#oc x Vista

[alexa-fika]

Hey, can you do a niffty reader with whitebeard pirates?

basicly niffty is a housekeeper who quote on quote "likes killing mother bugs in front of baby bugs as a warning to the others" is very much a probem child in the mentaly unstable way, likes punishing bad boys(whatever that means) and likes stabing people, Multiple times.

She is from hazbin hotel

Menace Ahoy( Whitebeard pirates x male!child!reader)

A/N, y’all I had this one ready yesterday but I forgot to post it 🤭 And then forgot to do it this morning too,oops. If you know Hazbin Hotel you know what you can expect on a character based on nifty, if not expect references to blood killing and overall red flags in a child 😂

Update: (Female Version)

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha as a placeholder which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“You lost him?!”

“The hell do you mean me?! You were also supposed to keep an eye on him!”

“That’s enough the both of you! Right now, we need to focus on finding him before he sneaks into the kitchen or the training areas.” The first-mad yelled, scolding his crewmates

“I swear I had him by my side a few seconds ago. I just I blinked, and just like that, gone! It’s like he just up and vanished!” Ace said desperately, looking around

“That’s why you can’t take your eyes off him; he is quick like that,” mutters Vista, thinking of where the little menace could have run off to now

“He wouldn’t get off the ship, would he?” He questions

“Unlikely, he will only get down once he sees one of us has deboarded, and despite looking for trouble, he won’t leave our side unless we tell him he can,” Izou pipes in

Their discussion is quickly cut short as two voices join their conversation

“What have I told you about sneaking into the kitchen?” Thatch grumbles, holding the child by the scruff of his shirt walking closer to the men

“But it was a mess! I needed to clean the mess up!” He fusses, looking up at the chef

“No, uh, Kitchen is a big No, No, don’t trust you not to steal one of my knives again.”

“But it was a mess; I need to go back and clean it; I need to make sure it’s clean, so much mess, I need to clean it,” he rambled on as he began to spiral on the thought of the kitchen and all the tools and areas that needed to be cleaned up

“Hey, Hey, I get you want to clean, but you can’t just barge in and start cleaning; you could get badly hurt if you touched one of the hot surfaces. Please don’t go back in there without one of us,” He said, lowering the kid to the ground

“Just don’t sneak in there again, got it?”

“Sorrey”

“It’s okay; I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried you could get badly hurt. How about you come to ask me first, and I‘ll let you know if I help clean?”

He grins, nodding excitedly

“Okay!”

“Hey, Dokucha, are you coming with us?” Called Vista; Marco and Izou already waiting for the pair at the port

“Yeah!” The exclaimed, running his way but skidding to a stop and looking at the two behind him

“Are you not coming?” He asked, looking at Thatch and Ace

“I’ll stay here; I have some things to attend to in the kitchen,” Thatch replies; he takes a moment to sigh and rub his head

“Someone has to keep this idiot some company,” quips Ace with a grin, only to groan as his comment was received with a hit on the back of the head

“What the hell, Thatch?!”

He snickers at his brothers' antics and resumes running his way to Vista, joining him as they go down the gangway

“Where are we going?”

Marco looks back at the two

“I need to refill some of the medical supplies; after that, we need to stack up on drinks,” Marco answered, looking down at the list he held in his hands

He jumps his way to Marco, hanging from his shoulder to take a look at the note

“What’s gunpowder? And what the hell is whetstone?” the boy asked, squinting at the words in the note

“Language,” muttered Marco, giving a side eye to the child on his shoulder

“Whetstones are used to sharpen swords, Dokucha; I need it to sharpen my swords; the one we have has grown dull,” Vista answered

“Hehehehe, Can I have the swords when you sharpen them?”

“Certainly not.”

“Just for a little bit, just want to test them; how do you know if they go through the skin if you don’t try it?” He grinned, a maniacal look growing in his eyes

“Who are you trying this on?!”

“I can find people to stab real quick; you won’t miss them.”

“No”

“I can use the blood of our enemies.”

“Still no.”

“Bah, what about gunpowder?”

“It’s used for firing weapons like my pistols,” Izou replied, showing the kid his pistols as he said that

“No.”

“Din’t even ask!”

“Don’t need to; you wouldn’t be allowed.”

“Ugh, party poopers,” he whined, sticking his tongue at the two

They roll their eyes at his antics, a chuckle escaping Vista as he shakes his head

“You’re quite something, Dokucha,” Marco stated, putting the note away and beginning to make his way into town

“I wouldn’t trust you with a wea- Agh!” His words were cut off as one of the locals knocked into him, causing him to stumble slightly in surprise

“Watch where you’re walking, dumbass,” they growl, continuing their way deeper into town

“…”

“Stab, Stab?” He said, not taking his eyes off the person as they walked away, an ominous-looking smile growing on his face

“Leave them,” Marco groaned, brushing himself off

“But they deserve it to have their blood splattered!”

“They are not worth it,” Vista sighed, shaking his head

“It’s fine. Let them have their rude ways; they hardly deserve any of you’re attention,” Izou added

“Don’t let people like that bother you, Dokucha; people like that enjoy pushing people around. It’s best not to waste your time with them,” Vista finished

“They were rude; come on, just one stab! I’ll make the prettiest painting with their blood.”

“No”

“No one will mis-

“Absolutely not”

Everyone would be hap-

“Just drop it.”

“Come o-

The three stated their answers firmly, all three sharing a similar tone that told him there was no room for discussion

“Party poopers”

So how was that? I tried to keep Dokucha an unhinged child, in a comedic way and make sure not to pass that line where you’re like bro this kid is a psychopath and no one should be near him. Im not sure if I was able to establish that balance here

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[bunnyspine]

!CW: Maggots!

Welcome to Sunshine Funtime! A magical place for all those willing to learn something new. Math? Grammer? Science? Sunshine Funtime has it all! And its colorful variety of teachers will help all elementary school kids to better their grades without the stress ⭐️ Get the CD now!

[nitzukai]

some scrollbars.

[theonepiecelazyartist]

Oc x Canon:D

Gelinton/British Lad x Vista OP

a Little Surprising:D

Friends:D

[macabre-discotheque]

something i made while procrastinating on my things for halloween lmao

(I'm just gonna start calling it VA el oh el) so yeah just have some Holly, va wally and pascal cause yea bro also here's the og fic incase you're curious, i'll be linking it anytime i make art for it

[proceduralpassion]

Would You Kill For Me, My Love?

Day 9 of Narcoctober- Create anything devoted to an LGBTQ+ character. Create anything with a queer and/or trans original character or reader insert.

Characters: Pacho Herrera x OC (Will Boa Vista)

WC: 522 (she smol but she mighty)

A/N: Whewwww they kinda got me a choke hold ngl. This is less than 600 words and somehow there's a whole universe and timeline for them in my noggin'. Das crazy. Remember kids: grammar and spelling errors add spice and character.

“It’s a simple ask.”

The situation is nowhere near the realm of funny but the laugh escapes Will before he can bury it back in his throat. It tapers into a heavy sigh and his shoulders sag like he’s resting the weight of the world on them.

“It’s not a simple ask, mi amor,” Will demurs.

Pacho grabs a hold of his hand, his other hand occupying a gun. Will looks up at the grasp and their eyes meet in a desperate exchange, “It is a simple question, my dear. Are you willing to kill for me?”

Will’s eyes don’t hold doubt. They hold fear, sure, but there’s no deception or betrayal in his stare. There’s adoration, there’s contemplation. He was never meant to be brought into this world. Desperation along with an unfortunate sequence of circumstances landed them together, and even then, Will regrets not a thing. He never thought that he'd find love before meeting Pacho. He never imagined himself holding a lover in such high regard. If it were anyone else, Will would’ve told them they were crazy. That he would do no such thing as take another’s life. But now? Now, he’s more scared of what he is willing to do in the name of love.

Pacho keeps talking to fill the silence since Will has not yet spoken, “It’s okay, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to take this as your out. I know how much you mean to me, and how much I mean to you.”

He doesn’t say it outright, but he knows that no matter how this goes, Will would never betray Pacho.

Things were ramping up and if Pacho predicted correctly, there would soon be a war on his hands. He’d already been making moves and setting things to the side in order to prepare on the business front. Now, he found himself considering the chess pieces on the chessboard of his personal life. Who was vulnerable. Who would be targeted to hurt Pacho the most.

Will was a man who came from his own background of violence and brutality, but there were lines that even he hadn’t crossed. Pacho was ready for anything that could possibly be thrown at him, but this was the life he was built for. The life he was brought into before he even came of rational mind. There was no escaping it. And he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. But Will still had the chance to cut his losses, if that was what he so chose.

Pacho continues, looking on at his lover’s face as if he could decipher the man’s racing thoughts from merely standing in front of him, “I won’t ask you to stand by my side if that is not your wish-”

Will silences him by cupping his hand over Pacho’s. He leans in, tenderly kissing him and leaving their foreheads pressed against one another.

“It was always going to be this. Us,” and simply because he can, Will swipes another kiss from him, “It was always going to be me and you against everyone against the world.”

Click here if you wanna be added to my taglist. Taglist: @asirensrage @drabbles-mc @ashlingnarcos @narcosfandomdiscord

[chiquititamia]

Lo más dulce

Enzo Vogringic x female oc +18

Este es mi primer fanfic, he intentado muchas veces pero esta es la primera que logro terminarlo. Seguramente tenga muchos errores, pero ahí les va. Les pido que me digan qué les pareció y si quieren una segunda parte, sí? Disfruten :)

warnings: sexo oral, todo muy explícito

Era un hermoso día de primavera, de esos en los que de repente te das cuenta de que el viento ya no es frío. Un dulce olor a flores inundaba las calles empedradas del pequeño pueblo de montaña en el que el cast de La sociedad de la nieve se había instalado durante el rodaje.

Tenían el día libre, así que Enzo había decidido dar una vuelta al mediodía. Su bicicleta rodaba por las calles bajo el sol, había olvidado lo agradable que es pasear de esa manera. Tan sólo el sonido de la cadena de la bici y de las cigarras llenaban el aire, al fin y al cabo, era la hora de comer y la gente se encontraba en sus casas protegiéndose del sol.

Hablando de eso, Enzo notó un pequeño gruñido en su estómago, el hambre comenzaba a formarse, sería mejor que encontrase un sitio donde comer.

Dejaba que la bicicleta le llevase pasivamente, sin pedalear, aprovechando una ligera cuesta hacia abajo.

Al doblar una esquina, no podía creer sus ojos: ¡un restaurante vegetariano! En un pueblo tan pequeño no esperaba algo como eso. No se lo pensó dos veces. Apoyó su delgada bicicleta en la puerta del humilde establecimiento, sin sentir la necesidad de atarla, ya que la honestidad y amabilidad de la gente no habían hecho más que acompañarlos durante su estadía allí. De todas formas, no había nadie a la vista.

Nada más entrar al pequeño restaurante, sintió el alivio inmediato de la sombra en su piel, caliente por el sol. Dentro se estaba fresco, y un maravilloso olor a comida le enamoró, no podía creer su suerte.

Tan sólo había cuatro mesitas de madera en ese local tan lindamente decorado. Junto a la barra, una vitrina albergaba deliciosos postres caseros: lo que parecía ser una tarta de zanahoria, una de chocolate y pequeños pasteles de manzana y crema. Los ojos de Enzo brillaban devorando los manjares ante él.

Una dulce voz le sacó de sus pensamientos.

¿Hola, puedo ayudarte?

Una hermosa chica de melena larga y negra le miraba con ojos curiosos, sonriendo. Llevaba una camiseta de tirantes y una falda debajo de un pequeño delantal. Ella debía ser la dueña del local, pensó Enzo.

Buenas, sí, eh…

¿Qué le pasaba? ¿Desde cuando era así de tímido frente a una mujer? Las palabras no le salían, lo que le hizo patearse a sí mismo mentalmente por que tenía que estar quedando como un tonto ante ella.

Ella se rio ante la falta de palabras del moreno.

¿Tienes hambre?

Soltó una risa.

Sí, sí… muchísima, vengo de pasear con la bici…yo… - explicó casi tartamudeando, con media sonrisa.

Bien, ¿por qué no tomas asiento y te traigo una carta y algo de beber?

Enzo tragó duro, y asintió mirándola fijamente. Ella, se dio la vuelta grácilmente provocando un soplo de aire perfumado con su melena. El olor a coco y mango de su champú no hizo si no despertar aún más su hambre, aunque quizás no tanto la que aquejaba su estómago.

Cuando se sentó, el uruguayo dejó su mochilita de tela en el asiento libre que tenía al lado. Sacó su móvil y comprobó sin mucha sorpresa que no tenía nada de cobertura y apenas batería, pero tampoco le importó, no tardaría en comer y volvería con los chicos a su residencia.

Antes de que se diera cuenta, la chica había regresado con un menú y un vaso de agua helada, lo cual él agradeció profusamente.  Si bien no había muchos platos entre los cuales elegir, todos sonaban estupendamente para su estómago vacío, con el plus de que no tenía que limitarse entre una o dos opciones como normalmente, ya que casi todos los platillos eran veganos o vegetarianos. Se decidió por lo que más le apetecía: Wok de noodles con vegetales, salsa teriyaki y aceite de chile tostado. “Suena bárbaro”, pensó.

Enzo observaba discretamente a la que parecía ser la dueña, la camarera y la cocinera, todo en la misma persona.  La chica danzaba en la cocina entre los fogones, manejando con soltura los utensilios; alguna llamarada ocasional salía de debajo del wok, alarmándole, pero ella parecía esgrimirlas como una hechicera, sin miedo.  

No puede evitar reparar en como sus caderas y su trasero se contonean con los movimientos. “Quizá esté escuchando música” se dijo Enzo, no comprendiendo si no, el ritmo hipnótico de su cuerpo.

Y aquí está – dijo ella depositando el plato humeante frente a él.

Muchas gracias, tiene una pinta buenísima…

La camarera volvió detrás de la barra tras desearle buen apetito a su único comensal y él comenzó a devorar el plato con gusto.

Las miradas entre ambos no eran directas, si no veladas e intermitentes. Ella fingía no prestarle atención y dedicarse a sus tareas, mientras que él trataba de limpiarse constantemente la boca con la servilleta para no tener además de todo, pinta de boludo con la cara manchada de salsa.

¿Estaba loco o ese era el mejor plato que había comido en su vida? Quizás tan solo estaba hambriento… ¿O era porque ella lo había preparado?

Cuando hubo terminado el plato se levantó tomándolo y lo llevó a la barra junto con su vaso, también vacío, para ahorrarle a la chica el viaje hasta la mesa, siempre tan galante.

