter of the time, it took him without us. And then I join the enemy, in accordance with the Plan, never revealing that I'd know the Empire was going to be a thing, something unpreventable, since I was five years old. I would heap hatred and scorn on myself from half the galaxy, in order to prevent every planet from snowing ash instead of a few dozen.

"I never revealed to anyone, barring three people, what my true alliegances were until I fought Sidious. I acted the part of the Imperial Officer until my bones cracked and my fingers bled, my only surprise at the mass murders that they took so long to begin. I led with dignity and honor even when it risked my life and sanity, because there was no other acceptable way to lead. I bleed, and likely die today, to deny Sidious everything."

"And what do you get from it?" Jason shouted as she finally reached her feet. "Praise? Adulation?"

"Scorn and the fact my family is safe, alive, and sane!" I shout back, body still ready to block any blow - a belief shown to be fact and she jumped towards me like she's suddenly Link from the Legend of Zelda, blade held high to crash down upon me as she landed, and I pull off a stupid anime move: The Blade Catch.

Using the Force can be a trying thing. Using the Force to hold in place a wispy blade of angry air I can't even see is worse.

But between my hands is an expression of how little power she truly has over me, how little understanding of the Force she truly has. Her blade doesn't move past my slightly spread hands, barely two centimeters away from face or either hand. Neither does her body, given how completely she'd committed to the move.

Then I redirect the energy from containing the blade to blasting her back, and I pull from seeming nothingness the overly shining, overly expensive hilt that once belonged to Sidious, thumbing the controls by instinct alone to show what I knew to be a red blade. I almost didn't care about Jason, though I did appreciate her shock with mild amusement.

"Don't have eyes to see? I've got the Force. Don't have a blade? The Company teaches neat tricks. A spell on the galaxy to push a perfectly natural belief that the Sith were extinct? I already knew the truth. And you? Destruction and death, those are easy. All that matters now, is keeping you, a barely-capable angry stick-swinger, away from these children that never knew the horrors they could've lived through."

I Lift my left hand, spread the fingers, and concentrate everything I have on one word and what it meant for the cave walls that wanted to crush us.

"SUFFER!!"

If you're reading this...

go write three sentences on your current writing project.

#writing #future stuff #final showdown #rough draft

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eppyhlton4573 · 2 months ago

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Fanart dump vent spree (+AU)

some of them have already been sent in discord a few days ago but cant help it but to post it again. help

this does include some au lore dump here.and by that i mean a lot of them if i were to guess, so be prepared for the word salad im gonna give to you if you want to delve reyt in

the first two above are mostly done early on like February this year or around the cruise to Kyushu, save for some remarks that i have already noted the date with around recently, to fill up every space i got. the rest ofc was by recent time as i finally got the confidence to do so

So, me AU's Parappa town (or generally the entirety of Rodney state, which i might also call that Rodneyshire for some reason) was located on the southwestern end of the Pearl Delta being alongside an archipelago, with the framework based around the vicinity of my home in terms of architectural and cultural sense

so far in me AU, Club fun was a nickname as that was the only that thing that remained glowing at the night, thank poor maintenance as the building was like 20 floors up if i recall seen from the anime. there were like logos which have some of the lights malfunctioning so i can see that being a plausible explanation as if to why its referred to as club fun. As a plus, our english was generally mild to even begin with. this results in stores bearing very generic names like a bar being named "HAPPY BAR", mic drop. so that can also work? idk we would more likely try to go for some meaningful name and then try to anglicize it while translating it to english and then call it a day. Kind of like Telford Gardens for example.

so this is my take of Rammy's origin, mixed with Odile from pop'n music (because they looks alike lol). the result ends up being somewhat feasible.

for now me AU's Rammy bears Danish heritage, specifically around the isle of Funen (Odile was from Odense which is like the largest city in Funen) and to an extent maybe even Schleswig-Holstein as the type of breed i can best fit her,combining all that lore she would somewhat be a Heidschnucke which was native to Germany.

Being distantly related to Siemon W. Muller, her ancestors moved to the Russian Far East to aid the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railroad, they diverged and Rammy's lineage went on to be alongside Russian Harbinites. whatever the reason was their line ended up across all factions which is another story for now. Some did survive all that ordeal but whatever the reason is, eventually lead to a situation that made Rammy's upbringing rough, which makes up for the reason why she even behaves like what we've seen in the first place

^By luck she met Raparra who would become her best if not only friend from early on, yes i put him in a unique direction,branching off from what most people would make him for. Being so sepreated from her roots her knowledge in Danish was sub-par at best, coupled with the separation as Rammy moved down first to Rodney State, his improvisation during the separation resulted into the catchphrase "Leave Beta Goth Eye!", a mutated form of "Let! Ved at godkende allei!", which is a distorted way to say "Sure, Just accept owt!", and even that may not be accurate. Again, Rammy's Danish skills were generally below average (along with my research on it as i did those during school time when it wasn't event included in our range of subjects), so whoever knows Danish,especially of the Odense Funen/Fyn Ømål dialekt,contact me if you want to give me a better way of saying that. Any help would be appreciated. Now that i am writing this the thing she was saying was likely at the front of a sentence i am not bothered to fill the rest for the time being. this is gettin long.

Rammy still holds dear to Raparra (i mean she was fine around Parappa so there must have been a reason as if to why) as she drove a renovated prototype car that would have been left to rot if not for her and Raparra's teamwork, as seen below left,its like a memorabilia for her. If your knowledgeable in the car plate field you see the plate was (or attempted to) specifically made for drivers who lives in the Northeast Trio provinces, aka Manchuria for others. the reason being that the trains around me region resembles both Lammy and Rammy, (even in the interior too why-) as Rammy's train on the top reyt of the image was made in(Changchun) was within the Northeast Trio Provinces, and the city was also being known as (im not even making this thing up) "The Detroit of China", I just made her hometown there. balancing all that out would be a tedious task, but im sure that i got it. As they say: "I gotta believe"

finally, so there was once an oc i was replied with on reddit.

"That because Tammy didn't appeared"

I eventually did some digging and so far i can find are 2. still counts that existed. sadly that was just about it. nowt can be seen thereafter. as that person last posted it like few months ago. got no guts to mention as of the time being. how am i gan to carry the torch?

youtube

Thats reyt... this can tie some pieces together. yes that dude only appeared in 2 scenes in the entirety of it all,in episode 22 of parappa anime, 14 minutes and 37 seconds in. since some folks agate this is the closest they ever get to seeing Lammy in the anime (even though she eventually appeared in PJ Berri no Mogu Mogu Munya Munya and that one episode 9 cameo? which i may cover that in the future) I aint lettin this up to waste!

Volla! Here is me version of Tammy. Dont worry, she still would be pink, in her own vision that is. Yes. She got deuteranopia so she sees herself somewhat pinkish, akin to the first AU interpretation of her. This Tammy would be related to Lammy in some way of sorts, though i would, for the time being, not make her and Lammy be related to Rammy. (i mean the geographical difference is too much to even begin with.)

As my AU would be heading in a prelude-ish direction and since she had already appeared in the anime,i have a feel that me AU Tammy would be a catalyst (yes, not the only one as there are also other factors in the play) that sets the path for Lammy to meet Katy Kat and Ma-San, eventually forming the band Milkcan. This Tammy's characterization as of now would be kinda like a more naïve Bunta and a goofy James May as far as i can go for the time being, not much can i describe that thereafter. One thing was for sure she is the most wackiest of the three -Ammies.

So yeah thats about it i suppose. gonna continue the halloween comic whatever focusing on the evil poppers™ and that medium red sunflower witch i drew above, that might end up getting belated due to my brain being so overloaded that i ended up stalled by indecision. but yeah, peace.

#ujl #rammy #lammy lamb #pop’n music odile #raparra parappa #tammy sheep #parappa au #that one masked witch who's fanbase nickname shares the same with that tomboy princess in mario which appears in the Parappa anime ep28 #lammy #raparra #unjammer lammy

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gavin-plz-call-me · 3 years ago

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Trust in Him

TW: Depictions of sexual harassment and sexual assault

You love your job, so when one of your coworkers begins to harass you, you're scared that you'll have to choose between your job and your safety. Luckily, Artem is here to support you.

This is my first time writing about sexual harassment/assault, so I apologize in advance if it's not a perfectly accurate portrayal.

AO3

Word Count: 3.3k

You needed this job, those words alone were all that kept you from doing something rash, but your resolve was growing thinner and thinner by the day. Every day you worked in the office, which, luckily for you, grew less frequent after becoming partners with Artem and joining NXX, one of your co-workers in particular was bound to come speak with you. This wouldn't be an issue if he were speaking to you about work issues, or a case, hell, even the weather but he, Julius, never came over for any productive reasons. The two of you had worked a case together a few months ago, but other than that, you should be complete strangers.

You could see Julius approaching from the corner of your eye, a nasty smirk plastered on his, and you hated to admit this, conventionally attractive face. While others might swoon at his good looks, you had to hold back a gag as he placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, enveloping your senses in his stale scent. He then slowly leaned down, his lips almost touching your ear, and whispered "That shirt makes your tits look great," his disgustingly wet breath sent shivers through your body as he gave your shoulder a squeeze and headed off like nothing happened.

As far as you knew, you were his only victim. The other ladies in the office swooned over him, speaking highly of his good looks and "great" skills as a lawyer. A few who had witnessed his advances towards you and misinterpreted your blush as shy interest complained of how envious they were that such a handsome, successful man was interested in you, and you kept quiet. You had heard enough horror stories of women who had come out about work-place harassment who were fired, never given or even considered for promotions, and even sued for slander, and you couldn't let any of that happen to you, you had to tolerate it. A job at Themis law firm is a dream for many law students, you included, and you wouldn't let that slip away. Even if you had to endure harassment, even if you had to leave your desk to escape to the bathroom some days because you couldn't keep the tears out of your eyes, even if you couldn't fall asleep some nights because images of what he's done to you and what he's capable of doing to you infect your mind, even if you had to start wearing ill-fitting clothes to hide your figure in an attempt to get him to leave you alone, and even if you were terrified to be in a room alone with him, lest he become bolder, you had to persevere. If everything in your life went right, you'd become his boss one day, and when that day came, you could fire his ass.

Of course, though, you weren't the boss, and you had to listen to what yours said. So, when your manager approached you a few days after Julius's latest incident telling you you'd be assisting him in a case, there wasn't much you could do to get out of it. Artem and you weren't working on any urgent cases at the moment, so he gave them permission to steal you away for the case. You were very skilled in working the case type Julius was "stuck on" so your manager said you the obvious choice for the job. There was no way out.

Julius invited you into his office with a sickly-sweet smirk and an almost impermeable wink as a knot settled in your stomach. Something in you screamed at you, don't go in there, it yelled, anywhere else. Just not his office.

"Well, I wouldn't want to intrude in your personal space," You said, trying to keep an aura of professionalism while also trying to protect yourself. There were still others around, if you start to show your discomfort, you'd be found out. You felt like you were lying, in a way, maybe you were? Guilt ran up and down your spine, and you hoped the feeling didn't translate to your expression.

"Oh, MC." His voice was outwardly cheery with an undertone of something, though you couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, "You could never be an intrusion to me. Let's use my office, I insist."

No, no no, the voice within you screamed again, you felt your breath hitch slightly, but you forced your breaths to be normal, despite how badly your lungs wanted you to gasp for air. "I would prefer it if we worked somewhere else, Julius." His name tasted disgusting on your tongue, "My desk for example," the two of you squeezed together, trying to work at the same small desk, his smell surrounding you, "or an empty conference room," still alone in a room together, his hands reaching out to touch your body, "or-"

"Mc, this would all be much simpler if we just worked in my office, I promise you, I don't mind." There was a hint of aggravation in Julius's voice, but it disappeared the longer he spoke. "There won't be any meeting halls open, now come on, let's go to my office."

You stood still for half a second, debating just running away, job be damned, but you didn't have time to start walking. You hadn't even decided which way to go, towards Julius's office or towards the main exit, when a voice rang out, "Mc, Julius, conference room six is open." You turned around, eyes meeting the bright sapphire eyes belonging to Artem. His brows were slightly furrowed, looking you up and down.

"Great," You said before Julius could say a word, "thank you Artem." You turned back to Julius, his eyes were much less kind than Artem's, and all you wanted to do was turn back to face the man with the beautiful eyes and put Julius in the depths of your memories, but you plaster on a fake smile as you say, "conference room six it is, then!" You quickly passed Julius, feeling two sets of eyes burning into you as you walked away. Julius's office was past conference room six, so as you entered the room Julius walked towards his own office instead, muttering something about needing to grab his case files.

You were glad that you didn't end up in his office, but the conference room wasn't much better, panic began building up in your chest again. There were large windows leading out into the hallway, which you sat right in the middle of giving anyone who walked by a perfect view of you and whatever you were doing. Conference room six was the most open of the conference rooms, but the hallway around here was never too busy. The windows also left a few blind spots, places he could back you into if he really wanted to. With slightly shaky hands you opened your laptop, opening an audio recording app. There weren't any security cameras in this conference room, and even though your gut stopped you from telling anyone about Julius, something within you told you to record.

The door to the conference room quickly opened and shut. You minimized the recording app, the pulsing red dot indicating that it’s recording disappears along with it. Julius throws a few case files onto the conference table before walking around to sit directly next to you. You rolled your chair away from him slightly, trying to escape his revolting stench. You began speaking about the case, reading the case files, and making comments about the stranger details, details you could use to defend your client.

The two of you continued to talk about the case for a while, the anxiety that had grown so high before began to dwindle, maybe you were wrong. Maybe Julius wasn’t going to take this chance to do something horrible to you, maybe he never was going to do anything to you. Had you just imagined his threats? “Mr. Johnson’s embezzlement of the school’s funds could be grounds for-”

"Tease," Julius interrupted you, his voice much darker, almost an inhumane growl, than what it was when you were surrounded by your coworkers. Darker than it was even a few seconds before when you were talking about the case.

"E-excuse me?" you asked, your professional front slipping, anxiety raising in your stomach once again.

Julius inched closer to you, holding the back of your chair to prevent you from rolling further away from him, "I said, you're a fucking tease Mc. Making me go back and forth like that." The undertone you couldn't pinpoint from before was back, but it was much more pronounced now. Anger mixed with desire, his unkempt nails dug into the skin of your thigh as he pushed himself onto you, "but you're not gonna tease me anymore."

Desperately, you pushed your feet against the floor as hard as you could, propelling your chair into the one behind you, allowing you to stand up and try to make it to the door. Julius's hand violently grabbed your wrist, yanking you back towards him. “Come on, Mc,” he growled in your ear, “everyone in the office knows you’re whoring around to get to the top. You can’t refuse me.”

You struggled against his grip, but every movement you made had him tightening his hold around your wrist, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Julius.” you gasped as the pain of his hand on you became too much.

This seemed to enrage Julius, who suddenly stood up from his chair, forcing you against the wall furthest from the door. Your head smacked violently into the wall sending sparks of pain through your vision. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone knows you’re putting out for Artem. Why else would he choose some sub-par slut of a lawyer to be his partner?”

“I-I didn’t-” Julius put more pressure on you as you tried to speak, stopping your words completely.

“Let’s put it this way, Mc,” Julius's hands snaked in opposite directions, one reaching your throat, putting suffocating pressure on it, the other gripping your ass, pulling you unwillingly closer to his body, “You put out for Artem to advance your career, and if you’re a good little slut for me, you can keep your career.” He pulled you somehow tighter into him, his mouth ghosting your ear before delivering a harsh bite into its flesh. “If not, you can kiss being a lawyer goodbye.”

The knot in your stomach twisted, the job you were passionate about, the coworkers you loved, Artem, your senior partner who had already taught you so much, could he really take all of that away from you? Was it really worth it to lose all that to him? Maybe you should just let him have you, once to save your job. But, as Julius’s hand moved from your ass forward, threatening to touch you in a much more intimate place, something in you broke. No. You wouldn’t let him take your career away, but you also wouldn’t let him have you. Throughout your career as a lawyer, you fought and fought and fought for your clients, day in and day out so they could find justice, and it was time for you to fight for yourself.

You thrust your knee upwards into Julius’s groin, and in the split second where he was caught off guard, you used all your strength to push him off of you. You ran for your laptop, his angered cries of pain filling the room as he stood motionless in the spot you left him in, grasping at his groin, trying to ease the pain. You took the opportunity to haphazardly grab your laptop and head for the door. Julius’s hand grazed your arm again as he regained some of his movement, but you were too far away from him at this point. He couldn’t reach you.