Ella sonrío y sacó el ticket de la caja registradora. Él le devolvió la sonrisa y le sostenía la mirada mientras buscaba su billetera en la pequeña mochila de tela.

Más pronto que tarde, su rostro se tornó preocupado. No puede ser. Su cartera no estaba más ahí. Un pensamiento le cruzó la mente como un rayo. Esa misma mañana la había cambiado de sitio a una riñonera nueva. Lo había olvidado completamente. ¿Qué carajo iba a hacer ahora?

No era muy difícil adivinar qué estaba sucediendo, él dirigía su mirada al fondo de la maldita mochila y después a los ojos de la chica, frenéticamente.

Te juro que no sabía, yo… A-ahora mismo voy a buscar mi bille-

Es que estaba por cerrar -dice la camarera sin perder la sonrisa, como divertida por la situación.

Entonces esta noche, y-yo … mierda, lo siento mucho­­- Enzo notaba sus mejillas y todo su rostro ardiendo por la vergüenza, se sentía como un idiota.

¿No se te ocurre otra forma de pagarme? - ronroneó ella.

Enzo se quedó congelado, aunque a decir verdad estaba totalmente acalorado. No podía ser que estuviera escuchando lo que acababa de escuchar. Pero tampoco cabía la posibilidad de que se estuviera refiriendo a ninguna otra cosa, ¿no?

Todas sus dudas se derritieron cuando ella paseó su mano por el pecho de él, acariciando el borde de su camisa.

¿Eso querés? -trató de sonar confiado.

Ella se mordió el labio, respirando el aliento cálido de él.

Enzo no esperó a que ella respondiera, pues sus ojos ya le estaban dando la respuesta que buscaba, y que en el fondo había anhelado desde que entró en el pequeño restaurante.

La verdad que me he quedado con ganas de algo dulce… ¿sabés, chiquita?, como con hambre de algo vegano ¿entendés?

En ese momento él lanza una rapidisima mirada por la ventana del local para comprobar que no haya nadie cerca que vaya a interrumpirles. No hay nadie. Entonces, como si algo en su cuerpo y mente hubieran mutado repentinamente, Enzo toma su rostro entre las manos con una firmeza que ella había intuido, pero que no había experimentado hasta ahora. Se lanza a besarla sin ambajes, como si no fuera la primera vez que lo hace con ella, como si ya supiera qué es lo que le gusta, qué tiene que hacer para derretirla. Su lengua entra en su boca de forma imparable, la diferencia de tamaños entre sus cuerpos cobra importancia desde ese mismo momento, siente que la va a devorar. Si bien hasta ese momento ella había llevado la voz cantante con su actitud de femme fatale, eso ahora no le servía más. Él era el que estaba al control, sus labios guiaban a los suyos, contenía su mandíbula como una pequeña jaula donde introducir su lengua como una serpiente. Lo único que ella podía hacer era intentar seguir su ritmo y disimular lo muchísimo que le costaba no empezar a gemir.

Sin casi darse cuenta, él la había ido empujando hacia el interior de la cocina, habían caminado al unísono enredados en un nudo de cuerpos en el que ya casi no quedaba ninguna pena.

Pasó sus grandes manos por su cintura mientras seguía besándola, redondeando sus formas. Agarró sus gluteos por debajo de la falda. Ella se felicitó a sí misma por haber escogido sus braguitas negras de encaje para ese día, por ninguna razón en especial. Enzo metió sus dedos por debajo del elástico que abrazaba sus caderas, amenazando con bajarlas en cualquier momento.

Me estabas poniendo malo, nena, ¿sabías?

Ella aprovechó el pequeño respiro que le dio a su boca para contestar un leve “sí”

Ah, sí, eh? Mirá vos… - sonaba divertido, pero también desafiado.

Sin ningún esfuerzo colocó sus brazos debajo de sus muslos y la subió a la encimera, junto a los fogones. Ante eso, ella no pudo contenerse más y gimió sin poder evitarlo, mientras clavaba sus uñas bien cuidadas en la nuca de él, de donde se estaba agarrando.

Me vas a dar algún dulce, gatita? Mirá que tengo mucha hambre…

Ella asintió rápidamente, como una niña obediente.

Sí…? - Decía mientras depositaba besos húmedos por su cuello, ¿qué me vas a dar? – ronrroneaba entre cada lamida.

Ahh…yo…

No podía parar de gemir, ninguna palabra, y mucho menos frase coherente iba a salir de su boca, simplemente no podía pensar, no mientras su lengua caliente recorría su cuello, no mientas sus manos invadieran el interior de sus muslos como si fuera el pan que ella misma había amasado esa mañana, sobre esa misma superficie. Sentía que estaba arruinando su ropa interior, no recordaba haber estado así de húmeda jamás.

 ¿Y? ¿qué me vas a dar? -comenzó a bajarle las bragas por la cintura ¿Una frutilla? ¿Eso tenés? – en lugar de pedirle que se levantara para poder sacarle la ropa interior la recostó en la encimera, tumbándola ligeramente, deslizando la prenda ya empapada por sus piernas.

Sin pedir permiso, abrió sus piernas para contemplar lo que sus bragas, ya tiradas por el suelo escondían. Enzo tragó saliva, provocando que su nuez se moviera por su garganta deliciosamente. De forma involuntaria apretó la mandíbula, había encontrado el postre más rico del restaurante.

¿Esta frutilla es tuya?- la miró a los ojos mientras un pulgar delíneaba sus labios ahora expuestos, como si nada.

Ella atinó a asentir con ojos suplicantes.

No,… no es tuya, es mía, chiquita. Es mía y me la voy a comer, ta? ­­– nunca una corrección le había parecido tan bien.

Sin más preámbulos bajó su cabeza hasta enfrentar su centro, que estaba húmedo estaba claro, pero es que además emanaba calor, parecía palpitar con deseo.

Y entonces empezó a comer.

Empezó a comer, comer y comer.

Abría la boca y manejaba su lengua como si en realidad le estuviera dando un beso francés, solo que en una boca distinta. Se introducía en ella como si no dispusiera de nada más que esa parte de su cuerpo para satisfacerla, con avidez.

Ella se deshacía en gemidos, no se retenía más, le daba igual gritar, sabía que nadie podía oirla, a esas horas no había nadie en la calle, no bajo ese sol abrasador. Pero, si así fuera, ¿sería capaz de parar?

Claro que no, aunque quisiera no podría pararle. Su boca mamaba de ella como un cachorro hambriento, no podría apartarle. Y sinceramente no querría por nada del mundo.

Qué rica que estás nena, sabes a miel … - dijo mientras introducía su dedo corazón en su vagina, con maestría, sin parar de lamer, en perfecta sincronía, como si su lengua y su mano fueran entes separados que sabían actuar de forma perfecta e independiente.

No faltaba mucho tiempo para que llegara a su clímax, lo notaba formándose en su bajo vientre, si seguía así no iba a durar nada.

Me voy a…!

A venir? Venite, princesa, vamos…- paró dolorosamente un par de segundos para pronunciar esas palabras, y al volver a tocarla con su lengua ella no pudó más y explotó en su boca como un fuego artificial. Grandes oleadas de placer arrasaban en ella, que gritaba y gemía. Él notaba como el único dedo que le había introducido quedaba aprisionado y recibía apretones entre sus paredes que pulsaban en su orgasmo. No lo sacó hasta que ella le hizo un gesto, recostándose ,agotada y sudorosa en la superficie donde normalmente trabajaba.  

Aún le costaba recuperar el ritmo normal de su respiración, y por una vez, su mente no se encontraba preocupada por tonterías como si estaba despeinada, o qué le había parecido al otro su ropa interior o si había gemido suficientemente sexy. Esta vez su cuerpo simplemente estaba anegado por el placer tan animal que Enzo le había provocado. Todo lo demás no importaba.

Él se había parado y se estaba echando el pelo hacia atrás, también estaba sudando. Gracias a Dios que un pequeño ventilador metálico les estaba apuntando a los dos, de lo contrario habrían muerto de calor.

Qué linda que sos, muñeca.

[lacharapita]

sᴇ ᴅᴇʀʀᴀᴍᴀ ᴇɴ ᴍɪ

smut - Enzo Vogrincic x female OC! Lucía

soft fingering, blowjob, pet names, curse words

N.A - [voz daquele cupido de enrolados] Opa!!!!!! Chama a polícia que essa morena acabou de roubar... o meu coração. Agora um sonho: passar a noite vendo as fotinhos que o Enzo tirou durante o dia quando a gente tava junto.😭😭

— Era um apartamento confortável, moderno e bem localizado. As caixas e caixas espalhadas por todos os cômodos estavam deixando Lucía agoniada. A morena estava parada em frente a uma das janelas, um cigarro pendurado entre os lábios enquanto ela observava a melhor vista que poderia ter: Enzo Vogrincic sentado no sofá com as pernas abertas e os olhos focados nas fotos que ele havia tirado na câmera dela naquele dia. Jogando o cigarro em uma das caixas que já estava vazia, Lucía caminhou até que estivesse na frente do uruguaio.

– "Nene, vou tomar um banho. Depois que terminar aí, acha uma coberta nessas caixas e leva no quarto."– Ela pediu calmamente. Jogou a carteira de cigarros sobre o sofá verde escuro e seguiu caminho para o banheiro, porém antes que pudesse chegar lá ouviu Enzo chamando-a.

– "Não vamos precisar de coberta essa noite."– Lucía arqueou a sobrancelha mas preferiu ignorar as palavras desconexas dele.

— O banho quente relaxou todos os músculos tensos e cansados. Secou o corpo com a toalha branca e vestiu uma calcinha branca junto de uma regatinha da mesma cor. Caminhou lentamente até o sofá da sala e, percebendo que Enzo não estava mais lá, se jogou deitada. Lucía cochilou por alguns minutos, acordou com o barulho de passos pelo apartamento. O cansaço do dia era tanto que, quando acordou do cochilo, ela só conseguia pensar em fumar mais um cigarro e apagar pelas próximas dez horas. Porém seus planos tinham um grande obstáculo. Obstáculo esse que estava parado em sua frente, sem camisa, com uma toalha envolta da cintura e com um enorme sorriso no rosto.

– "Cansadinha, amor?"– Lucía fez uma cara de choro e acenou com a cabeça. Enzo se abaixou até que estivesse agachado na frente dela, olhando para ela com aqueles olhinhos brilhantes. Puxando as pernas dela para cima, Enzo se sentou no sofá junto com ela. – "Vem cá."– Ele deu algumas batidinhas no próprio colo. Lucía choramingou e foi até ele, sentando no colo do uruguaio de frente para ele, mas logo escondeu o rosto no pescoço dele. – "Vai deixar eu te comer bem gostosinho, amor? Te deixar toda molinha hm?"– Enzo sentiu como o corpo dela estremeceu com suas palavras. Ele agarrou o pescoço dela, fazendo-a olhar em seus olhos. Aquela carinha de coitada de Lucía deixava ele desconcertado, como se o cérebro dele não funcionasse. – "Responde."– Ele foi rígido. Sua voz era grossa e mandona.

– "Sim..."– Foi um sussurro baixo, quase inaudível. Ela tinha as bochechas vermelhas de vergonha. As palavras sujas de Enzo provocavam a reação dela e ele sorria, sabendo do que causava nela. As mãos dele correram pelo corpo dela até que chegassem entre as coxas torneadas dela. – "Por favor..."– Ela choramingava, pedindo por mais do toque dele.

– "Você já 'tá uma bagunça, morena."– Os dedos dele massageavam o interior das coxas dela, passando tão perto de onde ela mais desejava mas em nenhum momento tocando.– "Da pra sentir você pingando."– Os olhos dela borbulhavam prazer, pedindo silenciosamente por algum toque de Enzo. Os quadris dela se empurravam para frente, na intenção de tirar algum toque dele. O aperto nos lados do quadril dela foi firme, mantendo-os quietos. – "Não seja desesperada. Você sabe que quando quer algo só precisa pedir que eu te dou, morena." – Ele disse baixo, seu rosto se enroscando no pescoço quente dela e deixando beijos suaves. Lucía choramingou, suas mãos segurando os lados da cabeça de Enzo e fazendo um carinho suave. – "Pede pra mim, morena. Hm?"– Ele sorriu contra a pele dela quando ouviu o gemido baixo que ela soltou.

– "Meu amor... toca em mim, por favor."– Os dedos dele correram pelo tecido finíssimo que cobria meramente os lábios úmidos entre as pernas dela. Uma massagem suave enquanto ele ouvia ela cantarolar baixo com o prazer mínimo que recebia. O indicador direito dele afastou o algodão branco e finalmente tocou o que mais ansiava. Os dedos gélidos entrando em contato com a fenda quente deixou o corpo inteiro de Lucía arrepiado, fazendo Enzo deixar um riso baixo.

          – "Viu como é fácil? É só pedir."– O sorriso canalha nos lábios dele fazia Lucía se contorcer por dentro. Olhando para o lado, a câmera jogada no felpo verde musgo do sofá que reluziu nos olhos de Enzo por um momento não demorou pra logo ser puxada para perto dos dois e estar na mão livre dele. – "Senta e abre as perninhas pra mim, morena."– Enzo cuidadosamente tirou Lucía de seu colo e a moça logo se sentou no sofá com as pernas separadas. Enzo se aproximou, os dedos da mão esquerda indo até o meio das coxas e lentamente afastando o tecido de algodão para o lado, expondo os lábios úmidos para ele. – "Posso, nena?"– Enzo perguntou, levantando a mão com a câmera. Ela acenou com a cabeça, com os olhos brilhando e a respiração pesada. A imagem na tela da câmera faria Enzo sonhar por semanas. Os dedos abertos em V expondo toda a bucetinha aberta, o buraquinho apertado que ele anciava para estar dentro, o pontinho avermelhado levemente inchado e as gotinhas esbranquiçadas que escorriam pelos lábios internos. O flash rápido surgiu na sala quando o barulho do clique da câmera foi ouvido. – "Toda mía"– Aquele rosto dele olhando para Lucía fez ela corar desesperadamente. – "Se essa sua boquinha não vai falar nada hoje, vamos dar uma utilidade pra ela, morena. Ajoelha."– Ele foi ríspido. Não demorou para se sentar no sofá enquanto a uruguaia se ajoelhava no chão gelado no meio das pernas dele. As mãozinhas macias dela correram para soltar o pequeno nó da toalha branca enrolada no quadril dele. A ereção bronzeada bateu no estômago dele, a pontinha babada da porra que vazava fez Lucía gemer. – "Quero tirar uma foto sua com essa boquinha cheia de pau e porra, morena."– A mão direita dela segurou firme na base, sua língua se estendeu para fora de seus lábios e suavemente rodearam a pontinha avermelhada vazando. Não demorou para seus lábios, com muito esforço, se enrolarem em todo o pau de Enzo. Os dedos da mão livre dele se enrolavam nos cabelos escuros e rebeldes dela, descendo a cabeça até que o nariz dela encostasse suavemente sobre os pelos púbicos escuros. O engasgo dela fez um gemido alto fugir dos lábios de Enzo, sentindo como a garganta dela se contraiu em volta de seu pau. – "Essa sua carinha de puta... porra, meu amor."– O olhar dela subiu para ele. Uma visão que facilmente poderia ser a causa de sua morte. A boca dela levemente babada e com um sorrisinho malicioso, a mãozinha pequena que não conseguia se enrolar completamente no pau do uruguaio esfregando movimentos contínuos de vai e vem além da pele avermelhada e reluzente. Enzo se sentiu na obrigação de fotografar aquele momento. O clique foi ouvido e logo Lucía voltava a ereção firme dele. Um filete de saliva escorreu pelo comprimento duro antes dele escorregar para dentro da boquinha avermelhada e apertada. Os gemidos de Enzo eram altos, aumentando o tom toda vez que via ela engasgar. A língua dela rodeava a cabecinha sensível, seus lábios pareciam ser feitos para ele. Os dedos compridos entre os fios de cabelo de Lucía logo começaram a ditar seus movimentos e em alguns momentos Enzo estava fodendo a boquinha dela. A pontinha batendo no fundo de sua garganta, a bolinha do nariz batendo em seu osso pélvico, as mãos segurando na coxas bronzeadas dele. Tudo junto foi o suficiente para que ele logo enchesse o interior daquela boquinha gulosa de porra. O líqüido esbranquiçado escorria pelos cantos dos lábios agora vermelhos, fazendo Lucía levar os dedos até ele e empurrar novamente para dentro de sua boca. – "Abre a boca."– Ela fez e mais um clique foi ouvido. Lucia tinha certeza que, até o final daquela noite, Enzo teria lotado a memória da câmera.

Me encontro assim, obrigada.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AtoW: Sep 22 - 28, 2024

✒️ = Fanfic | 📱 = Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA+

DESIRE AND DECORUM

Unspoken Desires (Series) ✒️ | Vincent Foredale x F!OC - @princess-geek White Peonies - Part 2

THE FRESHMAN

All About Ziggy 🎨 | Zig Ortega x F!MC - @choiceswithmika

The Graduate (Series) ✒️ | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga Part 6

The Friend Group 🎨 | Multiple Characters - @choiceswithmika

The Press Secretary (Series) ✒️ | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga Part 17

HEARTS ON FIRE

The Engagement ✒️ | M!Shea Phoenix x F!MC - @eadanga

OPEN HEART

Kiss & Make up ✒️ | Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

Our Miracle Baby (Series) ✒️ | Rafael Aveiro x F!MC - @rafasgirl23415 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Sugar Bugs ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC, F!OC - @liaromancewriter

PERFECT MATCH

Hayden Young 🎨 | F!Hayden Young - @lilyoffandoms

Kiss The Cook 🎨 | M!Hayden Young - @sazanes

RED CARPET DIARIES

You + Me 🎨 | Thomas Hunt x F!MC - @capri-arts C: @theartoflovingthomashunt

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Law's End: Murder at Vista Heights (Series) ✒️ | Multiple Characters - @angelasscribbles Part 7

Royal Adventures (Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!MC - @tessa-liam Prologue

Royal Love (Series) ✒️ | Eleanor Rys x M!OC - @eadanga Part 20

The Royal Romance (Series) ✒️ | Multiple Characters - @eadanga Chapter 10 - Part 1

THE UNEXPECTED HEIRESS

Homefront ✒️ | John Somerset x F!MC - @guinevere-of-smiths

[lunearta]

❃ 𝙱𝙰𝙸𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝙱𝙾𝚂 - 𝙲𝙰𝙿Í𝚃𝚄𝙻𝙾 4 ❃

» Temática: SKZ híbridos x Oc (Lis) » Género: Poly, fantasía, OMEGAVERSE » Warnings: Fluff, smut con historia, angst, tensión sexual, sexo, degradación, dinámica A/B/O explícita, dom/sub, sado, amor, entre otros. » Warning de CAPÍTULO: Menciones a comida, menciones a ansiedad (Han). Si me dejo algo me lo decis. » Tipo: Serie. » Palabras: 3.720.

» Masterlist « | Anterior | Capítulo 5

El resto de días antes del regreso de los miembros fueron como la seda a partir de esa noche. Las veces que Hyunjin salía de la habitación se las pasaba en la de Lis siempre que esta estuviera trabajando. Si no, ambos se quedaban hasta la madrugada hablando en el sofá o simplemente viendo la televisión sin necesidad de compartir nada.

Hyunjin no lo admitiría tan pronto, pero lo cierto es que estar en aquella habitación con su nueva mánager le producía tranquilidad, como si fuera un refugio a todos sus problemas. Así lo había decidido su lobo, quien estaba incluso más intrigado por la muchacha un año mayor que él. Como siempre, seguiría sus instintos hasta el final. Al fin y al cabo...

Habían encajado demasiado bien.

Era como si se conocieran de mucho antes, algo parecido a lo que había sentido Lis el primer día de hablar con Felix, o al volver a ver a Seungmin. Y le resultaba... Extraña la familiaridad. Hyunjin incluso se había tomado la confianza de aproximarse a ella y depositar la cabeza en el hueco de su hombro cuando cocinaba algo, o de estirar las piernas encima de los muslos de ésta si estaban en el sofá.

No es que le molestara, al contrario. Si de esta forma estaba más tranquilo... Ella también lo estaba. Fue el día anterior a que los chicos cogieran el vuelo a Corea que conoció a Han.

Con Hyunjin estirado en su cama detrás jugando a un ruidoso juego de móvil, escuchó a alguien golpear con los nudillos la puerta de la habitación. El bailarín y Lis se miraron, confusos. Era imposible que hubieran llegado ya, ¿no?

— Adelante. —dijo la chica, insegura.

La puerta se abrió lentamente, y de ella emergió una cabeza castaña llena de rizos que le oscurecían la vista. Llevaba una sudadera verde y unos pantalones negros de pijama. Con la actitud tímida con la que entró, parecía incluso más pequeño de lo que realmente era.

— Disculpad las molestias. —musitó. Sus ojos redondos estaban un poco apagados y profundas ojeras violáceas se los enmarcaban—. Soy Han, Han Jisung. Hyunjin me ha hablado muy bien de ti y quería presentarme como es debido una vez estuviera recuperado.

— Oh. —Lis se levantó e hizo una pequeña reverencia—. Lis. Encantada de conocerte.

Jisung asintió con una sonrisa en el rostro, aún sin mirarla del todo.

— Ah... Hyunjin. —se dirigió a él—. Tengo como veinte camisas oversize. ¿Adónde han ido a parar?

— Cinco me las he puesto yo estos días. —contestó desde su privilegiado sitio en la cama—. Tres de ellas han acabado echas trizas y el resto están por lavar. ¿No tienes más?

Han negó.

— ¿Necesitas camisetas holgadas? —quiso saber ella, incorporándose de nuevo.

— Sí. La mayoría de miembros se han llevado la ropa a Japón y... Aún no he hecho la mudanza total a esta nueva casa. Las cajas con mi ropa siguen en el anterior piso.

— Espera.

Lis fue hacia su armario y Han la siguió, alarmado.

— N-No, ¡no! Está bien, tengo la sudadera, puedo aguantar hasta que se laven las camisetas...

— No seas ridículo. No me cuesta nada. —abrió los cajones, con especial cuidado de no mostrar el que escondía los supresores. Tenía cientos de camisas grandes, suficientes como para vivir de ellas un mes entero, por ponerlo de alguna manera. Al fin encontró la que buscaba: Una de color cerezo con una frase motivacional que decía: "¡Abrazos gratis! Es broma, no me toques."—. Aquí está. Es mi camiseta favorita así que cuídala bien, ¿vale?

Al leerla, Han soltó una carcajada, iluminando de forma inmediata el rostro de Hyunjin. Hacía mucho que no oía la risa de su amigo, y el cariño que empezaba a sentir por la nueva mánager incrementó con ese sencillo gesto.

— Con permiso. —dijo Jisung, quitándose la sudadera y revelando la piel desnuda.

Lis tardó unos largos segundos en desviar la vista, y cuando lo hizo, ya era demasiado tarde. Había visto los rasguños y moretones en el delgado torso del chico, signo de lo que había ocurrido durante el celo. Estaba convencida de que no le había importado que Hyunjin lo arañara mientras hacía con su cuerpo lo que se esperaba que hiciera, cómo habría gritado de placer bajo las uñas que le acariciaban los costados... Cómo ella misma habría gritado de haber estado en su lugar.

Bajó la cabeza y tragó saliva. Dios, sentía la boca seca y un doloroso fuego crepitando en su entrepierna. Al bailarín no le pasaron desapercibidas las mejillas sonrosadas y la expresión de deseo. Contuvo una medio sonrisa.

— Acabas de perder para siempre tu "camiseta favorita". Ahora le pertenece. —comentó. Lis sonrió.

— Mientras me la cuide...

La camiseta le quedaba grande, como era de esperar, y la reacción satisfecha del quokka era más que compensación. Sin embargo, en cuanto olió el tejido puso mala cara.

— ¿Qué ocurre? —farfulló Lis, nerviosa—. ¿Huele mal?

— No, es que no huele más que a suavizante de ropa. Hay un leve deje de tu olor, pero... me falta algo más. Supongo que es típico de humanos. No he dicho nada. Ah, una cosa... —le acunó las manos entre las suyas en un apretón amistoso—. Gracias por la comida de estos días. Estaba todo delicioso.

Lis se sonrojó. Era demasiado precioso, por dentro y por fuera. Lo único que se le ocurrió hacer fue ponerle una de las manos en la cabeza y despeinarlo.

— No hay de qué. Has debido de pasarlo muy mal, ¿no?

— Un... poco.

— Me hago una idea. Tómate todo el tiempo que necesites para recuperarte, sin prisa. Yo me encargo del papeleo y demás.

Han tenía ganas de llorar. Echaba de menos a Jung Han por lo buen mánager que había sido, pero jamás lo habían incluido en ninguna actividad íntima de la manada, ni le hubiera contado todo lo que les pasaba por la cabeza a nivel personal.

Quizá fueran sus ojos claros y directos, o puede que la forma en que le hablaba lo que le estaba diciendo a gritos que podía fiarse de ella para lo que fuera. Había sido un clic automático en el rompecabezas de su vida.

Así era la intensidad y la rapidez con la que podía sentir un híbrido de lobo.

Un suave ronroneo le emergió del pecho. Cerró los ojos, dejándose llevar por la caricia. Luego, inclinó la cabeza y se apoyó en el hueco del hombro de la muchacha. Su olor a melocotón y naranja le invadió las fosas, y tuvo que contenerse para no dejarse llevar y exponer su naturaleza.

— ¿Podría...? ¿Podría quedarme aquí un rato? Me gustaría tener compañía. —pidió en un susurro.

Lis dejó escapar una pequeña risita.

— Como si estuvieras en tu habitación. —lo llevó al lado de Hyunjin, y este lo abrazó tiernamente, haciendo que descansara sobre su pecho.

El bailarín la miró un segundo.

— ¿Quieres unirte? —señaló el espacio en la gran cama al otro lado. Lis sacudió la cabeza.

— No, tranquilo. Aún tengo que terminar algunas cosas. —se volvió a sentar en la silla, y tras echarles un rápido vistazo y ver que no había ningún tipo de ansiedad en el ambiente, se dedicó a lo suyo como mánager.

Si tenía que llamar a Jung Han, lo había hecho fuera de allí, en el pasillo. Al cabo de las horas, el móvil de Hyunjin había resbalado hasta el suelo, evidenciando que ambos chicos se habían quedado dormidos. Ya bien entrada la tarde, Lis apagó el ordenador y buscó una manta con la que taparlos.

Iba a hacer cena para que, cuando salieran de esa larga siesta, pudieran llenarse el estómago como es debido.

— ¡YA ESTAMOS AQUÍ! —gritó Changbin desde la puerta. Felix y I.N se taparon las orejas, molestos, mientras que una risa escapó de la boca de Chan. Lee Know y Seungmin lo ignoraron, empujando las maletas hacia el interior de la vivienda. Ellos dos y el líder del grupo fueron los primeros que vieron lo que se cocía delante de la televisión.

— Una semana. —gruñó Minho—. ¿Una semana sin nosotros habéis tardado en acostumbraros a ella? ¿En serio?

A cada lado de Lis y bien espachurrados estaban Hyunjin y Han. En el centro, un gran bol de palomitas saladas y dulces completaba el encuadre. Jisung miró a Minho hinchando los mofletes y los señaló acusatoriamente.

— ¡Al menos nos trata mejor que muchos de vosotros!

— ¿Hay palomitas? ¡Yo quiero! —Felix saltó a la falda de Hyunjin y este aprovechó para rodearle la cintura y depositarle un suave beso en el cuello.

— Bienvenido de vuelta. —le murmuró al oído, arrancándole un escalofrío.

Chan se apoyó en el respaldo del sofá, alargando un brazo para conseguir atrapar una palomita salada, al tiempo que Han jugaba a acertar tirarle una en la boca a Changbin, fallando varias veces. Minho, por supuesto, se quejaba de lo mucho que iba a tener que barrer después, y amenazó con meterlos en la freidora.

Todos parecían estar pasándoselo bien. Todos, excepto I.N y Seungmin. Si bien la sonrisa del maknae parecía tranquila y jovial, el aura que desprendía decía otra cosa.

No podían aceptar a una humana en la manada. Era antinatural. Los humanos eran una especie reducida, casi en peligro de extinción. El hecho de que alguien de una "especie" diferente se involucrara con ellos llegaba al punto del tabú, y nadie parecía querer darse cuenta.

Seungmin lo notó, pero no dijo nada. Sabía lo que estaba pensando porque sería lo mismo que pensaría él de no conocer la verdad. Pese a ello, dudaba que la aceptara incluso al revelarse que era una beta. Por supuesto, sus labios estaban sellados. Respetar las decisiones de su amiga era su máxima prioridad.

Y no quería hacerla pasar por la negación de un alfa. A pesar de haber dos más en la manada, solo con que uno de los tres dijera que no, podría provocar que Lis cayera en estado de "subdrop".

No quería presenciarlo más. Había tenido suficiente con la falsa expulsión de Felix y Lee Know y el revuelo que esto había causado. El subdrop les había pegado tan fuerte que el mismísimo Chan estuvo a nada de caer con ellos. Temía que su amiga se hiciera ilusiones para luego acabar con el corazón roto... Más de lo que ya lo tenía.