Escaping the suffocating air of that conference room could have been the happiest moment of your life. You saw Julius staring at you from the corner of your eye, still standing in the conference room, slightly doubled over. He wouldn’t dare chase you through the office, and he was out of sight before you could figure out what his next move would be. Adrenaline pumping through your body, you made your way across the office. You weren’t sure where your legs were taking you until you were already knocking at the door you sought out, Artem’s office.

The moment you saw Artem as he opened the door, his face going from stoic as always, then softening at the sight of you, and finally, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he got a better look at you all in a matter of seconds, the emotions you had kept hidden for months suddenly broke free. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, so you broke your gaze away from Artem, opting to look down at your own shoes instead. You really didn’t want to cry in front of Artem. You so desperately wanted to be a great lawyer like him, famous for winning countless cases. He wouldn’t be so vulnerable as to cry in front of a coworker, and you wanted to follow in his footsteps. You tried to push them back, but they refused.

Artem put a gentle hand on your upper back as he led you into his office, closing the door behind him, and placing his jacket on you. It smelt strongly of him. You could detect hints of vanilla from his cologne which made you want to envelop yourself further into the cloth. He led you to the sofa in his office, Artem himself sitting down on the coffee table in front of you. His kind, gentle movements, so contrasting from Julius’s threats, made the tears stream down your face harder. You began to shake from the loss of adrenaline, and you buried your face in your hands.

Artem was at a loss for what to do. He’d never seen you cry before, he felt helpless as he watched you heave from your tears. One thing was certain in his mind, however: Julius had something to do with this. He could sense your discomfort earlier when he’d suggested the two of you use conference room six to discuss business. He could tell you were trying your hardest to suppress the feelings, but they were prevalent enough on your person for him to detect, but his actions had failed to protect you further. A part of him wanted to leave the office immediately, find Julius, and beat him to a pulp wherever he stood, but a more sensible part of him knew you needed him right now. Julius could be dealt with later.

Slowly, Artem stood up from his place on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, a good few feet away from you in order to give you space. You finally looked up at him when you felt his weight on the couch. Your eyes were red and irritated from the tears, makeup running down your face in light gray streaks. You desperately wiped away at them, but it didn’t make a difference. Artem’s soft voice finally broke the silence between the two of you, “Mc, can I hug you?” The hysterical part of your brain was surprised by his words. In your emotional state, you expected him to reject you, and act disgusted by your emotions. You nodded slightly, desperately wanting his comfort.

Before you knew it, Artem had slid closer to you on the couch, taking you in his arms, and gently pressing you into his chest. This simple action started your tears anew. You began crying harder than before, gasping for breath. Clumsy words spilled out of your mouth as you tried to tell Artem what had happened. You thought he deserved to know why you came to his office crying, but Artem simply gently shushed you, rubbing comforting circles into your back. “You don’t need to say anything yet, Mc,” he whispered

The two of you stayed like that for a long time until your tears eventually slowed to a stop. At that point, you pulled away from Artem, desperately missing his warmth as soon as you did so. Artem slid his hand in yours, giving it a gentle, supportive, squeeze before speaking again, “If you’d like to tell me what happened, I’ll be here for you, okay?” Artem’s comforting words, his warm hand in yours, and his beautiful blue eyes made everything that’s happened with you in relation to Julius spill. You couldn’t look at him as you told him about everything: the case you worked on together, how he’d continue to go to your desk even when the case was over, how that escalated to the harassment you had to endure, what just happened in the conference room, and the audio recording of the incident.

When your gaze finally settled back on Artem, he was wearing an expression you had never seen on him before. It was anger, it was concern, it was... it was something else you couldn’t quite place. Artem pushed himself up from the couch, his eyes on the door to the office. You tightly grasped his arm, stopping him from moving towards the door. The door meant he’d tell, the door meant all your fears would come to fruition, the door meant you’d have to face the world outside Artem’s warm embrace again, and you didn’t want that. “Please don’t,” you whimpered, new tears stinging your eyes, “don’t tell anyone, please.” A sob escaped your throat, making Artem sit back on the couch next to you. “I love my job here, I love working with you and Kiki. I love being your partner and working on NXX cases with you. I don’t want to lose it all.”

Artem was back to rubbing circles into your skin, this time at the base of your shoulder. “You won’t lose your job, I promise.”

“B-But, so many people have b-been fired because they r-report assault, I-I can’t l-let that happen.”

“Mc,” Artem said, his voice slightly stern, but still gentler than you’d ever heard it before, “please look at me.” Your eyes trailed up his body, which was still holding you, and finally met his eyes. “I won’t let that happen, okay?” His hand found your hair, gently combing through it with his fingers, “I promise you that you’ll be okay, that your job will be okay. I’ll put Julias in jail if it’s the last case I ever take, just please, please let me help you.” Before that day, you could never imagine Artem crying, but you knew the sight of his eyes filled with tears was real. He allowed you to see his emotions just as you’d allowed him to see yours. He wasn’t some emotionless lawyer who would allow his coworker to be fired because they told the truth. He was a man who’d openly share your emotions with you, even if that meant sharing your tears. You could trust him, you knew that now.

“Okay,” you let the word with a shaky breath, “I trust you, Artem.”

Artem stood up from his place next to you, not letting your hand go quite yet. He leaned over you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, before looking into your eyes, determination filling his own sapphire ones. Your body slightly tensed when Artem finally removed his hand from yours, you quickly grew cold at the lack of his warmth, but you let him go. You watched his figure as he reached the door, taking one more glance behind him towards you, and left, shutting the door behind him. Eventually, you knew, everything would be okay again.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fic #tears of themis fanfic #tears of themis artem #artem x reader #artem wing #angst #hurt/comfort #tw sex assault #tw sa #tw sex harrasment #artem wing x reader

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micheswife · 3 years ago

Text

Confessions

MICHE ZACHARIAS X SHY CADET

Miche finally tells his crush he likes her. That's it

Miche watched her from Erwin’s office as she left the headquarters to enjoy a well-deserved break. The evening sun highlighted her brunette curls, stopping just below her delicate shoulders. It was a shame really, her hair used to touch her waist when she first joined. She was so incredibly shy and anxious back then, struggling to find her place among younger people that were much stronger than her. He remembered back when she declined the promotion for the sake of her happiness. It had been 3 years since y/n joined the survey corps at the age of 20. She was a late beginner, but her analytical skills, a fateful emotional meltdown and a background in research had soon gotten her a place under section commander Hange. Y/n was not good as a fighter, but she was observant, more than Erwin and Hange. Miche could not help but notice her, she was cute after all. She had flaws, just like everyone else, but the veteran soldier was drawn to her in particular. He couldn’t remember when he felt like that for the first time. Maybe it was when he saw her for the first time, clutching a soiled handwritten application and trying her hardest to put on a brave face. Who knows? Who cares? The important part was that he liked her, she did not know and he was not going to tell.

“What are you looking at Miche? “

“N-nothing, Erwin. Go on…”

Miche went back to focusing on the meeting. y/n had already disappeared in the next lane, so there was no point looking outside. The meeting would go on for hours, as usual, veterans had no holidays.

Meanwhile, y/n made herself comfortable near the quiet riverbank. It was one of the few attractions in the little land of Paradis, especially after the fall of Wall Maria. The serene river glowed red under the now darkening sun rays. Y/n had about 30 minutes to draw something, after which it would get too dark. Problem was, y/n had no idea what to draw. So she just sat there, wondering about her life. It seemed self-indulgent to refuse work only to get out and ponder about herself, but she needed it. The chaos inside the headquarters hardly did her any good. She wanted quiet and peace, but what she had right now was just pure loneliness. Y/n had friends, but nobody close or free enough to sit under the open night sky. So she sat all alone over the wall, the cold breeze ruffling her hair. If only there were someone to hold her.

“Bottomline, all of you must prepare your squads for next month’s expedition. We can’t afford to compromise manpower. Pay attention to the weak members, we need them to come back alive. You all are dismissed.”

Miche walked out of Erwin’s office and went straight to his room that he shared with Dieter, another squad leader. He felt tired, as though he knew what was about to come. A lot of action and a shit ton of casualties, not to forget all the rigorous training he was about to deliver on the cadets.

“What a long day..”

“Tomorrow’s going to be longer, Ness.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you will make it through the expedition?”

Miche scrunched his nose at the odd yet totally reasonable question. Him and Dieter served the scout regiment since their teenage years, yet they never quite got used to the anxiety before impending doom. Against his overbearing stress, Miche gave him a positive answer hoping to lift his spirits.

“I will make it out alive, Ness. The most damage I will end up with is a lost limb, after which I will retire and live a peaceful life. Don’t worry.” Miche finished with his signature scoff, masking his true emotions. The shameless, pretentious display of cockiness was all worth the little chuckle from Ness, the most sociable, tender man among veterans.

They made their way to the dining hall after chit chatting and freshening up. Their tables had the usual serving of bread, soup and vegetables. His eyes scanned the place for the owner of those beautiful, crazy curls, y/n, she should have been back by now. He couldn’t see her anywhere. Usually it was so easy to spot her in her corner seat. Perhaps Hange assigned her some work, but he couldn’t risk revealing his crush by asking the overly-energetic squad leader. So he quietly finished his plate, feeling just a little hint of emptiness because he missed y/n.

“Nifa, find y/n and tell her I want her in the lab tomorrow at 6am sharp.” Mike overheard Hange speaking from a couple of tables away.

“Yes captain.” Nifa quickly finished her meal and left the dining hall and eventually the headquarters. Her face made it clear that she had done this several times now and Miche was not surprised. Y/n was often in her own head and stayed out for a long time. Miche just found it unusual for her to stay out this late. It was cold outside, no person in their right mind would stay out past 8pm. He wished he knew what was going on inside the girl’s head that made her personality so withdrawn, but he did not have the time. He needed to draft a schedule for this week’s training and tests for the cadets. Just the thought of sitting in an office doing paperwork with a candlelight flickering throughout the night made him feel calm. He was extremely skilled on the field, but he liked doing paperwork too. His studious side was something only his immediate squad and other veterans were familiar with. Sometimes he couldn’t help fantasizing about sharing his study with y/n. Aside from his feelings, y/n had the brains to draft a perfect test that tapped into all the necessary skills for the next expedition. After all, that was what she had been doing before joining the survey corps, albeit in a different field. Miche stopped in his tracks as an idea struck him. He felt dumb, so dumb. He had drafted so many tests, all by himself, fully knowing that there was someone that could probably do it better than him. Fully knowing that y/n had been a psychology student, and she had perfected the theory subjects after joining the survey corps. He turned around and approached Hange.

“Would you mind if I borrow one of your soldiers for a while?”

“That depends, Miche, who are you talking about?”

“Y/n, I need her help drafting the tests tonight. I think she can do a good job.”

“You are right.. I’ll let her know.”

“Tell her to be in my office by 9;30 tonight.”

Miche left for his office to begin work, he wanted to finish as much as he could before y/n showed up. Because work was not the only thing he was concerned about. He knew exactly what he was doing, it was dubious, but he needed to do it. It was funny how a few hours ago he thought he’d never confess his feelings, but later created an opportunity to do that exact thing. He couldn’t believe himself.

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It was 9;30 sharp, and Miche heard a soft knock on his office door.

“Come in, it’s unlocked, and take a seat before me.” He said without lifting his head.

Y/n made herself comfortable and glanced over three open books and a single page. Miche was writing down questions.

“Alright y/n, I need your help drafting the question papers for tomorrow’s tests. Of course, you will be exempted from actually taking the test as a reward.”

“Understood, sir”

“Good, now I want you to create 30 questions that combine the concepts of formations, weaponry and strategy. Make them difficult, and make sure to base it upon the last 5 expeditions.”

“Alright-”

“You have 2 hours to finish this.”

“Okay..” y/n walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a heap of books. Miche raised his eyebrows in confusion,

“How are you going to refer to that many books and finish it within time?” Miche questioned her.

“I will, don’t worry.” y/n’s sudden confidence took him aback.

“Well good luck.”

Time flew by quickly as both of them were engrossed in their work, the only sounds coming from the candle and turning of pages. It wasn’t peaceful to be precise, y/n was turning pages with such aggression it made the section commander steal glances at her. She would flip through the pages and write down important points, constantly checking the time as she worked. Her handwriting got messier as time flew by and Miche couldn’t help but notice. He could tell that y/n totally had the plan to give those cadets a hard time. She had a weak, but cocky smirk the whole time, and Miche was just glad that he was not one of the people that would need to take the test. He knew that expression and aggressive handwriting very well. She always wore that smirk while writing exams, and everytime she came out on top. Miche knew she was overcompensating for her sub-par physique and iron-deficiency that interfered with her ODM skills, but that semblance of confidence on her face always turned him on. Her hair was still messed up, she struggled to keep that twisted fringe out of her face.

“Where’s the ruler?!” Y/n asked loudly, shaking Miche out of his trance.

“Wait…” He fished out a ruler from the clutter in his drawer and handed it to y/n.

“What are you drawing?”

“A wrong diagram of the latest formation.” Y/n replied curtly.

“I see.. Good.”

Miche was organizing his drawer after finishing his work when y/n handed him the tests. It was 11;30 sharp. The ink had somehow gotten between y/n’s fingers. Miche went through all seven pages of three extremely complicated tests and shot a glance at y/n, who looked like she was awaiting his praise. She was sitting with her back straight, wide eyed and messy hair. Miche chuckled, and y/n smiled. She knew she had done those cadets dirty with her questions.

“You have a naughty side, don’t you?” “Kitten” , was the term Miche refrained from using at the end.

Y/n nodded with a cheeky grin. The section commander squinted and got up from his chair, towering over her. A faint blush crept over her cheeks as she broke eye contact with him, staring down at her feet instead. Her delicate shoulders now looked tensed up under her transparent, embroidered shoulder shawl. The pile of paperwork didn’t allow him to notice her beautiful blush pink dress. She had embroidered little flowers to accentuate her figure all the way down to her hips.

“You look beautiful in that dress.” Miche blurted out, causing her to blush harder and breathe unevenly.

“Thank you, sir..”

“Look at me when you speak.”

“O-okay..” she slowly raised her head, still not wanting to make eye contact.

“I will be straight to the point y/n… I like you, not just as a comrade.”

“Understood.” y/n was taking quick, short breaths, causing the tall blonde to get on his knees. She had gone back to her timid mouse state and he could no longer read her.

“Are you scared right now?” Miche tried hard to not sound like a creep.

“No, I like you too!”

“That’s -” he began to speak but got cut off.

“More than a comrade, if you were wondering…” she trailed off shyly. Miche kept staring at her, dumbstruck at her honest confession. This whole time he had no idea about her feelings.

"When were you planning to tell me ..?" Miche asked, pulling a chair behind him. He was still leaning towards y/n with an expression of pure shock.

"I… Never planned on saying anything." Y/n's expression saddened as she looked at him with her doe eyes.

"I can understand.". he was telling the truth. The realisation that their confessions were a result of his impulsive decision dawned on him. He couldn't take his eyes off her form. She looked anxious, fondling with her pendant in one hand.

"Do you want to take this further?" Y/n asked with a shaky voice, and his answer was immediate.

"Yes."

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" The 35 year old man felt like a teenager trying to walk on eggshells. The woman before him giggled and nodded in approval, finally lifting her hand from the pendant. She was starting to settle down, although the butterflies in her stomach made it difficult. Miche was about to lean in when she stopped him and got up from her chair.

"I forgot to lock the door." She said naughtly.

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Okay, I really wanted to turn this into a smut, but I am too chicken. 🙈🥺

#miche aot #miche zacharias #aot miche #section commander miche #miche x reader #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #mike zacharias #miche x you #miche fluff #mike aot #attack on titan #snk miche #aot hange zoe #aot hange #aot canon #canonverse #shingeki no kyojin

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spices-and-cherries · 4 years ago

Text

SFW alphabet for James Bond

As usual, I hope you guys enjoy this one! I have to say that I was more than a bit nervous about writing for James Bond just because of how hardcore the character is. He’s so different than either Benoit or Joe Bang that it’s a bit intimidating. So thank you to everyone who liked the last little headcanon I did for him!

Warnings: mentions of sexual activities and violence

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A= Affectionate (How affectionate are they?)

Due to his job, he really does try to be as affectionate as possible to make up for the lost time. He always has an arm around you or is following you around like some lost puppy. It’s cute at first, but then he starts getting in your way just to be a pest.

B= Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

It probably started like any other of James’ flings with the ever iconic ‘Bond Girls’, but there was something about you that clicked differently. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, or how you handled things or your constant back-and-forth banter. If you ask James when he fell in love, he wouldn’t know - perhaps when he first set eyes on you?