— Hoy cocino yo. —dijo Minho, serio.

— ¿Eh?

Lis apartó lentamente las manos del cazo que pretendía llenar con agua cuando el bailarín principal entró como una exhalación en la cocina y la miró con cara de pocos amigos. ¿Cómo se había dado cuenta de sus intenciones si hasta hacía no mucho estaba encerrado en su cuarto? Empezaba a pensar que más que un lobo, era un gato con un oído finísimo.

— Que hoy cocino yo. Ya has hecho bastante.

La chica no entendió a lo que se refería y lo tomó como una reprimenda. Se apartó el pelo de la cara y, bajando la cabeza, empezó a juguetear con los anillos de la mano izquierda.

— ¿Tan mal sabe lo que hago? —musitó Lis por lo bajo.

Minho la miró, confundido y negó.

— La comida que haces es estupenda para ser extranjera. No obstante, la cocina es mi espacio, es lo que yo suelo hacer. Y agradezco que me tomaras el relevo y que hayas cuidado de Hannie y de Jinnie, pero ahora es mi turno.

— Tu turno de cuidarlos.

— Mi turno de cuidaros. —puntualizó.

Tres semanas pasaron. Estaba convencida de que Minho tenía mucho que decir contra ella... Todo infundado al parecer. Las mejillas se le colorearon de rosa y sonrió, sintiéndose bien de ser incluida.

— Gracias.

Significaba mucho para ella, aunque fuera extraño y su cuerpo demostrara la incomodidad. Minho se dio cuenta, no necesitaba ni olerla.

— Estás tensa.

— Estoy bien.

— Y un cuerno.

Se miraron. Minho con su usual semblante impasible se cruzó de brazos en silencio. La chica era preciosa, tenía que admitirlo. Algo en su estómago revoloteaba como loco alrededor de la persona que tenía delante. ¿Su estómago o su lobo interior? Más bien el segundo. Cuando más la miraba, más ronroneaba el pecho del híbrido.

Lis se acercó a su rostro con los ojos entrecerrados a modo de desafío y el bailarín resistió la tentación de apartarse, impresionado. Esperaba que no notara el calor que desprendía ni lo rojas que sentía las puntas de las orejas.

Por su parte, Lis frunció el ceño y se cruzó de brazos. Luego suspiró y se relajó.

— Agradezco tu preocupación, Minho. —dijo—. Solo estoy cansada. Haz mucho arroz, ¿vale? Pondré la mesa y llamaré a los chicos en cuanto esté hecho todo.

El chico asintió, concentrándose en su trabajo. Esa chica iba a ser su perdición.

No pasó ni un minuto desde que se sentó en el sofá tras haber puesto los palillos metálicos y los vasos en la mesa que oyó unos pasos y de pronto tenía a un Felix soñoliento estirándosele encima. Era el primer día que tenían libre al completo en meses.

Apoyó la cabeza rubia en el regazo de la muchacha y la miró con ojos grandes e inquisitivos. Dios, podría perderse cada día en esos orbes castaños, en las pequitas que le adornaban las mejillas sonrosadas.

Echó la cabeza hacia atrás tratando de controlar el ritmo de su corazón, pero se entretuvo en acariciarle el pelo distraídamente.

— Eres cálida. —le dijo el chico de pronto, girándose y apretando la cara contra su cuerpo—. Me gustas.

— Felix...

— ¿Qué? Que no seas híbrida ni de la manada no significa que no puedas caerme bien a nivel personal. Los demás chicos piensan lo mismo, pese a que algunos no quieran admitirlo. No es como si fuéramos a cortejarte ni nada por el estilo, ¿no? Podemos quererte, igual que queríamos al mánager Jung Han. Salvo que con él no teníamos ningún tipo de intimidad física.

— ¿Y conmigo sí crees poder tenerla?

El chico se dio cuenta de su metedura de pata, porque la vergüenza le encendió las mejillas.

— No era lo que... No quería decir eso. —balbuceó—. Quiero decir, somos un grupo poliamoroso. Sería cruel e irrespetuoso privar a nadie de nuestra compañía si es recíproco, aunque... Eh... Dios, cada vez la estoy liando más...

Lis suspiró, volviendo a mirarlo. Sería tan sencillo decirle que sí, desinhibirse y dar rienda suelta a sus instintos... Le quitó un par de cabellos de la frente y le rozó los labios con las yemas de los dedos. Felix se quedó muy quieto con la boca entreabierta y el corazón latiéndole con fuerza contra las costillas. Solo había sido un roce y necesitaba más.

— ¿Sabes? Mi madre era gamma. —soltó antes de poder callarse. ¿A qué venía eso? Lis... ¡Tú tapadera! —. Y-Y mi padre es humano. —mintió—. Mi madre murió durante el parto por complicaciones. Mi padre no me lo llegó a perdonar. No he tenido demasiado afecto en mi infancia.

Felix ladeó la cabeza, confuso.

— ¿Adónde quieres ir a parar...?

— Sé que para ti la intimidad física es muy importante para conocer a la otra persona, y no hablo solo del sexo. Tú necesitas abrazar para sentirte seguro de lo que sienten los demás, y eso es precioso. Es más, estoy segura de que estás intentando impregnarme de tu olor a fin de hacerme sentir como en casa... Pero no puedes. Al menos no ahora. —tragó saliva y siguió—. Si algo he aprendido estando con vosotros es que jamás os sentiréis completos conmigo... Ni aunque fuera híbrida.

El chico se incorporó, quedando a escasos centímetros de su cara. Solo le llevaría una breve inclinación de cabeza para besarlo si quisiera. Porque no quería, ¿verdad?

— ¿Quién te ha hecho eso? —preguntó.

Lis se removió, incómoda.

— ¿Quién ha hecho qué?

— Hacerte sentir así. Pensar que no eres suficiente. ¿Tu padre?

— Déjalo, Lix.

Por suerte, Minho emergió de la cocina y los vio juntos. Demasiado juntos.

— ¡A comer! —gritó, sobresaltándolos.

— ¡Ah, sí! Se me olvidó que tengo que avisar a la tropa. —No iba a desaprovechar la oportunidad que se le había brindado. Saltó del sofá y comenzó a subir escaleras, dejando a un Felix sentado allí, solo y con cara triste.

El omega tenía un nuevo desafío personal: Hacer que se sintiera amada, costara lo que costase.

La chica llamó a la primera puerta. No recibió respuesta, por lo que abrió la manilla y metió la cabeza por el hueco. I.N tenía los auriculares puestos, pero se los quitó para mirarla en una silenciosa interrogación.

— Minho está llamando a comer. —le dijo únicamente antes de volver a cerrar la puerta.

De todos, el maknae del grupo era el único con el que aún no se sentía cómoda completamente. No por ella, porque saben los cielos que había intentado conversar con él en más de una ocasión, sobretodo en las horas de la comida, y a pesar de su sonrisa, I.N le había contestado con monosílabos y frases que no podían derivar en una plática entera a menos que hubiera más gente alrededor. Era frustrante.

Uno a uno los llamó y salieron de sus habitaciones —algunos juntos, y no quiso saber por qué—, así que ya sentados en la mesa comieron en una charla animada la sopa de costillas, el ramen y el arroz que había preparado el primer beta del grupo. Minho le había hecho caso: Había MUCHO arroz.

— Comes bien. —la admiró Changbin, encandilado por la velocidad y la cantidad que era capaz de engullir—. No pareces tenerles miedo a las calorías.

— Soy una pila alcalina. —le explicó Lis con la boca llena, ganándose una pequeña mirada de disgusto de Chan. Tragó lo que le quedaba y prosiguió—. Antes de llegar al estómago ya lo he quemado.

— Quién lo diría, cuando te pasas los días en tu habitación frente al ordenador con cientos de cosas que hacer por nosotros. —se mofó Hyunjin.

— Eh, el cerebro necesita comer también.

— ¡Eres de las mías! —exclamó el rapero, contento. Ambos chocaron puños al más puro estilo "bro".

— Eso me recuerda... Chicos. La semana que viene bailáis en MCountdown. Estoy intentando conseguir un par de coches de lunas tintadas para entonces, pero si no lo consiguiera, ¿os importaría compartir uno de nueve plazas?

— En absoluto —dijo Chan—. Gracias por el esfuerzo que haces. Espero que la paga sea adecuada.

— ¿Adecuada? Chris. —le agarró las manos, seria—. En un trabajo normal, tendría que ahorrar el 85% de mi sueldo y no comer en doce meses para lograr llegar a lo que voy a cobrar en un mes. Créeme, es más que suficiente.

— ¿Dónde vivías antes? —Han se había llenado las mejillas de comida y la pregunta sonó extraña.

— En un goshiwon. Estando a media jornada es casi imposible pagarse una casa más grande. Podría haberlo hecho, pero... —era su único refugio. Pequeño y privado—. Con este trabajo...

— Podrías comprarte una casa, con el tiempo. —sugirió Seungmin—. Ya sabes, lejos de aquí, a salvo de un grupo de ocho hombres con las feromonas de un adolescente hormonado.

— ¡Oye! —gruñó Hyunjin, juzgándolo con la mirada—. No es como si estuviéramos tan desesperados.

— Ah, ¿no? —se giró hacia él arqueando una ceja—. Eso no es lo que me pareció ayer noche.

El chico soltó una exclamación ahogada y la punta de las orejas se le pusieron rojas de la vergüenza. Algunos se rieron ante su actitud nerviosa y otros como Changbin se quejaron porque no lo habían invitado a la "fiesta".

Sintió a Felix llamándola con un pequeño toque en el hombro.

— Oye, Lis... No te vas a ir, ¿no? —preguntó, bajito. Parecía... ansioso. Al otro lado de él, Han escuchaba atentamente a pesar de simular estar centrado en la comida—. Quiero decir... No se está tan mal aquí, ¿verdad?

La chica sonrió.

— ¿Con lo que me ha costado venir? Ni de broma. —lo tranquilizó��. Vais a tener que aguantarme bastante tiempo, ¿sabes? Siempre que me queráis aquí, por supuesto. Esta es vuestra casa.

El sonido de los cubiertos contra los platos los sobresaltó. Vieron a I.N con una expresión indescifrable en el rostro, —y una oscura sonrisa plastificada en la boca—, levantarse de la mesa y marcharse sin mediar palabra. Sus pasos se hicieron eco a medida que subía las escaleras, y Lis reprimió un escalofrío cuando la puerta de su habitación se cerró de un portazo. Apenas había tocado la comida.

— ¡Jeongin-ah! ¡Oye! ¡Eso ha sido horrible de tu parte! —gritó Changbin, molesto. Minho le palmeó el dorso de la mano para que parara de gritar.

— Déjalo en paz. Tiene sus motivos para estar así.

— ¿He... hecho algo mal? —Lis dejó los palillos, afligida. Chan negó efusivamente.

— Para nada. —le aseguró—. Solo que éramos cercanos al mánager Jung Han y, en fin. —se rascó la cabeza—. Son muchos cambios en las últimas semanas. Pero no tenemos ningún problema contigo, ¿a que no?

Algunos verbalizaron el estar de acuerdo, mientras que otros lo hicieron con gestos. Sin embargo, la semilla de la duda se había instalado en le corazón de la muchacha.

¿Había hecho bien aceptando este trabajo?

TAGLIST: @hwangrfrnd

© LUNEARTA, 2024. 𝘕𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘵á 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘭𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢.

[starlight-court-dreamer]

THE WOLF OF SNOW - CAPÍTULO 2| Ben Florian x OC

Casal: King Benjamin Florian x Nyaxia Badwolf (OC)

Nyx seguiu o pai até o seu escritório. Suas têmporas começaram a latejar indicando o início de uma dor de cabeça infernal, a rapidez com que ele se movia só aumentava a dor em sua cabeça.

O pai apenas a olhava com cara de paisagem. Totalmente desprovido de qualquer emoção. Na verdade, ela pensou ter visto o resquício de emoção que havia nele desaparecer no instante em que os olhares se cruzaram. Como se a mera chegada dela tivesse acabado com todas as suas emoções.

Ou eu estou muito ferrada ou aquela lagartixa roxa ridícula fez algo realmente ruim.

Ela abriu a boca para dizer isso, mas o pai já havia cruzado o escritório e parou em frente às grandes portas de madeira que davam para a varanda e as abriu, indicando que ela passasse à sua frente. Puxando seus cabelos longos em uma rabo de cavalo improvisado, Nyx deu um passo à frente, encostando-se ao parapeito da porta, sentindo o frio da manhã na pele.

O sol nunca aparecia na Ilha dos Perdidos. Grandes nuvens acinzentadas cobriam todo o espaço aéreo do local e impediam que qualquer raio solar chegassem até os moradores. Devido a isso, cultivar qualquer alimento era praticamente impossível, e os moradores da ilha dependiam quase que exclusivamente da bondade e compaixão do povo de Auradon. Além disso, as baixas temperaturas e a escuridão quase que completa influenciavam para dar um toque sombrio e ameaçador à Ilha dos Perdidos.

– Você está perdendo a vista – disse o pai, com uma voz baixa e rouca que fez sua cabeça formigar, como o tamborilar da chuva do telhado.

– Eu sei como é a Ilha dos Perdidos – respondeu ela em tom seco, e então cruzou os braços na altura dos seios. Nyx estava certa, não importava onde ela estava, as imagens das ruas lotadas de lixo e vilões sujos eram nítidas em sua mente. Ela havia crescido ali, em meio aos ladrões e bandidos, correndo por todas aquelas ruas imundas e fétidas. Prédios com aparência de abandonados cobriam a área que rodeava a mansão, uma névoa gélida era encontrada espalhando-se pela região.

Ao longe, quase no centro da ilha, era possível ver o castelo horroroso onde a Lagartixa mãe e a Lagartixa filha moravam junto aos seus amiguinhos ridículos. Se olhasse para leste, poderia ver as docas onde o Capitão Gancho, Úrsula e Morgana, sua irmã, dominavam, se apertasse bem os olhos poderia ver até as velas do navio comandado por sua melhor amiga, Uma, a filha da Bruxa do Mar.

– Eu queria te afastar de ouvidos indiscretos. É um assunto muito sério.

Algo na postura dele, com o vento fazendo sua capa preta esvoaçar, fez Nyx ter um forte pressentimento.

– Tá, antes que você venha com todo esse papo de Lorde das Trevas para cima de mim, eu não matei ninguém e eu não explodi nada nas últimas vinte e quatro horas. Estive com Uma, Harry e Gil desde ontem de manhã.