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He enjoys it from time to time, but he’d rather spend that time doing more rigorous activities if you catch my drift. That being said, he’s more willing to cuddle after an especially harrowing mission.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He’d like to eventually. He moves from place to place so much that it’s like he can’t afford to slow down.

While his cleaning is sub-par, his cooking is very good. Luckily, he’s tall enough that he can help you out when it’s time to dust or to grab things off of the upper shelves.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

You’d wake up and he’d just be gone. No note, no nothing. You’d probably figure that he was in a rush for a mission, but after a while, it didn’t seem like that anymore. You’ll eventually put two and two together.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s married to his job, so thoughts of domesticity are more like post-retirement plans than anything else. If he were to propose, it would be absolutely out of the blue and completely unplanned on his part.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Super gentle and understanding. He’s always very careful as so not to hurt you on accident. While you may not see it, others can tell from the look on James’ face when he’s around you that he would do anything just to see your smile.

He can also be pretty sensitive when it comes to emotions - it comes with his training. He’s figured out the signs and tells and know just what to do to make you feel better.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He won’t admit it, but he likes back hugs a lot. Regular hugs are fine, but back hugs? Ethereal. It feels nice to be a receiver, even if it’s as simple as a hug.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He won’t say it for a long time. He understands the risks his job has, and while at this point he’s too far gone with you, he unconsciously sees the L-word as a promise that he can’t necessarily keep.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Maybe not so much jealous as he is possessive. He finds that someone is getting too close for comfort, he’ll butt into the conversation with some witty remark that will likely embarrass them. Then, James will keep you at his side for the rest of the evening, refusing to let you out of his sight.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sometimes they’re slow and sensual and other times, hungry. Either way, things are going to escalate pretty quickly. The first time you gave him a kiss on the cheek he almost took you right then and there. In all honesty, he’s too horny for casual kisses of affection.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn’t have much interest in kids and they often find him intimidating. But if one daring one asks for a piggy-back ride the whole lot will be climbing all over him within seconds. He likes to joke that he feels more tired after being around kids than his missions combined.

M= Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

On the rare occasions that you have heart-to-heart talks, he’ll be somewhat more open about himself. He has so many walls up that he doesn’t even know that half of them exist. It’ll probably be after his retirement that he reveals everything (and even then, baby steps).

P= Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With you, he has all the patience in the world (unless you’re being a tease, in which case, watch out).

Q= Quizzes (Who much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

His memory is impeccable in every way. He’ll know things about you that you may not even know of yourself. In your opinion one of the sweetest things he’s ever done was buy a couch that you said you liked months ago and personally carried it to your flat.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Every single time he returns to you after a mission and sees the look of relief, love, and happiness on your face.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Super protective and would rather be killed than to see you stub your toe twice on the same corner. Literally say goodbye to that coffee table, because it won’t be there the next day. He won’t let anything or anyone hurt you - if he can help it - and he will take every precaution to keep you out of enemy sight.

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

At first, while they were glamourous, you weren’t getting the feeling that the time you spent together was actually a date. Turns out, when it comes to serious relationships, James has little experience to go off of. It will take him a while to start to understand that going on a date doesn’t always have to be full of diamonds and champagne.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His abysmal communication skills. He’ll just leave and you won’t know if it was to the grocery store or on a mission. You cannot count the amount of times you had leftovers due to him just disappearing. You did bring it up with him at one point, though, and he has tried to be better about it.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

Because of his years on the job, he’s grown to have a certain amount of appreciation for the finer things in life when he has a choice. Why settle for less when he can easily buy the suits he wants to? That aside, he thinks you’re amazing no matter what you wear. If it’s for a fancy dinner party, James will have some fun picking the perfect ensemble for the evening if you’ll let him.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

When he’s on the job, he can’t always afford to think about himself, but when his life is in serious danger, your face always flashes before him. On the rare occasions that he can take a breather, your missing presence becomes much more apparent.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If and when he can, James will bring back little souvenirs from the places he went during his mission. You now have an interesting assortment of little carved figures, shot glasses, and local candies (to name a few). He tries to get something different or unique every time. Once, someone broke the souvenir James had on him during a chase and sincerely regretted it moments after.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He wants someone who can hold their own. He enjoys be able to protect you, but he would be more comfortable knowing that you can fight. James isn’t a big fan of blind followers or yes-men. Think for yourself and be yourself (and have an eye for fashion if you can).

Z= Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

He’s a light sleeper - another thing that comes with the job - and that doesn’t change when he’s around you. In fact, it just might be worse because he won’t know what will happen now that he’s with you. Of course, it’s not all that bad because it gives him the opportunity to memorize your features or gather evidence of your snoring.

I have a couple more things planned for James Bond during the upcoming weekend and some more content for Joe Bang next week! Please feel free to send requests or comment! It’ll make my whole week! :)

- Simpy

#james bond x reader #james bond #x reader #sfw headcanons #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #daniel craig #agent 007 #movie character #casino royale #quantum of solace #spectre #skyfall #established relationship #fluff

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Note

Ooh~ I got somewhat of an angst(/comfort -hopefully??) ficlette request!

Established relationship with Diavolo. He thinks everything is going great. Until one night MC tells him that he makes them feel inadequate.

He's so BIG (they are literally/physically so much smaller than him, man is IMPOSING) and it's not like they have demon stamina/strength. they're afraid he gets bored, or will, in time.

He is SO IMPORTANT to everyone and everything and always so busy and they're just a distraction when he could be resting between meetings or courting with the intent to make an heir and they're just a human, a pretty average one at that, can't even use their magic like Maddi or Solomon

*clutches my gay little heart* I'm weak for giant puppy boys 😢. I love this idea! Hope I did it justice! P.s-hope ya ain’t lactose intolerant like I am, cuz I got cheesy at the end lmaooooo

Edit: 6/15- Here is the link to part 2!

You feel inferior or inadequate? No, not his little Giglio.

He doesn't see at first. He is observant, sure. It comes with the territory as a prince, but he is so blind when it comes to you.

You're perfect and he wishes your relationship to be just as perfect. He can't explain why. Somewhere deep in the vacuous pits of his hearts, he yearns for your happiness.

He courts you like any demon would. Showing off his strength and magic to a maddening degree. He will lay fresh kills at your feet for you too.

It makes demons and other creatures swoon, but not a great turn-on for humans it seems. Barbatos had to pull him aside several times to remind him that too much magic could kill you, and he was tired of getting blood stains out of the wood floors.

He just wants to prove he is enough to you too. He'll do more human courting rituals as time goes on. Taking you topside to eat at human restaurants or do quaint human traditions.

Even in your realm, he can’t get away from gawking and curious humans wanting to be in his presents. He has the magnetic pull only a devil could pull off.

He doesn't notice your reluctance to be seen with him or sullen attitude till it was almost too late.

Balls are a common occurrence for him. Keeps the royal families in check, strengthens ties, or, some unfortunate times cutting them down in a show of force and warning for the rest of them.

Diavolo doesn't hate these events. They come as easy as breathing to him after centuries of doing it. But the flocking, gawking, and borderline reverent guest did get stifling. Having you on his arm made it bearable. The courtiers at least gave him some distance. Where were you anyway?

The barest flicker of black and gold muslin catches the crown prince's eye. The expensive fabric flitting around the corner of the ballroom to the restricted section. He wasn't worried. Diavolo knew that outfit and the delectable scent of his most prized jewel that wore it. You were allowed anyway you wished. Though he wished you were on his arm right about now. Ah well-

He turns back to his compatriot nodding along politely at the dull topic and takes a sip from his flute. He hums delighted by the fruity dry drink. Honestly, he wasn't sure how many of these he had had anymore. But it was just as sweet and tangy as his first glass. The bubbles ticking his nose and the liquor make his head fuzzy and his stomach hot. Mmm... He would have to complement Barbatos after this was over. His experiments were simply divine. Diavolo excuses himself from his conversation partner politely. He needed another drink if he was going to have a chat as dry as that again and survive. Fresh drink in hand he scans the massive hall for you. You should have been back by now… Odd. Perhaps you had called it a night early? He can't blame you. The redundancy and boring pushes for political power did get old fast. Smiling into his bubbling glass he has half a mind to join you. Sleeping the night away with you in his arms? Hells, he just might trade the crown for a day for a bloody break.

"May I have this dance, your highness?" A petite little incubus bowed low, wrapping his tail around his leg respectfully. Diavolo blinked up from his glass. Ah, yes. The game wasn't done yet.

It takes another three hours of dancing and glad-handing before he could finally extract himself from the ballroom. His feet were sore and swollen in their tight leather confines, his formal attire becoming itchy with sweat. He was ready for bed. No, a hot bath, tea then bed. No. A hot bath with you, tea then bed. Yes, a perfect ending to make up for a sub-par party.

Your shared quarters were dark when he entered. The smoky smell of recently snuffled candles greets him as he slips in. He frowns. The outer chambers looked to be untouched. The hearth cold and empty of ash. Your evening outfit wasn't spewn over the lounge and floor like it normally would be after a ball.

You often retired early from these parties, but you always waited for him here. Nestled up in the furs in front of the fire. A warm welcoming smile ready to greet him as he enters. "My love?" Diavolo calls out to the empty room. He winces at how loud he was. Perhaps he had indulged in his cups a bit too much.

He cocks his head listening for the sounds of running water or your cute little snores. Perhaps you had already gone to sleep? Silence greets him. He begins to panic now. Were you some elsewhere in the palace? Had some oppositional little cretin tried to harm you? He knew some at his party tonight were vying for him to go back to the old ways. Eliminating you would be a prerogative to those fools.

No, Barbatos had his eyes everywhere tonight. The complex webbing of his magic was nigh impossible to circumvent. Diavolo could feel it crawling over his skin, though the feeling was fading now that he was in his private chambers. Lucifer and his brother were ever vigilant too at these parties. As much as they bickered and annoyed his other guest they were skilled watchdogs, and keeping you safe was a top priority to all of them.

He reaches out through the shadows of his chambers searching for you frantically. His magic bleeds into every corner of his large private rooms. The vice around his chest lessens when he senses you on the private balcony. He goes to you, shrugging off his collars and chains as he moves, leaving a forgotten trail of priceless treasure behind him. "Darling," he breathes a sigh of relief seeing your silhouette in the light of his realms many moons. "Was the party not to your liking?" Diavolo flops onto your shared bed with a groan of pleasure. His feet now happy to not have his weight on them anymore. He runs his fingers through the vast expanse of cold silk. It wakes him up slightly. "Perhaps I can make it up to you? I can think of quite a few things more pleasurable than a swarm of stuffy demons."

"You’re drunk Dia." You don't move to face him. Your eyes still upcast to look at the clear evening sky.

His head lolls to the side to watch you curiously. You can feel his eyes follow the trail of your hands while you stroke at the marble railing. His family crest glistening on your finger. "No, no, not drunk. Tipsy perhaps? Or is the word ‘buzzed’ more appropriate?" He chuckles. "Perhaps you could sober me up with a kiss? You always know how to make me feel amazing."

Your breath catches at his words. A pathetic little sob escaping you. He is sober now. Instead of a warm kiss alighting his muddled thoughts to bring the world back into sharp beautiful clarity, it feels as if he had been submerged in ice. He approaches you with inhuman speed. His clawed fingers were gentle on your shoulders.

He turns you to face him. Crystalline tears were trapped in your lashes. Your cheeks were ruddy and your lips were swollen. In any other circumstance, such a visage would be a privilege to see. But these tears were cold and filled with pain. Lips red hot not by his kisses and fangs, but from nervous chewing and pulling. Your cheeks were streaked and puffy from countless hours spent alone and crying.

"Giglio mio, cosa ti affligge?" He cups your cheeks rubbing the chill away from your skin.

"Why- why do you even waste your time with me?" You hiccup.

“I don’t understand.”

You part from him, backing up to the railing. “What do you see in me?” You ask, arm raised in question. He takes in your body. You were adorned in his colors and his scent, it makes the territorial part of him rumble in satisfaction. Your delicate human flesh radiates a warmth demons could never replicate. You were small, sweet, and his. What was he missing? “What will happen when you find someone better? Someone who will- who can grow old alongside you. A demon or witch, strong and talented.”

Your wavering words don’t register with him. How could you say these things? Did you think he would allow you to grow old without him? You were his, just as he was yours, or as much as he is able of being yours. It was a laughable thought but he knew to hold his tongue. Humans always get in a tizzy about death.“I don’t-” He starts ready to brush your concerns away. The flash of his perfect teeth only angers you.

“Do not play dumb with me!” You say jabbing a finger at his bare chest. “Look at you. Think of who you are compared to me. Look at how they all cling to you, all those pretty demons and witches with something to offer you.”

Something better than me.

The words hang unspoken between you and leave him stunned. He had so much he wished to say but knew tonight was an inopportune time. Your emotions were running high, too high for him to successfully navigate. Especially in his compromised state. He would have to admit defeat tonight. “I am sorry if I have neglected you and your feelings. Please, let's go to bed. I want- I need to understand. But-”

“You’re drunk.” You repeat chuckling without humor. You wipe at your face. “I get it. We’ll talk in the morning?”

Diavolo puts a hand to his chest. “Of course. You will have all my time tomorrow.”

You wake alone the next morning, the sheets beside you cool but not made. You expected that though. He was never one to stay in bed even on the rare days off. It was the downside of his status and routine.

You rise alone and head to the bathroom, the gargantuan space was still slightly warm and steamy. Good, that means you didn’t wake up too much later than Dia. You shower quickly, washing away the grime of lasts night’s nervous breakdown. You were so embarrassed, collapsing all over Diavolo in jealous self-pity. He had more important things to deal with than some weepy human.

You need to go find him and apologies, tell him not to worry about it. You knew what being courted by him would entail. You swore up and down you could handle it, and you could. You will. This was the worst time to falter too he had some pressing deadlines and important figureheads coming around this week. Even one loose gear in his well-oiled machine could damage any number of things. You refused to be the reason he failed. Steeling yourself, you dress quickly, determined to put your new plan in motion. Apologize, promise to do better, and then hide at R.A.D until you could face him again.

It doesn’t take you long to find your demon. He had been waiting for you. You enter the den in a flurry of movement phones in hand to check with Lucifer to see where the prince might be. “Join me?” His deep baritone makes you jump in alarm. Your phone flies out of your hands to clatter loudly on the tile floor.

Diavolo sits, sprawled out on his couch. His favorite terry cloth robe is tied loosely around his broad figure. He watches you with a growing frown, his strong jaw perched on his fist. You freeze. “Please?” He offers you his free hand. You take it timidly. He grasps you firmly and lifts you effortlessly onto his lap. You rest your head on his strong chest. He smells of juniper berries and oranges. Bright, fresh, and sharp. Their combined scents mixing with his natural musk put you at ease. The clenching panic around your heart easing slightly. You eye the breakfast layout before the two of you on the low coffee table. The banquet was still untouched though you do not know how long Dia had been sitting here. You felt the tiny pulses of magic radiating off the table.

“To keep it warm,” Diavolo answers your unspoken question. He moves you in his lap so he can reach for a plate. Filling it to the brim with an assortment of pastries and warmed jams he hands it to you before filling his coffee cup. “I didn’t know how long you wished to sleep.”��

You take the plate meekly. “I-thank you.” You eat in relative silence, eyes locked down on the treccia slowly disappearing on your plate. You were too nervous to look at Diavolo. “When do you have to get back to work?” You ask.

“I don’t-” He adds a hefty dollop of heavily whipped cream to his coffee. “I took the day off.” Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“Giglio.” Diavolo sighs heavily. He puts his coffee aside to cradle you. “Never be sorry for needing time.” His large hands rest over your thigh and shoulder. “I promised we would talk today, and I am nothing but a devil of my word.” He kisses your crown, his thumbs rubbing your skin comfortingly. “Tell me your worries.”

“What do you see in me?” You blurt out looking up at him. “What could you ever see in a human that you couldn’t get from someone closer to your stature?”

“You have something no other being has ever had before.” He answers effortlessly. He had thought about this time and time again in private. He had lost count of the nights spent in his study stewing over this very topic. You captivated him in a way he still couldn’t fully comprehend.

You scoff at the nonanswer. “What? A soul?”

Diavolo sucks his teeth in distaste. Your voice was so bitter. “Do you think I don’t have a soul?” He counters, smiling ruefully down at you.

“Do you?” You are genuinely curious. Satan had been very upfront with the fact that he didn’t and he was a full-blooded demon. When you had asked Barbatos he had just shrugged.

Diavolo looks wistful for a moment. Golden eyes glazing over as he gets lost in thought. “Who knows?” He admits. “Souls are a precious commodity, true. But such things mean very little to me when it comes to you. No, the thing you have is my trust. You came here with nothing and expected nothing of me but a safe and successful exchange program. There was no social climbing or cloak and daggers with you- or perhaps you are so skilled I cannot see it!” His chuckle shakes you both. “I feel as though you do not see me as just a prince, yet you still respect the title, the authority, and the customs that come along with it. You see what I have to offer and don’t ask for more than I can give you.”

“What will happen when you find that I no longer do that for you? When someone else could do it better and give you eternity along with it?” His words bring you hope, but hope did little when you knew the inevitable outcome.

“Why would I look when I am more than happy where I am?” He dodges your question. He would cross that bridge and bear that cross when you find out on your own.

“But-”

He hushes you with a flurry of kisses across your face, dipping low over you. You squeak as he dangles you precariously over the side of the leather couch. “Come, eat with me.” He says between kisses. “Enjoy a day away from the prying eyes of scorned socialites. Let me show you how devoted I am.” He releases you to pick up a piece of bruschetta. Popping it into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction he turns back to the cooling food, his jovial mood returning. You huff, flicking off a stray bit of diced tomato from his chin.

“Fine- as long as you let me help you catch up on all the work you're missing tomorrow.”

#obey me diavolo #obey me shall we date

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cheeriecherry · 4 years ago

Text

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [2/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 2/8

Warnings: depictions of PTSD, one (1) mention of vomiting (nothing graphic), very brief mention of violence (also nothing graphic), your friends being concerned about you, hugs

You wake up the next morning with a very sore, very stiff neck. You appreciate your friends putting you up for a while, but between the two of them they had terrible taste in furniture. In fact, you’re pretty certain their couch is the same couch you three shared when you first got your own place together…

You sit up on the lumpy cushions, wincing when your spine crackles. When you move to stand you find that you can’t, held in place by previously unnoticed twin weights on your blanketed legs. Your heart rate speeds up for a moment, before you realize it’s just a pair of cats sleeping on you.

You carefully finagle your way out from under them, taking extra care not to rouse or wake them. One of them chirps and stretches, and you pause, but she quickly falls back to sleep, tucked up against her companion.

Once you’re free, you wander towards the kitchen to find something to eat. Hizashi had offered to order takeout last night, but you were nearly dead on your feet by the time you walked into the house. You’d gone straight to bed, and now you had to deal with the stomach cramps.

You search around in the pantry and fridge for a while, finding few things more than rice, bread, condiments, and a couple canned goods. It made sense, considering how busy your friends were, but it was also a little ridiculous.

“You’d think two grown men could handle some grocery shopping,” you mumble, and settle on some rice, eggs, and toast. Not your ideal breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

You prepare the rice and set a pan on the stove in a haze, still muddled with sleep. Once both are sufficiently rinsed and warming, you set the rice off to cook and plop down at the kitchen table, where you notice a folded paper sitting. With your name on it.

Curious, you flip it open, instantly recognizing Hizashi’s messy writing.

‘Sho and I had to head out early, but we didn’t want to wake you. You were tossing a lot in your sleep.’

You think briefly back to the dreams you’d had, if you’d even had any. You usually had nightmares, but oftentimes you didn’t remember them, only waking with a hollow and sinking feeling in your chest.

‘You’ve got free run of the place, so use and eat what you want. Be warned, there’s not a lot in the fridge…we don’t really eat at home much. If you need the internet, Sho’s laptop is in the office across from the bedroom. See you tonight around ten!

-H’

You smile at the note, the signature consisting of a single letter, with a poor rendition of a cockatiel and a cat beside it.

You’re glad they have each other, you decide, and glad they’ve gotten together. It shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise to you, Hizashi was always more interested in Shouta than he was you. Sure, he doted on you when you were kids, but when Shouta came into the picture his attention shifted. You admit you had been a little jealous in the beginning, but now…

Maybe you’d just supposed it would always be the three of you together. You’d never bothered with dating or relationships, aside from the feelings you harboured for your best friends. You never saw the point, always content and happy to be with the two of them, even if it wasn’t romantic. They had been your rocks, your safe place, in years past.

You hadn’t comprehended that your interests could be so drastically different.

��C’mon, shake it off, stupid. They’re happy together, don’t ruin it with your feelings.” You run your hands down your face, sighing deeply. The rice would be ready soon, so you might as well get started on the eggs.

You butter a piece of bread and cut a hole out of the center, dropping it in the frying pan and cracking an egg into it.

Egg In A Hole, one of the first things you’d ever learned to cook. You were seven when you’d first tried it, and Hizashi had been there as well. You’d been at your house after school and he’d claimed to be hungry, and you -ever wanting to impress him- had set a stool in front of the stove and made him the fanciest meal you could think of.

Looking back, you’re amazed you didn’t burn or undercook anything. He had claimed it was the most amazing thing he’d ever tasted, and for years it was a staple whenever you hung out… he’d hopped off that train by the time you were twelve, but every so often you’d still made him Eggs In A Hole.

Now it’s more of a comfort, more of you holding on to a time long passed. Things were different now, you were different, your friends were different-

“Shit!” you hiss, as the toast starts to burn in one corner, smoking up the kitchen. You turn the fan on and flip it over to cook the other side, sighing in relief when the egg doesn’t splatter everywhere.

You’re glad you weren’t sent undercover as a cook on your mission. Your skills in the kitchen are sub par at best, and where you’d been, nothing less than perfection was accepted. Anything burnt or under-seasoned would have been air for punishment; fingernails ripped off, palms cut up, thumbs broken. Anything that would further hinder work…and result in more punishment.

That was just the kind of person your target was. A rich american woman with a taste for torture, and a quirk that allowed her to feast on and destroy the hope in others. She had ‘hired’ you as a silent killer, despite the fact that she could easily kill people herself…or make them kill themselves.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, willing the thoughts away. You weren’t there anymore. You were here, with Hizashi, with Shouta. Safe. Safe.

You scoop the eggs and toast onto a plate, but your stomach has already turned. Memories didn’t pair well with breakfast, it seemed.

Once the rice is finished cooking, you wrap everything up and set it in the fridge for later, and continue going about your day.

—-

Ten PM rolls around before you know it, and your friends walk through the front door. You’ve stolen Shouta’s laptop from the office and moved it to the couch, where you now sit staring intensely at the screen.

The two of them watch you for a moment. If your stillness, posture, and bloodshot eyes are anything to go by, you’ve been like that for a while.

“You’re gonna hurt your back sitting like that,” Shouta says, kicking his boots off and wandering further into the house.

“In a second,” you reply, waving him off.

Hizashi sighs dramatically, crossing his arms. “She’s not even paying attention, Sho. We could be making out right now, and she wouldn’t even notice. Hey, watch this-”

“Hizashi,” you threaten, not looking away from the screen, “if you pull your pants down, I’ll shave your head while you sleep.”

“No fun.” But he removes his hands from his jeans anyways.

Shouta meanders up behind you, leaning over the back of the couch to see what you’re so intent on. “What’s got you so focused?” he asks, scanning the page you’re reading, “You were never like this in school.”

You remain stoic, missing the joke completely. “Conviction trials,” you explain, “I want to make sure every single one of those rich pricks I outed gets put behind bars. I’ve been scrounging news outlets since five.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” You sit up straighter, stretching your back and rubbing at your eyes. “I gave the commission enough information to put these people in prison for life! Why haven’t they been brought in yet!”

“You’ve only been out for a little while. These things take time.” His tone is gentle and concerned, but to your addled brain it feels more patronizing.

You fist your hair in your hands and tug. “I gave them hideouts, names, faces, addresses, bank numbers, concrete evidence against these people! A few days should be enough time to find them! They’re top priority criminals! They should be caught by now!”

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, jarring you violently out of your thoughts. You tense beneath the touch, electricity prickling down your arm, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Breathe,” he says.

You breathe.

He squeezes your shoulder slightly, comfortingly. “It’ll happen. Give the media time to catch up.”

You look away from him, finding a spot on the floor to stare at, and slump forward in defeat. “If it gets out that I was the snitch, too…”

The room is quiet for a couple beats as your words register, and the hand on your shoulder rubs soft circles into your skin. “Your partner…they were killed, weren’t they.” It’s not a question, merely an observation.

You nod.

“I can’t let them find me, Shouta. The way these people kill their targets-”

“You’re safe here, Y/N. Always. The chances of these criminals getting into the country undetected is between slim and none. Their faces will be plastered on every single no-fly list, every district wanted list.”

“They can do whatever they want, as long as they have the money.” You turn back to the laptop, continuing to scroll around various news outlets. “Even once they’re in prison, they’ll have outside connections. If they find out it was me who outed their whole operation, I’ll have a target on my back for the rest of my life.”

Shouta lets go of your shoulder, and walks around the couch to take a seat beside you, knees bumping against yours.

“There are…resources,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, “for heroes who’ve been undercover. To help them readjust to everyday life-”

“I don’t need a therapist,” you hiss, scowling. “I need…I need-”

A pair of hands scoops the laptop out of your grip, flipping it closed and setting it aside. But before you can complain, your now-warmed-up plate of food from that morning is set in your lap, and Hizashi takes a seat on your other side.

“If you don’t want a therapist, then at least take care of yourself, okay? Eat.”

Your scowl persists as you chew.

—-

You jolt awake on the couch at an unbeknownst hour of the morning, covered head to toe in a thin sheen of sweat. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing, and you barely make it to the bathroom before you’re dry heaving into the sink. Nothing comes up, save for bitter bile, but you’re exhausted once the short wave of nausea passes.

You rinse your mouth and the sink out, and splash some water on your face. With any luck, you won’t have woken anyone, but when you exit the bathroom you nearly walk face first into Shouta, who’s leaning beside the door.

“It sounded like you were getting sick.” His tone isn’t accusing, but his posture puts your guard up.

“Nothing came out, so it’s fine.”

You wander back to the living room, hoping to leave the conversation, but he only follows.

“Why were you getting sick in the first place?”

“I dunno,” you grumble tensely, “adrenaline reaction maybe? Who’s to say why people puke.”

He’s quiet for several moments, observing you, your fidgeting, your agitation. You feel like you’re under a microscope, with the way he’s looking at you.

“What happened to you out there?” he asks.

“Stuff,” you mutter.

I got people killed.

“Stuff that gives you nightmares every time you sleep?”

“I don’t need a therapist.”

I don’t deserve to come back from this.

“Your sleep-yelling woke me up. You’re lucky Hizashi wears earplugs.”

You turn away from him and grab your water bottle off the coffee table, plopping grumpily onto the couch. Shouta hesitates for a moment before finding a seat beside you again. Warmth radiates off his body, which is pressed comfortingly against your side. You can feel the tension easing out of your shoulders in his presence.

“What’s so bad about therapists, anyways?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Lots of people need them. Hizashi and I have both seen a couple over the years.”

“I don’t need someone to tell me there’s something wrong with me.”

Shouta sighs. “That’s not what they do, and you know it. What’s the real reason?”

You silently curse his ability to read you like a book, to always somehow know when you’re lying. But…you’re not sure you could tell him the truth.

“I just…don’t like the idea, okay? Leave it at that.”

He watches you silently, searching in your averted gaze for any willingness to open up, but he finds only sadness…and shame. “I should head back to bed, then. Early morning, and whatnot. Try and get some more sleep.”

He rises off the couch, and without thinking you follow suit, and quickly envelope him in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest. He’s surprised for a moment, but is quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you tight while you tremble against him.

He pats small circles into you back, keeping you close until your breathing begins to even out. “Just…don’t let this go on for too long, okay?” It’s the closest you’ve ever heard him to begging, “I don’t know what happened to you out there, but you’re obviously suffering.”

You pull away slightly, tired and defeated, and nod. “I’ll look into it. Those resources you mentioned. Okay?”

You release each other fully, and he gives you one last pat to the head.

“Okay. Now, really, try and get some more sleep.”

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #yamada x reader #erasermic x reader #reader insert #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Space Between #it will get happy soon i promise #eraserhead x reader #present mic x reader

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rubik-ashala · 4 years ago

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Let Alucard have nice things!

This doubles as both a headcanon description and a rant so here goes:

I just got done watching the 3rd season of Castlevania and I am not happy. I have two things two say about it. This contains spoilers for the series so you have been warned.

First complaint and observation:

Did anybody get the feeling that the show was supposed to end after the second season but didn't? That everything was wrapped up nicely, Dracula was dead, the big world destruction war was halted, we were shown what the trio would be doing after everything etc. Like it was meant to end there but then a conversation like this happened:

Castlevania team: And that’s a wrap everybody! The good guys took down Dracula in an epic fight, the world was saved, Job Done! Time to move on to new things.

Shareholders, producers, etc: Uhh, actually we already signed you up for a 3rd season. So you might want to get on that.

Castlevania Team: What! But we weren't prepared for a third season! The whole plot is wrapped up! What are we supposed to do?

Shareholders, producers, etc: Don’t know but you better get to figuring it out.

Castlevania: I guess we will just game of thrones it terribly then and hope we make it through.

Because that is what it felt like happened. There seemed to be no overarching plot, just four separate ones and only two of them is even remotely together. They take two side characters Issac and Hector and give them there own plotlines. Issac gets the Denarius treatment for no real reason other than to seemingly follow in Dracula’s footsteps and Hector gets dragged to Camilla’s realm because, she needs a forge master to grow an army so she can take over what has been fractured. They split up the trio, suddenly giving Serphia and Trevor a romantic relationship with little to nothing building up to it and throw them in a quest to keep Dracula from coming back after some crazy monks due some occult doctor who style shenanigans to open a portal to other worlds. And while that is going on, Alucard aka Adrian Tepes gets left alone guarding his fathers now broken castle and the Belmont’s treasure trove for months after everything has happened.

Which flows into my Second point:

Alucard got done dirty in the third season!

We watch as Alucard deals with the mental repercussions of what he did, alone. We watch as he deals with the loneliness of being out in the middle of nowhere alone for months with none to talk too. And we see the toll it is taking on him albeit comedically.

Then the siblings come in.

They come to him for help and education on fighting vampires back in their homeland, something that Alucard is more than happy to help with. One, because he has company again and Two, passing on the knowledge to the new generation seemed fitting.

During the time they stay he grows fond of them and they him. You see them training and horsing around, eating meals together and other wholesome shenanigans.

You get to see a conversation where the sibling talk about how they notice how lonely he has been and how they believe he stays out here to punish himself and maybe they should do something for him before they move on. And it’s all like “aww that is so sweet!”

Then you see Alucard trying to sleep and failing miserably in his bed. Even so far as wondering if he should get a coffin to sleep in. Then you see the siblings show up in the door way and begin walking towards him in the bed saying , in a very sultry voice, how alone he must have been, how he should deserve a reward, ectera. Followed by them getting all hot and steamy with him.

The scene makes a point to show how much Alucard is enjoying this attention, and how happy it is making him. Your watching it and it’s like “Maybe it's gonna be one of those fond memories he will be able to look back on after their gone.” or “Maybe they will become some Badass monster hunting thruple and Alucard wont be alone anymore.”

Nope! Not today in my Grim Dark Gothic Fantasy World!

They instead, after giving Alucard the night of his life, put these metal cuffs on him that shoot out a bunch of ropes that tie him in classic Jesus on a cross position and then proceed to try and kill him.

Why?

Because the were under the belief he was lying and holding things back from them, and in particular about the castle not being able to move. And they were tired of being lied to.

Luckily for Alucard they didn't realize his sword could move on its own and they weren’t alive for much longer because of it but...Really?

Why? Why do this to him?

He lost his mother to a witch hunt, he had to kill his own father and now this? All in little over a year? What the Hell man!?

Let the Dhampire have nice things! He deserves better than this!

So, I made a headcannon to soothe me angry brain.

I took a fantasy race of mine that was inspired by the Crusnics of Trinity Blood and added them in to Castlevania. In Particular one specific one.

Name: Floki

Age: Around Adrian’s age give or take a few months.

Hair: Black

Eyes: Mismatched blue/green

Height: About the same as Adrien’s perhaps a little taller.

Personality: Mischevious, HArdworking, Loves deeply, Fiercly but wisely protective, loves to work with his hands, loves to learn more about the world and how it works. Deeply fond of Adrian even though he hasn’t seen him in a few years. Also, a smidge psychotic, but just a smidge.