Dava para sentir aquela terrível avalanche de palavras que lhe escapava toda vez que ela estava nervosa ou havia um silêncio indesejável. Normalmente, Nyx conseguia controlar esse impulso após anos de treino, mas seu pai conseguia tirar o pior dela, então ela continuou:

– Talvez eu tenha quebrado alguns ossos de alguns misóginos e abusadores de crianças. Mas eles mereceram – Agora, ela gesticulava descontroladamente, como se estivesse tentando voar.

O que tornou a situação pior foi perceber que seu pai estava se esforçando muito mal, diga-se de passagem, para não ria dela.

Uma pessoa controlada pararia de falar ao ver aquela expressão no rosto do Lobo Mau, mas Nyx não era tão controlada assim. Quer dizer, Nyx era controlada, mas parecia que o cérebro e a boca não estavam conectados. E isso sempre acontecia na presença do pai.

– E talvez, sem o meu envolvimento, é claro, as sobrancelhas da bruxa, verruguenta e obcecada por maçãs, tenham sido queimadas novamente.

Os olhos do pai brilharam e a Nyx viu algo ardendo ali, só por um momento, antes de se fecharem de novo. Ele limpou a garganta e coçou a nunca, parecendo meio irritado meio orgulhoso.

Vê-lo perder qualquer resquício de sua impecável compostura dava a Nyx uma satisfação imensa. Não era sempre que o Grande Lobo Mau saia do seu personagem impecável e superior.

– Não me importo com as suas travessuras junto aos seus amigos piratas, filhote. – O pai revirou os olhos e apoiou as mãos em cada lado dos pilares de pedra. Nyx sabia que daria para ver seus ombros e costas tensos, não fosse pela capa.

A Morada da Lua, como era chamada pelos outros cidadãos da Ilha o lugar onde morava, era uma verdadeira fortaleza. Os homens de seu pai eram vistos circulando pelo perímetro. Todos eram fieis a sua família, de uma forma ou outra.

Seu pai tinha mantido a maioria das alianças de antes do seu confinamento na Ilha. Capitão Gancho, Sr. Smee, Yzma, Hades, Úrsula, Madame Mim, Dr. Facilier. Todos eles eram aliados de seu pai. Alguns mais que outros, é claro. Isso resultou nas amizades mais próximas de Nyx: Uma Hydraviper, Harry Hook, Gil LeGume. Nyx também tinha outros amigos como: Hadie Underworlder, Yzla Cat, Anthony, Dizzy e Annabelle Tremaine.

Quando não estava treinando todos os métodos de matar com seu pai, Nyx sempre poderia ser encontrada com Uma, Harry e Gil, seja ajudando no Ursula's Fish and Chips ou no navio que Uma comanda.

– Filhote?

Ah, ele estava falando, não estava? Nyx estava muito ocupada envolta em seus próprios pensamentos para ouvir ele.

– Ah, sim, eu... concordo. – Nyx balançou cabeça enfaticamente, tentando ao máximo não demostrar que estava prestando atenção.

– É mesmo? – Ele assobiou baixinho e levantou a mão para esfregar a barba por fazer mantida à perfeição. – Pois bem, tendo sua aprovação, irei começar os preparativos para casa você com um dos goblins, para garantir mais acesso às docas onde os produtos e alimentos chegam de Auradon.

– O quê? – Nyx arfou. – Papai, eu... O senhor perdeu completamente a cabeça? Isso não pode ser sério! É loucura!

Sem se dar conta, Nyx se aproximou do pai e agarrou as lapelas de sua capa e começou a balançar o corpo dele, tentando procurar qualquer traço de loucura em seus olhos.

Mas, em vez de humanidade, ela viu os olhos se estreitarem e formarem pequenas rugas nos cantos. Nyx deu um grande passo para trás para observar melhor a expressão do pai. Os lábios estavam curvados para cima e, quando Nyx percebeu, soltou um gritinho.

– ERA UMA PIADA?

O pai abriu o maior sorriso que Nyx tinha visto nele desde seu último aniversário.

– PAI!

Ele revirou os olhos e balançou a cabeça, como se não conseguisse acreditar na conversa que estava tendo.

– Agora que tenho toda a sua atenção...

– Foi a sua primeira? – Nyx interrompeu, incapaz de processar tanta informação nova em poucos segundos.

O licano alfa inclinou a cabeça para trás, surpreso, enquanto soltava as mãos de Nyx de sua capa.

– Minha primeira o quê, filhote?

– Sua primeira piada desse mês.

Ele grunhiu e abriu a bocas para falar, parecendo bem indignado, na opinião de Nyx.

– Mas não é poss... – Ele se interrompeu para beliscar a ponta do nariz. – Nyaxia, você realmente acha que sou incapaz de ter senso de humor?

– Claro que não – disse ela seriamente – Você me teve.

O pai soltou um suspiro resignado e ajeitou meticulosamente a capa escura.

– Falo com você por menos de três minutos e já fico mais confuso do que os estagiários durante meu dia favorito da semana.

– Metaforicamente falando, claro, já que não estou atirando flechas em você. – Nyx lançou-lhe um olhar penetrante para reiterar o quanto “reprovava”  o treinamento de autodefesa do pai com as pobres almas que vinham para “estágios”. Filhos de vilões menores e pouco relevantes, pessoas com dívidas de jogo e outros malfeitores se candidatavam ao cargo o tempo todo.

O Dia da Caça é o melhor espetáculo que ocorre na Ilha dos Perdidos. O evento acontece no final de cada semana de trabalho dos estagiários do Grande Lobo Mau, a menos, é claro, que o pai estivesse tendo um dia ruim. Aí, poderia ser no início da semana, no meio da semana, de manhã, durante o almoço, ou... Bom, a lista continua. Pelo menos era consistente, já que todo Dia da Caça consistia no pai mandando os estagiários para fora para que fugissem de algo.

Desde que nascerá, ela os vira tentar escapar de uma besta, de um arco com flechas em chamas e de inúmera criaturas mágicas e não mágicas, até dela mesma quando o pai achou que Nyx já tinha idade o suficiente... Detalhe: Nyx tinha apenas 11 anos quando começou a participar ativamente do Dia da Caça. Mas, sem dúvidas, os dias preferidos de Nyx são aqueles em que o pai estava tão farto das palhaçadas de seus funcionários que começa a perseguir pessoalmente eles pelo pátio dos fundos... às vezes, se ela tivesse sorte, alguns dos funcionários de seu pai conseguiam fugir, e ela e os amigos continuavam a caçar eles por toda a ilha.

Foi o mais rápido que ela já viu os estagiários correrem. Nyx sempre morri de rir nesses dias.

E daí que eu me divirto com o desesperos deles? Quem não se divertiria com um bando de machos, correndo e gritando por suas mamães, mais perdidos do que cego em tiroteio?

– Vale lembrar que não mato um estagiário há muitos meses.

Nyx revirou os olhos tão forte que quase conseguiu ver o seu crânio por dentro.

– Papai lindo do meu coração, odeio diminuir seus sucessos, mas existem pessoas que passam a vida inteira sem matar ninguém.

Ele permaneceu sério.

– Que chato.

– Me poupe, né? Não foram “meses”. Você arrancou a cabeça de um dos trolls da Lagartixa Sênior semana passada.

– Bom, ele mereceu.

Nyx deu de ombros, concordando.

Todos sabiam que aliados da Fada das Trevas não eram bem-vindos daquele lado da ilha. E aqueles que tentavam... bem, eles rapidamente sumiam e nunca mais eram vistos novamente.

– Se eu tivesse esse privilégio, a Mal já teria ido parar em uma cova rasa há muitos meses. – Nyx fez uma pausa contemplativa. – Na verdade, pai...

– Não.

– Mas e se eu fizer uma lista oficial e bem-organizada de prós e contras? – suplicou.

De repente, o pai fechou a cara, tão do nada que Nyx ouviu a própria respiração acelerar.

– Sempre mantenha os inimigos por perto, filhote. A vida é mais interessante assim.

O sorriso que ele lhe deva naquele momento não tinha alegria, apenas promessas cruéis.

Nyx suspirou, cansada. Seu pai nunca lhe explicara o motivo de não acabar logo com essa guerra fria entre ele e Malévola. Até onde ela sabia, esse conflito já durava quase um século. E mesmo tendo todas as oportunidades agora, o alfa do clã Badwolf ainda não tinha decepado a cabeça da fada lagartixa ou arrancado seu coração.

– Falando em inimigos... Podemos discutir o assunto que me fez trazer você aqui para conversar antes que os outros comecem a acreditar que vou jogar você por cima do parapeito? – perguntou ele.

Nyx revirou os olhos e gesticulou para que ele continuasse.

– Pode falar.

O lupino fez cara feia e virou de costas para ela, voltando o olhar para a vista da Ilha.

– Uma carta chegou hoje para você.

Nyx tentou não demonstrar, mas a alegria era palpável. Fazia meses desde que a última carta da sua mãe tinha chegado, quase um ano. Essas cartas vinham de tempos em tempos, nunca de forma constante ou rotineira. Seus pais eram muito cuidadosos quanto a correspondência... todo cuidado era pouco, nunca se sabe quando uma de suas cartas poderia ser interceptada.

– Mamãe está bem? Cadê a carta? Ela mandou mais alguma coisa...

– É do palácio de Auradon. De Vossa Alteza Real, Príncipe Benjamin, para ser especifico.

💫🐺⚔️❄️🖤

Palácio Real de Auradon

À Ilustre Senhorita Nyaxia Badwolf,

É com grande distinção que, nesta primeira proclamação como Rei dos Estados Unidos de Auradon, tenho a honra de dirigir-me a vossa pessoa.

Como parte de meus votos solenes de estabelecer um reino de inclusão e progresso, venho por meio desta carta oferecer-lhe uma oportunidade singular: juntar-se ao corpo docente da Escola Preparatória de Auradon.

Esta proposta não apenas reflete os valores fundamentais de minha monarquia, mas também inaugura um novo capítulo de promessas e esperanças em Auradon. Sua presença na Escola de Auradon será de inestimável valor, contribuindo para a construção de um futuro mais brilhante para nosso reino.

Em reconhecimento à sua grande e histórica família, é com grande esperança e antecipação que aguardamos sua resposta afirmativa.

Os meus guardas estarão lhe aguardando amanhã pela manhã nos portões da Morada da Lua caso aceite a minha proposta.

Com distinta estima,

Príncipe Benjamin

Em nome da Família Real de Auradon

– Você só pode estar brincando com a minha cara. Por que, em nome de Ártemis, eu iria querer fazer isso? – Nyx zombou secamente, erguendo uma sobrancelha para o pai.

– Isso não é uma brincadeira, Nyaxia. Mas sim uma oportunidade. Você ira para Auradon, filhote. – De repente, a voz dele ficou mais baixa. Um tom letal que ela já tinha visto fazer os homens mais corajosos se tremerem de medo. Por algum motivo, Nyx achava reconfortante... talvez seja porque ele era o seu pai. – E isso não está em discursão.

– Oi? O senhor está ficando louco? Você sempre disse que Auradon é horrível e uma perda de tempo terrível.

– Mas com a minha filha lá, pode deixar de ser.

– Pai! Auradon não dá a mínima para nós há duas décadas! – rosnou Nyx enquanto se aproximava de seu pai, com as presas afiadas a mostra. – Eles jogaram você e todos os outros vilões em uma pilha de lixo flutuante sem dar a ninguém uma chance de redenção. Claro que a maioria não teria se redimido de qualquer maneira... mas mesmo assim, eles não se importaram com ninguém.

O pai olhou para ela com uma emoção indecifrável.

– E então, quando nascemos, eles decidiram que seríamos tão ruins quanto nossos pais. E nunca, nunca, pensaram em nós novamente. Então me perdoe se estou tendo dificuldades de em acreditar que, depois de vinte anos, a família real decidiu milagrosamente que talvez vale a pena pensar em nós.

Elijah Badwolf a fitou por longos minutos em completo silêncio, sem nunca desviar o olhar. Seus olhos lentamente começaram a se tornar de uma cor dourada, quase tão reluzente quanto ouro derretido.

– Nyaxia, você irá para Auradon. Não existe outra opção para você. Eu e sua mãe já decidimos, você irá para Auradon – disse o Lobo Mau em voz baixa.

Nyx respirou fundo, porque ele se erguia imponente e sombrio, prometendo destruição. Ela sabia que nunca teve chance contra seu pai, mas saber que sua mãe também o apoiava... bem, isso mudava as coisas, e ela só conseguia pensar...

– Quem mais vai para Auradon?

[alexa-fika]

HEY! HEY! HEYYY! IT'S MEE

Anyways today is now birthday 😍🎂 (A.k.a April 4)

Can I request a whitebeard pirates x fem child reader?

Like the reader is like nezuko from demon slayer

Let's say that reader comes with ace to find a cure

So basically ace was figthing jinbe and whitebeard arrives and then ace and whitebeard starts fighting until ace pass out but before ace can pass out reader attacks then because she's very protective of her family 🥺

Then they basically distract reader so that they can aboard ace into the ship then out of nowhere reader starts running around because the sun was rising and she has no option but to go with the whitebeard pirates

So basically everyone was suspicious because why was reader wearing a muzzle? And why does reader only comes out in the night or stays in shades?

But if anyone tries to question ace gets really defensive because he thinks they'll kill reader because she's a demon

So in the end whitebeard first found out then Marco then thatch (f u Blackbeard) then izou then everyone?

Thank youuuuu ✨✨

Demonically adorable (Whitebeard pirates x f!child!reader!)

Part 2 (Reactions)

A/N, im not gonna lie cosmo, I was totally gonna skip this one and leave it for later but I got to actually reading and looking back at when ace joined and omg the ideas just started flowing, some things are not exactly as your prompt or don’t go as in depth so I really hope you enjoyed this, because I certainly enjoyed writing it

Reader here is replaced by dokucha which stands for Reader in Japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

Dokucha's eyes widen as she runs towards Ace, trying to shake him awake, growling at the giant in front of them

“Hmm? So he has a little brat with him?”

The only response he receives is the sound of hisses and growls behind the child’s muzzle

“Back down, Dokucha, you’re no match for him…my father’s rival,” he grunts out

“I won’t lose,” he growls, beginning to stand up and ignoring the worried fussing of the child

“Heh, so you've still got some fight left, huh? Look, I'm not going to kill you today; you are far too valuable to someone to die here”, the man said, gesturing at the small child next to him

“Join me and become my son,” he says, reaching out his hand to the flame man

“Don’t screw with me, old fart,” he growls, slapping his hand away and launching himself toward the Emperor, only to be knocked back

Dokucha let out a sound close to a cry as she ran towards Ace, trying to shake him awake once again, snapping her head up at the sound of Whitebeard’s steps approaching them

She growls, standing in front of Ace, shielding him, her eyes shrinking to slits as the man continues to approach the two, her eyes glancing behind him as a blue flame approaches them

She watches as a blue flame grows closer until she is able to discern the shape of a bird landing next to the man

“Are we taking him with us?” He asks, glancing at Whitebeard

“Yes, he’s knocked out. He will be no problem, but I reckon the little one won’t go as easily.”

“I can handle her, Pops; Thatch will take care of the boy and his crew.”

“So I said, but you aren’t making this easy,” he sighs, evading another lunge from the girl

“And here I thought the other one would be the troublesome,” he spoke, catching a kick that he sent his way and pushing her back

She catches herself, gripping the ground with all fours as she immediately leaps towards him again, growling at him and showcasing the sharp canines now on full display, the muzzle long gone as her body begins to mature rapidly.

He quirks his head at that,

“That body of yours, is it the Toshi-toshi no mi?” He questions, flying out of the way to avoid her attack

She grits her teeth, looking at the airborne phoenix, preparing to jump up to meet him in the air until he suddenly flew down and trapped her between his talons

He hums, glancing at her expression, noting how the angry expression she had worn at the beginning had shifted to a worried one as she kept glancing around, presumably looking for Where they had taken Ace

“Hey,” he calls, frowning as she ignored his call as she tried to free herself

“Oi, Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you,” he hollered, trying to settle her down

“You’re just trying to protect him, right?”

She pauses her attempts to free herself at the question

“We’re not going to hurt him; all the contrary, we want to help him,” he explained, huffing as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously

“I promise,” he said, returning his upper body to his human form as he raised his hands in a surrendering motion

“Listen, how about I take you to him? You can stay with him, and we can talk about this in the morning.”

She looks at him, nodding, as her body slowly returns to her original childish state

He kept her for a few seconds, trying to determine if she was really giving up, removing his talons when it was clear she had no more fight on her

She yawned, glancing around her to take in the room she was in; remembering the events of last night, she jumped off the bed, grabbing her umbrella, and poking her head outside of the room.

“Hey, pumkin’, I see you’re awake,” a voice pipes in

She looks towards the voice, spotting a man dressed in Chef clothes smiling back at her

She looks at him for a few moments before reaching one of her hands towards him, opening and shutting it as her other hand held the umbrella

He grins and easily picks her up

“What’s with the umbrella sweetpea?”

She points her hand up

“Hmm? The sun?”

She nods

“Are you sensitive to sunlight?”

Another nod

“Well, I’ll be damned, Marco did mention you were quite unique,” he said, looking her over, deciding not to comment on the bamboo piece between her teeth

“But just as cute, aren't ya, darlin?” He said, tickling her neck

Muffled giggles escape her at the action as she nuzzles deeper into him, trying to escape the sudden attack

They both turn at the sound of a door slamming open, looking as a disheveled Ace left the room, looking around, confused

“Looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up; how about we go say hi?

She leans the umbrella against his shoulder to free her hand as she pulls at his clothes

“Something wrong?”

She points at Ace, puts her hands together, leans her head against it in a sleeping motion, and then puts her wrists together, joining and separating her hands

“A sleeping crocodile?”

She shakes her head, repeating the motions

“Are you… are you trying to say he is snappy when he wakes up?”

She beams, nodding her head

He snickers at that

“I like you,” he said, walking closer to Ace as he threw himself against the walls of the ship, sliding all the way down and gripping his head only to snap it up at the sound of Thatch’s voice

“Hey, there; I'm Whitebeard’s fourth division commander, Thatch. I'm a good friend to have if you’re going to be joining us he said, sitting down on the railing, gingerly placing Dokucha on his lap

“Shut up!” He growls

“And give me back my sister he said, standing up and snatching the small girl from him, returning from his previous position as he hugged her

“Hahaha! She was right; you are kind of snappy when you wake up,” he teased as he continued to explain what had happened when he passed out, teasing him further when he questioned the lack of restraints on him, replying that such a thing was not needed on him.

The next few weeks were but a blur to the small girl, every day following the same pattern for a while. Every day, Ace would ask her to stay behind as he would go after Whitebeard only to be launched back repeatedly. During these times, Dokucha took to bonding with the different brothers on the ship, as they cared for her when Ace was busy with his assassination attempts.

“How many times has it been already?” Questioned Vista as he watched as once again Ace was thrown out of the Captain’s quarters

“More than a hundred”

“How could such a sweet thing be able to deal with that hothead, always madder than a wet hen, ain't that right pumkin’?” Thatch questions as he bounced the small girl on his legs, smiling at the muffled laughs that escaped her.

“Stop moving so much, Izou,” grumbled as he continued to work on the girl’s hair upon her request

“There you go,” he said, backing up with a smile

She beamed, jumping off Thatch’s lap and twirling around, showcasing her new hairdo

“Say, how come you wear that muzzle all the time?” Someone questions

“Mind your own business,” Ace grumbled, dripping wet as he passed them and snatching the small girl up as he went, who gave the men behind her a wave as she left

“I think your brother should be about done with his daily attempt. Should we get this to him?” Marco questioned the girl on his hip as his other hand held a bowl of soup, smiling as she bounced her head up and down

He chuckles at the action as he exits the kitchen and walks over to the spot where Ace laid, gently putting Dokucha and the bowl of soup next to him

A whine escaped the girl as he left, running after him as he took his leave

“Hey, what’s wrong? You can stay here with Ace. “ his actions differed from his words as he picked up the child again

“Tell me, why do they call him pops?” Ace grumbled, watching the interaction between the first mate and his sister

“Because he calls us sons, it’s just a word, but it’s nice, isn't it? Most of us are hated by everyone and don’t have families of our own, so that alone means everything to us,” he said, watching him for a moment and sighing, walking over to him and kneeling down, placing the girl next to them

“Hey, when are you going to stop this? I'm sorry to rain on your parade, but you aren’t strong enough to kill him, so you have two options: leave and start anew or stay and bear Whitebeard’s mark on your back,” he spoke

“Do try to keep your sister in mind when you make your choice, will you?

I do hope you decide to stick around; we’ve grown fond of the little miss.”

Ace found himself deep in thought; it seemed like only a day ago he had been mulling over if he would stay or if he would go; now he found himself mulling over if he should become a commander under Whitebeard or not; he glanced behind him as Dokucha ran circles between Marco and Thatch, the men struggling to keep up with her zigzagging.

He sighed as he made his final decision.

“Dokucha, come here”

So I don’t have full fledged scenarios on the reactions the crew members would react to the news but I do have already thought out how they would react so maybe I can do it in a headcannon format? 👀 Also I really tried to lean in into southern Thatch, without making it too much, what do yall think?

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[elspethdekarios]

Stolen Glances

It's been a little while since I've posted a fic! This is just a little fluff piece about Gale's early longing. Post-Elminster calming the orb, pre-act 2. I've been wanting to write something that takes place in the Mountain Pass camp, since it's probably my favorite place in the whole game.

Gale x Female OC fluff, early game longing

cw: Gale pondering sacrificing himself

The vista of the mountain pass was the most stunning place Gale had seen yet throughout these adventures. Whimsical and awe-inspiring as the glowing landscape of the Underdark was, the glorious valley sprawling around the Rosymorn Monastery ruins had an overwhelming sense of romance and serenity. Even after receiving Elminster's message from Mystra, Gale felt at peace for the first time in over a year. Perhaps it was the orb being quelled, or perhaps it was the view. Realistically, it was a mixture of both, but he couldn’t deny that Elspeth’s company was certainly a factor as well.

With the orb sated for the time being, he felt a little less anxious about flirting with her. She still made him nervous, of course, but it was an exciting nervousness now, like a schoolboy with a crush rather than the liable-to-literally-explode-if-I-let-myself-feel-something-for-her nervousness he was used to. The past couple of days, he let his gaze linger on her a little longer, let his imagination roam a little further than he had dared previously. 

She seemed to glow from within. Perhaps it was the excitement of being able to actually admire her beauty, or perhaps it was the setting they found themselves in. Something about the holiness of this place brought Elspeth’s already-bright light to the surface. The cleric in her stirred at the divinity of the temple ruins, he presumed. She worshipped Corellon, but with the brightness and renewal that seemed to radiate from her, it wouldn't be far-fetched to presume her a cleric of Lathander. Part of him missed being so devoted to a deity. That touch of divinity, metaphorical and physical in his case, became an anchor, a beacon to hold on to when life was turbulent. It was grounding and ethereal at the same time. To earn Mystra’s forgiveness… perhaps his soul could land somewhere among such a feeling if he obeyed her command. It was a thought that gave him a modicum of peace amidst a terrifying prospect.

He often saw Elspeth sitting out by the stream downhill from their tents. Sometimes she was kneeling in prayer, deep in a meditative state aided by their surroundings. Other times, she simply sat by the stream and stared out into the vast landscape, a hand dipped in the water, letting its gentle current flow past her fingertips. Gale couldn't help but admire the way she made time for solitude and reflection. She was quite the extrovert, and after somehow falling into the role of leader, he couldn't imagine the pressure she must feel to always act the part. 

Gale had taken to his own evening reflections in this camp, often sitting on a stone bench nearby reading or watching the birds. He tried not to disturb her, but she had invited him to sit with her once before. They ate apples and he thought about how much he wanted to kiss her. To feel her skin under his palms. To feel her breath against his ear as she whispered his name. But he would be happy just to sit with her, especially here in this beautiful place. 

He'd come bearing food, he decided. He wasn't cooking tonight thanks to their rations of fresh fruit, stale bread, and cheese. He grabbed a small basket and some linens to wrap the food in–who knew what that basket had seen before it was in his possession–and packed enough for the both of them before following the stream downhill. 

Elspeth was facing the late afternoon sun over the enormous valley, the light golden on her skin. She looked over her shoulder as he approached. 

"Hi," she said, her face softening when she saw him. "Do you need something?"

"Not at all. Just thought I'd bring you some dinner before all the best bits get taken."

"Thank you, Gale. That’s very kind," She smiled up at him and patted the ground next to her. "Join me?"

"Of course." He sat down beside her and began untying the linens holding the food.

"You know," she said. "You may be the most thoughtful man I've ever met."

A soft laugh left his lips as an involuntary blush rose in his cheeks. He was suddenly self-conscious about if he was smiling too wide, too eagerly. 

"I mean it," she said as she tore off a piece of bread. "Despite the horrors of our situation, you think of my wellbeing."

"Of course I do," he said, the green of her eyes striking from the setting sun. "You're...." He cleared his throat and turned to the landscape in front of them. "I care about you. You--well, you mean a great deal to me."

There was a moment of silence before she replied.

"You mean a great deal to me, too."

They didn't speak while eating their meager dinner, instead letting the chirping birds and wind in the trees envelop them as if they were meant to be there, a part of the overgrown landscape rooted to the ground. 

"Gale?" El broke the silence as she bit into a strawberry, the juice pooling between her lips, leaving them pink and glistening in the orange sunlight. 

"Hm?" He was trying to look her in the eyes, but her lips and the half eaten strawberry she still held near them were making it terribly difficult. 

"Please don't use the orb."

That did it. Forget the lips. Her eyes, staring straight ahead instead of looking at him, were glassy and sad. Her brow furrowed.  

"I--," he stuttered, unsure of the right thing to say. In truth, he didn't want to do it. But he feared disobeying his goddess once again, and he hoped that sacrificing himself would give his sorry life meaning at the very least. But the look on Elspeth's face gave him pause and another reason to reconsider. She looked pained by the thought. She looked like she cared, truly cared. "I can't make any promises."

El turned her head away from him, but he could see her wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. "She could have helped you," she said, locking eyes with him, her gaze fierce and passionate. "She could have alleviated your pain, all this time. But she didn't, Gale. She chose to let you suffer." 

Her tears were falling freely now, heavy, landing on the grass like morning dewdrops. Gale didn't know what to do, how to comfort her when the only thing that could comfort her was to forsake his goddess. But as he watched the light shimmer in Elspeth's eyes, the stain of pink still on her lips, the way she currently had one hand clutching a handful of grass as if she were ready to rip the earth itself apart--he realized that he would. He would forsake his goddess for her. He would do anything for her. 

"I know devotion," she continued. "Trust me, I do. But she has no right to ask such a thing of you. Gods are forbidden from meddling in mortal affairs. Is taking petty revenge on an ex lover not a mortal affair? Is taking a mortal lover in the first place not meddling?"

Very few people in Gale’s life had left him speechless. Elspeth could now be added to that short list. 

"I don't know what to say, El. It could be the only way to destroy the Absolute for good. I don’t want to do it. But I can't say for certain that I won't." Almost involuntarily, he placed his hand over hers. "No matter what happens, I want you to know how very dear you are to me. You... awoke something in me. Something that's been dormant for quite some time."

"Don't do that," she said, dropping her head. "Please."

He moved his hand away, hurt and embarrassed. His chest felt tight, his face suddenly hot. 

"No, that's not what I meant," El said, grabbing his hand before he could place it back at his side. She held it with both of her own, one gritty with dirt from clawing into the grass. "Don't tell me how much I mean to you if you intend on leaving me."

With the same quickness it dropped into his stomach, his heart soared at the touch of her cool palms pressed against his hand. He was, again, speechless. It had been so long since someone held his hand. Now that he thought about it, Mystra never held hands with him. Was she really an ex lover worth killing himself over? It wasn't just about him, though, he reminded himself. It was about the Absolute. And his sacrifice could save the lives of countless others. 

But what about him? Allowing himself to be selfish for a moment, he imagined a world in which he had a future. Back home, no orb, enjoying tea with his mother and Tara. A partner waiting for him to return home for the day, greeting him with a kiss when he stepped through the front door of their tower. Someone to cook dinner with, to read in front of the fire with, to hold at night as they whispered their deepest desires and fears and to be held in return when he told them his own. He wanted that more than anything. More than Mystra’s forgiveness. 

And, gods willing, he wanted that partner to be Elspeth. 

"Please don't leave me," she whispered, bringing his hand up to her face, the soft skin of her lips brushing against his knuckles. It wasn't so much a kiss as it was a prayer. "I… I think I..." 

She trailed off. Gale reached out his free hand, caressing her shoulder and down her arm, wondering if he was dreaming, when the sound of reckless footsteps began to invade their sweet sanctuary. The footsteps were followed by playful barking and chirping, and in an instant, Scratch and the owlbear cub were bounding down the hill towards them, their game of chase unbothered by the humans sitting on the ground. The owlbear cub ran straight in between Gale and Elspeth, knocking them apart from each other, leaving a few stray feathers in his wake, Scratch right behind him. 

"Awww, look at them! They're friends!" Karlach's voice shouted from behind them as she moved closer to play with the two animals. Soon she was on the ground, being smothered with licks and beak nudges and laughing so loudly it echoed in the valley around them. When she got up, Scratch and the owlbear beckoned her to join their game of chase, and the three of them ran off towards camp. 