Floki is part of a race of beings referred to as “The Old Ones”. They are a race similar in habit to the Vampire but they feed off vampires, night creatures and other supernatural beings over humans. They are immensely powerful, even at young ages and have been rumored to be the source of some of the gods of Ancient Mythology.

Floki’s father (Yet named) was Dracula’s mentor and where he got much of his scientific knowledge from in his early years. They became friends during his teaching and even after parting ways, would still occasionally see each other every few half centuries or so to trade information and chat.

During this time, Floki’s father was desperately trying to have children of his own and failing. At one point believing that he was sterile and unable to father children. Something Dracula knew as well and so hid Lisa’s pregnancy from him for fear of making his sadness worse.

However, a few months later, It was revealed that his current love was with child and Floki was born accompanied by much drunken Norse revelry.

When the two men met again a few years later, Floki was brought with his father to show to Dracula that he finally had a child. A moment where Dracula also revealed his son and Where Floki met Adrian.

Floki showed Adrian what it was like to play and horse around. They would play pretend out in the woods, get dirty, skin thier knees, the works. And where one was, you would find the other close by.

The visits between the two powerful men became more frequent due to the boys wish to see each other, not that the parents minded all that much.

Over time Floki’s affection for Adrian would change and deepen. His longing to stay by his friends side would get stronger and one fateful afternoon when Adrian got hurt, FLoki would realize how he had fallen in love with him.

Adrian would never know this however, due to Floki’s unstable powers at the time, his sub par control of his hunger and the fear of hurting him.

As they got older, and partly to the above, their visits to see each other would lessen and by the time they were full grown, had stopped entirely.

That is until Floki Heard of Lisa’s death at the hands of the church.

Even with his incredible power to teleport far distances it took him several months to reach Wallachia. He didn’t seek out Adrian immediately though, too curious to see the truth of what happened.

Each of “The Old Ones” Has a unique skill that is developed and evolved over time, according to personality, interest, skill and homeland. Due to Floki’s curiosity, his love for history and his desire to see how it all works together, he developed what he liked to call, memory recall.

His skill allowed him to see memories of the past through people, objects or locations where something that evoked strong emotional or magical reactions in the area happened. And if there was no such thing, if the event was more recent, if he had access to people that were there and stood on the location, he could see and feel the event as if he lived it.

Lisa’s death held him up in an inn for several days trying to chase the feeling of flames on his skin. Dracula’s anger and grief laid him up for even longer as he cried himself sick.

Gregit was better though, seeing the man who did the deed getting called out by a demon and then eaten gave him a bit of satisfaction.

Briela was fascinating though. He had to meet whomever managed to capture the ever moving castle.

By the Time Floki would arrive at the now defunk castle and underground hold, the siblings bodies are already outside on pikes.

This doesn't scare him away of course, and to find out why they were there he uses his memory recall. Where he sees through there eyes what they did to Adrian, albeit a little fuzzy. But is able to hear what the twins were thinking in that moment and see, just for a short time, Adrian tied to the bed afraid and hurt.

This causes him to snap his fingers and cause the corpses to burst into flames.

An action that draws Adrian’s attention causing a little bit of a fight before they recognize each other.

Over the next while Adrian allows Floki to stay and fix the castle as well as the Belmont estate and work towards getting the transportation engine online again. Eventually.

Overtime, all of Floki’s feelings come back with a vengeance and he gives as much attention and TLC to Adrian as he allows. Eventually getting Adrian to allow him close enough to see though his memory what the siblings had done to him

A scene that will either start a few revelations with both Adrian and FLoki or lead to a very steamy situation. Possibly both.

But it all ends in Adrian getting all the Love and TLC that man deserves after the hell he was put through.

I just hope they aren’t trying to set him up to become an antagonist later...

#castlevania #adriandeservesbetter #adrian tepes

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depressedhatakekakashi · 3 years ago

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Game Time Flirting

Words: 1300

Pairings: Hatake Kakashi/Tenzou Yamato

Warnings: Shameless flirting, bad flirting, NSFWish flirting.

Summary: The goal? Win the challenge and prove that he's the ultimate breath of the wild player. The strategy? Distract Tenzo with the worst pick up lines he can think of

A hero does not retreat.

When Kakashi had offered to let Tenzo pick the challenge that they would be taking part in for their next youtube video, this was the last one he had been expecting the man who refused to fight a lynal or a guardian to throw at him.

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, right?” he asked, looking towards the other man, watching as he set everything up on his computer for the stream. “If you run into a guardian or even a lynal-”

“I read the outlines of the challenge, yes,” Finishing with his setup, Tenzo fell back into his chair with a groan. “I can fight them, that’s not a problem. I just prefer to avoid them when I can. They eat weapon’s and I only get one sword in return from a Lynal and nothing from a Guardian. It’s just not worth the exchange.”

“But today you’ll-”

“You asked for a challenge,” Tenzo rolled his eyes, forever exhausted by whatever Kakashi said. “This is a challenge. Is it my favourite challenge? No. But would I like to see you die first and lose because you have an overinflated ego in this game that needs to be taken care of? Absolutely.”

“I do not have an ego.”

“You have the biggest ego, Kakashi. Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not ego if it’s backed up by fact, and it’s simply a fact that I’m fantastic at this game and will end up winning. You’re going to have to buy dinner, and then you’re going to complain about it the whole time and it’s going to be adorable.”

The scream Tenzo let out was ear piercing, but worth it. Kakashi would never allow anyone to doubt his skills in his favourite game, and he was going to prove that he was the best with their challenge.

Then he’d get teasing rights for the rest of the year, and he’d make sure to remind Tenzo of his victory every time they were in bed together. Just to make sure he never forgot.

“I can’t wait to wipe the smirk off of your face,” Falling back into his chair, Tenzo swirled around once before stopping to face Kakashi. “Anyways, do you remember the rules we set?”

“We’re going to start from the end of the great plateau so that we’re not wasting time with the beginning. Drop all of the weapons, bows, and shields that we already have so that we start from the beginning, there will be a death count and whoever dies the most by the end loses, and the challenge ends when we have all of the divine beasts and have defeated Ganon.” Receding the rules was a breeze. Tenzo had only repeated them to him a hundred times over the last few days, cementing them in his mind for eternity.

“And?”

Rolling his eyes, he turned to face his own computer finally. “And just focus on the main story,” he repeated Tenzo’s words with a hint of disgust in his voice. “No having fun.”

“The purpose of the challenge is...you know what, you run around all you want. Just means you’ll run into more lynals and guardians,” Turning to face his own computer, Tenzo picked up his controller and started up the recording program. “This video ends when we defeat the first divine beast. You can choose whichever one you want.”

“Mmm, in that case, I think I’ll go for Vah Naboris,” The look Tenzo gave him was priceless. Somewhere between utter disgust and disbelief. “What better way to prove to you that I have the skill to back up my talk than beating the toughest divine beast first?”

“I hope you die.”

“If I die, you don’t get-” A hand reached out to cover his mouth and silence the next word.

“In the game,” Tenzo clarified. “I hope you die in the game.”

Ahhh right, the game.

Focusing his attention on the game, Kakashi started up his own recording and immediately opened the pause screen to drop all of his weapons. It wasn’t a problem of course. One quick visit to Hyrule castle and he’d have all of the top-tier weapons he needed to get through the game. While he did that, Tenzo took care of the intro. Not that Kakashi didn’t have his microphone on, it was just that Tenzo had a ...nicer voice. A voice that people actually liked listening to when he was playing his games.

Once he was done ridding himself of all his equipment, he headed off towards the castle. It was a risk of course. He’d have to run fast and pick up some sub-par weapons on the way to perry guardian beams, but once he was in he’d have his pick of weapons.

“Damn it!” Glancing towards Yamato’s screen, he chuckled when he saw Tenzo struggling to climb up the side of a mountain in the rain. It was moments like this that reminded a gamer to be humble and appreciate the little gifts the game gave them, like Revali’s gale. “Don’t say a word, Kakashi.”

How rude, calling him out like that while they were recording. Kakashi could already see the comments rolling in on Tenzo’s screen. No doubt some of them were making fun of Tenzo for dating a ‘bully’.

“I would never make fun of you,” he lied, reading some of the responses on his own screen telling him to be nice to his boyfriend. “You’re my princess. I’m supposed to save you.”

Tenzo’s ears burned a bright red for all his viewers to see. The downside of him choosing to show his face in his videos.

“Are you going to try to win through flirting?” He huffed. “Because it’s not going to work.”

“Mmm,” finally reaching Hyrule castle, Kakashi made his way through the front doors and immodestly parried the first guardian that tried to attack him. “Have I ever told you that you complete my heart container?”

Tenzo paused what he was doing and slowly turned to face Kakashi, a stern look on his face. “You know that’s the absolute worst pickup line I have ever heard.”

“I’m sure I can do worse,” Challenging himself, Kakashi made his way through the castle as he thought up another line. An evil smirk pulling at his lips when he remembered one he had heard Gai using on Iruka once. “You know, I think I’m going to call you Epona from now on,” his comments blew up with ‘no’s’ and ‘don’t do it’s’, but it was too late. He was in too deep. “And then I can ride you all day.”

Tenzo’s controller hit the desk, his mouth agape as he stared at Kakashi.

This was it.

Today was the day Tenzo was finally going to dump him, and he deserved it. That had been too far.

“You know,” picking up his controller once more, Tenzo turned back towards his own game. “You make me wetter than the water temple.”

At this moment Kakashi was glad his viewers couldn’t see his face. His cheeks and ears were burning with embarrassment, and his eyes were glued on Tenzo.

Which was how he got his first death. Too focused on his boyfriends and the words that had just left his mouth he allowed himself to be hit by a guardian beam, killing him instantly.

“One death for you,” a small, satisfied smirk made its home on Tenzo’s face. “You sure you’re going to win this one, Kakashi?”

Cruel. Tenzo was absolutely, completely ruthless in his assault on Kakashi’s pride, and he loved it. His heart had made the best choice when it told Kakashi that Tenzo was the one for him, and every day he thanked it once again.

Even if he was currently losing.

#Modern Gamers Au #Kakayama #taryn's birthday fics #taryn's birthday celebration 2021 #Hatake Kakashi #yamato tenzo

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colonel-kira-nerys · 4 years ago

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More Thoughts on “A Matter of Perspective”

Content Warning: Discussion of Attempted Rape and Domestic Violence

Since my list of episodes with themes of sexual assault and other upsetting content has been making the rounds again, “A Matter of Perspective” has been weighing on my mind.

Even all these years after watching this episode for the first time, it still upsets me more than almost any other episode in the Star Trek canon, so I just wanted to expand a little bit more on why it’s so distressing, while there are still people possibly interested in hearing my thoughts.

The following is an in-depth look at “A Matter of Perspective,” which may be upsetting to some people, so I’m putting my analysis beneath the cut. Please let me know what you think, because I still feel the need to scream into the void about this 30 years after it aired.

“A Matter of Perspective” (TNG: Season 3, Episode 14), at first glance, has an incredibly intriguing premise. The opener is Data critiquing Picard’s sub-par painting skills (talk about tone problems... Jesus) and then Riker beams back to the Enterprise after spending the night at an alien space station, where he was supposed to be checking up on the progress of a scientist named Dr. Apgar.

But upon beaming back, the entire space station explodes. Riker acts surprised and clueless as to how this would’ve happened. Whenever he’s asked about what happened on the station, he gets cagey, even before the trial starts.

It’s clear he’s hiding something, so when an alien Inspector beams aboard asking for Riker’s arrest and extradition, the audience is prepared for it, because we know that something must’ve happened.

Then, when he’s accused of murdering the scientist and blowing up the station, there becomes the issue of who has jurisdiction over the crime. Does the Enterprise have the right to hold the trial on board, or should Riker be released into the custody of the Tenugan Investigator, Crag?

It’s important to note that I’m not coming at this from a place of hatred, in the sense that I wasn’t looking for something wrong. I thoroughly believed this was about to be a BRILLIANT episode, with lots of moral ambiguity and intrigue.

Boy, was I wrong.

The two sides (Starfleet vs. Tenugan) eventually settle on recreating the events of Riker’s time on the station via the Holodeck. THIS WAS SO COOL. I wish all crimes were able to be recreated, down to the tiniest detail, through a simulation. I thoroughly looked forward to seeing the detective work being conducted through simulations, but only because I had no idea that Riker was also going to be accused of attempted rape. I went into this completely blind.

Riker gets the first word in the trial, which I think was a gross miscarriage of justice, because he is the one being accused of the crime--of course he’s going to deny it!!! Why would you let the Defense make their case first...?!

It prejudices Captain Picard to see Riker’s story first, because he’s already more likely to be believed and protected by his own captain. It also prejudices Deanna Troi--whose presence/function during the trial, by the way, is never explained. As far as I can tell, she’s there to be a lie-detector, which is hilarious in its absurdity, because she can “sense no deception” from either Will or Dr. Apgar’s wife, Manua.

I guarantee you if the attempted rape had been shown first, this episode would’ve had a completely different tone, and that is part of the problem.

Manua, after all, is the one who requires justice, not only for her husband, but also for herself. Although, at this point in the episode, we don’t even know that she’s accusing him of sexual assault, because the Inspector didn’t charge him with that crime from the beginning.

In a way, this was a great tactic to get Riker to hang himself with his own words---with his own testimony---but because every Starfleet officer in the room is already prejudiced, that’s not how the episode plays out.

In Riker’s version of events, he is cold, robotic, and professional to a fault (as in, he seems completely uninterested in pleasantries, or, you know, doing his job with any sense of diplomacy). He makes it very clear from the beginning that he’s uninterested in Mrs. Apgar’s hospitality and just wants to get to work.

Note: why would it be important for Riker to assert with his whole heart from the very beginning that he wasn’t interested in Manua, unless he knew that Manua was going to make a claim that in his view ‘wasn’t true’?! He acts SO SURPRISED that Manua would view his advances as attempted rape, and yet, here’s the thing: we know that Riker is a fan of the ladies, so what some might see as “innocent” sexual banter could’ve been attributed to his personality, if he’d shown us his usual charm in his version of events. We expect this of him--to be a bit cocky and sensual. We might not like it, but we know that he’s a playboy, in the kindest interpretation of the word. So, as you’re watching his version of events, most people would find it strange that he would refuse hospitality from someone, because Riker has always been “up for anything” as they say.

Instead of admitting that he might have given Manua the wrong impression by flirting with her, he makes himself out to be cold and unfeeling, in order to preserve an image of cool professionalism that we as the audience know isn’t true to his character.

So, any attempts at hospitality on the part of Manua are immediately spurned by Riker, even those that seem to be genuinely a part of social graces that are indigenous to populations everywhere, not just this alien one. “Can I get you a drink?” isn’t meant to be sexual, in most cultures. This is the bare minimum requirement of a hostess, to ask if anyone needs a refreshment, and yet, Riker makes it clear that this was the start of her sexual overtures... because he needs to cover his tracks. Manua explains later, in her own version of events, that she was worried her husband’s antisocial behavior might negatively impact Riker’s report, and so it was important to make him feel welcome--hence, the drink.

According to Riker, he made hotel arrangements down on the planet for Geordi and himself, but Manua insists that they stay in the guest bedrooms instead. I know Geordi is needed for the science fiction subplot, but why isn’t he in the room to confirm or deny at least this part of Riker’s story? Can’t this specific assertion be easily fact-checked? Even alien hotels presumably have a record of reservations. Like, if Riker was telling the truth, this bit is easily provable, though I would argue that just because he made other arrangements doesn’t mean he didn’t change his mind when he saw the opportunity to have sex. My point is, why is no actual detective work done to confirm the facts of Riker’s story...?

Anyway, according to Riker, Manua then tries to seduce him once they’re alone in his guest quarters. Mr. Apgar walks in on them in a compromising position, and here’s something I failed to address in my earlier breakdown of the episode: At first, Apgar isn’t angry at Riker; he’s angry at his wife.

He says: “I knew I’d find you with him. Did you think I didn’t notice how you looked at him? I’m not the fool you take me for.” AND THEN HE BACKHANDS HER, HARD, ACROSS THE FACE.

Her husband attacks her, by Riker’s own admission, and then, only after doing that, does Mr. Apgar try (and fail) to hit Riker, too. But it’s clear his wife was the person he wanted to spend his anger on.

In all versions of this story, Mr. Apgar tries to hit Riker. That’s 100% consistent. But in Riker’s version, Apgar makes a point to “punish” his wife first. Why? This is important, because no matter which of the three versions is true, Manua is either a victim of domestic violence or of sexual assault.

Now, you can argue that Tayna wouldn’t have included Apgar hitting his wife in her statement, because Mr. Apgar is her boss, and you can also argue that Manua excluded the fact that her husband hit her from her own testimony in order to appear as though their marriage was better than it was, but why on earth would Riker feel the need to add this, if it weren’t true? Why add the assault of a woman by her husband, unless to show that this man was a “bad guy” compared to his much more “honorable” actions...?

Why isn’t this addressed? In all versions of events, Manua is physically assaulted, but only in Riker’s version does her husband slap her hard enough to nearly make her fall. I believe Riker over Tayna (the Assistant) on this specific count, because, frankly, her version is hearsay, told to her by her boss, and it’s very clear that Mr. Apgar was lying to Tayna when he claimed to beat the crap out of Riker.

So, it’s more than likely that Mr. Apgar did indeed hit his wife, if we look at it from the lens of what it makes sense for Riker to lie about, and what it doesn’t. The “beating” was taken by Manua, and not Riker, in the truest version of this story, which has to be somewhere in the middle of all of the versions, apparently.

Apgar might’ve changed this part of the story when telling it to Tayna to save face with her. Also, I don’t know who, besides her, could possibly believe that Apgar won a fistfight against Riker.

Regardless, why would he insist his wife and assistant be transported off the space station unless 1) he believed Riker was a sexual predator and/or 2) he wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do next.

[Note: This episode was heavily inspired by Rashomon, a Japanese film which explores the retelling of the same events by multiple characters, in which everyone shows their “ideal self” by lying. In that story, however, the wife is actually raped. Like, there’s no “matter of perspective” claiming she didn’t get raped. The “perspective” change only offers different ways the rape could’ve happened, and how the characters involved all acted after the rape changes from person to person. The murder is treated as the more important issue in that movie, too, because misogyny.]

Why bring up Rashomon? Because the writers should never have changed this part of the story to imply the attempted rape didn’t happen. They shouldn’t have adapted it in such a way that the main goal is to cast doubt on the assault of the woman; they should’ve committed to the assault happening, but three people telling it three different ways, so that at no point is the story trying to tell us that rape is “a matter of perspective,” but rather that the undeniable rape itself was seen by three different people in three different lights.

I think this episode could’ve been a meaningful exploration of the issue that men often don’t perceive their dogged pursuit of women as predatory, especially when the woman in question eventually “submits.” This could’ve been a story about how Riker didn’t realize he had as much power over Mr. Apgar’s scientific research (and by extension, Manua’s life) as he did. Manua and Apgar were completely dependent on Riker’s glowing report, and it’s made very clear in Manua’s version of events that she felt she couldn’t just excuse herself from the situation entirely, because her husband’s research was at stake.

This episode could’ve shown us how a “good” man, with a somewhat oblivious understanding of his power, could still abuse his power over a woman with regard to her ability to consent... but no. They immediately try to paint Manua as a lying seductress rather than a rape victim.

Here’s the thing: Manua’s version is the only one where her character has a clear motivation to testify against Riker. If this were only about her husband’s death, her testimony would be mostly irrelevant, because she obviously wasn’t there when it happened. And, if she had tried to seduce Riker, she wouldn’t need to “cry rape” to solidify Riker’s motive to kill her husband--he already had motive, which was Apgar’s threat to report his promiscuous conduct to Starfleet. Making a false accusation of rape doesn’t benefit her in any way. Not to mention it clearly traumatized her to recount it. She had to excuse herself by the end of it.

Another reason it doesn’t make sense for Manua to lie about the attempted rape is simply that she didn’t know the true nature of her husband’s research. The show missteps here, too, by making it so clear that she was in the dark about it, because if they hadn’t done that, they could’ve argued that she lied as a red herring to distract the Starfleet officers from discovering that her husband was making a weapon. But no!! Both she and Tayna had no idea that Dr. Apgar was making a weapon, and therefore that had no bearing on the rape accusation. So, the writers make absolutely no effort to explain what possible motivation Manua could’ve had for lying---because there isn’t one!!

Even in the original script, it says that Manua’s version of events characterizes Riker in a much more believable way:

(And it’s important to note that in this take on the story, Riker’s attitude is less aloof and formal. He's relaxed and charming. In fact, in some ways he is more like the Riker we know and love.)

Moreover, Deanna Troi, who canonically is supposed to be able to tell when people are lying, can sense no deception from Manua. Not that you should need an empath in the room to believe a woman when she says that someone tried to rape her. But putting that aside, the fact that there is an empath–who is compromised to begin with because of her relationship with Riker–and she believes Manua’s presentation of the events... that alone is some pretty damning evidence.

If Manua feels as though Riker tried to harm her–feels it so strongly that Deanna empathically senses that she is telling the truth–it shouldn’t matter what Riker thinks of the accusation. Assuming Riker really does believe his version of events, and Manua believes hers, why are the writers making such an effort to both discredit and support the truth of Manua’s testimony at the same time...?

And, just in case your blood isn’t boiling yet, there’s this:

Michael Piller recalled that the episode was "probably the hardest story to break. It was a technical nightmare for the director. I was very, very, happy with the script and I thought the show was disappointing. I guess it didn't translate properly. It was very ambitious, but the casting was off. If you had put Lana Turner in the role of the woman in that show, you would have understood it all – but I don't think it played as it was intended.

Y’all... this FUCKING ASSHOLE claims that the real reason the episode didn’t work was because of the casting of the wife. He believes that people would’ve “understood it all” if Lana Turner, a sex symbol and famous pin-up model, had played the role.

What he’s saying is: if the wife had been sexier, a walking pin-up, the audience would’ve understood the episode better, but because the actress playing her was... what? too average-looking? too demure? people “didn’t get it?”

This has the terrible implication that he thinks the rape story wasn’t as believable because the actress playing Manua wasn’t hot enough. Think about that for two seconds and tell me you don’t want to shoot this guy in the balls.

This could’ve been a meaningful exploration of how Riker didn’t realize he took advantage of Manua; in his mind, she was willing, but in hers, she thought she had to have sex with him or else it would negatively effect his report on her husband’s research. It could’ve been a commentary on how a man can abuse his power without meaning to--without even realizing he has it--and that, if the woman then feels violated, it’s still an assault, even if she eventually gave in and appeared to “consent.”

This episode should’ve been about Riker not realizing he’d coerced a woman, and so he truly believes he’s innocent. But no, instead it becomes a situation in which there is no possible way there was a middle ground between the two accounts. Manua’s testimony is so clearly an assault, there could be no way Riker interpreted her begging him to stop as seduction.

In conclusion, this episode goes out of its way to make it seem like rape victims are liars who can’t be trusted. Keeping in mind this was 30 years ago, I just want to end by saying: according to the United States Justice Department, only approximately 2% of all rape complaints are false, while almost three out of every four rapes go unreported. We need to stop perpetuating the lie that women often “cry rape.” Statistically speaking, they don’t.

If you made it through all of this, I would love to know your thoughts on my analysis, if you have a moment to spare to share them.

#will riker #jonathan frakes #star trek: TNG #tng #rape tw

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

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Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- The past week has been hectic and tough, but we made it! Anyways, this may be the last update for this one for a couple weeks. Maybe. Finals are staring tomorrow, so I’ll only be posting things that I’ve managed to complete over the past two weeks or so. However, the exams are online and open book this semester, with way more time to complete them, so maybeeeee, I’ll sneak something in)

Summary Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6

Warnings- Very, very slight smut

Chapter 7- Behind The Scenes

"And cut!" Jackson yelled, and after a minute of delay, Y/n along with everyone else in the scene stopped, some breathing sighs of relief, others diving straight into conversation. She'd been fretting against bindings on her arms and legs, though, upon his call, Y/n's muscles relaxed and a small group came to help out of the restraints that bound her to an old iron chair, which in actuality wasn't that old, in an abandoned warehouse, which really happened to be a section of the studio decked to look differently.

From the minute the last of the rope was undone, Y/n stood, stretching her muscles. She'd been sitting in the same position for an hour. Just then, Keanu came over, wide grin plastered on his ruggedly handsome features, "Don't tell me I missed you being bound and gagged?" He teased, low enough so they wouldn't be discovered. While she'd been tied up, much like your typical kidnap victim, Keanu had been in the thick of his fight scene just a few feet off.

"Just by a bit," Y/n teased playfully. She was about to say more when Jackson approached them, his hair a wild, disheveled mess as it usually was and his grey button up was wrinkled to match his skittish, eccentric persona.

"There are my stars," he grabbed their shoulders, "I just wanted to let you two know, whatever’s changed between you two, I’m loving it. The chemistry is fantastic! Keep going like this and people will start thinking that you’re actually a couple!” As usual, Jackson seemed to completely forget about social cues, walking off before either of them could respond.

“Its….almost….like we’re actually a couple,” Y/n cocked her head to the side, a teasing glimmer twinkling in her bright eyes. Slowly, they started towards the entrance, close enough so her shoulder would occasionally brush Keanu’s arm, though not touching intentionally.

“I know,” Keanu scoffed, shaking his head, “It’s wild,” he chuckled, holding the door open so Y/n could exit first. The minute they were both outside, Keanu took a quick look around, before hastily shifting until he’d had Y/n backed up into the outer, grey painted wall of the studio, his front pressed firmly to hers. He looked down at her, feeling himself react to her coy, sultry grin, “I mean think about it; a girl like you, and I get to do this,” Keanu’s hands skimmed up her thighs, slow enough so his touch would send tingles up her spine as it made his way to her hips, slipping beneath the hem of her tattered, light blue blouse.

“I know right,” Y/n giggled, standing on her toes, “A guy like you, and I get to do this,” her fingers tangled in the ends of his soft, dark locks, twirling them between her fingers as she reached up to capture his lips in a kiss that quickly became heated. “We’re gonna get caught,” Y/n mumbled against his lips when he reached for the button of her jeans.

“You started it,” Keanu accused, pressing his denim clad hard on into her.

“Well,” Y/n giggled between passionate pecks, “Why don’t we finish this in my trailer?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“So,” they were huddled on the sofa, basking in the afterglow of their pleasure, "We're gonna be off for a month from next week. Got anything planned?" That was actually Keanu's way of asking Y/n if she'd be spending any time with him. It was illogical, but some part of his mind was worried that what they were doing was exclusive only to Chicago.

They weren't calling it a relationship. At least not yet. It was as if they were scared to.

Y/n shrugged in his embrace, absently tracing circles into Keanu's chest. "I don't really know yet," she thought for a moment more, "I'm definitely gonna spend some time with my dad, maybe I'll fly out to see my aunt," chuckling quietly, she eventually added, "And I'm dating this guy, he’s probably gonna want me to spend some time with him too.”

“Sounds needy,” Keanu played along, his fingers tangled in the ends of her hair, his other hand splayed on Y/n’s back.

Y/n made a little sound of disagreement, “He’s more of a control freak, especially in the bedroom,” she shifted so Keanu could see when she rolled her eyes, the gesture completely exaggerated, and when Keanu smacked her ass, Y/n yelped in surprise, “Ow!” Her shoulders shook as she erupted in a fit of giggles.

“What about your mom?” Keanu probed when the mood settled as they lapsed into yet another somber bout. Up until then, Y/n never talked about her mother, she’d mentioned her father a couple times, never by name and only briefly. But never her mother.

Y/n didn’t make any move to respond immediately and Keanu was beginning to think that she hadn’t heard him. Or perhaps she’d wanted nothing to do with the question. Though, Y/n eventually gave in, feeling the weight of her silence press down on them, “What about her?”

“You aren’t going to see her too?” Really, it probably wasn’t his business, Keanu was mostly sure that Y/n would tell him about her family life if she wanted too.

Shrugging again, Y/n maintained her facade of indifference and if there was any turmoil swirling beneath her exterior, Keanu couldn’t readily identify it. Of all the women he’d met, all the women he could never figure out, Y/n was by far the most difficult. She was an enigma of sorts. Maybe that was what had made her so alluring. She was so quiet and reserved that an air of mystery followed her like plumes of smoke signaled fire and her demure disposition was perfectly enticing, her obvious innocence making Keanu want to show her things. Ruin her even. But only in the best ways.

Y/n was the embodiment of a paradox, the thought; the more she told him, the less he knew. And her silences were typically quite telling. Much like the one she’d just sunk into. Her relationship with her mother was clearly a sore subject, and Keanu was about to remind her that she didn’t need to tell him more than she wanted to when Y/n spoke up, “I’m not, we haven’t spoken since I was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, cuddling Y/n closer. Again, he wanted to know more. Yet, he didn’t know if it was even his place to prod around; Y/n didn’t exactly come across as the type that wanted to open just out of the blue like that. Still, he felt compelled to put it out there, “You can talk about it, if you want ”

On his chest, Y/n folded her arms, propping her chin there so she could almost meet his gaze, “I don’t want,” she rejected, already disinterested in the topic, “So, what about you; what are you doing with the time off. Any hot girls to keep you busy?”

Chortling quietly, Keanu let his rough palms inch lower, reaching her thighs and urging her legs open, “Oh,” he cocked a devilish grin, “Just one.”

It had been a while since she’d been there, but still, Y/n knew the place like the back of her hand. Her father’s beachfront home on the Malibu stretch was the perfect reflection of contemporary luxury; thirty two hundred square feet of modern architecture situated on thick round posts, holding the house nearly four feet off the pale sand. When tides were high, water would invade the space beneath the house, and unless you were willing to wade through a foot worth of ocean, then you’d be stuck there until the water receded.

Inside, large panes of glass, lightly colored hardwood and white marble dominated. Natural lighting filtered in from several places, though transparent walls and awning windows, negating the need for bulbs during the day and the view from the living room was spectacular; the vast blue was straight ahead, just past an infinity pool that hung daringly over the shore.

An open floor plan allowed one to still see the sparkling water even from the small kitchen, which was nearer to the front door. Y/n and Roger had spent most of their evening there, preparing dinner together. Or course, it might have been easier to order in or maybe even let one of the house keepers do it for them, but cooking together was something they enjoyed. It made Y/n feel normal; in the kitchen she wasn’t a rising actress and her father wasn’t an acclaimed director. It was just a father and his daughter, most of the time floundering around a recipe that was far too complicated for their sub par talents put together.

That night, Y/n was on pasta duty while her father sauteed scallops in a white wine sauce, both often referring to the recipes on their phones. “I think I’m doing this wrong,” he eventually admitted, when for some reason beyond comprehension, the sauce started to dry down without the shellfish taking on the golden color it was supposed to.

“Maybe you didn’t put in enough liquid?” It was no doubt more of a question than sage advice, and Y/n was too busy trying to finely chop a handful of parsley to pay attention to whatever Roger’s troubles were anyway.

“You’re right,” he hummed, grabbing the bottle of Pinot Gris next to the stove, pouring a generous amount into the pot, “Wine makes everything better,” he chuckled. Y/n just shook her head, rolling her eyes absently at his ridiculous quip. “So,” Roger began once he seemed to get everything under control, just as Y/n finished draining a potful of al dente penne pasta, “How are things in Chicago?”

What he really meant was; did you ever work things out with Luke and he who had never been named?

“They’re good,” Y/n started up her own sauce, trying to follow every direction to the letter, unlike like her father, who usually preferred to add his own touch, even if his culinary skill set was next to nil, “Filming has been lots of fun, I’ve been…..hanging out with….people,” just one person really.

“You’ve been hanging out?” Roger seemed surprised, if he knew his daughter as well as he thought he did, and without fail, he really did, he knew for a fact that Y/n wasn’t the ‘hanging out’ type. She’d always been more reserved, keeping an alarmingly small friend circle and almost everyone at an arm's length. There was only a privileged few that had seen her for the sweet girl she really was, with an overly sensitive heart and an open mind. Most people, the ones that didn’t really know her often, though she was stand-offish and too prissy to hold them in conversation. “Are these people real?”

Y/n’s dismay came in the form of a huff, contained in her throat and an annoyed rendition of the classic, “Dad!” Huffing again, she continued the task as hand, measuring out the right amounts of stock before pouring it into the pasta, following that up with a generous handful of basil.

“Can you blame me?” Roger took a lengthy sip from his beer, proceeding to lower the lower the flame on his burner, letting their entree simmer. When Y/n just scoffed, he continued, determined to wean what he wanted out of her, “So, did you ever work things out with Luke?”

For a minute, Y/n considered pretending to not hear him, but there weren’t really any disruptive noises, unless you counted the crashing of waves muffled by the walls. Besides, she’d just feel guilty about ignoring him anyway. “No,” she breathed reluctantly.

Roger nodded slowly, regarding Y/n curiously, “But you’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”

Why’d he have to know her so well?