Gale and El looked at each other again, the sun almost gone now, the intimacy of the moment gone with it. 

"We should probably get ready for bed," she said, rising to her feet and dusting the grass off of her pants. 

"Yes, I suppose we should" Gale replied, pushing himself up, sore knees protesting as he did. He picked up the basket and linens and walked with El up the hill in the dim twilight. The backs of their hands brushed together as they walked, and he desperately wanted to grab hers, to pull her in towards him, to grip her waist and kiss her and never let go. 

They neared the camp, still obscured by a crumbling wall, and Elspeth stopped. 

"Thank you for having dinner with me," she said, smiling shyly. 

"Thank you for allowing me your company." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the sight of El being shy–a character trait most unusual for her. It was adorable, the way she ducked her head slightly and looked at him through her eyelashes, holding one arm with the other as she swayed slightly on her feet. 

Sunset had come and gone, the mountain now shaded in hues of blue and gray. The chatter of their companions sounded distant even though they weren’t far. Gale didn’t want to be the one to walk away, to end the conversation. He’d stand here all night if she wanted him to. Then, in one swift moment, Elspeth stepped toward him on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. 

Every atom in his body came alive at the touch of her lips. Time was somehow going too fast and had come to a complete halt. She moved to take a step back, and Gale couldn’t resist any longer: he grabbed both sides of her face and pressed his lips to hers with an intensity he hadn’t felt in ages. She kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him close. 

As quickly as it happened, it was over.

They stared at each other, hair slightly unkempt and faces flustered. Gale could hear their names in conversations happening behind the stone wall. 

Elspeth backed away with slow steps, not taking her eyes off of him.

“I meant everything,” she said. “Including that.”

Gale could only stare as she disappeared behind the wall, the faint sweetness of strawberry on his lips.

[authorscurse]

Love Leaves Scars: Plot Twist of the Century

[L.L.S Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [G.H Masterlist]

Warning: Skye is a warning yall

Pairing: Oc!reader x Grayson Hawthorne

W.C: 2.3k

I observe as the sky is bathed in a soft hue of blue, and the sun emerges from its slumber. The sky is adorned with wisps of clouds and the graceful presence of birds, infusing it with vibrant life and color. A gentle, chilly breeze brushes against my skin, causing a light shiver to ripple through me. I draw my blanket closer, taking solace in its warmth, as I savor each sip of the steaming coffee I have brewed. All the while, my gaze remains fixed upon the ever-changing canvas of the sky, as well as the graceful movements of the birds.

"You're awake quite early," I hear Asnid's morning voice raspily remark. "Good morning," I greet her warmly, setting my mug down on the table of the balcony. Asnid settles into the vacant chair opposite me, reaching out to take a sip from my mug. "From what I recall, you're not one to wake up early, Vers," Asnid remarks. "I found it difficult to sleep last night," I confess, my voice tinged with vulnerability. Sleep has evaded me ever since our arrival here, five days ago.

"Is the bed not providing enough comfort?" Asnid inquires, her concern evident. I assure her that the bed is perfectly adequate. It's simply that the memories I have tried desperately to forget persistently haunt me, even within the realm of my dreams. Ever since I turned twelve, I have been unable to dream at all, and I can't even remember the last time I ever did dream. Yet, sleeping within Hawthorne House has reawakened my ability to dream. Alas, these dreams are far from pleasant—they can rather be described as nightmares.

"Are you nervous about the will reading?" Asnid speculates. "Why would I be nervous about something like that? Im sure Tobias Hawthorne included me in that will for one of his games," I reply. But deep down, is that truly the case?

I turn away from Asnid and fix my gaze upon the captivating vista before us. Hawthorne House, perched upon its expansive estate, commands attention. The forest surrounding us sways in unison with the whims of the wind.My eyes remain on the scene, for a moment, I felt a semblance of peace wash over me. A semblance, but not quite complete.

"We should eat breakfast, Verity," Asnid suggests, rising from her seat. Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from the captivating view, following Asnid downstairs to the dining area. The long table is adorned with an array of breakfast delicacies—varieties of bread, succulent fruits, and a tempting assortment of treats. It is a veritable feast, brimming with flavors that screams sugar rush. "Good morning, Miss Verity and Miss Asnid," one of the maids greets us before departing to the kitchen.

I pull out a chair for Asnid, then take my place beside her. It doesn't take long before the remaining occupants of Hawthorne House begin to trickle into the dining area, joining us for breakfast. However, one person is noticeably absent.

"Where might dearest Grayson be?" Xander inquires, his mouth full of bread. "He left yesterday for some errands and hasn't come back," Nash replies. My eyes meet Nash's, and he raises an eyebrow inquisitively. I simply lower my head, focusing on the food before me. Silence settles upon the room, punctuated only by a small exchange of words.Everything remained silent until...

"I'm home!" a voice rings out, shattering the tranquility.

As Skye Hawthorne enters the dining room, the atmosphere shifts. The three grandchildren momentarily pause their eating before resuming.

"Good morning, boys, did you miss me?" She ask while giving a three of them a half-hearted hugs before her attention turns to me. Her eyes light up, and a sly smirk forms on her lips.

"Verity Rosewood, long time no see, my dear," Skye greets me, approaching with enthusiasm. I rise from my seat and reciprocate the hug she offers. "Oh, how I missed my favorite future daughter-in-law," she remarks, planting a kiss on my cheek. I resume my seat as Skye takes the one beside me.Just great. 

Skye then turns her attention to Asnid, "Well, who is this pretty lady over here?" Asnid, taken aback by the question, blushes deeply and introduces herself politely. "I'm Asnid, nice to meet you, Miss Hawthorne," she responds with a sweet smile. Skye attempts to return the gesture, though a fleeting expression of disgust betrays her true feelings. Skye possesses a talent for feigning kindness, concealing her true emotions.

Concerning Grayson's whereabouts, Skye poses the same question she asked her sons earlier. Nash provides the same response he shared with Xander, indicating that Grayson ventured out on errands and has yet to return. Skye then shifts her attention back to me, "How are you, Verity? I've missed you, my dear,"

"I've been doing great, actually," I reply, offering a sweet smile as I continue to enjoy my breakfast. Skye's hand delicately tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, further blurring the boundaries of comfort. Such a sweet but fake act. "Where is Zara? Shouldn't she be here when the will reading starts?" Skye queries, indulging in bread and fruit as she awaits an answer.

After excusing ourselves from the table to give the Hawthorne family their privacy, Asnid and I walk away, leaving the dining room. I can sense Skye's gaze following us until we leave the room.

"Who is that lady?" Asnid asks once we are out of earshot. I reply, "That's Skye Hawthorne, the second-born daughter of Tobias and the mother of the four grandchildren." Asnid murmurs her suspicion, "She seems like bad news."

"She is, so be careful," I warn her. Asnid nods obediently, understanding the potential dangers. We decide to minimize our interactions with the Hawthornes by staying in our room until the will reading commences.

As I assist Asnid in zipping up her dress, she raises a question. "Do you think the Avery girl has arrived by now?" I consider her inquiry and respond, "If she hasn't, it means we'll be staying here even longer until the next scheduled will reading." Asnid then confides, "I kind of like it here." Our eyes meet in the mirror before us. I cannot deny that I share a similar sentimentI couldn't say that I didn't feel the same. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house that haunts you even in your dreams. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house which makes me remember memories I choose to forget. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house where you met your first love.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your stay here, hon," I offer a small smile, which she reciprocates. Words alone would not suffice to convey the depth of my disdain for this place—the unsettling feelings it evokes, the memories it forces me to confront, and the sight of the man I once loved.

Our attention is diverted to the sound of a knock on the door. "Asnid? Verity? You need to come down now," Nash's voice reaches us from the other side. Asnid responds, "We'll be out in a minute!" She places a hairclip in her hair, and I patiently wait as Nash's footsteps fade away.

"I'm done! Let's go!" Asnid exclaims, grabbing my hand as we make our way down the stairs and into the Great Room. As we enter, the room is already filled with people, although the main event has yet to commence. Oren, Tobias's head bodyguard, stands by the wall, strategically positioned to observe the room's exits. The Laughlin family occupies one side of the room, while Zara and her husband engage in conversation with the lawyers, Grayson at their side. Nan sits at the front right of the room, with Xander irritating her incessantly. Skye occupies a solitary seat, and the remaining Hawthorne boys are seated together.

"Let's sit beside them!" Asnid whispers to me with excitement, suggesting that we sit beside the two unfamiliar girls in the wingback chairs. One of the girls had long brown hair while the other had short blue hair.  Eagerly, we take the seats beside them. The girls turn their attention to us as we settle in. Asnid takes the initiative, extending her arm and introducing herself. "Hi! I'm Asnid! What's your name?" she asks cheerfully, and both girls shake her hand. The brunette girl introduces herself as Avery, while the one with blue hair is named Libby.

"Oh! You're the girl mentioned in the will too!" Asnid exclaims, pointing out Avery's connection. Avery nods in acknowledgment. "Do you know why? Were you mentioned too or are you related to these people?" Libby asks.  "Honestly we're as confused as you are. I'm not mentioned but Verity is," Asnid says before linking her arm with mine2 and reassures them, "We're not related to the Hawthornes, don't worry." I observe as Libby visibly relaxes. "Finally, someone who isn't 'richy rich'," she exhales, prompting giggles from Asnid.

Deciding to engage in further conversation, Asnid moves to sit beside Libby while Avery takes Asnid's previous seat. A"Were you dragged into this as well?" Avery asks. "Yeah, sort of," I chuckled. "Do you have a history with them?" Avery shoots another question. I hesitated to give her a truthful answer but eventually still did. I nodded my head and told her how I used to play with the four Hawthorne grandchildren when we were young.

Avery responds, "Good for you, because I don't." Tobias Hawthorne you sick old man. "Even in death, he likes to play stupid games," I sigh, expressing my frustration. Avery begins to offer a reply, but her words are cut off by one of the lawyers in the room. "Now that everyone is here, it would be wise to start," the lawyer announces, and the three of them position themselves in a triangle formation, signaling the beginning of the proceedings.

The lawyer, whom I recognize as Alisa's father, begins by stating that we are gathered to hear the last will and testament of Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne. He explains that per Mr. Hawthorne's instructions, his colleagues will now distribute letters that he had left for each of us. The other lawyers begin to walk around the room, handing out the assigned letters to each person.

I receive my letter, and I notice that Avery has received hers as well. From the corner of my eye, I see Asnid staring at me with a worried expression. I turn to her and offer an assuring smile. I mouth the words "I'm fine" to her, and she nods, redirecting her attention back to the lawyers. "You may read the letters given to you once the will reading has concluded," The lawyer instructed. 

The lawyer proceeds to explain that Tobias had stipulated that all individuals mentioned in his will must be physically present, and we have all fulfilled that requirement. The reading of the will officially commences.

"I, Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne, being of sound body and mind, decree that my worldly possessions, including all monetary and physical assets, be disposed of as follows," Mr. Ortega reads aloud, ensuring that everyone in the room can hear his words.

The room is filled with a palpable tension. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, their hearts pounding against their chests and their breaths held in anticipation. The silence is so profound that the ticking of the clock is audible.

One by one, each person present in the room is given their share of Tobias's fortune and assets. When Skye and Zara receive their share, they engage in a heated sibling dispute, creating a disturbance in the middle of this crucial event. Mr. Ortega intervenes, calming the two down and emphasizing the near impossibility of challenging the will. Now, it is time to address the grandsons.

"To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave..." As Mr. Ortega's voice resonates through the room, the tension reaches its peak. Zara mutters bitterly, "Everything," expressing her discontent with the situation.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee," Mr. Ortega continues. 

Another eruption of Hawthorne family drama ensues, triggered by these words. The wealth distribution becomes apparent: the grandsons receive their allotted amounts, the two daughters receive Tobias's belongings and five hundred thousand dollars, Nan receives her daughter's jewelry and a yearly sum of one hundred thousand dollars, Oren is bequeathed a toolbox and three hundred thousand dollars, and a mere one hundred dollars are designated for the Laughlin family. "Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega held up a hand and everyone stopped talking all at once. "Allow me to finish," The room goes silent once again but this time everyone turns to me and Avery sitting beside each other. 

"Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega raises his hand, and the room falls silent once again. All eyes turn towards me and Avery, who are seated beside each other. The anticipation hangs heavily in the air.

"The remainder of my estate, including all properties, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs," Mr. Ortega announces. The room fills with a mixture of surprise and astonishment. Libby and Avery's eyes widen at the lawyer's words. I can feel the weight of everyone's gaze upon me, waiting for the rest of the will to be read.

"All remaining monetary assets and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to..."

My heart races uncontrollably, pounding against my chest, clamoring to be set free. The sound of my own heartbeat drowns out all other noise. My ears feel as though they're ringing, overwhelmed by its deafening rhythm. I struggle to draw a breath, feeling as if my lungs are suffocating, desperate for air. Every fiber of my being cries out for help, for relief. I cannot bring myself to meet anyone's gaze, not even Asnid's. In the midst of my distress, I sense Avery taking hold of my hand, offering a small measure of solace. Yet, it is not enough to quell the tumultuous screams and cries echoing within my heart.

"Verity Quinn Rosewood," Mr. Ortega finally utters my name, and the world around me seems to come crashing down.

Taglist: @whysosmugwitch

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

Sort of long ramble about why I love Owl City =]

I've been listening to the Of June EP from 2008 a lot lately and it's so magical. The lyrics of Adam Young's music always feel so imaginative, like they are written from the perspective of someone who loves life.

When I listen to Of June and Ocean Eyes I feel like I'm floating on clouds, walking through glittery winter landscapes breathing in fresh air or sitting on a beach with white glistening sand and the most aqua blue clearest cleanest ocean in front of me. It's so dreamy and and the sounds sound so sparkly. I'm in a world where time is still and I'm absolved of all my stresses of past traumas, gender dysphoria and worries over the future. Nothing calms me as much as this music does.

Another thing I love about his music is Adam's voice! The way he sings is so smooth, like all the lyrics just flow together- It's hard to describe since, I don't know much music terminology but it's so soothing, like someone singing you a lullaby. I vocal stim a lot by singing and It's very fun to try and copy his like "intonation" if that's the word (inflection? the way he sings lol).

I love to daydream while listening to Owl City, picturing little animated music videos in my head featuring my favourite characters or characters that I've made up myself. I've always loved daydreaming and can imagine things very vividly; the scenarios and landscapes his music paints makes it so perfect to imagine to. Every song feels like it tells a story that I can see in my head when I listen to it. That's why I find it so inspiring as well!