Well, there was no point in lying anyway. “Yeah, we’ve been going out for about two months now. He’s nice.”

“Yeah? Nice enough for me to like him?” Of course her father would want to meet that man she was dating. Curse him for being so involved!

Y/n just shook her shoulders, wishing that there was a way for her to just slither out of that conversation. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of dating Keanu or anything like that, but she still wasn’t really sure of what they were doing. He’d never called himself her boyfriend, and she had even considered that she might be his girlfriend. It felt even juvenile to have to think about something as frivolous as labels, but for the first time, Y/n understood Luke’s desire to have them. Labels were easy and unambiguous. There was no toeing around the subject or wondering where you stood.

But on the flip side, Y/n wasn’t even sure if she wanted Keanu to be her boyfriend. He was a little confusing, serious most of the time but humorous at others and she constantly felt like he was holding out on her, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And worst yet, Y/n didn’t think she’d exactly call herself ‘girlfriend material’, she was a little too self-concerned sometimes and found that she couldn’t always empathize when she was stuck in her own thoughts and feelings. Who wanted that for a partner?

“Well?” Roger probed, awaiting an answer. Why was it so confusing? Because despite both their obvious flaws and incompatibilities, Y/n wanted things to work with Keanu. She thought she could want them to work in the forever kind of way, even if he didn’t seem like the kind of man interested in forever, even if part of her knew that she probably shouldn’t.

“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet,” the mood changed and Y/n gave the pasta one last stir before turning the stove off, “We’re just…..”

“Seeing where things go?” He chuckled quietly, shaking his head, getting a couple dishes out of the overhead cabinet mounted to the wall over the sink, “Why are you young people always doing that? Seeing where things go? When I was your age, people dated for a future, for marriage.” Which was probably how he’d ended up with her mother.

At a loss for words, Y/n just raised her brows in unspoken annoyance as she took a generous swing from her own tinted bottle. She didn't really want to broach the whole ‘Keanu wasn't really her age’ part of her answer, "I don't know what to tell you dad. I'm just not looking for that right now," she shrugged, helping him with plating their dinner. Afterwards, he grabbed a couple of stemless wine glasses and Y/n grabbed a bottle of white from the refrigerator, following her father out to the balcony where they'd be having dinner.

"What about him?" Their talk was starting to feel like an interrogation.

"What about him?" Y/n shook her shoulders, using the toe of her black ballet pump to shove the screen door open. When she saw the warning eye, scolding her sass, coming from her father's direction, Y/n sighed internally, relenting, "He's not looking for anything too serious either."

Y/n could see the worry in his gaze, nearly boring into the side of her head. Maybe it was the turmoil of her parents' marriage, maybe it was just her nature, but Y/n was proving to be repellent to stable relationships, not wanting to get too serious or go the whole mile. She knew that he'd probably blame himself for part of it, but she wouldn't. She'd cut that offender out of her life the second she could. They set everything down at the table that looked over the infinity pool and the ocean beyond. "Well, who is he?"

Ugh

Y/n was growing tired of the conversation. The less she gave, the more Roger wanted to know. Even if he hadn't been around a lot when she was younger, he always tried to be involved. Usually Y/n didn't mind, he was her go to for parental advice and a listening ear, but as of then, her dating life was a complicated mess and the last thing she wanted was for dad to give her a lecture on why she shouldn't be with Keanu. "It's the guy from Chicago," she evaded, "The one I told you about."

"I thought he didn't feel the same way?" He quoted.

Pushing some food around with her fork, she shrugged childishly, staring at her glass, the chill of the wine fogging it over, "I guess I was wrong."

"You don't want to talk about this," he finally assessed, "But you know I don't mean to be overbearing, I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"I know," she nodded, "I won't," it was a baseless promise, Y/n had no idea on where things were going with Keanu, and it was likely to end badly, even if she was hoping for the best.

Their silence stretched on for a while, but when Y/n broke it, she was adamant on shifting gears and getting them to talk about something else. "So, are you reading any new scripts?"

After a lengthy conversation about her confusing dating life, Y/n and her dad had spent the rest of their dinner talking about work. She'd left his place at around nine that Friday night, and after nearly three months of not driving on an actual street, she drove back to her place, a cushy condo in West Hollywood.

Keanu had called and they'd talked for about an hour, in the end deciding that he'd come to her place that Saturday evening, just after sunset. And, as promised, he'd showed up at around seven, "Hey," he cocked a crooked grin, his motorcycle helmet chucked under his arm and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark jeans and his leather jacket zipped up.

"Hi," Y/n pulled one of the heavy doors open a bit wider, wordlessly inviting him in through one side of the double entryway. The minute she closed the door and turned the lock, Keanu discarded his helmet on the counter of her moderately sized kitchen, just a few feet off from the entrance, laying his hands on her hips. He pressed a searing kiss to her lips, letting one arm circle her waist.

"I missed you," he mumbled against her lips, his salt and pepper scruff rough and ticklish on her skin. As they lingered like that, Keanu tilted his head again, his calloused touch inching beneath the hem of her loose, cotton tank top.

Y/n giggled softly, the musical sound muffled by his lips smooshed on hers, "We saw each other two days ago."

"Two days too long," he growled, tugging her closer that Y/n thought was possible. Really, he was right; in Chicago they saw each other every day, they had sex everyday.

Y/n's hands skimmed the cool leather of his coat, sliding them upwards until her fingers were tangled in his ends of his shaggy, dark locks, tangling them around her little fingers, “You really missed me, didn’t you?” Y/n teasingly rubbed against his jean clad erection, smiling at how he hissed appreciatively.

“Baby,” his husky voice was low and rich, the simple word making her feel things, “You have no idea.” Kissing her again, heated and hungry, Keanu pushed Y/n deeper into her apartment, just past a thick rectangular post, where the electronic fireplace was embedded and the television mounted above it. There was an armchair near the unlit fireplace, with soft white upholstering, complemented by black accent pillows, and as they reached it, Keanu slid his palms down the curve of her ass, hoisting her up in his arms. As he sank down into the chair, Y/n straddled him, eager to undo the zipper of his jacket before pushing it off, unabashedly moving on to undo the fastenings on his jeans.

Groping her ass one last time, Keanu’s hands resumed their former task, traveling up the inside of her worn, grey top, his touch igniting shocks. His lips ravished her neck, probably leaving behind purplish bites and beard burn. Y/n ground in Keanu’s lap, moaning eagerly when he reached around to fondle her unrestrained breasts. Clumsily, she reached between them to free his hardened cock, when a startled obscenity erupting from near the kitchen interrupted them.

Keanu’s hold on her boobs was still firm as sirens went off in Y/n’s head. “Dad!” Y/n shrieked, more horrified than she’d ever been.

“What?” Keanu furrowed his brows, confused at her alarm, and why she’d stopped. Turning and craning his head to see who she was seeing, his eyes went wide, his jaw hanging slack. Just when he thought a situation couldn’t get much worse than sleeping with a woman and then having brunch with her and her boyfriend, Keanu was reminded that it always could. An uncomfortable and awkward brunch was certainly better than getting caught with his hands up the top of an old friend’s daughter. “Roger?”

“Keanu?” Needless to say, Y/n wasn’t the only one absolutely mortified with the situation. Almost immediately after, though still not nearly soon enough, Keanu dropped his hands, not really sure of where they should go from there on.

It took another minute or two, but eventually, Y/n was scurrying out of Keanu’s lap, tugging at her tank top and loose, grey booty shorts. So much for hiding her somewhat complicated relationship from her father. Though, that wasn’t the issue hot on Y/n’s frazzled mind, “You two know each other?”

Red in face, Y/n stood, barefoot on the fluffy, off-white rug, unconsciously curling her toes into the fabric. Neither of the men made a move to answer and the sheer horror of the moment seemed to be mirrored three ways. Everyone was at a loss for words and tension was on a continuous rise; embarrassment, awkwardness and bubbling anger from at least one person. The room suddenly felt much smaller than it actually was, and though there was at least ten feet and one piece of furniture between Keanu and Roger, anyone could tell that whatever friendship was shared between them, wasn’t going to be there much longer.

As seconds ticked by, and everyone processed what had just happened, it felt like time was passing too slowly for anything to make sense. Though, when the kettle finally whistled, the noise was piercing and what happened next was not what Y/n was hoping for.

His face was beet read with anger and his fists were clenched at his side as Roger strode up to Keanu in long steps, “You’re fucking my daughter!”

“Dad!” Y/n screamed, and the rest of it was a blur.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @paanchu786 @thesadvampire @fanficsrusz @fickensteinn @ladyreapermc @babygirltaina @septimaseverina @snatchedbylele @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews @greenmanalishi

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick #put me in a movie #series #chapter 7 #lana del rey #fanfic #fanfiction #ff #keanu reeves fanfiction #john wick fanfiction

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heyiwrotesomethings · 5 years ago

Text

Sick

Winter Schnee x Fem Reader (Pre Shit Going Down in Atlas)

Winter Schnee, ever orderly and deliberate, an absolutely invaluable asset to the Atlas military known for her skill and poise, was also known for her appreciation of routine and order. Which is why when she was confronted by an unusual assistant claiming to be taking over for the day she was displeased to say the least, but did not voice it. (Y/n) had been her assistant almost as long as Winter had been in her position as a high ranking military specialist and they had gotten the routine down to a science. The clumsy carelessness of the person filling in for (Y/n) left Winter agitated and she became aware of all the little things that (Y/n) would take care of without needing to be asked.

“Do you know why (Y/n) couldn’t be here today?” Winter asked the substitute, with a tired sigh. “Oh, yeah, she called in sick. Fever or something.” They answered. “Oh, um, those documents were supposed to go to who again?” Winter felt the beginnings of a headache on the horizon and rubbed her temples, answering the question and sending them off. Normally, she could rattle off a bunch of things that needed to be done and (Y/n) wouldn’t come back until she had done it all. She couldn’t risk any sensitive documents getting to the wrong people so she decided not to overload the rookie, as they seemed to have difficulty with even the simplest tasks. Winter surmised that she would have at least five minutes before the assistant got back and her fingers itched for the scroll burning in her pocket. It wouldn’t be weird to ask her how she’s doing, right? Winter wondered to herself. I mean, as her overseer and maybe friend it would be appropriate for me to worry about her health. She peered down at the screen in her hands, the text app open and her fingers hovering over the keys. Winter took in a deep breath and quickly typed and sent a message to (Y/n). “There, that seems acceptable.” She mumbled to herself looking back over what she sent. Greetings, (Y/n). I understand that you are unwell. I hope you do get better soon. Let me know if you require anything. The substitute I received is sub par at best and I need you to be well as soon as possible. -Winter Winter set her scroll off to the side and tried to focus on some more paperwork but found it hard to concentrate, especially when the sub should have been back by now. She tracked them down and found them flirting with one of the soldiers, papers still in hand. After dealing with that and dismissing the sub from her service, Winter returned to her office and began to gather all the outgoing documents herself. She then noticed that her scroll still hadn’t had any new messages, which concerned her since (Y/n) was usually quick to reply. When she returned from dropping off all the documents to the appropriate destinations and found her message still unanswered and unread, Winter felt the worry grow. She decided to call, and when (Y/n) didn’t answer she jumped into action, leaving her post with an amused looking Ironwood seeing her off. When Winter reached (Y/n)’s apartment she knocked heavily on the door. “(Y/n)? It’s Winter, please open the door.” She called, her voice clear and slightly louder than her usual speaking tone. When no answer or sound came through the door. Winter felt the worry continue to grow. Should she pick the lock? No, no time for that, if someone had (Y/n) as a hostage they would have heard her knock. That means- Winter busted the door down, weapon at the ready. She scanned her surroundings, the apartment appeared clean, no signs of struggle or break in. Well, unless you counted the busted front door. Winter carefully made her way through the apartment going from room to room. Finally she reached the bedroom and kicked the door open with a loud bang that reverberated throughout the whole apartment. The lump under the covers spasmed and curled in on itself and a miserable sounding muffled groan reached Winter’s ears. “(Y/n)?” Winter called with relief, sheathing her weapon. She strode over the the bed and kneeled near the side. The lump shifted a bit and the covers lowered revealing a disheveled, tired, and confused (Y/n). “Winter? What are you doing here? What was that terrible noise?” (Y/n) asked. Her voice scratchy and low from sickness and sleep. “I sent you a message and tried to call you, I- I was worried.” “Sorry, I took some powerful sleep aid to try to sleep the sickness off. I didn’t mean to worry you.” (Y/n) replied with a cough and a sniffle. She checked her scroll and noticed the time. “Winter shouldn’t you be at the academy? If I remember correctly you have a meeting in twenty minutes.” “I told the General that I won’t be attending that meeting today. I’m taking care of you.” “Winter, you don’t need to do that.” “Maybe so, but I’ve already committed to it. I’ll be right back with water and some food if you can stomach it... and if you hear anything that sounds like power tools on a wooden door try to ignore it.” “O... Okay...?” (Y/n) replied, head too full of mucus to fully process what she was hearing. (Y/n) had almost dozed off again when Winter returned with water, a cup of warm broth, and a coolie pack. She managed to get (Y/n) to drink some water and broth. Winter also felt (Y/n)’s forehead and frowned when the feel of the hot, sweat slicked skin met the back of her hand. She placed the coolie over (Y/n)’s forehead and sat perched on the edge of the bed, trying to think of what else she could do to make (Y/n) better. “Thank you for this, Winter. For taking care of me.” “No need to thank me. I’m just glad you are all right... relatively speaking.” Winter replied, needlessly adjusting the covers and checking (Y/n)’s temperature again. “You know, I may not be a trained huntress or soldier... but I’m far from fragile.” (Y/n) hummed, quietly. She noticed how Winter’s eyebrows twerked, eyes narrowed and her lips pursed ever so slightly to signify her confusion over the statement. “What I’m trying to say, Winter, is that you don’t need to drop everything, break down my front door, and dote on me when I have a slight fever.” (Y/n) chuckled good naturedly, the light laughter giving way to a bit of a coughing fit. Winter passed a cup of water over, unsure of what to say. Finally, she drew in a breath and spoke. “Maybe I overreacted a bit. However I’ll never be too busy to help you feel better. You are important to me and I don’t know how to function without you.” Winter looked up and met the shocked face (Y/n) was sporting and then the gravity of what she had said hit her. “I mean- in the academy. It’s troublesome to have-“ “Winter, your sweeter than people give you credit for.” (Y/n) smiled. “I would hope people wouldn’t consider sweetness as one of my mentionable qualities.” Winter blushed. “So is this a side of you only I get to see?” (Y/n)’s smile grew brighter. “Well, I- Ugh, have you ever seen me break down anyone else’s front door?” Winter asked, exasperatedly. “Ah! So you really did break down my door. I hope all those drill noises I heard mean you were able to fix it.” “Yes, it’s fixed. Stronger than before too. Your front door shouldn’t be so easy to break down!” Winter yelled, her face growing hotter. “Hey, Winter?” “Yes, (Y/n)?” Winter watched (Y/n) kiss her own hand then touch the hand gently to Winter’s cheek, then set the hand in her lap once more. “What did you just do?” Winter asked, perplexed. “Well, I wanted to kiss your cheek, but I didn’t want to get you sick so I gave you a kiss indirectly. (Y/n) reasoned. “That makes no sense. You would still be giving me your germs regardless of if you kissed me indirectly or not.” “Oh, I guess that’s true.” (Y/n) gasped. “Sorry, sick brain isn’t very good at thinking things through all the way.” “Well, now that you’ve already infected me, I suppose it wouldn’t matter if you kissed me more directly...” Winter tried to seem nonchalant but the redness of her cheeks and the ways her eyes danced around the room did not give that impression. “Alright.” (Y/n) giggled. “Lean in closer.” Winter bent closer and held her breath, heart beating fast. (Y/n) placed her lips softly against Winter’s jaw and withdrew after a second. Winter felt like her heart would beat right out of her chest. When she tried to speak her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Thank you.” She finally said, lamely. “You’re welcome.” “Am I- are you- are our schedules free at all next weekend?” “We both have Sunday afternoon off from work related activities, can’t say I know if you had anything personal planned for that day though.” “Could you update my calendar to say dinner with (Y/n) on Sunday at 6:30?” “Of course, Specialist Schnee.” (Y/n) smiled and typed the event into her scroll to set the date. “Excellent. Then I suppose I should take my leave. I have neglected my duties for too long.” Winter moved to stand the quickly turned to the girl laying in the bed. “That is, unless you need anything?” “I’m just perfect.” (Y/n) beamed. “Good luck instructing that sparring class. I hear they are quite the handful.” “Of that I am well aware. Take care of yourself. I expect a full recovery before Sunday!” “I’ll do my best! Bye Winter.” “Goodbye, (Y/n). Get well soon.”

#rwby oneshots #Winter schnee x reader #Winter x reader #Winter Schnee

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monsterlovinghours · 5 years ago

Note

Hi this is definitely not Gaia but imagine if captain scarabee decked you out in gold and jewels and took you dancing at some big underground gala where you met the other conglomerate captains

The moon shone like a pearl, set with stars like diamonds in the velvet expanse of the night sky. Out of nerves, your hand went to your throat, where an emerald pendant set in gold rested against your skin, dangling between your collarbones. Your ears felt heavy, weighed down with solid gold earrings, bangles and baubles dripping from your arms and hands; Scarabee had even insisted on fastening a delicate gold chain with a tiny bell on it around your ankle. "So I can find you it we get separated, cherie," he said with a wink.

There was some sort of gala tonight, a gathering that was more political than frivolous, and he had covered you in glittering finery for the occasion, insistent on showing you off. You felt clumsy, off-balance in your heeled shoes, your range of motion limited by the absurd gown he had laced you into. But he had given you a wolfish grin when he was finished rolling you up, nearly licking his chops as he eyed you hungrily. "No one will be able to their eyes off you, ma belle petite. Least of all me."

Deep breath. Your ribs strained against the boning of the corset, painted lips pursed on the exhale as he led you inside. The ballroom was buzzing with quiet chatter, thankfully not terribly crowded. You snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and took a sip, hoping for courage, and at your side, you heard Bee exclaim.

"Ah, my friends! Cherie, you must meet my associates." He steered you to a group of four men, who turned to face you at your arrival, and you suddenly felt as if you were being skewered by four separate piercing gazes. One was tall, with a scar running across his eye. Another dressed lavishly, gloved fingers curled around the head of an expensive-looking walking stick. The amber eyes of a third seemed to gleam as brightly as his silver teeth as he grinned at you, smoothing back his hair. The fourth was the shortest, his hair fashionably long and loose against his shoulders, nursing a glass of amber liquid. Scarabee proudly introduced you, practically glowing, then introduced his associates by name. The tall one was Zhuk, the regal one Scarafaggio, the grinning one Escarabajo, and the shortest was Ciarog. As each name was said, its owner took your hand, lifting it to their lips for a kiss; you told yourself it was nerves that caused the feeling of an electric current running up your skin with each press of their lips.

"Gentlemen," you said, dipping until a shallow curtsey, "it's an honor."

"The honor is ours, dear lady." Zhuk smiled, turning his gaze to Bee. "You've been hiding her from us, moy drug. Where did you find such an enchanting creature?"

They struck up a conversation, discussing trading and territorial disputes; who knew piracy could be so dull? You let your gaze wander, not truly paying any attention, until you heard a voice cut through the chatter.

"Honestly, can't you see you're boring the lady to death? If you insist on talking business, will you allow me to entertain her with a dance?"

You smiled gratefully at Scarafaggio, accepting his request before Bee could interject and letting him take your arm. He led you out onto the floor, placing his hand on your back and folding your hand in his, smoothly stepping into the waltz without missing a beat. "You dance beautifully, signore."

He laughs. "No need to be so formal, piccola, you may call me Gio. Most of my associates do." Over the music, he kept an engaging conversation, until there was a tap on his shoulder. There stood Zhuk, that gentle smile back on his face.

"May I cut in?"

Gio laughed, kissing your hand once more before placing it in his colleague's. "You may need to lead, my dear, this man has two left feet and no sense of rhythm."

Zhuk shot his back a withering look, then turned back to you, folding your much smaller hand in his as the band took on a slower melody. Scarafaggio hadn’t been entirely wrong, his movements weren’t as fluid or graceful, and he did seem a bit off tempo, but his gentle hold and captivating stare kept your focus away from his sub-par ballroom skill. “Tell me, roza, how is it that a scoundrel like Scarabee ends up with such a lovely flower on his arm?”

You can feel your cheeks turn pink, and you recount how you met the captain, sneaking your way onto his ship to steal ammunition only to be caught. He had been impressed with your stealth and your skill at hand to hand combat, and had decided to employ you on his crew. Naturally, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of you for long, and Zhuk chuckled good-naturedly as you admitted that you had more than once pointed a dagger at Bee’s nethers before giving in and letting him take you to bed. The Russian’s eyes only left yours to dart down to your lips, and the pink didn’t leave your cheeks the entire time he had you in his arms, the chatter of the ballroom seeming far away, unimportant.

This song was shorter than the last, and when it ended, another of the group appeared to take Zhuk’s place; the long-haired one, Ciarog, his scotch long gone but his grin still firmly in place. Zhuk surrendered you with another kiss to your hand, the shorter captain gleefully pulling you close; you had to admit, it was nice to be eye to eye with your dance partner, instead of having to crane your neck. “M’afraid my dancin’ skills are more suited to jigs than a waltz, but I hope I’ll be satisfactory to ye, lass.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re doing just fine. Ciarog, right?”

He beamed as you remembered his name and its correct pronunciation. “You got it, darlin’. But you can just call me Cia, if ye like.” His dancing was more energetic than the previous two, more enthusiasm than form, but it was refreshing, the band seeming to follow his lead, beginning a more upbeat number. The soft lilt of his voce relaxed you, his jokes put you at ease, made you toss your head back and laugh; perhaps this gala wouldn’t be so boring after all. Especially not with such handsome dancing partners.

The last chord of the song had barely begun to fade when the last of the group approached, silver teeth flashing as he sent a suggestive look your way. “I believe it’s my turn with the lady, mi amigo.” Ciarog huffed and rolled his eyes, but placed your hand in his, giving his friend a good-natured jab with his elbow. You noticed right away that this one was more forward than his compatriots, pulling you flush to his body, his hand straying toward your waist as his eyes bored down into yours. “I’ve been waiting to have you in my arms all evening, mariposa. Shame on Scarabee for not bringing you along with him before; we could have met that much sooner.”

Your cheeks turned red, your stomach twisting, trying hard to concentrate on the steps so you wouldn’t tread on your partner’s foot. “I...well, I haven’t been a part of the crew for long…”

“And such a pretty thing, to be running with pirates.” He grinned, and your heart stuttered in your chest when you saw the flick of his tongue against one silver tooth. “You seem like the type of woman to chase the thrill of adventure, querida. Perhaps sometime you and I could-”

A silk-gloved hand interrupted him, smacking the back of his head as you looked over Escarabajo’s shoulder to find Bee, his eyes narrowed. “If you want to keep your tongue inside your head, mon ami, you’ll stop that thought right there and unhand her.”

The Spaniard rolled his eyes, but stepped back from you, his fingers lingering in the dip of your waist. “If you ever feel the need for a change of scenery, mariposa, you just call for Bajo. I’m at your beck and call.” He tipped you a wink, sending Bee a rather smug look as he sauntered away, and Bee muttered something venomous in French at his retreating back.

He gathered you into his arms and ushered you off the dance floor, sighing as his fingers traced your cheek. “I’m sorry to be away from you for so long, cherie. Those scoundrels weren’t too boorish, I hope?”

You smiled, leaning into his hand. “Not at all, I’m having a wonderful time. Your friends are...very kind.” Bee raised a brow at that; there were many things you could call his associates, but kind was rarely one of them. He noted the blush on your cheeks, and the way your eyes seemed to shine. The others had certainly seemed smitten with you, and a slight, lopsided grin touched his mouth at the thought; it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, to share you among the five. If you were amenable to it, that is. After all, they shared nearly everything else. Perhaps tomorrow, he’d discuss it with you. Tonight, he planned to keep you all to himself.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #the conglomerate

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crqstalite · 4 years ago

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from the scrap pile.

yet another bit of scraps, this time from that time i told myself to novelize me2. obviously, didnt go over well (tl;dr, not enough kaidan for what i was planning to do with a sort of ‘series’), but there are some bits im really proud of in here (i’ll post lali + joker’s interaction in a bit so i can stagger these)

...possible warnings? it’s a combat scene. basically. mass effect 2. kinda worked as an introduction for annika post me1.

Kodelyn hears Miranda's voice from just beyond where she'd entered the alley, though there's an extra pair of boots that she makes out, and she pauses to lift the med-kit with her.

Distracted so easily, she only just makes out a hooded figure before she can pull a weapon. She's knocked off balance so quickly by a kick on the ankles she can't even register what's going on until her head hits the ground, hard, with a heavy boot on her chest holding her down and a glowing blue hand above her that holds a pistol aimed for her head. She barely makes out the sight of bullets flying at the person above her, though the blue corona flickers into a shield, blocking them as the shells fall to the ground harmlessly. She picks up the quiet sound of biotics thrumming above her, hearing Mordin's voice and a grunt from Miranda. They'd gotten hit by something, or each other. Her head swims, groaning as she blinks away dirt from her eyes. She can see stars in her eyelids as she squeezes them closed, trying to regain any sense of balance she still had. There'd be a knot on the back of her skull later, she knows it.

Fear bubbles up in her throat, painkillers flooding her senses and numbing the shock. She's not wearing a helmet, hence the buzzing feeling that's starting to come over her. Her shields had to still be intact, but they couldn't take a shot at point blank range if they decided to shoot. Who knew who this even was? Some rogue biotic with a chip on their shoulder for her? It wasn't like she hadn't made it clearly obvious who she was, with the armor, N7 patch and all.

She's beginning to feel herself spiral as the boot grows heavier on her chest, straining to breathe properly. Kodelyn's chest feels like it's constricting in on itself, but the rational part of her knows she's panicking, reliving old events. Had been one of the first things the N7 training had taught her how to regulate. Her eyes dart around for those terrifying few seconds, stars dancing across her vision at dizzying speed. Cotton feels like it's filling her ears, the hissing noise of something that sends a jolt through her body joining it.

She considers her options in that split second that her attacker's attention is split between her and her ground team, before wrenching the other person off their feet with a shove to the shins that knocks them off balance. They stumble into a wall, Kodelyn jumping for the chance to close in for a melee hit with her omni-tool glowing a menacing orange on her wrist. She doesn't get the chance before her attacker hits back with a biotic kick to her side, knocking the wind out of her. She's slow to reactivate her omni-tool, eventually realizing pulling her SMG on them would do more harm than good if they chose to use a shield. They take swift advantage of her incompetence in that moment she spends considering. Her attacker punches her a few more times with glowing fists, strategically placing Kodelyn in between them and Miranda and Mordin as she takes the onslaught. A sound strategy, she has to admit, as much as her body throbs at the idea. Seeing this, Kodelyn clumsily struggles to get the upper hand on them, her bulky armor taking a majority of the blows but still leaving places where she's sure she'll bruise.

Eventually, she does get behind them. Thinking it's over, she pulls her pistol out, pointing it at her attacker, who in the dim light whips around. Time slows down as their corona fully comes out, blue lighting their surroundings like a strike of lightning, her attacker charging her biotically. It formulates in her mind then and there that she's been cornered by who they’d been looking for, or at least someone who worked for them. However, she doesn't have long to even say anything before the force catches up to her and sends her skidding backwards onto the pavement. She can't breathe for those few moments, feeling weightless before the ground rushes up to meet her, slamming her back down onto the ground at an awkward angle. Pain shoots up her back as she struggles to draw a breath.

Now she's definitely sure she's gained another bruise, if not a few broken ribs at the same time.

Her hand to hand instructor would be pissed with her if he saw her now. Then again, all the biotics they knew of by that point were all Alliance, there hadn't been a need to learn to fight against them while they were on your side. These vanguards were too much of a wild card to reliably predict how to safely counteract their biotic charges short of literally side stepping them when you saw them coming.

If, you saw them coming.

Still, this was just embarrassing now, her reaction time had been slow and sluggish. Probably why it'd been so easy for them to get the jump on her. Either the Illusive Man or her sister were watching her suit cam, and she'd probably have to answer for a few things when she got back to the Normandy. And maybe take Jacob up on that offer to get some combat training in for the crew.

"Shepard!" Mordin's voice rings through her ears as Miranda closes in on the person. The Salarian offers her a hand up after side stepping the dueling pair, and she gratefully takes it while he pulls up his omni-tool. Blue lights the small space as Miranda throws the other person, though they expected that and counter with a shield, narrowly avoiding the warp she throws out moments later. It's enough of a distraction that she fumbles around for her own Carnifex, and takes steady aim in between the scuffle. Pulling the trigger, the bullet hits the attacker directly in the left arm, a clang sounding and reverberating against the walls of the side street.

A clang?

Her first thought is that it's a robot. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense, unless the biotics were just for show and some trick of the light. Yet, the high impact of the shot distracts them long enough for Miranda to get a solid biotic flare in, and they tumble backwards, skidding on their boots into a crouched position. Only then does Kodelyn notice the small party of onlookers they've gathered, and shoots off a bullet in the distance to scare them off. They scurry in different directions, and only then does she approach the still shrouded person. Maybe they've accepted they've been caught, darting a glance to the operative and scientist who have their guns pulled on them. It's easy enough to goad them into moving out of the alley and into the light, though they don't look happy about it in the slightest.

She waves Miranda off to face them properly, the person rubbing their jaw with a grey, metallic hand. Able to focus better on who had admittedly taken her down rather well, purple-blue eyes flicker back at her, a red scarf covering the bottom half of their pale face. A hood is over their head, so she can't discern what color their hair is. A scar runs through their eye, still raised and red.

It takes her a moment to pull herself together, wiping away blood from where the impact had split her lip, "Widow, I presume?"

They don't answer for a moment, eyes narrowing at her. A chill runs down her spine.

"And you think your name is Shepard?" The deep feminine voice asks suspiciously, eyes darting down to the N7 patch on her chest. They scoff, "I'll have to say, Verner doesn't have anything on you. The similarities are nearly uncanny."

She can't place the voice. Maybe distorted through her ears, maybe because the accent isn't clear cut. Either way, they cross their arms and storm ahead, "You're not the real Shepard. A copy, maybe. Plastic surgery? Some Alliance officer to calm us all down? They tried that one for a while."

Alliance officer? That was a little terrifying to think about, in retrospect. Still, that wasn't her focus right then, steeling her tone from wavering, "My name is Shepard. Maybe I should be grateful I'm being recognized at all."

"You're the same person who's been trailing us," Miranda muses out loud, "If you don't think this is her -- which it is -- then why bother coming after her? A form of revenge?"

They skirt the question, "I don't know how you managed to find me here, or why Cerberus wants me, but you're going after the Collectors, I presume. Took someone long enough to realize they're the real enemy here."

"I doubt the galaxy is just in denial," Kodelyn responds, reholstering her pistol from where it'd been in her hands, "Colonies have been disappearing for months. It isn't so easily ignored."

"You talk as if you've been alive for the last two years. There were a lot of people who thought you were dead, Shepard. Think they even had a parade for you somewhere on Earth," They say matter-of-factly, as if they're saying she doesn't already know, "I don't know what your deal is, but I've got better things to do than duel with your sub-par combat skills."

Their omni-tool pings on their wrist when they trail off before Kodelyn can say anything, and they shove Mordin out of their path to leave the alley. They turn over their shoulder as an afterthought, shrugging for them to follow.

"Shepard, you can't tell me you think this is in any way a good idea." Miranda hisses out in a whisper, watching as they turn the corner, "They could be a liability going forward if they attacked you for thinking you were a clone. We might be better off going after Archangel ourselves."

"Operative Lawson is correct. Choosing mercenary who tried to kill you, poor choice, Shepard." Mordin nods, "Would much rather work with someone less...problematic."

Something rubs her the wrong way about Widow, and she files their opinions away for thought when the real choice came to fruition. If she could have both, and it turned out they weren't interested in putting a bullet in her back, then it might work in her favor. But considering the fact they'd just laid her out then and there on the concrete, she didn't have high hopes for option one.

"I'm sure you can guess why we're here then, we need you for this fight," Kodelyn catches up to their shorter stride, but they don't even answer her, "But I'm guessing you're not budging until you finish here."

"Hm, then they remade you with a brain. Comforting." They nod, metal fingers flying over the keyboard of her 'tool, "Then if you know everything about me, then I'm guessing you know about the vendetta I have against Archangel." Kodelyn nods, and they pause by another apartment door, waving their omni-tool over it, "Bastard has caused me some...problems, since I've been here. If I'm going off to do something with a lower survival rate than living here, I'd rather be assured he won't be taunting me from the land of the living."

"You want him dead."

#kodelyn shepard #annika johansson

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