I love the way he words things and the way it makes life sound as beautiful as it is when you are little and experiencing everything for the first time. "Vanilla twilight", "oceanic vistas", "struck a sparkling tone like a xylophone", "the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling, will shine for us", "I won't ever prove statues can move. But I like to think they do", "strawberry avalanche".. idunno he just describes things so beautifully and the lyrics are so full of imagination, it's so whimsical.

I love the reoccurring themes of the ocean/water throughout his music as well, it feels so fresh and cleansing in a way. Listening to it is like breathing fresh air on a cold winters day.

And I have to say the references to insomnia in many songs hit home for me lol. My c-ptsd has given me terrible insomnia and I also struggle with depression, it's comforting to hear those kind of things brought up (not only because I feel less alone about it but) in a way that makes it feel like it's okay that is that way and life isn't over because of it, that that feeling will pass.. if that makes sense? I mean in Owl City's music even when things are sad there is always hope. I think I lack hope a lot of the time, I can feel like giving up easily, it's nice to be reminded that life isn't over because x,y and z. "I dont' need a telescope to see that there's hope and that makes me feel brave"

If anyone read all that I hope it was somewhat coherent, speaking of insomnia it's 8am and I'm not asleep yet xD

TLDR: If you're looking for calming music to imagine AMV's of your OC's to and you like dans/electropop and maybe are a little bit emo, I think you should check out Owl City! 🩵

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 41

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Iris, Daryl and Beth continue on their journey, slowly finding ways to agree with one another. Iris and Beth quickly find a way to entertain themselves. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; arguments; discussions of drinking; drinking moonshine (homemade fermented alcohol, potentially dangerous); excessive strain on mental health (could be said about the whole series, but it feels relevant here as I'm looking for warnings to tag)

Chapter 41 - Bonding

They broke through another tree line and found themselves on a golfing green, a beige golf cart overturned in the middle. A small country club house sat waiting just down the fairway, taunting them with its four walls and the beckoning temptation of alcohol. 

“Golfers like to booze it up, right?” Beth asked. Iris raised an eyebrow. Stale pretentious golf beer? Ugh… Daryl didn’t answer, his gaze glued across the green to the six walkers headed their way.

“We’ll find out.” Iris replied. They trudged across the overgrown fairway to the country club house, the sign out front reading Pine Vista. They stopped at the landing outside the front door, a walker leaning against the railing. It looked almost like a halloween decoration, but the smell indicated otherwise.

“Might be people inside.” Beth murmured. Iris nodded. They walked up the steps, Daryl stooping to frisk the walker for anything useful while Beth yanked on the doors. The windowpanes rattled loudly as she did, newspaper preventing them from seeing through to any walkers or survivors that might be there. It seemed empty enough. Iris looked back, frowning at the walkers that chased them ever so slowly across the fairway. There were about twelve now. 

“Let’s see if theres a back door.” Iris suggested. They strolled around the side of the building, finding a second set of doors almost hidden by the overgrown shrubbery. Daryl grabbed a stray golf club that had been abandoned on the walkway, intending to use it as a crowbar. He put a finger to his lips as he tested the door. It was open and unlocked.

“Come on.” He whispered as the snarls of walkers drew nearer. They ducked inside, the house appearing like some survivors had already stayed there at some point. Newspapers, sheets and strips of fabric covered all windows, sleeping bags and survival supplies intermingled with the old luxury furniture that must have been there originally. There were stacks of furniture piled in front of a few doors, and a few bodies in the corner. They didn’t move.

As they went in further, Iris realized the place was a damn pig sty. There was shit everywhere, just stuff. Things. And a soft snarl rang out, drawing their gaze to three walkers, hanging from two ropes around their necks. Iris cringed at the state of things. This was not a nice place to be. More bodies, bloodstains. They were lucky there weren’t more walkers. Daryl knelt to the ground, picking up a woman’s backpack, jewelry, pearls and cash strewn around it on the floor. He gathered it, stuffing the bag full.

“What are you doing?” Iris asked, frowning. He looked up, opening his mouth only to be interrupted by the walkers from before catching up to them. They slammed into the door from outside, the golf club the only thing keeping them from being cannibalized by the undead. Daryl shrugged the backpack on and they hurried through a pair of doors at the end of the room into a hallway. 

They continued onward into what seemed to be the kitchen, industrial equipment and old food materials strewn about. Beth got out her flashlight and her knife, beginning her hunt for booze while Daryl and Iris peered around for any nonperishable foods. It was mostly garbage. Pans clanged softly from the other room, followed by a ghoulish grunt and a small shriek from Beth. Iris ran over, hauling the walker off of her before putting an end to it. She held a tall green bottle in her hand, which she smashed over the head of a second walker, using the sharp end of the glass to stab into its face. Iris lamented over the wasted wine, finishing the walker off quickly.

“Thanks for the help.” Beth murmured, breathing heavily. Iris hummed in response, heading down a flight of spiral stairs going into the basement. There was broken glass all over the place, a toppled trophy case blocking their path. They clambered underneath, Daryl taking the time to right a fallen grandfather clock. They emerged into a gift shop, polo shirts and khaki shorts galore. Daryl stuffed his pockets full of matchbooks while the girls perused the available clothing. Iris would always take what she could get, but she definitely drew the line at frilly pink cardigans. Beth helped herself. 

Iris meandered over to Daryl, pausing to admire the disemboweled and cut-in-half torso of a random woman. She was stripped down to her bra, gold jewelry dripping off of her. One of her earrings had been ripped off and used to tack a piece of paper to her sternum, reading Rich Bitch. Daryl pulled a cinnamon stick out of his pocket, stolen from the kitchen upstairs, turning to look at it too. Beth came to see what they were staring at, now wearing a yellow button down and white cardigan.

“Help me take her down.” Beth muttered, trying to cover the walker up with its sweater. 

“It don’t matter. She’s dead.” Daryl grunted. Beth scowled at him.

“It does matter.” She insisted. He huffed, ripping a blanket from the wall of souvenirs and wrapping it around the walker, covering her face. That seemed to satisfy Beth enough that they could keep moving. Back into the hallway, past the clock. It chose that time precisely to gong loudly, chiming three o’clock. Iris grunted, Daryl motioning for them to leave it. Which would have been appropriate, had the loud noise not called walkers from every room in the basement toward them.

They rushed through the hallway, finding themselves in a large open room with wood-panelled lockers. With the open space, Daryl and Iris turned, facing the walkers as they came, two on seven. With one left, Daryl moved forward, picking up a golf club and beating the ever living shit out of the walker until it collapsed. 

Even on the floor, half groaning, Daryl continued to whack at him. He wasn’t aiming for the head, grunting as the blood began to spatter all over him. Iris let him take his anger out on the thing. After a week of wandering through the woods, he was entitled to show a little fury. Beth came forward to get him to stop, but with one final swing to the head, Daryl lobbed the insides of its brain directly into her path, blood and gore splashing all over her new shirt. He said nothing, panting as she unbuttoned the cardigan and left it on the floor with a scowl.

They moved onward, turning one final corner before reaching a large ornate, a stained-glass window illuminating the long bar top. Scattered tables and chairs, a pool table. Fanciest bar Iris had ever seen. The room was littered with bottles and broken glasses, but there was bound to be something left. After all that.

“We made it.” Beth said gleefully, setting down her bag before turning to Iris and Daryl. “I know you think this is stupid. And it probably is. But I don’t care. All I wanted to do today was lay down and cry, but we don’t get to do that. So beat up on walkers if that makes you feel better. I need to do this.”

She turned into the room and Iris watched as she climbed behind the counter, searching for something. Daryl found himself a table, pulling a metal bowl out from somewhere, and using the butt of his crossbow to smash a frame on the wall.

“Did you have to break the glass?” Beth asked, annoyed. 

“No. Did you have your drink yet?” Daryl retorted, pulling the paper from the frame and folding it.

“No. But I found this. Peach schnapps.” Beth replied, putting a bottle on the countertop and finding herself a clean barstool. “Is it good?” She asked. Iris snorted loudly, covering her mouth.

“Sorry.” She said, pressing her lips together to try not to laugh. Peach schnapps? 

“No.” Daryl said flatly. Beth’s nostrils flared in frustration, watching him wander over to the pool table and test the weight of the balls in his hand before moving to the dartboard and taking the darts. 

“Well it’s the only thing left.” She snapped. Iris went over, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Iris said, smiling softly. She found a clean-ish teacup, wiping it out with a rag before handing it over. 

“Who needs a glass?” Beth murmured, grabbing the bottle by the neck. Iris chuckled lightly. Daryl ignored both of them, throwing the darts into a large picture frame. Each dart perfectly found the faces of the country club’s founders, making Iris roll her eyes. 

Beth sat still for a moment, holding the bottle as her face contorted. She began to cry softly before burying her face in Iris’ shoulder. Iris pat her back, letting her cry. She understood. Daryl stormed over, grabbing the bottle and throwing it at the wall, the glass shattering as the liquid dripped to the ground.

“Ain't gonna have your first drink be no damned peach schnapps.” Daryl grunted. Beth sniffled, looking up at the remains of her plan. Iris smiled softly, rubbing her back.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s find you some whiskey or something.” Iris said quietly, wiggling her eyebrows. Beth huffed a laugh, shaking her head as she wiped her tears. 

“Come on.” Daryl called, jerking his chin at the open back door. Iris kept the tone lighter as they moved back into the woods, chatting idly with Beth about whatever kept their minds off of things. The topic of conversation eventually drifted to boys. 

“So have you ever had a boyfriend?” Beth asked. Iris chuckled.

“Yeah. Never any good ones, though. And I never brought any home to my dad. He was dangerous even when he didn’t have a weapon on hand.” She replied. She looked down at Beth, who walked with her hands idly in her pockets. “Was Jimmy your first?”

“Second.” Beth corrected, humming. She smiled to herself. “He and Zach were complete opposites.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen.” Iris laughed. “You think you want one thing, and then decide on a dime that you want something different. My last boyfriend, well… honestly, he was a lot like Shane.” Beth sputtered, her eyes wide. Iris didn’t miss the casual glance Daryl snuck over his shoulder either. 

“Shane? Like, that Shane?” Beth asked.

“Yep.” Iris whistled. “Real militant, hardcore, good boy. We broke up after he called me ‘mom’ once. It was after we’d been kissing. A lot.”

“Ugh.” Beth replied, scrunching her nose. “Gross.”

“I’ll say.” Iris laughed again. 

“I never really saw anything happening with Zach.” Beth mused. 

“Oh?”

“He was really into his car. Too much.” Beth explained. Iris chuckled.

“Well, we crashed it somewhere on the highway, so…” Daryl trailed off, Beth giggling. 

“He was a good kid.” Iris said, somewhat sadly. Beth nodded, pondering.

“I have a guess.” She stated. “Motorcycle mechanic.”

“Huh?” Daryl asked.

“That’s my guess. For what you were doing before the turn. Did Zach ever guess that one?” Beth asked.

“Nope. But that was my gig, not his.” Iris replied with a grin.

“It don’t matter.” Daryl grunted. “Hasn’t mattered for a long time.”

“It’s just what people talk about.” Beth sighed. “You know, to feel normal.”

“Yeah, well, that never felt normal to me.” He grumbled. They pulled out of the forest, Daryl leading them up a small dirt path to a cabin. “Found this place with Michonne.”

“I was expecting a liquor store.” Beth stated, making a face.

“No, this is better.” Daryl replied, jogging up to the cabin. They walked around to the back, Daryl peering in the windows before opening the door to a shed. He pulled out a crate, loading it with various bottles and jars of clear liquid. Iris blanched, feeling her stomach turn in anticipation. 

“What’s that?” Beth asked.

“Moonshine.” Daryl answered, handing her the crate. He led them into the house, checking the bedroom briefly before clearing off the table. He found Beth a glass, cracking open one of the jars and pouring out two fingers’ worth. “Now that’s a real first drink right there.” Beth paused, staring down at it. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing…” She started, huffing. “It’s just… my dad always said bad moonshine can make you go blind.”

“Ain’t nothing worth seeing out there anymore anyway.” Daryl grunted. Iris rolled her eyes, putting her hand on Beth’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. That’s mostly prohibition bullshit but folks that live out here usually know how to do it right.” She assured, offering a wink. Beth huffed, picking up the glass and taking a tentative sip. Her face twisted up in disgust, putting the glass back down.

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.” She murmured.

“Should be. It’s like drinking peroxide.” Iris grumbled, taking a whiff of the jar and recoiling. Beth went back in for more, finishing the glass.

“Second round’s better.” She stated, reaching for the jar. 

“Slow down.” Daryl advised.

“These ones are for you two.” She declared, pouring out two more glasses.

“I’m good.” Daryl shook his head.

“Why not?” Beth asked, frowning.

“Someone’s gotta keep watch.” He answered. She scoffed.

“So, what? You’re like my chaperones now?”

“Just drink lots of water.” He grunted, walking past them both.

“Yes, Mr. Dixon.” Beth replied in a sing-song voice, mocking him. Iris said nothing, taking a small sip from her glass. Ugh. Beth was right. It was disgusting.

They relaxed into it as Daryl began walker-proofing the house, Beth moving over to the couch and looting through the pile of things belonging to whoever lived there. Iris plopped herself down on the couch, sighing. Beth snorted, pulling something out from behind the sofa.

“Who’d walk into a store and come out with this?” She asked. Iris opened one eye to see a hot pink ceramic pot holder, shaped like a bra. The plant inside was long dead, the rest of the pot filled entirely with cigarette butts. Daryl looked over his shoulder from the window.

“My dad, that’s who.” He replied. Iris snickered, shaking her head. “Oh, he was a dumbass. Used to set those up on top of the TV set, use them as target practice.”

“He shot things inside your house?” Beth asked, wide-eyed.

“It was just a bunch of junk anyways.” He shrugged. “That’s how I knew what this place was. That shed out there? My dad had a place just like this. That’s your dumpster chair. That’s for sitting in your drawers all summer, drinking.” He said, pointing to the chair across the room filled with junk. “Got your fancy buckets for spitting chaw in after your old lady tells you to stop smoking. You got your internet.” He held up a newspaper. Iris grinned, rolling her eyes. A walker snarled from outside and Daryl peered through the window. “Just one of ‘em.”

“Should we get it?” Beth asked.

“If he keeps making too much noise, yeah.” Daryl nodded.

“Well, if we’re gonna be trapped again, we might as well make the best of it.” Beth decided, grabbing another jar of moonshine. She held it out toward him. “Unless you’re too busy chaperoning, Mr. Dixon.”

“Hell. Might as well make the best of it.” He echoed, grabbing the jar. Iris smirked as he plunked down on the sofa beside her, crossing his legs. “Home sweet home.” He murmured, saluting the jar before taking a swig.

-

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic