#one thing i plan on doing in this story is contrasting strawberry with the rest of the characters

[spaciebabie]

Hey, this is probably a weird request and you can ignore this, but since you know how your story is going to go with Katherine Quin and Company, I think it'd be cool to see you do a before and after shot of character A with the Horrors of your story. It can be drawn or just text, it doesn't matter to me. I'm just craving more of these OC's of yours.

hello this is not a weird request at all im very ecstatic abt this ask actually

i did these with 4 characters! their designs for The End of the story are not finalized (and one or two of the beginning ones arent either!), but this is a general idea of how each of these characters would look like and manage The Horrors i put them thru :]

some of them handle the horrors better than others.....

[tianasficrecs168]

Naruto SI OC fic recs

Fair warming: since this fandom is aprox as old as time, a large amount of these are abandoned, and will remain that way possibly indefinetly.

However! This doesn't mean that they aren't delightful to read, regardless. Give 'em a chance, won't you?

Another thing: a significant portion is from fanfiction.net - this doesn't mean they're garbage!! It just means this fandom is old as shit. I have taste.

This is how it works:

A black dot • means it’s a one-shot

Brackets (…) means it's still being updated/not done/WIP – and I'm paying close attention to it

Izaranna: “Welcome to Tomorrow” (...) (general) last update: 2018 In which a plot is demolished because a dimple-cheeked baby gave Obito a gummy smile, and then proceeded to raise a minion army with hugs, cuddles and an assortment of saccharine treats. 

KannaKyomu: “It Ends at Dawn” (...) (general) last update: 2019 She couldn't remember if she was a little girl, a grown woman, or some kind of wild beast. All she wants is what everyone wants- a purpose, a reason to be. The day she meets the man who embodies the ocean, is the day she chooses the path she will take in this life. Because it wasn't about her. Maybe it never was. 

Phoenixyfriend: “The Universe’s Newest Puppet” (...) (general) last update: 2017 Fate's strings are really more of a garotte at this point. - In which an SI OC ends up as Uchiha Sasuke's twin sister, and commences planning because this is either a seriously entertaining coma or her unfortunately permanent new reality.

Joyous Flamboyancy: “Blank Space” (...) (Itachi/OC) last update: 2017 It's been said that when you die you'll see your past, present, and your supposed future. Well, no one said anything about seeing my sorry ass in a finished manga. Seriously, this sucks.

Artsome: “Clockwork and a Teacup” (...) (general) last update: 2020 What if you woke up to a role so completely unfitting and with a future already made? With a contrasting mindset, knowledge in a convoluted mess and ambitions steered a different direction, this only completed the odd assembly that was the new Haruno Sakura. Welcome to her life.

Shadownumera: “Clearing Mist” (Kisame/OC) I have the worst luck ever. First off, I die. Then I get reborn into the Naruto universe. Yay right? WRONG. Nobody ever said you get to be reborn into Konoha. Which makes finding out where I am in the story line that much harder. I don't know if I can change anything, or if the bloodbath is far behind me. One thing's official though. I'm screwed.

Strawberry and creme: “Whispered Nothings” (...) (general) last update: 2019 In which a sick little girl changes absolutely everything and nothing. *this was was re-written with one chapter, the rest was deleted, here's the google doc for the original version (21 chapters)

Iaso:  “On Freedom and Other Formalities” (...)(Genma/OC)              last update: 2020 When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally.

Vixen Tail: “108 Earthly Temptations” (Tobirama/OC)               A character study into why the older generations of shinobi are harsher and less inclined to compromise. SI/OC Pre-Konoha, Warring States Period. Post-Founding. Part One, the beginnings of Sekanji Terazawa. Poison Mistress, occasional kunoichi Lady, and the aunt of Orochimaru. Part Two, the establishment of Konoha and the character of the village Founders. Part Three, the end.

Erimies: “The Clan of Samsara” (...) (Madara/SI-OC)                    last update: 2015 They were the clan everyone avoided, for a good reason. But Hashirama wasn't like other people and Karma ended up tangling in the ninja world revolution anyway. What he didn't know was that she knew the script of the story. 

DianaMoth: - “The Yondaime’s Assistant” (Genma/OC/Kakashi) part of a series, one of three (unconnected) When I reincarnated in the world of Naruto, I was lucky enough to live in Konoha but not lucky enough to get all the superpowers you could hope for. I failed my jounin-sensei test and ended up in the Genin Corps. Bye-bye jounin rank! However, considering it also meant avoiding the battlefield, that was fine with me. Now I just had to get a position allowing me to change History...

DianaMoth: “Guardian Angel of Trouble Twins” (general) Reincarnating as a crow was nicer than you would think... until the Trouble Twins found the summoning scroll for the Karasu. Then they grew on her, and she had to save their lives. How annoying. They better gave her lots of almonds or she would elope with the ninken summoner! Uchiha Massacre Fix-it DianaMoth: “Guardian Angel of a Troubled Man” (Kakashi/OC) Reincarnating as a crow was nicer than you would think... until the Trouble Twins found the summoning scroll for the Karasu, and she failed to save Number One. Now that only Itachi was left, she would do anything to protect him... no matter how many almonds it took. *This is an AU of the 1st part of this series. You have to read it to understand this, as this differs starting from the end of the first chapter of Guardian Angel of Trouble Twins. In short: this is what would happen if Shisui died like in canon.

Masqvia: “Fatespinner” (...) (general)                                       last update: 2017 The ability to speak to ghosts sounded like a joke—at least it did, until it put a target on my back. Survival was at the top of the list and changing the future was laughable at best. Then I got attached, and the whole game changed. 

RosesToPaint: “Of Bonds and Hugs like Chokeholds” (general) The ultimate dream: being born into your favorite manga. But the ninja life is in no way as romantic as it looks. But it's also not all that terrible. Hisana is fervently working on keeping it that way. RosesToPaint: “Of Cutting Cords and Forging Chains” (...) (general)      last update: 2018 The Chuunin Exams are almost in sight and Hisana is faced with her biggest challenge yet: Keeping Sasuke in Konoha and Orochimaru out of it! And then there's Itachi, who's a class all of his own. *Part II of "Of Bonds and Hugs like Chokeholds".

Sage Thrasher: “Sanitize” (...) (general) last update: 2023 Basic medicine and sanitation are simple. During the Warring Clans era, they become revolutionary.

Sage Thrasher: “An Eye for an Eye” (...) (general)                          last update: 2019 Reincarnation. In an anime. As a blind Uchiha. You've gotta be kidding me.

Yuuki no Yuki: - “Bee’s Purple” (...) (general)                        last update: 2020 People always talk about how great the Sharingan is, 'it can see through any genjutsu' 'It can recreate any ninjutsu' 'It can predict the future.' But I never really believed them. Not until I unlocked my own pair, and made a startling discovery, "Itachi-nii I can see new colors!" Yeah, I may not have been the most noble of Uchiha, but hey, at least I was having fun?

The-world-builder: - „This Transient, Floating World“ (...) (general)       last update: 2019 Due to a paperwork mistake in God's waiting room, I was reincarnated with my memories intact. No pain, no gain, or so they say. But with a bit of luck, this might just turn out alright.

Snow-Nightshade: “Living in a Really, Really Weird World” (...) (general) last update: 2019 Her name is Kazeshini Uzumaki and she was born even before Madara Uchiha was around, she doesn't want to fight head on and so fights as an assassin, she's a dauntless sword user who carries a nodachi a few inches taller than her, and she's a girl who really just wants to bear hug the ever adorable Naruto and he isn't even around yet.

FlitterFlutterFly: “True to Myself” (...) (Skikamaru/OC)     last update: 2016 I never expected to die young, but if I had I would have probably thought something normal like a car accident. I wasn’t given a peaceful death though. Maybe the trauma I went through on that night, the same night as the Uchiha massacre, is the reason I found myself in the Naruto world. I was far from happy about any of it, but I’d always been a determined person and I learned to make the best of the situation.

Fishebake: “Moonflower” (...) (general)                                     last update: 2020 They say that destiny is set in stone. Most people are willing to accept this and move on - Yamanaka Inoko is not most people. Her father's life is on the line, and she knows that if she wants to keep him safe, she's going to need a seriously big sledgehammer.

Shanatical: - “Addendum” (...) (general)                                    last update: 2018 Or, 'How I Learned to Stress Out and Ruin Everything': a gripping tale of tears, danger, tender hearts and derring-do, in which I take on a world that isn't as made-up as I thought it was and my choices really, really matter.

Chadsuke: - “Crying is alright” (...) (general)                             last update: 2020 “-in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.” - C.S. Lewis Waking up from the death of your entire family with memories of a past life isn’t something that happens to most people - especially when that past life includes visions of your own future.

LadyNyxRavus: - “An SI's Guide to Surviving the Shinobi World without Dying Tragically” (...) (general)                                                         last update: 2024-01-11 Honestly, I just want to make it past thirty this go-around. Contending with Uchiha Clan Nonsense, an Orochimaru still convinced he needs my baby cousin's eyes, and the knowledge of precisely how bad all this can go, that's looking more and more out of reach by the day.

infraredphaeton: - “Morpheme” (...) (general) last update: 2024-04-02 A morpheme is the smallest part of a word that still has meaning. If you take away everything else, you still know what it means. When you take away everything else of me, this is what remains. ...It's mostly good hair and a love of language. Everything else is take it or leave it, really. (In which a very sarcastic guy gets reborn into a small poisoner's clan in Konoha, and accidentally saves a life. Things change.)

Authorship: “Yeah, Kunai are cool but have you had dessert?“ (Shisui/OC) Easy, I thought, like the idiot I still was. Open a bakery and try not to die (again). Seemed pretty simple...until you factor in that I, a civilian, have the last Big Cat Summon. And Ino, Shika and Chouji think I'm their nee-chan. ...I didn't think to factor in the overwhelming force of Shisui's puppy eyes either. Some - rather large - oversights then. SI/OC Patissier and Baker...."What do you mean you don't know what fucking caramel is?!" OR Okay, I'll admit seeing my new dad's Hitai-ate was a massive kick in the (thankfully metaphorical) balls. Sorry, but I don't kill people! AKA an SI/OC fic where the girl is more concerned with the alarming lack of pastries...and appropriate female role models...and adopting misfits and cinnamon rolls...err, oops? At least, I get to troll people! *This work is unfinished and will remain so. A rewrite, including nonessential plot points, is currently in the works until the title "Let Them Eat Cake". right below  Authorship: “Let Them Eat Cake” (...) (Shisui/OC)                            last update: 2020 Whatever I had imagined the afterlife to look like- It was not this. I'd ask for a refund but, in all honesty, I was going to milk this second chance as much as I could. Amazing what a suddenly callous attitude to death could do to someone's decorum.

Araceil: “Thanatophobia” (...) (Shisui/OC)                             last update: 2019 Komuro Ietsuna was a timid boy from a different world, but still, despite this world of Ninja and Gods, he's determined to survive the odds. Even if this means abandoning his Village. But you know what they say about Mice and Men, and all the best laid plans between them.

PRETTYHEART: “Pyromaniac” (...) (Naruto/SI!Sasuke/Sakura) last update: 2022 In which Uchiha Sasuke wasn't always Uchiha Sasuke - but that's okay. Somewhat. It's somewhat okay. He's dealing with it. The only thing that could make the whole situation better is if Sakura would let him light the Hokage monument on fire. Something that ugly has to be destroyed. (Featuring a pyromaniac tomato crazy Uchiha Sasuke, a morally exasperated Haruno Sakura, and a completely confused Hatake Kakashi. As for Uzumaki Naruto, well, he's just happy to be there. You see, he plans on painting the new monument Sasuke wants to build.)

Coal: - “Echo” (...) (Naruto/SI!Sasuke/Sakura)                            last update: 2016 When undergoing Tsukuyomi the night Itachi slaughtered the Uchiha clan, Sasuke is made privy to a former life. He subsequently decides that revenge is stupid and he's going to try to make the most of his second life. He's too used to having a crazy and/or dead family. A sort of self-insert as Sasuke in which he thinks education is important to becoming a good killer and that dish soap is a wondrous thing.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - When he thinks you’re going to kiss him

Original title: 当他以为你要亲他

Original author: 君兮耶君兮 (jun xi ye jun xi)

[ VICTOR ]

Your gaze flits from Victor to the bookshelf, as though pondering on something quietly. While reading his documents, Victor’s sharp senses cause him to notice this. His eyebrows arch slightly as he waits for your next move.

Finally, you come to a decision. You step forward slowly, then lean down in front of him. “Victor...”

“Dummy,” he mumbles with a chuckle. He cooperates, closing his eyes and tilting his chin slightly.

“Hm? What did I do?” You express confusion, reaching out for a novel from the shelf behind him. Since he’s blocking your way, you have no choice but to grab the book through this intimate posture.

Victor stiffens, and he opens his eyes instantly. Your face is filled with question marks as you hold the book before him.

“Why did you close your eyes?”

“...my eyes were tired, so I was resting them.”

“Oh?” You glance at him slyly. “Even though you looked pretty weird smiling with your eyes closed, I believe you.”

In contrast to what you just said, the words “I don’t believe you” are more or less etched on your face in bold.

“...a certain company’s financial status is in line with expectations. That’s why I was smiling.” Unable to ignore the teasing look in your eyes, he sets down his notebook laptop, then stands up and pinches your face. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m not!” You quickly plead for forgiveness. “You’re the boss, so whatever you say is correct!” With this, you rescue your face from his clutches, preparing to flee.

One step ahead, Victor sees through your plan. How could he possibly let you off? He tugs on your arm, pressing you to his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I just wanted to read a book to relieve boredom,” you give him an embarrassed smile. “Since your eyes were closed, I actually planned to give you a kiss reluctantly. It’s your fault for calling me a dummy.”

“Reluctantly?” Victor chuckles in spite of himself. An arm snakes around your waist, causing you to tremble. His finger pad rubs your lips, and his scent occupies all of your senses. 

“Since you’re here, don’t think of leaving.”

[ GAVIN ]

Standing in front of Gavin, you mete out your commands.

“Close your eyes and lift your head.”

Gavin is currently sitting on the bed and fixing a jigsaw puzzle. Thinking that you’re playing a game, he follows your instructions obediently. As he feels your soft fingers tilting his chin upwards slightly, he thinks about how his girl is no longer as shy as before, and knows how to initiate intimacy with him now.

But… nothing happens.

Just as he’s about to open his eyes, the hand pinching his chin shifts over to his cheek, giving it a light tug. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t put much thought into it, guessing that you’re just feeling shy.

You lean over, your warm breaths brushing his face. Gavin feels his muscles stiffening.

All of a sudden, something sticks to his lips. He subconsciously opens his mouth, but very quickly realises that something’s off. The thing that made contact isn’t you, but a cold and rounded object.

“Hey, don’t bite my lipstick!” Your heart aches as you stare at the bite marks on your newly bought lipstick.

“Lipstick?” Gavin’s eyes snap open, spotting himself in the mirror behind you. Sure enough, his lips are now dyed a bright red because of you. He freezes.

You point to your own lips. “Mm. I wanted to test if the shade’s nice, but I’ve already applied another shade. I needed you to be the model.” Tilting your head to admire the view, you chuckle. “Not bad.”

The grip around your wrist tightens. Before you can react, the man in front of you nibbles your lips gently. Two shades of lipsticks meld together, forming a new colour.

After a long while, Gavin finally lets you off so that you can catch your breath. As you lay in his arms with your cheeks flushed, he lowers his head to give you a peck on the lips.

“Your new lipstick looks pretty good.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Professor Lucien!” You interlace your fingers together with his while lying in his arms.

Lucien looks down, meeting your bright and clear eyes. He responds with a knowing smile, lowering his head in compliance. “How did you know that I wanted a...”

Propping yourself up on his shoulder, you reach for a book on the shelf behind him.

Lucien: ...

“Know about what?” You snuggle yourself back into his arms. Based on his expression, you can tell what he thought was about to happen. However, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. You blink innocently. “I just wanted to grab a book.”

How could Lucien not know what’s on your mind? He bows his head to watch you, the deep pools of his eyes almost sucking you in.

“I thought my Little Miss was going to give me a kiss to recharge my batteries.” Lucien sounds wronged. Along with his usual piteous expression, you aren’t able to withstand it.

You gulp. No matter how handsome the fictional men in novels are, they can’t compare to your Professor Lucien - a feast for the eyes.

Seeing your emotions stir, Lucien follows up with his victory. “Turns out I thought too much. It’s okay, you can carry on with what you were busy with. I’ll just stay here on my own.”

He releases his hold on your waist. If you ignored Lucien’s watery gaze, you might have believed he was genuinely leaving you to your own devices.

“Pfft.” You can’t help but burst into a chuckle. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you close the distance between the both of you. Giving him a peck on the lips, you grin while asking, “Do you still want to stay here on your own?”

Lucien’s return gift is another kiss.

“I think two people might be happier than one.”

[ KIRO ]

You spot something sticking on Kiro’s hair, and think of getting it out for him.

“Kiro, lower your head.”

Misunderstanding your intentions, Kiro complies and closes his eyes. He rushes you cheerfully. “Go on, Miss Chips! I just ate a strawberry flavoured candy, so my kiss will definitely be really sweet!”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a cushion at the side and using it to smack him on the face. “You ate snacks on the sly again! And you hid them from me! I’m telling Savin!”

“Miss Chips, I lied. I didn’t eat any strawberry flavoured candy!” The undisciplined and lawless Little Kiro is most afraid of the Great Agent Savin.

“You changed your story so quickly. Who would believe you?” Although you usually fear Savin’s wrath as well, you aren’t an accomplice this time. If you were to spill the beans to Savin, he might give you permission to eat fried chicken and drink cola right in front of Kiro... Just the thought of this scene makes you happy!

Sensing your doubt, Kiro opens his mouth with an “ah”, showing that there really isn’t anything in his mouth. Then, he reveals a bag of unopened strawberry candies from behind him. “Look, I haven’t opened it yet. I wanted to eat them with you when you got back, but you wronged me.”

Taking the bag, you confirm that it hasn’t been opened. Looks like you truly maligned him. You scratch your head in embarrassment. “Sorry, Kiro. I misunderstood you.”

“Your apology is so insincere. I want a kiss!” Kiro shuts his eyes, straightforward and frank.

With a resigned chuckle, you readily give him a peck.

Your eyes snap open abruptly.

Where did that pitiful Kiro from earlier go to?

All that’s left is a bear cub with a mischievous smile. “You’ve found out, haven’t you? It was actually a tangerine flavoured candy. Miss Chips and I are accomplices now, so you can’t tell Savin!”

[ SHAW ]

You’re standing in front of him, unflinching and unblinking.

“Shaw.”

Meeting your clear eyes, the amusement in Shaw’s eyes darkens. He lowers his head obediently, letting you do as you please.

However, his tone is one of reluctance. “Tsk. I can’t say no to you. Go on.”

You toss a glance at this loose tongued rascal, reaching out towards his hair. Under his gaze of unconcealed joy and an expression which reads, “look at how much I indulge you”… you pluck bits of fur from the top of his hair, tugging on his bluish purple hair in the process.

Shaw, who is just about to wrap his arm around your shoulders for a “deep” interaction: ???

“What? Did you think I was going to kiss you?” You tease, watching his claws hang awkwardly mid-air.

Shaw reacts instantly, retracting his hand and pretending that nothing happened earlier. He glares at you, his attempts to cover up only making matters more obvious. “How’s that possible? I was referring to... yes, the thing you removed from my hair!”

“Little kids who tell lies won’t have girlfriends!” It’s rare to see him like this, and you can’t help but tease him.

“Tsk. You’re so troublesome.” He frowns. Before you can react, he grabs you by the shoulders and seals your lips. You feel a gentle nibble reminiscent of a little animal deathly afraid of breaking something.

Once your breaths return to normal, you lean against Shaw, legs wobbly. If it weren’t for his strength, you’d definitely have fallen to the ground.

Shaw has his arms around you as he presses you to him, the insuppressible smile on his lips announcing his pleasant mood. 

“Who wants to be a little kid? Only intelligent adults have wives.”

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

[someonewhowannadielol]

What is Love?

Requested by @sassysaxsolo​

Pairing: BadBoy!JK x Innocent!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warning: Dirty talk, degrading, oral sex (m and f receiving), pussy slapping, exhibitionism (??). Oh god this has like 4 smut scenes in it, it's nothing but porn bye

Summary: Jungkook has a degrading kink. Y/N doesn’t seem to like it. Also, JK is bad at this entire love thing but totally whipped for the girl of his dreams.

WordCount: 3.6k

A/N: The first scene is inspired by Hunter and Amy from “Hot Summer Night,” because it’s such a cute couple! P.S this might not be my best work because I wrote it at 3AM, so :( sry

You wouldn’t exactly call your boyfriend mean by any chances, but it doesn’t mean he was the nicest person you’ve ever met either. Sometimes you look at other people, like Hoseok, or Jimin, they could most definitely keep you happy – and speak to you like you’re an actual human when you both fuck.

You still remember the first time Jeon Jungkook had ever well, noticed you.

“-and then they both crashed into each other!” your friend was telling this story for the nth time, and you paying your 101% undivided attention to your fries sitting in front of you, basically drowning in ketchup, while trying to ignore the eyes that bore in the back of your head.

It was the last day of your exams as a sophomore in high school, and just like everyone else in town, you’d gone to the diner you always went to, at the end of 15thStreet Avn. Everyone and their mom had decided to come, so it was really busy, you literally had to speak loud to your friends, sitting just across you.

Fifteen minutes ago, Jeon Jungkook had walked into a diner and chose the place that gave the perfect view of you from the back.

Seven minutes ago, your friends had noticed that he was – shamelessly – staring at you, strawberry milkshake in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. When you tried to look back, his eyes didn’t even flinch when they made contact with yours. On top of it, he winked at you. It was weirdly strange, yet made you feel all giddy inside.

What. The. Fuck. It was a well-known fact that girls would actually die to have one date with Jungkook, willing to get plastic surgeries, buying the most expensive clothes, and even leaving gifts in his locker at school. So why was here he here, in this lame-ass diner? And that too, wasting time while staring at you? He clearly didn’t even take a sip of his beverage.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, he’s so totally staring at you,” your best friend from across the booth said, while pretending to look at her nails.

“He’s so hot, I would totally take a bite,” your other friend says while taking a bite of her burger.

“Yuck!” you exclaim, as you can’t help but laugh at the thought of it. You had a certain laugh, especially when you were sitting around with your friends – it wasn’t that loud, but your eyes would bunch up as you would unconsciously bring your hand up to your mouth, and would throw your head back.

You dare to look back at him again, but this time you see his coming towards you, while taking a puff from his half smoked cigarette. You immediately turn your head back, so quick that you feared you’d broken your neck.

You look at your friends adjust their hair and posture when they see him coming towards your booth, and you can’t help but play with the hem of your sleeve, biting your lip. He stands across you, leaning on the booth in front of yours, swirling his straw so the whipped cream becomes one with the milkshake.

As soon as he makes eye contact with you, you just freak out and amidst that panic, you blurt out, “I have a boyfriend.”

He looks back at you and smirks, oh God, he looks so, so amazing. This year, he’s grown out his hair, so the waves were sprawled against his forehead, and he pushed it back with his hand after placing the milkshake next to you. He’s the pitch perfect image of a fuckboy; leather jacket, a motorbike, tattoos (even though he’s totally not 18 years old yet), and the lingering scent of cigarettes.

“Nah, no, you don’t,” he takes another puff of his cigarette, “but if you don’t stop being so fucking cute, you will,”

You chuckle, thinking he’s pranking you, thinking it’s just a joke him and his stupid friends had planned out to humiliate you publicly, “You don’t know the first thing about me,” you say as you dip a fry in ketchup.

“I know you like ketchup,” he says, before taking a sip from his milkshake.

That was also the day when Jeon Jungkook had officially asked you out.

-

When you’d spent the entire summer with him, you got to realize one thing about him, he loved to degrade you while having sex. Sure, it was fun the first few times – but after that, words like “slut,” and “whore,” had started making you feel like one.

It was obvious that to you that you weren’t his first priority; football and his friends were always going to be before you. You still remember he was less than enthusiastic when you told him about the art gallery you’d host after working on your still life pieces for two years.

But in reality, everyone on the team knew he was head over heels for Y/N, he had quitted smoking right after he heard you cough, he’s started wearing a helmet whenever he rode his bike, and even let you decorate it with your frilly stickers. He would always, always go out of his way to get a fresh pack of chocolate milk for you, because you once mentioned that your dad doesn’t let you drink it because it’s unhealthy.

“Here, babe,” he says tossing you your daily supply of chocolate milk.

“Hey, remember when I told you about the art gallery I was preparing for?” you said, but it seemed like he was more interesting in scrolling Instagram on his iPhone, “um, because I have to go to art school,”

“Yeah, what about it?” he said, pecking your cheek as he got up for class.

“Well, it’s on the 28thof October, that’s next week,” you say before taking a sip of the milk he got you.

He waited a minute before speaking anything, and you wished, you wished deep in your heart so sincerely that he wouldn’t come up with an excuse.

“You know Jake’s birthday is that day, right? Can’t you reschedule it?” he said, looking down, adjusting his leather jacket.

You felt as if someone was stomping on your chest, it was getting harder to swallow the milk in your mouth, and it didn’t taste like the too sugary drink it was – instead it felt like you were swallowing poison. He surely remembered your rants about how it was so hard to rent a place in that gallery right? Or how it took you three months to manage to snag it for a couple of hours? Or how it took you two years to compile your best art pieces?

“B-but I don’t think I can do that, I barely got to rent the place an-and I- “

“Babe, I don’t think I can make it. The boys and I are going out to the city,” he said, tilting his head.

He didn’t wait for your reply, already walking down the hallway, leaving you heartbroken.

On 28thOctober, you met all the professional people you had dreamed of meeting, it was an honor, especially since you were just a Junior in high school. But, you never saw the face you wanted to see. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when the exhibition finally finished, and you had to close the gallery.

That night, around 1AM, Jungkook broke into your room through your window how he usually did, only this time he had a bouquet of roses in his right hand, and red eyes.  When he noticed your tear stricken eyes and smudged mascara, he didn’t think twice before throwing the flowers on your bed and hugging you hard. Then, when he was so close, you noticed that he reeked of alcohol and weed. But it was fine.

He spent the night trying to make you laugh by reciting jokes he was forced to listen from Seokjin, and trying to make up for not being there. He cuddled you, putting your head under his chin, your body resting on his chest. It felt like home, when you would be with him, alone.

“How did it go?” he asks, nuzzling his face in your neck, peppering kisses there.

“It went amazing, I got a lot of good critique from artists and college professors,” you say, running your hands through his hair, you still missed his long hair that he cut last week, but it was way softer now,

“I missed you,” you say as he hummed.

He loved how you were like an open book, not like the girls he had been with before. You wore dresses – which he loved, because easier access – and you had long, virgin hair. He loved how untouched you were, innocent, pure and uncorrupted. He loved the little chub on your cheeks, he loved your pillow soft breasts, he loved how you always tasted like strawberries because of your chap stick. He loved virtuous you were. His to taint.

“I’m here, baby, and to make up for it, we’ll go to that café you always wanted to go to, my treat for being the best girlfriend,” he mumbled in your ear before taking off your dress and peppering kisses all over your body.

Of course, your mood had evidently changed, “Okay, you goofball,” you laugh as he tickles you.

“Baby, even if everything is wrong, it’s always going to be alright, and you know why?” he says as he kisses you on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, a huge contrast from his usual drunk kisses, they seem to be more chaste, more genuine, “you’re the only good thing in my life,”

You forgive him, like every other time.

You also toss him out the window before 6AM, before your father catches you with a boy. And that too, Jeon Jungkook. He’d probably kill you. It reminded you of the time when Jungkook decided to eat you out, on a weekday, on your bed, with your room unlocked.

It was no surprise when you found out that he was especially skilled with his tongue, not that any boy had ever even touched you there. You fought your moans, because your dad was literally downstairs watching his daily 9pm news. You knew he’d check up on you at 9.30 PM to ensure that you were studying for the SAT.

But here you were, your face stuffed with your own panties as the taste of your cum took over your tongue, it was a little embarrassing for you to taste yourself, but you paid more attention to the brown haired man between your legs. He’d mutter the same obscene words that used to give you the pleasure you needed at first, but soon became insecure of.

“You like that, dirty slut?” you mewled as he worked his tongue on your clit, adding another finger to the previous one inside of you. His two fingers did more than what you could do with your entire hand, the long slender fingers were now knuckle deep inside of you, doing wonders to your body.

“You’re such a whore, moaning here like a bitch in heat, when everyone thinking you’re an angel, huh,” he says as his fingers thrust in and out of you, lewd noises filling your small room.

You felt your blood run cold, when you could hear your dad’s footsteps on the stairs. Fuck.

“Three. You have three seconds to cum, or forget about it,” he said looking your straight in the eye, his fingers working faster than ever.

You could feel yourself pent up, your walls clenching down on his fingers.

“Two,” he said, attacking your bud with his tongue, a circling pattern, making you shake.

Before he could say ‘one,’ you were cumming, all over his fingers, your thighs and your sheets.

Jungkook chuckled, “Fucking whore,” before jumping out of your window in time, just a second before your dad came in your room. You were under the blanket, your panties under the bed, and your pride out of the window.

As you excused your flush face as a small fever, you couldn’t help but feel a weird twist in your stomach. You didn’t exactly like the way you felt.

You had avoided Jungkook as much as you could the next week, but he didn’t exactly notice because recently the football team had been putting in more hours to prepare for the nationals. He’d still slipped loving notes in your locker, and strapped a red rose on Thursday as well, that made your heart flutter.

The next time you met him was on the bus, on your way home.  

He could’ve rode his bike to his home, but he wasn’t born yesterday, he knew something was up with you when you didn’t respond to any of his messages, and didn’t even acknowledge him in your English class.

The was bus was packed, to say the least, as he followed you as you went to the tail of the vehicle, excusing people. The next stop had more people stepping in here, and he was even more pressed towards you.

You instantly regretted wearing the tennis skirt you wore yesterday, because it was short short, and also thin. You no longer had an excuse to avoid your boyfriend as you felt him press up against your back, you could feel his bulge on your butt.

You tried to look back up at him, but whimpered when you saw the animalistic look in his eyes, and the way he towered over you wasn’t helping either. You sucked in a breath when you felt his finger hitch up, and up, and up, until it was so, so near your panties as he circled your inner thigh with his thumb. He could notice how you were hyper-aware of the surroundings, as if people could see everything that was happening, everyone could see how your boyfriend was basically fingering you on the bus.

“Do you wanna do this?” you heard Jungkook whisper in your ear, and truth be told, you had missed him, the feeling of his dick, his fingers, that you needed him, and you needed him now.

You nodded, and just as soon, you heard him chuckle, “You really are a dirty slut huh?” he said as he slapped between your thighs, making your knees buckle.

With one hand, he held the handle above so he would stay balanced, but with the other one, he steadied your hips, grinding his hips against you. You almost felt embarrassed by how aroused you were, and how quick you were wet. Seconds later, you could feel his fingers separate your folds, “Spread your legs, whore.”

As you spread them, you finally noticed how many people were actually here, and how to the untrained eye it just looked like he was hugging you, but his fingers were now scissoring inside you, stretching you.

You could feel him taking his cock out of his sweatpants, brush it in your folds. You were always so sensitive, the smallest of touches against your clit would make you cry out and moan, so it was no surprise that you let out some noises as his cock entered in you.

“Make one more noise, and I won’t be scared to fuck you senseless in front of all these people,” he whispered in your ear again, this time rocking his hips into you.

“Such a slut, huh? Tell me you’re a slut,” he said, and when he noticed that you didn’t do as he said, he completely stopped all movements. You couldn’t thin straight with his dick sitting inside of you, you needed to get off, and this neediness of yours made you want to crawl into a grave and die.

“I- I’m a slut,” you whispered, and Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to heard that, if he wasn’t basically glued to you.

“S-say it again,” he stuttered and you could feel the both of you coming closer.

“I’m a slut! I’m a whore for you, Jungkook,” you whispered, as you felt yourself cum. As for him, instead of cumming in you, like you thought he would, he took himself out, and jerked off in your panties. The feeling of his cum against your soaked panties was lecherous to say the least, you could feel your panties stick to your clit, almost as a reminder of the disgusting deed you’d just done.

“Keep those on until you get home, such a fucking bitch, fucking her boyfriend in a bus,” Jungkook whispered in your ear, and stepped off the bus after slapping your ass.

And you were left alone again, thinking if you really were the slut he made you out to be.

Your next interaction with Jungkook had been next week, when you both had decided to do the English homework together, at his house. While you spent at least two hours, researching on the topic, Jungkook had simply bullshitted the entire essay in half an hour. Sigh, this is why he was failing. As you were left on his bed, completing the essay, he sat on the other end, gaming with Taehyung and some random boy through his PlayStation party.

Finally, another two hours later, you were done with the horrid essay and were desperately craving your loving and adoring boyfriend’s attention.

“Jungkook,” you tried to get his attention, but didn’t even turn around to look at you. You continued to annoy him, “Kookieee,”

Suddenly, you saw a blast on the screen, as Jungkook slammed his controller on the floor.

He muted his mic before speaking, “You just don’t wanna be a good girl for me today, huh?” At this point, you straddled his lap. He picked you up without a glimpse of hesitation, settling you between his legs, as he took out his cock.

“Suck me, and be quiet about it, unless you want Tae to hear what a desperate bitch you are,” he says, and you’re left to suck him. Jungkook definitely wasn’t small, not even close. In fact, when hard, he was bigger than you had expected dicks to be. So, 4 rounds of battle later, your jaw had started to ache, and you couldn’t help but cry out an elicit moan, forgetting Tae could hear everything.

Jungkook turns off his gaming station as soon as he hears you, “I think I told you to shut the fuck up, but you’re just too fucking stupid to understand,” he says as he harshly picks you up by your ponytail.

“I’m gonna fuck you, gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be nothing but a dumb bitch hungry for cock,” he says as he thrashes you on the bed, stretching you out with his fingers.

Before adjusting his dick, and putting it in front of your entrance, he slaps your cunt, “that’s for fucking my game night, you bitch,” and he enters you, rough and fast.

He pushed his hair back, it’s been growing again, as he looks at you with his doe eyes again, this time they’re a shade darker. This turns you on, as you let out a whimper, “Jungkook c-close,”

“Cream yourself on my dick, go on, my dumb baby,” he chuckles, before increasing his speed, the sound of skin slapping filling the silence of the room, “Such a desperate cock slut, you can’t get off with me, huh?”

Moments later, when you both cum simultaneously, he lays down next to you and stares at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking of?” he asks, minutes after your silence. This time, he’s not harsh, but instead you’re surprised by his loving tone.

“Just thinking if you love me or not,” you mumble, closing your eyes, missing the surprised look on his face, eyes wide open, jaw ajar.

“Wha- Baby, of course I love you,” he stutters on his words, not knowing what to say. What had made you believe that he wasn’t head over heels in love with you?

“I just… I don’t know, I don’t like it when you call me names,” you explain already feeling embarrassed at being such a prude.

“Baby girl,” he sits up, and kisses your cheek, “you should’ve told me, I- I’m sorry,”

Jungkook looked like a hurt puppy, his eyes downcast, as he fiddled with his fingers. The next week, he had spent making sure you felt like the Princess you were, his Princess. Obviously, you had noticed his behavior, bringing a donut along with the chocolate milk, ditching football practice to meet you, kissing your hands every time he met you, peppering you with kisses.

“Kook, you don’t have to do this,” you exclaimed when he took you to see the beach, two hours away from the town.

“I just my Baby to know that I love her, and I want her to be happy,” he says, and for the first time, you feel like you’re free. You’re free when you’re with him and you love it.

You’re always happy with him. You loved his sloppy kisses, his shit eating grin when his fingers made you cum, his habit of bringing you chocolate milk every day, his scent which was a mixture of cologne and cigarettes, his hoarse voice after he wakes up. You knew no matter how much he accidentally hurt you, he loved you too.

CLICK HERE FOR MASTERLIST

[azz-clazz-shit]

Love is War by @/xXKrist_CrosserXx on Wattpad.

[It is based off the anime Love is War. Like the first half of the first episode. And I already asked the author if I could publish it on tumblr and they allowed it.

Italics are the narrator.]

You fall in love with someone...

In a cloudy and dark area,  Sugino stood in front of Kanzaki. "Pl-Please be my girlfriend!" He said bowing down with his hand out for the girl to hold.

...confess that love...

She gasped in surprise with a blush on her face and slowly let her hand rest against the Sugino's palm. 

... and become a couple.

Then all of a sudden, the sun came up, along with doves and a church. Along with many  animals and people that joined in as well.

Everyone would say that's a happy thing.

They all let out cheers as confetti and ribbons were released to the sky. 

But they're wrong!

A gift fell to the floor, breaking it apart.

Even among sweethearts, there exists a distinct power relationship!

She had a sweet smile on her face until all of a sudden, the smile turned to something more dark and sinister. Sugino had a shocked expression on his face as he tried to back away.

A side that exploits and a side that's exploited.

Kanzaki stepped on his head. She was holding chains as she let laughed at his misery.

A side that's devoted, a side receiving devotion. A winner and a loser!

If you're trying to live a noble life, then you mustn't become a loser.

Love is WAR!

Karma stared at Gakushuu with daggers behind his back where as Gakushuu also stared at karma with a gun behind his back.

The person who falls in love loses.

Kunugigaoka Academy!

It's a prestigious school with an ancient and honorable origin, founded as a faculty to educate upper-class children. The focus on nobility is gone,  but many talented students born into wealthy, distinguished families and shouldering the future attend the school.

In the hallway, the students passing by greeted each other.

One girl widened her eyes as she spotted something or someone.

Naturally ordinary people wouldn't be permitted to lead and bring these students together!

A boy with strawberry blonde hair passed through the hallway along with a person with red hair.

"Everyone look." The same girl said. People turned to the direction she told them to look and as they did they were filled with admiration.

"The Student Council members!" She squealed out as Karma and Gakushuu were walking. Gakushuu was in the front, reading a book while Karma was just right behind him.

Karma Akabane, the vice-president of the Student  Council at Kunugigaoka Academy. Total assets: 200 trillion yen. Yes, more than Koro-sensei. He family owns the Akabane group, one of the top four financial conglomerates in Japan, with over 1,000 subsidiaries. 

Benefitting her superior lineage, e was a talented young man, who has attained splendid achievements in various fields. Such as, traditional performing arts, music and martial arts. That is Karma Akabane. And the one Karma supports is...

Gakushuu Asano, the president of the Student Council at Kunugigaoka Academy. He's wise and intelligent, strong and silent. He scores first place in the practice exams. In contrast to the talented Karma, his devotion to studying commands awe and fear. And because of that exemplary behavior, he was selected to be the Student Council  President, despite being relatively new to the school.

The red armband that stays on his sleeve has been passed down from president to president at Kunugigaoka Academy  for all the years it existed!

Both walked down the hallway, hearing the chatters of many other classmates who made a pathway for them to continue walking as they just stared at them. 

"Those two always look so good together." A girl murmured. 

"There's even a dignity to them!" Another girl chattered back.

"Do you think they're dating?" A friend of theirs asked.

"Somebody please ask them!"

"I wouldn't dare!"

"It would be presumptuous to even get close to the. Let alone ask such a question!"

The doors of the Student Council opened. Then, the thud of the door, signaling it's closed brought the chatters of the students to shut down.

Karma poured tea into a cup. "It seems that... there's a rumor going around... that we're in a relationship or some such." He placed the teacup he poured in front of Gakushuu.

"That's normal for their age. You should ignore it." He advised to the red head. 'The fools do enjoy talking about nonsensical love affairs. Although...' His eyes turned to Karma's direction. And with a turn Karma looked at the Asano while holding a tray close to his chest. 'if Akabane demanded that I go out with him, I suppose I would mull it over!' He boasted to himself. 'And I'm certain she has feelings for me. Probably just a matter of time.' He let out a chuckle. 'He should just take off his prideful mask of a perfect, pampered young man and make his blushing appeal to me.' He thought to himself as he imagined Karma all fidgeting with the tray and blushing while facing his face away saying "Pr-president, I need to talk to you." He let out another chuckle. 

'The ignorant children with their common talk.' Karma thought with a smirk on his face. 'Who do they think I am. I'm a member of the Akabane family, the heart of this country. How did they reach the conclusion that I would be dating a commoner?' He took a peek of Gakushuu. 'Well, I suppose there could be a very slight possibility. If he gets on his knees and offered up his body, soul and hometown, I suppose I could train him to be a person who measures up to me.' He let out a light chuckle. 'Certainly, there's no one who doesn't pine for me. It's probably just a matter of time.'

Both were just creepily laughing to themselves in the empty room.

While they were engaging in this kind of thing...half a year has passed! Nothing of note happened during that period.

Both were in the Student Council room doing paper work sitting next to each other. And oddly enough, there was a steamed bun in the middle of the table.

"By the way, today there were snails in the interior of the apple and cherry relief in the courtyard's water fountain." Karma said, trying to start a small talk.

"My younger sister once caught a cold taking a dip in the water fountain, even though it was hot outside. When you act according to emotions, there are no good results." He responded blankly.

During this period of nothingness, their thoughts shifted from 'I wouldn't mind dating him.' to 'Maybe I'll make him confess his love to me.' Meanwhile, one other person had no idea that two super high school-level minds were in engaged in sophisticated strategizing.

A girl with green pigtails sat across from them. "Ah!" Kayano Kaede, the student council secretary of Kunugigaoka Academy. "That reminds me! Listen to this! I won a pair of movie tickets, but my parents won't let me see stuff like that." She said while grabbing something out of the pockets in the school uniform. "So, are you two interested?" The tickets she held up had the name 'Love Refrain' making it pretty obvious that it was a romance movie.

"Hmm," Gakushuu thought about it because Note: he is a cheapskate. "Come to think of it, I have a rare free weekend." He opened up a pocket planner and flipped to a page with nothing scheduled on it. "So, Akabane, why don't we-"

"Supposedly there's a jinx. If two people go see this movie together, they'll become a couple." Kayano interrupted him. 

Gakushuu's face suddenly turned pale and was dripping in cold sweat from hearing that.

"How romantic!" She squealed, squirming in her seat.

"Oh, President." Karma placed the pen he was working with down. He turned to face Gakushuu. "Did you just invite me?"

A drop of Gakushuu's sweat dropped.

"You want to go with me to a movie in which pairs are said to be a couple if they see it together. Oh, dear, that sounds a lot like..."

'Like I'm asking him out on a date!' Gakushuu, screaming mentally with his eyes twitching, finishing the sentence with his thoughts.

The Asano's predicament was, in romance, 'The person who falls in love loses' is the rule! As they were both filled with pride, neither one could confess one iota of romantic interest!

'What should I do? It's blatant. The only I could do is smooth it over!' Gakushuu tried to think of a scenario.

"Why don't we sell the tickets to a scalper?" He suggested.

"Oh, President, I've never seen you so flustered before." Karma said from behind. Karma let out a little smile as Gakushuu's face turned blue. "How cute." Karma said ever so slowly, looking down on him with his dull mercury eyes.

'This is unacceptable! There is no escape route of the path that Asano conquers! You're the one who's going to run, Akabane!' He was determined.

"Yeah, I invited you, Akabane. I don't care about rumors like that, but it sees you do." He grabbed the tickets from Kayano's hand. "Do you want to see this movie with me?" He asked as he waved the ticket in his hand.

That moment, Karma thought...

'After indicating the intent to invite me, he assigned me the choice of whether we see the movie or not. Well played. I could choose to refuse, but then all of y preliminary arrangements up to now would become meaningless. I went to all the trouble of fabricating a prize and putting it in Kaede's mailbox. My plan to aim for one of the president's rare free days would be for nothing! And if I turn him down now, the president may never invite me to anything again! From the viewpoint of a guy, I say no! And I say no to that kind of choice!' He mentally pouted at the last few sentences.

"Yes, well..." Karma finally spoke out. "I can't help believing in stories like that." Karma had a  fucking adorable face that I can't describe so just imagine Karma having the puppy eyes and blushing and everything around him is sparkling. "So if we are going, I'd like you to at least invite me with more passion."

'Innocent' skill implemented!

Because of that skill, Gakushuu was shocked as if he just stepped on a puppy or kitten. As if he had done something that would bring him to all the gates in hell, maybe even more.

It's a  negotiating skill passed on from father to child in the Akabane family. It's said this calculated expression and voice even make the gods' hearts beat faster. In truth, Gakushuu's thoughts were also in disarray. 

'Well, I guess it is an Asano's duty to ask a person out.'

That thought crossed his mind! Of course, Karma didn't let that chance go by! He pursued without a moment's delay.

Karma's eyes hatched onto him like a prey and acted hastily by grabbing his hands, which caused the tickets to fall to the ground. 

"I'm at the age where I'd like to try a little romance too." He looked away as if he was shy and Kara's atmosphere was filled with lovely hearts. 

Gakushuu flinched as a growing blush would soon fill his pale face as his eyes turned wide and wavering. Whereas Kayano just sat there, watching all this happening. But the an idea came into her head as she grabbed something out of her pocket.

This battle of thoughts seemed to be like a chess problem. Kara cornered Gakushuu, who searched for an opportunity to turn it around. The brains of these prodigies raced two steps ahead, clashing with each other as wheels turned faster than any ordinary mind! Karma strengthened his defense! Gakushuu tried to break through! They both constructed a theory leading to a conclusion! The one who completed the theory first would be the winner! 

"Ah!" Kayano voiced out. "If you don't like love stories, you can also use these tickets..." Karma and Gakushuu looked at her as if she somewhat interrupted something. She held out two tickets with both of her hands. "...to go see the movie, 'The Birdie from Tottori.'"

"'The Birdie..."

"...from Tottori?'"

Both said, looking at Kayano with a confused yet shocked expression on their face. 

Chaos Theory. Secretary Kaede's casual remark added an element of chaos into the theories that were all but completed! It was only one element, but like the Big Bang, the chaos increased the possibilities. In order to process the vastly expanded choices, the wheels in their brains spun even faster, going beyond their limits!

Gakushuu's and Karma's head erupted steam from all the thinking they had to do. They sat blankly as if someone just asked them 'Is the sun a planet?'

"Un, is something wrong?" Kayano asked in concern of the two people. 

As a result, their brains craved a great deal of sugar! The only sugar in the Student council office was in a single steamed bun! Thus, whoever obtained the steamed bun would be the winner!

Both rivals dramatically reached for the steamed bun. As soon as it was in the grasps of their hands, Kayano turned to the clock and said "Afternoon classes are about to start." She had the steamed bun in her hand and had a 'nom' of it as Karma and Gakushuu were frozen in place. "Well, see you again after school." she muffled out with the steamed bun still in her mouth as she walked away all innocently. She jumped in the air, letting go of the steamed bun and ate it whole, with a lick of her lips.

Both rival's souls seemed to had left their bodies. They both suddenly collapsed on the table as soon as Kayano left. 

It was a sophisticated battle of the brains, with the ingenuity and pride of these two geniuses on the line. Todays Battle result: Both sides defeated.

[autistic-stedebonnet]

“You are, I think, an evening star, of all the stars, the fairest”

Title is a Sappho quote

Yueki one-shot

---

Yue ran her hands through her hair. It had grown since the end of the war, trailing down just below her waist in silver waves, like light cascading off the edge of a crescent moon. Her hands were delicate and soft from years of silk and fur mittens and high quality moisturizers, contrasting with Suki’s rough, callused hands. Suki had told her once that she used to be insecure about her hands, which were larger than average and blistered easily before she became a Kyoshi Warrior and built up a tolerance. Yue thought that Suki’s hands were beautiful. They spoke of resilience and courage. Yue’s spoke of nothing but her sheltered, spoiled childhood.

“Yue?” Suki sidled up to her, resting her hand on Yue’s shoulder. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

Yue nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I can’t look at it Suki,” she whispered. “it just reminds me of my failure.”

“Hey, you didn’t fail!” Suki protested, gently moving Yue to face her. “You helped save the moon spirit. When Sokka told me the story-”

“But I didn’t.” Yue’s voice was always small and soft, but now it just sounded hurt. “That was all them. I- I’m weak, I can’t bend, I can’t even fight like you.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve sacrificed myself, it was my job.”

Suki opened and closed her mouth several times before answering. “You wish you would’ve died? Yue that’s ridiculous.”

“I wish I could’ve done something,” Yue sighed, twirling her hair between her fingers mournfully. “The moon spirit gave me this gift, and I couldn’t do anything in return. Now every time I look in the mirror it’s just... a reminder that I’m weak.”

“Yue, stop that. You’re not weak. If you were weak would you have been able to defy your entire tribe to be free? Would you have been able to travel the world being chased by the fire nation and not given up?”

“I cried. A lot.”

“So did I!” Suki laughed. “We all cried a lot, except maybe Zuko, but that’s because he’s represses his emotions.”

Yue giggled. “Thanks Suki, you always know what to say.”

Suki lifted her hand as if to bring it to Yue’s face, but hesitated, letting it fall back at her side. She smiled lightly and wrapped Yue in an embrace. 

Suki smelled like dirt and sea salt, and despite her muscled physique, her embrace was gentle. It felt like home. Yue let herself melt into the other girl’s arms, breathing in shakily and resisting the urge to inhale her scent until she could carry it with her for the rest of the day. Yue hadn’t got a lot of physical affection growing up, her parents had never been huggers, and she hadn’t really had opportunities for friends. But Suki hugged her a lot, and every time Yue would wonder if she’d ever feel more loved, because it seemed impossible. She was the first to pull away, she always was, because she was afraid that if she held on any longer, she’d never be able to let go. 

Suki checked Yue’s cheeks for tears, her eyes scanning the smaller girl’s face with an expression that frustrated Yue so much, because she could never figure out what it meant. It was the same expression Sokka used to look at her with, but... but there was no way Suki liked her like that. They were best friends and Yue could accept that they would never be anything more. 

The idea came to her out of seemingly nowhere, although in hindsight, it’d probably been growing in the back of her mind for a while. She grabbed Suki’s hands and looked at her with an excited, almost mischievous countenance that she didn’t take on very often.

Suki raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you’re scaring me. What?”  

“Let’s dye my hair!” Yue said, grinning blindingly. She could tell that Suki was about to try and be rational, so she continued. “Come on, I know you don’t actually want to persuade me out of it. I want to be impulsive for once. We can use that stuff Sokka made! It’ll take a few months to wash out, but once it does my hair will be back to normal, so it won’t damage anything.” She bit her lip anxiously, her eyes gleaming with freedom that was still new to her.

“Yea, ok,” Suki chuckled. She broke out into a joyous grin and shook Yue’s shoulders a little roughly. “Yea! You’re gonna look so cool, what color do you want?”

“Pink!”

“That was... fast.”

Yue shrugged. “I guess this isn’t an entirely new idea. But...” she trailed off tentatively. “I want to do a color that’s not associated with any nation. Something that’s just for me.”

Suki smirked at her. “I thought pink was Ty Lee’s thing.”

“Ty Lee can’t own a color,” Yue replied, sticking her nose in the air. 

“Touché.”

---

“Have you ever done this before?” Yue asked as she settled into the rickety chair in the corner of Suki’s room. They’d been staying on Kyoshi Island for a few weeks, along with Sokka and Zuko (Yue made a note to get Suki in on her plans to get those two idiots together) and it was... really nice. 

Suki was silent for a moment and Yue swiveled in her seat to see the taller girls smiling guiltily. She raised her hands in defeat. “Fine, no, I haven’t. But it can’t be that hard right?”

Yue raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You better not ruin my hair.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

“Suki!”

Suki dipped her hands into the glass jar Sokka had given to them. It was apparently made of all organic materials, but cactus juice was technically organic, so that didn’t exactly speak to how safe it was. Suki told Yue to sit up taller and warned her that she might get dye on her tunic.

“Won’t that just be part of the adventure?” Yue asked in response.

“That’s it, you’ve been possessed.”

“Just put the pink stuff on my hair weirdo.”

“You’re the weirdo,” Suki muttered, already running her pink-stained hands through Yue’s hair. 

This was a terrible idea, Yue decided. Not because she didn’t want to color her hair, but because Suki was running her hands gently through her long hair and humming softly and Yue was sure that her heartbeat could be heard miles away. 

It was just a couple hours before dinner, so the sun had begun to dip gently below the horizon, kissing Yue’s dark skin in a fascinating contrast to her snow-white hair. Her cheeks were colored gold and dusted with pink and Suki thought she looked like a rainbow. Suki moved her lips silently as she found a rhythm in dying Yue’s hair. Soft whispers of the song she was mouthing escaped ever so often and she wished that she could see if Yue was smiling or not. Suki loved Yue’s smile, her real smile. The one that shone through when they sat beside the fire exchanging stories and jokes, or when they woke up early enough to watch the sunrise. Suki thought that Yue looked beautiful underneath the sun. Her hair would be tinted amber and her eyes would glow in a drastically different way to how they darkened when she looked at the moon. Maybe Yue had been blessed by the moon spirit, but Suki thought she looked like the sun. 

“Suki?” Yue turned her head slightly to where Suki could glimpse her eyelashes and the tip of her nose. “You stopped.”

Suki shook herself from her reverie and chuckled nervously, her skin heating up and glowing crimson. “Uh sorry, I was just...” What was she doing? Her heart ached with longing and really, Yue had been impulsive, why couldn’t she? Never one for timing, Suki whispered timidly, still facing the back of Yue’s head. “Yue? Can I tell you something?”

Yue’s breath hitched ever so slightly and Suki felt her shoulders tense. She hadn’t even realized her had was on her shoulder. So much for not ruining her tunic. It felt like hours of time moving slow as molasses before Yue finally answered. “Of course.”

“I-” Suki’s words caught in her throat and she groaned in frustration. What had come over her? She hadn’t been nervous at all when she was with Sokka before! “YueIreallylikeyoulikeasmorethanafriend,” she rushed, immediately stepping back and cursing herself beneath her breath.

But Yue didn’t say anything. Suki forced herself across the room to face her. “Please say something.”

Yue’s lips turned up slightly and she turned to look up at Suki. Her face was painted with sunlight and her hair was half pink and everything felt so indescribably perfect for a moment. “I- I like you too Suki.”

Suki decided she had never grinned larger in her life. She stopped wringing her hands anxiously. “Can I kiss you?”

She’d never seen Yue smile this large either, nor nod this vigorously.

Suki practically launched herself to the other girl, grasping her cheeks and smiling into the kiss. Yue’s hands were wrapped around her neck and her lips tasted like strawberries and she smelled like lavender. Kissing Yue was like dancing with the sun. It was new and almost scary, but so soft. And they fit together like puzzle pieces. Puzzle pieces stained bright pink and wrapped in a blanket of gold.

When they finally pulled apart for air, Yue was giggling and buried her face in the crook of Suki’s neck, muttering against her skin. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.” She lifted her head and Suki marveled at her lips, pearly lipgloss faded and smudged, cheeks flushed pink and-

Suki slapped her hand over her mouth and laughed. “Oh no, I made your cheeks all pink.”

Yue snickered. “Well now you’ve got pink all over your face, so I suppose we’re even.”

The sun was gone now and the moon hung in the window. Yue rested her forehead against Suki’s and breathed in dirt and sea salt. Maybe she could learn not to hate the moon, for its light washed over the room and made Suki’s eyes sparkle and highlighted her skin silver. The moon wasn’t her failure, it was love. It was patience and love and fierce protection. But maybe her hair being pink would help her remember that. She wasn’t the moon, she was Yue. Her own person, who loved Suki so much she could burst. And Suki was the steadiness of the earth and the courage of the sun and the joy of the wildflowers. 

Yue didn’t care that her face was pink, or that they were surely going to be answering a lot of questions at dinner. All she needed to care about was that Suki’s breath was warm against her face and her hands, rough and callused, brushed like feathers along the back of her neck and through the un-dyed portion of her hair. This, she decided was freedom. 

[kaetastic]

Adapting

pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Agent!Reader

summary: After a mission gone awry, Agent Whiskey and Agent Brandy had no choice but to find refuge at an isolated lodging. It seemed only one of the pair seemed open to the idea of adjusting to the change of plans.

word count: 3k+

warning: nothing spicy, just fluff, angst, mention of death, mention of violence, discreet mention of sexual intercourse oop

note: when i was making this, i based this whole thing around cottagecore aesthetic, however, i want to say that there had been some things in said-community where it’s not right. so, i will not associate cottagecore with this. i honestly just wanted to write this very descriptively, then, i was unforunately hit by w****r’s b***k :( i’m sorry i haven’t been writing much, or i haven’t been that active on this platform :(( x

The creaking of decaying wooden hinges shrieked into the light air. It scraped along the canal of ears, leaving back permanent damage. The rusted flakes that coated the hinge looked like a shy amount of shredded slice of chocolate, the thin line would melt into one’s tongue within seconds. Although, the taste wouldn’t be as delightful as the sweet delicacy. The noise of soft rustling from the leaves from birds who have finally arrived back to their home from their exhausting journey danced with the orchestra of petite lambs. Their gentle ‘baa’s lingered longer in the air, the conversation extended in the warm afternoon sky. Well, it could’ve been assumed it was an argument for it went on and on. The weaving of grass padded by their fluffy feet stomped a song of approaching closing to the day.

The scent of freshly plucked out grass (consumed by the wandering animals) lingered in the air, a refreshing smell- almost comforting. There wasn’t much controlling of the weeds and the greeneries for the only two humans who had occupied the lodging had no experience with said- mowing. Whiskey had been nudged at an attempt; however, with scissors, it would’ve taken hours... or years. So, that task was left behind to be the factor for the spurting growth of grass. Even though the memory of Whiskey suggesting the idea of using his lasso to possibly cut the grass still remained in the jar, it wasn’t brought up much. Disasters then lead to a small branching river of fires, nothing the two agents couldn’t stop by scurrying with horrid-to-the-eyes stitched blankets in their arms.

The blanket of wearing-off white paint peeled away from the wooden fence, creating waves of thickness. There were random bulges and bumps, an inconvenience- more like an uncomfortable blotch of area to graze one’s fingers over. Y/N let out an exhausted huff, arms aching from the hefty wicker basket that hung in her arms. It was her underestimating the fresh fruit from the ground that caused the heavyweight of possibly two dozen ripe strawberries to only bring one basket. If she had not thought less of the weight, she would’ve either brought another basket or have dragged her other accompany. Although, he was quite occupied with his own set of chores. All the ones he had proudly chosen. Y/N couldn’t help but be amused at the thought of Whiskey leading the cattle. It would be an entertaining sight. One she had been blessed to graze her eyes upon once. 

While making her way towards the petite cottage that contrasted warm tones to the walls of glowing trees, she couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh. It had been roughly a week and a half since they had found shelter in the lodging. Rough weeks for the two, although, rougher for the woman since she had been the one to have to put up with the other. Hours of Whiskey had somehow made her want to regurgitate whatever she had consumed at the thought of him and the drink. 

Even though the mission was going great, the inches at the ending had not been so great. There was joy at the realization that it was going smoothly before it churned into moments of disaster. Chaos. That was the reason for their staying at the cottage. Somehow- as if it was written in prophecy, a perfectly maintained house had resided in layers of forest trees, bedded by greens and towering weeds. The only reason they even stayed there was to stay off-radar from those who were chasing the pair. They stalked nearby. 

Stranded with no way of communicating the agency as there would be a chance those they were running away from would be able to pick up the signal, there was not much they could work with. It only made sense if the two agents had stood in front of the wallpaper, blended within barks. An idea that neither of the two liked. Something they had in common, other than the fact that they were both agents at the Statesman. Whiskey had been rambling on and on about having no way of communicating with Champagne or anyone at the agency. Y/N just wished he would zip his lips up or else she would have the dig through the stacks of books on the Leaning Tower of Pisa’s bookshelf.

The man had tried every possible method of initiating communication. Although the reason he told Y/N was to inform them of the intel they had received, she knew otherwise. Whiskey wanted to do nothing but flee away from the pesky bugs that crawled up his walls. Within a week and a half at the cottage, he had at least complained five times a day about the littlest things. It all piled up to his objection to staying at the ‘abandoned’ cottage, so he says. In parentheses because there was no owner- no one who roamed the property, not even a sole photo frame. However, it was peculiar since there had been animals who did not look slightly malnourished. There had been water in their pots, their grass had been at a perfect height as if gingerly trimmed and looked after, and there were no quivering traps spun by spiders. Almost as if the house was cared for, loved.

With every feathery graze of her foot against the odd shapes of the stone steps that seemed as if it had been watered down by rough bites of water, she made a step closer towards the cosy house. It was indeed comforting, almost too comforting. The wallpapers were warm yellow, brown stripes splayed in random measurements to create a soft pattern to the eyes, and the floor let out gentle cries that played a lullaby if one choreographed the notes.

Despite Whiskey facing the truth and embracing the fact that the house wrapped his chest in a fuzzy feeling that he had never felt before, the words had not clawed out of his throat. He refused to say so even though he had accepted the feeling that he would not usually feel in the puzzles of skyrocketing towers. 

Digging into the soil-packed ground were heavy slabs of stone which were placed as if thrown. The steps were bubbly shapes, set apart from each other quite spaciously. An extended skip hop with a rise of land between each level. The front of the house had already been a sight, the appetizer to what rested inside the walls. Shrubs ruled over the small land, vibrant flowers peeking out of the twigs while packs of rocks splayed over the ground.

A squeaking plea from the door trickled into the tranquil air. Even though the animals that were in the fences within the properties boundaries, a slight smear of noise only made way into the house. Muffled ‘baa’s from the lambs was replied with guttural ‘moo’s from the cows. It was boisterous outside the house, now it’s just a forgotten radio player that caused chaos for people who are in search of the sound. The hallway welcomed a new path to her right, the petite kitchen that she had somehow made possibly to cook meals in. 

Y/N let out a huff as she swung the basket onto the small island in the middle of the kitchen. The aching in her muscles was no different from the time she had her arms chained up in the air. Although, that’s a story for another time. Once she had slipped her way through the small space between the island and the counters, and she had managed to pull out a bowl from the ancient cabinet without having the stack tumbling down upon her, she gingerly went through the fruits individually- with care for any visible faults. That was when the time she was enjoying all by herself eradicated with a blessing of presence by none than the other, Whiskey. Whiskey and his infamous Stetson-Cowboy hat. Just when her head and mindset was in a tranquil and quiet place.

The man let out an exasperated groan, either from his time wasted on scrambling about his horrible time at the cottage or since he had been the one to put at task to chop a bundle of wood. All so they could be warm.

“You know, if you actually helped me, you would be doing much more important work.” Whiskey murmured while his eyebrows quirked towards the victorious strawberries that managed to pass the trial of being without fault. Y/N rolled her eyes at his words. Of course he would jab at the chore she had was assigned to do since it was him who decided to take upon the manly job of chopping up wood. The man had to swing an axe while she hummed a song, caressing strawberries. It was all his fault. Although, every time she confronted him about the truth, he just grunted in frustration before he stormed off. 

“If I left them there, it would’ve been a waste.” 

Whiskey made his way towards the small circle table that resided in the sad corner, the ragged wooden planks he had pierced through had jagged ends, splinters bulging from the surface from his frustration, “It should be enough for two days unless someone demands for more warmth.”

“It was an exceptionally cold night.”

Whiskey hummed, “Sure,” He pushes down the planks to flatten them on the surface before a cranky groan let his lips- most likely from his ageing body. “Goddamn it, these woods.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at the sight of his hand resting upon his aching back. As she hurled another bright red strawberry onto the cascading pile, she inquired without glancing up, “Did you water the plants?”

“Yea, gave them plenty of water, too.” Her eyes hurled to gaze into his dark ones. His pupils had been painted with slight humour, almost as if he had been amused at what he told her. Y/N did not need any more explanation as she understood what he meant perfectly. She exhaustedly groaned, feeling the weight on her shoulders at taking care of the man as if he was a child. 

“I told you not to drown the pots, you just- I’ve shown you how to do them before.” Y/N hissed out. The thought of the soil being soaked in litres of water had done more than annoy her.

Whiskey hummed, “I must’ve forgotten how to do it.”

The devil crawled onto her shoulder, the corners of its lips curled up at the tainting thoughts it had plagued her with. Anger, frustration, yet, somehow- Y/N did otherwise. She felt her energy balled up from his stubbornness, thrown out of the window, “I’ll teach you again tomorrow, just start the fire, it’s nighttime.”

Heated waves crawled up her arms in shy bites, fearing for what would be inflicted if they had blanketed her whole body in one engulf. Despite the generous percentage of warmth she had embraced all to herself from the dancing flames, she could still feel her toes shiver. The cottage would be warm during the day; however, with cracks in the walls, at night, it was bound to offer the frigid air a place to rest. 

The noise of the fireplace crackling, a sound she had got used to, well, more like forced herself to get used to, trickled along her ears. Y/N would drift off to sleep, her eyes fluttering to shut while the natural music sang her a lullaby. Except, the night did not apply that same ending to the day. No, Y/N could not find an ounce of willingness to melt into the small tattered loveseat even though minutes ago, she had been shaking the whole house with her series of exhausted yawning. It was either from the stuffings of the seat that had been harder than bone, although, Y/N liked to believe that she had got used to the way disobedient stitches would pierce into her back with every shift of her muscle, or the credits for her to wander away from the path of sleep was all handed towards the presence in the living room. The same presence that would find comfort elsewhere- his designated room. 

Whiskey was the one who claimed he wanted the only available room which had no fireplace, unlike the living room, saying he had gone through terrible weather conditions whilst working in missions- something he kept bragging on about, even though Y/N had been on the same list of terrible weather missions about seventy-five percent. “Nothing I can’t handle.” The man would say. That night, Whiskey couldn’t peel his eyes away from the gentle swerving of the flames. His arms were crossed, legs tensed, yet, he could feel himself drift away faster than the time he had spent in his own room. Maybe warmth wasn’t so bad after all. 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Whiskey quirked up, his southern accent smeared along the heated air. It was the first thing he had resounded in the room in hopes of steering him away from the need for sleep. He knew he deserved every fraction of slumbering from the chores he had worked hard for, but he didn’t quiver under the thought of it. 

“Hm?” Y/N grazed her eyes across the room to land on the man who perched himself on an uncomfortable, solid-looking armchair. The main fabric seemed to be a young teal, something Y/N had assumed ever since the day they had arrived at the cottage because no other cloth overlapped or covered said-colour. Other places were patched over with square cloths of floral designs, some atrociously hard to the eyes. 

“Do you think they’re looking for us?”

The woman let out a chuckle before a shiver crawled down her spine, “They just lost one of their best agents, I’m sure they’re doing everything they can,” Y/N spotted the smug smirk growing on Whiskey’s face. Only a second of pride lingered before it flattened back to his pressed lips. “I’m not talking about you.” 

Oh, she knew how to press his buttons. She knew what to say, she knew the perfect speed of the syllables that would fall off her tongue for the best reactions, and the following actions- everything. It had always bothered the man. Sure, they had gone to missions together. And sure, they had been side by side in moments where death stood in front of the door. Yet, the chemistry seemed to only spark up in situations where their adrenaline gets fired up. Y/N managed to bring his hopes up, filling his container by caressing his ego, fuelling up till the brim. Then, within milliseconds, all of it vanishes into the air. Not a speck of dust remained. 

“What makes you think you’re the best agent?” The man finally squeezed out the words. He had been slightly reluctant to the thought of saying it, yet, his tolerance was only so limited. Even though he was holding back the whiplash of his tongue, he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t think it, I know it,” Finding her words amusing as it brushed on a familiar set of egoism from the man, she let out a chuckle, “I’m sure Ginger just says it to butter me up.” Another sentence rested on her lips, ready to be launched into the air when another chilling shiver spiked down her body.

Whiskey quirked his eyebrows in confusion. He pushed himself away from the chair to sit on the edge, “Do you need more blankets? I’ll go grab some more.” 

“All of them are here.” His eyes brushed over the cocoon Y/N had wrapped around her body. It seemed to be a thick mess of heat, possibly suffocating her blood vessels, ready to crack her ribs. Her cheeks reddened. Although, she wasn’t sure if it was from the confession of her using all the possibly blankets offered by the house or the last reminiscent of heat she had to quench upon.

“Well, there’s no point in adding more wood, it’ll just be the same. We’ve already shut every window, you’ll have to bear with it. Unless…” Y/N pulled away from the brim of the blankets where some had poked out to cover her lips, her eyes meeting his in hope. In hope of getting away from the annoying coldness. 

“Unless?”

Whiskey glanced at the fireplace before suggesting the thought while his eyes gazed into hers, “Unless we make use of our body warmth.”

Maybe he should’ve said the words better, he could’ve rephrased the suggestion in a more… approachable setting. Or maybe, it was Y/N’s head that was stuffed in the gut, because his idea had not been comprehended the way he thought of it, “Whoa! I’m not sleeping with you.”

The man could feel his eyes roll at her words, “I’m not saying I wanted to sleep with you, I’m a gentleman- I wouldn’t ask so straightforward.”

“That definitely makes it better.”

Having enough of her opposing to his only possibly good idea, he hovered over her resting body, “Move, I’ll sit at the edge.”

“Such a gentleman.” There weren’t any other suggestions they could take. They had done everything so Y/N wouldn’t feel cold during the night. She had no choice. She had to comply with the much more friendly idea, compared to that of diving straight into the fireplace, if she didn’t want to be shivering all night. 

Slightly reluctant to the thought of slumbering the night away on a cramped loveseat, Y/N shifted away to press her back against the backrest. Whiskey nudged his shoe down before slithering himself into the cocoon. The first thing that came to Y/N’s mind was the extremely close distance between the two, while Whiskey inquired himself to how she had not fainted at such a temperature, especially with the addition of the fireplace. 

“Okay, get some sleep, a day’s waitin’ for us.” No rules had been hung upon the board, no restrictions, yet, during the night, unconscious two pairs of arms slithered to snuggle the other. 

[timeforelfnonsense]

His Hero

Criella x Wyll (ft. a little Dafni x Astarion) || M || Ao3 ||  Ko-fi ||  Let me write you a story? || Want to know what Dafni & Astarion got up to?

Criella looked absolutely radiant. Her long straight lilac hair hung loose and lovely down the long line of her back. Her spiraling, rosewood colored horns dressed in chains of silver and charms of luminous crystal. Her slender arms were free of their normal leather coverings revealing a tattoo of elegantly scrawled infernal that pulsed with arcane iridescence. 

Innovate 

A fitting descriptor.

As striking as she was it wasn’t her beauty alone that drew him to her. Rather it was the cocktail of boldness and brilliance she had exhibited in their short acquaintance. Her mind was sharp and quick to collaborate. In the heat of battle, her voice never wavered. He had watched in awe as she conjured roaring thunder and icy lighting. Weaving each spell together in a fearsome tempest. Raining down elegant destruction on Ragzlin’s perverse throne room. Ending the leader’s tyrannical grip on the coast with one precise strike of crackling electricity. 

“Enjoying your evening?” She asked, handing him a tankard of honeyed ale.

“There she is- the woman herself.” Let us raise a glass! Wyll chuckled, clicking the edge of his cup with her own goblet of red wine, “To freedom from tyranny! May we hew a path for the downtrodden to travel. To you a legend in the making! And of course to us. May our bond only grow stronger.” 

“Quite the toast.” She stated, casually bringing the silver goblet to her soft, quirked lips, “Are you coming on to me, Wyll?”

Wyll shivered at the feeling of the heart-shaped tip of her tail training up his spine. The curing white lines of her facial tattoos crinkling as she arched an expectant, manicured brow. 

“I hadn’t imagined myself so subtle?” He said, glancing up at her over the foam of his ale. A subtle grin curling across his lips, eyebrows ever so slightly raised, “Or to put it another way: yes.” Criella’s tail wrapped itself loosely around his waist a coy smile of her own working its way across her stunning features. Her silver eyes were nearly opalescent in the warm, gingery fire’s glow. Wyll pressed his lips to the slightly angled shell of her ear, speaking in a voice smooth as silk, “Your heart beats strong, friend. The Blade rarely seeks partnership.”

Criella’s hold on his midsection tightened as the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. The timbre of his voice felt like a hot beverage on a cool morning. Warming her from the tips of her fingers to the depths of her belly. It had been ages since she’d felt that sort of pull towards another being. Her heart dropped a bit as the memory of standing beside Zoria in a Neverwinter temple entered her mind. She had looked so beautiful, dressed in her gown of chiffon and net. The Ivory fabric standing in perfect contrast with her violet skin. 

Criella had been profoundly hurt when her best friend announced she was not only to be wed to her latest sweetheart but that she’d be leaving Waterdeep with her. It had felt like a betrayal. They had built something special together. Something so unique that Criella had sacrificed her own desires to pursue something deeper to preserve it. And Zoria was going to throw it all away. Yes, she had been mad but that all fell away when she saw the love Zoria had for her bride. She loved Zoria and loving her meant wanting to see her happy even if it was with someone else. The passage of time had softened the sting of losing her. It became easier and easier to write to her in the past few years. She even had begun to enjoy hearing about her wife and the sweet life they had made for themselves in Neverwinter.  

The experience had stung but it had taught her that hiding her feelings away was not necessarily the best course of action. Who could say if things would have worked out differently had she voiced her feelings? Regardless, it was not a mistake she’d be making twice. Wyll was a good man. She admired his tactical mind. His plan to take on the goblins had been clean and clever. He had fought for people whom he had no loyalties or connection to . Not because they had offered him gold or glory, but because they needed help. A fond smile played at her lips as she pictured Wyll with his tiefling charges, so gentle and patient. She’d practically melted on sight when she found him sparing amongst the children. 

Wyll was the sort of man she’d imagined into fairy stories as a brave king or gallant knight. An uncharacteristically wistful sight fell from her lips, causing her baby pink cheeks to grow a deep strawberry. Gods he was handsome! With a strong, noble countenance. Yet, there was a bit of ruggedness to his stubbled jaw that added a certain something to his charms. 

“Are you propositioning me, Blade?” She purred careful not to bump him with her horns as she placed her head on his broad shoulder. 

“If I were?” Wyll asked. 

“I would be incredibly flattered.” she assured, tilting her gaze up at him, “And happily accept.” 

“In that case, I reckon our union might continue to your bunk tonight.” Wyll beamed placing a feather-light kiss on her temple. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he added, “ Or I suppose we could just start out here like those two.” Wyll nudged her hip with his own, pointing a discreet finger towards their elven compatriots. 

“Now that is an idea!” Criella laughed. However, her amusement curdled as she watched Dafni’s hand travel ever closer to the front of Astarion’s breeches, “But, I think we’d best spare these poor people another...display.”

“You’re probably right.” He agreed, his hand reaching up to stroke the delicate line of her cheek, “But, I’d like to kiss you. Something to tide me over until the party winds down.” 

Criella lifted her head from his shoulder with an eager look. Wyll took her chin between his sword-calloused fingers, tilting her rosy face toward his lips. The moment their mouths brushed the world spun to a halt. She tasted of cherry wine and rosewater. The tip of her tongue sliding across the inner edge of his lip coaxing a soft gasp forward. Wyll wrapped one hand around her waist, his fingers gently pressing into her hip. The other laced through the waterfall of lavender hair, soft as satin as in his grasp. His heart thumped loudly in his own ears at the feeling of her warm palms sliding against his chest. A dull ache began behind his eye. A flash of bronze hair and moonlight skin tearing through his mind. 

Wyll stumbled back ending the heart-stopping embrace, “Pardon, just a bit woozy…”

“That’s alright. Do you still want to meet later?”

“Definitely.” Wyll nodded twirling a stray lock of hair around his index finger, “I’ll meet you at your bunk when you’re ready. I trust I won’t have to wait long.”

As soon as the party dwindled to its embers, Criella practically skipped back to her tent, a smile fixed on her face. As she pushed the heavy lavender canvas back she took a quick stock of her surroundings. She kept her quarters tidy enough but spick and span did not necessarily correlate with romantic. Perhaps she could light some candles? Criella’s lower lip caught in her sharp teeth. It wasn’t like her to feel like a giddy green lass! She was a woman of confidence and ambition. Her affections had always manifested as quite longings rather than whimsical, girlish fancies. Then again, she’d never been kissed in such a breathtaking manner before.

Criella brushed the tips of her index and middle fingers across the plush flesh of her lips shivering as she felt the ghost of Wyll’s astounding kiss. He tasted of ale and smelled of campfire and sweet earth. Criella had been a firm believer that first kisses were more often than not dreadfully awkward but he had proven her dead wrong. She could have even been coaxed to reconsider her stance on public displays of desire, were it not for the strange sharpness that pried them apart.

She felt a phantom throb behind her eyes. Who was that? She’d caught the glimpse of a face in Wyll’s mind as their thoughts slipped together. Bronze hair glowing in a fiery halo, flawless skin the color of the moonlight, her lips impossibly pink but the finer details of her appearance remained obscured by a fog of uncertainty. After a moment of concentration, she came to the conclusion that It didn’t matter who she was. Criella had never been the jealous sort and she had no intention of starting now. Wyll was a charming, attractive gentleman; she hadn’t deluded herself into thinking his affections had never belonged to another, nor did she mind that they had. What mattered was the here and now. And in the here and now Wyll wanted her. 

With that sorted, she shifted her focus to the matter at hand. She kicked off her boots before peeled away the soft leather of her leggings carefully folding and tucking them away. She loosened the laces of her green blouse allowing it to hand loose and casual from her narrow shoulders. With a stylish flick of her hand, she projected her mirror image. She shifted her weight to her right foot, her hip popping out slightly as her hand came to rest on its peak. 

“You are still glowing from battle. On my honor, you’ve never looked more beautiful.” Wyll’s warm voice filled the tent wrapping around her half-dressed body like a lover’s embrace. He approached her with slow, sure steps but his eyes flickered with a gentle want that set a fire between her thighs. 

Once more, Wyll pulled her close, their lips meeting in a deep sensual kiss. Criella’s palms pressed against his firm chest taking up a handful of his dark cotton shirt as she pulled him closer. His fingers found their way to her hair, his nails skimming lightly across her scalp. Criella cupped his cheek, thumb running along his scarred cheek. 

Wyll winced, pulling back from her kiss once more. Before she could ask what was wrong the needling pain behind her eye retired once more along with the mysterious woman. Her dazzling smile turned razor-sharp. Horns pushed their way through her ginger hair. Her creamy complexion shifting to a steely blue as two great, leather wings spreading out from her proud shoulders. 

A Cambion.

There was no mistaking it. This woman was Wyll’s patron, she was certain. Criella tried to hold her image in her mind, searching for any defining features or giveaways of her nature but Mizora’s wicked grin cut through her thoughts like a knife forcing her to look away. 

“Damnit. Must she ruin everything?” Wyll muttered bringing his palm to his stone eye to rub away the discomfort. “I’m sorry it's not supposed to be this way.”

“That was her, wasn’t it? Mizora.” 

Wyll’s shoulders slumped, hand still guarding his eye, “Yes. Wherever she’s gone she still haunts me. A ghost in all but name. Sometimes I swear I can smell her- sulfur and orchids. Stops my heart just to think of it. I thought I could forget Mizora. Just for one night. Gods, how wrong I was. “

Criella’s lips turned up into a soft smile as she pulled Wyll’s guardian palm from his face. Her voice was warm and sure as she spoke, “I understand Wyll, as well as I am able at least. Why don’t you spend the night beside me? No sex just sharing each other's company, hm?”

“I’d like that.”

Criella guided him down to her woolen bedroll by the arm. Wyll’s head came to read against her chest as she gently rubbed the tension from his strong, reliable shoulders. He let out a sigh as her nimble fingers worked at a perpetually tight spot near his collarbone. 

“I’d forgotten what it’s like to feel safe.” He confessed, warm whisky brown eyes meeting her’s. “I’m used to being the hero. Not so used to needing one.”

“It must be hard,” She mused in a musical tone, hands still working the stubborn muscle, Looking out for everyone else all the time. Devoting yourself to helping others. That’s a heavy burden for one man to carry. You are allowed to have a few moments for yourself. Besides, you’ll always be a hero to me, Wyll.”

“It means so much to hear those words from you.” He sighed, warping his hand gently around her wrist, I wish I could give you something more in return. My flesh at least. Something deeper were you to ask it. But only a free man can give himself fully. Until my pact is broken... I’m never free.”

“You will be rid of her one day. Sooner than you might think too.” She winked, tossing her loose hair with a flick of her tail, “You have my aid now after all! I’m somewhat of an expert on the Hells, Cania in particular, but I have a fair knowledge of the other eight as well. I’m no stranger to the politics and schemes of devils and there is nothing I can’t do once my mind is set to it. “

Wyll pressed his lips in a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on her inner wrist before pressing her palm to his steadily beating heart. “You are a blessing, Wit.” 

[thorne93]

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 39)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:5853

Warnings:  good news, stressing out, happy reader, mentions of kinks, teasing, girl’s night,bonding time between reader and OFC,over all it’s a really light chapter! Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three long months had passed.

You say long because as much as you felt happy being free, not seeing Loki all day was hell. Of course you had the freedom to stay with him, but the two of you agreed you needed to be outside of the cell. Unbeknownst to Loki, you were refurbishing the apartment. Updating some of the decor and furniture, ensuring every appliance worked.

Despite everything, you still slept with Loki, in the cell, every night. You would continue to prove to him you would never leave his side or abandon him. It was hard some nights. Nights you wanted to be alone, nights you spent up with Shannon having so much girly fun, nights you felt like working out of the apartment… But no matter what, rain or shine, tired or wide awake, you met Loki, each night, with open arms in the cell.

That was how you spent your nights, but during the day, you juggled the wedding and the work Bruce put on you. He was not shy or concerned with overworking you it seemed, mainly because you seemed to keep up with the heavy workload. Working side by side with Bruce was surprisingly fantastic. His calm nature was a good contrast from Loki who was brewing with angst nearly constantly.

With both of you being ticking time bombs, you didn’t speak much to each other except for strictly work related items, which was fine with you.

Shannon and you worked every day on something for the wedding. This was going to go down in history books, it had to be utterly perfect and planned down to the last detail. There were new tasks every day. Some big, some small, some just confirming previous arrangements she’d made, but you were determined to be the best maid of honor this world had ever seen.

Life for Shannon seemed to be going perfectly. Her and Tony seemed happier than ever, her work was excelling, and Tony was inventing things faster than you could blink. In just a few short months she would be getting married. Although, that was one small thing they did seem to disagree on -- the guest list. Other than that, all was perfect for your best friend and her groom.

Today, Shannon came to you in the lab with fantastic, unexpected news.

“Hey, Y/N, how’s work going?”  She peered at what you were doing at the moment. “You got a sec? There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“Uh, I don’t know…” you trailed, not taking your eyes off the paper for a moment, running numbers in your head. “Wait just a sec….” You leaned back and looked over to Bruce. “Hey, do I have a second?”

Bruce looked up and over at you, glancing at Shannon. “Yeah, you’re fine,” he assured.

You smiled at him and put your work down on the glass desk in front of you. “I’m free now! What’s up?”

“Well I was talking with the team and a few people from SHIELD,” she started saying.  “And we’ve come to the decision that it’s time that Loki be given parole as well seeing as how well behaved he has been the past 3 months,” she stopped to let you process what she told you.

You stared at her for a moment, trying to take in what she just said. “Wait… Wait… Loki is up for parole?” you asked, the excitement in your voice rising.

“We’ve thought about it and did that some more and yes we believe it’s time he leaves that cell.” She sounded very serious. “But with that it means he would have his time with his parole officer, Dr. Strange, a fellow friend of Shield’s.” She pulled up the file on approving the parole. “So now you two will both be working and getting the chance to be outside of the cell, but I do have to warn you Shield will be keeping an eye on your progress.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Uh, how so?” you inquired. This was expected, but you wanted to know just how invasive they were going to be and for how long? You’d been on parole now for three months, and you still had to check in three days a week with Bruce. You had to physically walk into the lab, he had to shake your hand (to ensure it wasn’t an illusion by Loki), and then he would sign off on your reports, stating you’d been into work.

“Well they’ve been keeping track of you coming in to see Bruce and the work you do.” She gestured to what you’re currently working on. “Some of the work here is what they’ve sent over to have you do.” She walked over, pulling out what was sent from them. “And Agent Coulson will be around the tower more often just to see how you’re doing.” She reassured you. “The same will happen with Loki, it will be only a few times a month.”

You nodded. “For how long? When can we get back to… when can we start to have a real life?” you wondered,  clearing your throat.

“I wasn’t told how long exactly but I did ask them to make it short as possible. I know you two would like to enjoy your freedom,” she said sincerely. “I know how much this means to you, I’ll do my best to find out how long and cut that time in half.”

A warm smile touched your face. “Thank you, Shannon. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. I’m happy he’s up for parole… So, will he be released today? What will he be doing with this Dr. Strange?”

“He’ll be released tomorrow in the morning at the same time you leave for work.” She smiled seeing how happy you were. “As for what he’ll be doing is helping around the sanctuary where they guard the Time stone.” She went about bringing an image of it up. “Dr. Strange is a great person to work with and I believe having Loki there will help him control his inner turmoil and help him be a better version of himself,” she gave a lengthy response that she knew you’d want.

You couldn’t help the twinkle that hit your eye. You immediately grabbed Shannon and held her tightly. “Thank you, so much. This means so much, to both of us.” Then a second later, you pushed her away. “Oh my god! This means I have to completely fix up the apartment tonight! I have to get candles and proper food for real meals. I have to get his favorite shampoo -- I don’t even know what his favorite shampoo is!” you started, panicking. You and Loki had lived together, technically for nearly four years now, but it wasn’t exactly conventional.

“Y/N! Breathe woman, relax everything can get done one step at a time.” She gestured to follow her breathing. “I’ll talk to Bruce about letting you have the rest of the day off so we can get that apartment done, okay?” She grabbed your shoulders to steady you. “As for the shampoo, I’m sure you’ll know which it is. You could ask Thor what scents Loki prefers,” she suggested to you.

In an instant, your eyes widened. “Shannon, that’s genius! Oh my god. Will you come with me? Please? I have so much to do and you’ve lived with Tony. You know what I need to grab… I don’t want to miss a thing!”

“Yes, Y/N, let me talk to Bruce really quick.” She walked over to where he was deep in thought. After a few minutes she came back. “Okay we’re all set, he just wants you to hand over what you have so far to read through.” She pointed to the file on the table. “Now come on, we have some shopping to get done.” She clapped her hands saying that.

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

“Jesus, Loki is such a picky eater,” you mumbled as you pushed a shopping cart in the produce area, trying to think of the perfect “welcome home” dish. “Is Tony a picky eater?” you wondered. You knew Tony professionally, in a friendly way, but you had zero idea about his living habits. That hadn’t really come up between trying to kill Shannon and spending years in prison for it...

“Not really, he’s pretty casual about it. He’ll usually ask for whatever I’m in the mood for,” she said grabbing some stuff for her and Tony. “Which is nice unless it’s a date night…” she said. “He tends to want to go somewhere fancy, that’s not really my thing.” She grabbed a box of strawberries and took one out to eat. “What's one of Loki’s favorite dishes?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s easy. He loves spaghetti. I honestly don’t know why,” you admitted, a little befuddled. “I guess because it’s simple? Hard to fuck it up,” you muttered.

“Well make some of that and add some sides, like maybe some salad or something you like too,” she suggested trying to make it a welcome home for you two. “What’s your guys favorite dessert? I can make some.”

“An excellent idea,” you mused. “Oh, um. He loves strawberry flavored things?” you said, slightly unsure. “I don't think he has a top dessert, so long as strawberries are involved,” you informed.

You grabbed a few things for spaghetti when you nonchalantly asked Shannon, “Should I greet Loki naked, or in lingerie?”

Slightly coughing, “Lingerie, but wouldn’t that be best for after dinner?” she asked. “Would kinda ruin the whole dinner thing. We could go look for something if you want.” She turned to you. “Is there anything in particular that you’d like to find?” She wiggled her eyebrows attempting to fluster you.

You couldn’t help but giggle at her response. “I fully intend for me to be the dessert, but it is always nice to make him squirm through the meal,” you remarked. “I need something with leather, and lace,” you informed, thinking hard. “So tell me, is Tony an ass or a boob man? Oooh, or something else entirely?” you wondered.

“He’s something else entirely, a man of many many kinks.” She blushed. “There’s a few things he really enjoys but I doubt you’d want to hear,” she continued “What about Loki? Does he keep it simple there too?” she retorted.

You gasped, your mouth hanging open in an O. “Shannon! My, my. Has Tony been rubbing off on you? You’re getting rather cheeky,” you teased as you saw a smug look transform on her face. “If you must know, madam, he is anything but simple in bed.”

“Why, Y/N, dear if you knew half the stuff I’ve rubbed off on him.” She smirked. “You’d think he’d be the innocent one.” Winking at you she took the cart and went to the next aisle. “Sounds to me like Loki likes to get wild,” she sing-songed.

You audibly gasped at her first two comments before jogging to catch up with her. In a low voice, you nearly whispered, “If you only knew… but then again, I guess we were being recorded down in that cell,” you recalled. “Let’s just say, Loki likes to experiment with his magic,” you informed.

“After a certain time in the night we leave them to record only when the motion sensor goes off.”

“Oh, sorry. The thing must’ve gone off all night then,” you teased.

“It must have if you’d been in the living room,” she winked. “We noticed you two spend your time there the most so we keep them aimed there and the kitchen,” she said.

You frowned for a moment, stopping dead in the aisle. “I thought Tony said every room had a camera except the bathroom?”

“It does but the time you guys were there we noticed you two spent most of your time in the kitchen or the living room so we focused on those two most and we occasionally would check the others.”

“So, it didn’t record at night?” Suddenly you smiled. “Tony was just trying to be a cock-block!” you nearly shouted in the crowded supermarket. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Y/N! Lower your voice,” she told you, seeing as people were eyeing you two. “I told him to leave you two alone but insisted on adding one in the bedroom,” she explained. “And I was turning off that camera at night so you two would have privacy,” she simply replied, heading to the checkout area.

You smiled at your best friend. You couldn’t help but feel so much warm love for her in that moment. Even when you betrayed her, nearly killed her, she sought to it that you were left alone.

“Guess I could’ve walked around naked then,” you mused. “Gah, doing it under the blankets was always such a hassle… Speaking of, you have got to tell me where the weirdest place you and Stark have done it is,” you insisted. For most, this might be weird. But you and Shannon had been so close for so many years, it was practically nothing to talk about sex and partners at this point, trading juicy stories and secrets between you two.

“I could… or you could try and guess.” She giggled. “It was an unexpected one at that too.” She recalled the memory. “Guess we had forgotten there was a camera there.” She passed the things from the cart to the cashier table.

You stared at her in awe for a solid minute before you suddenly hit her arm playfully hard. “You little minx!” you nearly squealed. “Where? Wait! Don’t tell me… Is it in the city? In Manhattan?”

“Yes and yes” was all she told you trying to see if you could guess exactly where. “It's the one place a lot of people go to throughout the day,” she hinted at you with a coy smile.

“Time...square? Grand Central? Jesus, Shan, it’s New York, millions of people go everywhere, all damned day,” you remarked. Your eyes narrowed on her, awaiting an answer if either of your guesses were right.

“It’s a particular place I took you once when we were barely living here. Had a giant food on top of the roof,” she laughed. “Give up?” she playfully asked.

After racking your brain for thirty seconds, you conceded. “Yeah, I give up,” you admitted. Thanos must’ve taken more than you bargained for when he fucked with your memories.

“It's that diner with the giant donut, remember that place?” She pulled out her phone looking for the picture. “Tony had wanted to go there for dinner one night... one thing led to another and we ended up on the top of the dinner and on the donut.” She blushed remembering that night.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed, hitting her arm, making the cashier look at the two of you. “You’re so bad! I had no idea you did that!” You looked down at your phone, checking the time. “Oh, shit. We need to run and look at lingerie then we need to head to the apartment.”

“We still have all night,” she told you looking over to see that it was getting close to 7. “We could pull up an all nighter if you want to make things perfect, that way there’s not much to worry about in the morning.” She pulled out her card to pay for everything and headed for the exit. “Just let Loki know you and I are going to have a girls night.”

You chewed your lip a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll stop by his cell later or-- wait, could I use your phone? Your phone still has a direct line to the cell, right? I’ll just call and tell him I’m… working?” you tried. You didn’t like lying to Loki, but in this case, it was for a surprise, that you didn’t want to spoil.

Noticing the worry on her friend’s face she pulled out her phone and handed it to you. “It’s not like you’re going to lie to him because this would definitely count as a girls night because we’ll be having fun.” She bumped her hip with yours, hoping to make tonight fun.

You couldn’t help but smile. Always a ray of sunshine. You rolled your eyes lightly and laughed. “Okay, okay.” You found the contact and dialed the cell, opening up a video call with Loki. He was happy, yet confused to see you at first. But you quickly explained that you and Shannon were going to have a girls night together. At first, you were worried he would start to feel abandoned, but he knew sometimes you would have a life outside of him, and the cell. He was momentarily sad, but ultimately happy that you were happy. As soon as you hung up, you nodded at her. “Alrighty, we’re good to go! Let’s whip this apartment into shape, and get my ass into something sexy.” The two of you walked to the car. “Now, Loki’s gonna meet his boss-officer tomorrow morning, right, and then come home to the apartment after, right?”

“Yup, so basically Fury will have me and Loki head to Strange’s location so that he can become well acquainted with the workplace and see what’s where. And knowing you my dear, Y/N, I was given the okay for you to come along so that he feels some comfort,” she told you while she drove the two of you to a little shop she liked to get her lingerie. “Now in terms of sexy what did you have in mind?” She looked over at you at a red light. “The woman that owns the store can make something custom for you if you’re looking for something specific. Usually gets it done within an hour, so we could head next door to get our nails done while we wait.”

“Oh, you don’t have to take me tomorrow. I really appreciate you getting that done for me, but I have a big project with Bruce tomorrow… I’ll just visit Loki later at work,” you told her, giving her an apologetic smile. You clapped your hands together and then grinned widely. “Now, about the outfit. Oh, god. I have no idea exactly what I want. I know I want leather… lace… Hmm. What do you think? I have never had an opportunity to go lingerie shopping for him so I have no idea what he’s into, in that aspect.”

“Well let’s start with the basics, what colors are you thinking of getting?” she asked hoping starting out small will help figure things out.

You nodded your head side to side. “Black?”

“Great that’s a start, now in she has a new collection that I think you’ll like in terms of your new fashion sense,” she told you. “Is there any type of material you want it in; lace, silk, leather, sheer, fishnets, ecterera?” She gave you a bunch of material names.

Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “Uh, wow. Lots to choose from, hmm? I think for the first time, I would like to keep it simple with some lace and sheer material.”

“Mmm very romantic sounding,” she told you as she parked in front of the store. “Well let’s see what she might have that will catch your attention.” The two of you got out of the car. As soon as you two entered you were greeted by an older woman, upon realizing who you were with, she was a lot more relaxed.

“Hello, darling, it’s so good to see you again!” She gave Shannon a hug.

“It’s good to see you too. I actually brought my best friend to see if you could help her pick out something special for tomorrow night.” She winked at you. “I was hoping you could show her your new collection.”

“Darling, for you? Anything!” She went over to you and hugged you too. “And any friend of the future Mrs. Stark is a friend of mine.” She motioned for the two of you to follow.

“You have to stop calling me that!” Shannon simply said.

“Why should I, it’s true, is it not?” The woman looked over her shoulder. “Speaking of, your suit is almost ready. I bet he wants you wearing it all the time.” She addressed you next. “Alright, deary, what are you looking for? Something flashy?”

“Um, well… I guess. Okay, this is the first time I’m able to do something romantic with my guy, and I want to make it special,” you explained. “I’m thinking something… lacey, black. I’d like a sheer robe, if you have one? Do you have anything like that?”

“I believe I do. Let me show you to the smaller boutique,” she said, waving you over to a small, VIP room that had four walls filled with different styles and colors. “Let me pull some samples, and feel free to shop around.”

You thanked her as she went and grabbed a few pieces and you and Shannon grabbed a few of your own.

“I’ll set you up in this fitting room right here,” she said, walking over to a heavy drape, pulling it back.

“Thank you,” you said, holding several hangers. You looked to Shannon. “I guess if I like one, I’ll model for you?” you asked, hoping she’d be okay with that. You needed another girl’s opinion on if it accented all the right parts or made you look like crap in the back or anything.

“Sure thing! I’ll probably look for stuff too and see if I can show you what she’s making for me.” She smiled at you. “That way it’s two birds one stone.”

“Great!” With that, you disappeared into the changing room and slipped on the first outfit, which looked like garbage on you. This was more fit for a differently built girl, not quite the way you were built. Next, you tried a one piece lace number that seemed to look decent, but wasn’t a wow factor. But you modeled it for Shannon anyway. “Hey, Shan!” you called.

“What’s up, Y/N/N?” She looked up from the paper she had in her hand. “You find one that you like?”

“Uh, not sure. It’s okay.” You pulled back the curtain and let her examine you, your hands on your hips. You screwed your mouth to the side. “What do you think?”

She motioned for you to walk out. “I think it’s good but from what you were saying for what you want this might be a bit too simple.” She was walking around you looking at every angle. “This hugs you in the right spots but it still needs that awe factor.”

“I agree. Onto the next ones!” You jumped back in the booth, and tried on three more outfits, showing each one to Shannon, until finally, you think you had a winner. It was all black lace, a form fitting one piece, with a sheer green robe you’d found. You smiled appreciatively at the reflection before calling Shannon back over for (hopefully) the final time. “What do you think?” you said as you stood there. “I think it still needs heels, and maybe something extra like a garter or necklace but… I really like it.”

The moment you walked out Shannon’s mouth dropped open. “Y/N you look… WOW.” She looked you over. “Okay hold on, I think I know the perfect garter!” She ran off and you stood there for a moment. “Okay try this on.” She handed you a diamond wrap-around garter. “And for the heels, I bet you we could find something two stores down.” She pointed to the front of the store.

“Really? Oh, you’re a lifesaver! Okay, one second, let me try this.” You ran back into the room and slipped on the delicate, shining accessory. It hugged your thigh perfectly, making your curves really pop. You stepped back out into the showcasing room. “Thoughts?”

“Hmmmm the color is nice but what would you say to the diamonds being green?” she suggested. “We could probably ask Isabelle to dye them green if you want.”

“Ohh, yes. Yeah if she has this in green diamonds or emeralds that would be perfect,” you stated.

“Why don’t you change out of that and we can head over to her work table to ask her?” Shannon suggested, now that the outfit was picked. “That way you can see the garters and I can see how much more she’s gotten done for my honeymoon outfit.” She winked at you.

“Oh, naughty. I like it. Yes. Give me two seconds.” In a swift movement, you were inside the room, out of the beautiful outfit, and back in your street clothes. You grabbed the outfit you wanted and followed Shannon to Isabelle’s workbench.

“Isabelle, is there any chance you have a green diamond garter or in jade?” She walked over to the table looking at her outfit being almost finished and showed her the garter. “If not is there any chance you could dye this one in green?” She hoped either option was available.

“Let me check in the back. Meanwhile try on some of the pieces to see if they need adjustments.” She pointed to what was on the mannequin. “I might have something that would work.”

“Alright we’ll be right here.” She turned to you. “What do you think of what’s done so far?” She pointed to the cast of her own body. “It’s supposed to be a leather and mesh version of Tony’s suit but with less parts to it.” She walked over to it to try on the the top half.

Your eyes widened immediately. “Shan… This… Wow… Tony is going to fucking flip,” you said. “I mean… Look at you! You look like you should be walking in Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show! Does he know about this? Or is it a surprise?”

“Aw, Y/N/N, that sweet of you but I’m no model.” She blushed and waved her hand at you. “It’s a complete surprise to him, although I do feel like he’s been getting curious as to what I’ll be taking on the honeymoon.” She took off the top part of the outfit and walked over to the chest piece. “This part right here is supposed to shine in the light and glow in the dark.” She points to what looks sort of like Tony’s arc reactor.

“Holy cow, that’s amazing. This… He’s gonna love it,” you said, nodding at the ingenuity.

“I hope he does, to be fair I have no idea how she plans on making it do that but she’s done some amazing stuff.” She showed you some of the stuff that other people have requested.

“Maybe you could have one done too, to represent Loki.”

“Do you think he’d like it? I mean… what would I even do?” you wondered, thinking back to all of Loki’s outfits on Asgard. It was all leather, worn to protect him in battle at a moment’s notice, or formal for a political or social event.

“I’m sure you’ll find out what he likes once he gets used toEarth. Plus you getting more outfits and stuff will give you a sense of what he might like,” she said believing that that would be a big help. “Maybe even going out shopping with him might help”

Immediately, heat rose to your cheeks. “Uh, yeah. That’s a possibility. I’ll definitely think about Isabelle making me something. Thank you for showing me this place. It’s fabulous,” you said just as Isabelle came back.

“I don’t have green diamonds or jade but I did find this emerald one.” She lifted the garter and let the light hit it just right. “If you really like the diamond cut I could dye it and have it ready in an hour.” She handed you the band for you to look closely at.

You chewed it over, examining both. “I think I really love the emerald one. It’s so unique. I’ll take it, and these,” you said, holding up your ensemble.

“Great! Let’s get you checked out then, and since Shannon brought you here the garter is on the house.” She smiled at you as turned to Shannon. “As you can see I’m almost done with this piece and the last of the bottom half it should be done by the end of this week,” she assured her.

“Thank you so much for today, Isabelle,” Shannon told her. The three women walked back to the front of the store to get your things nicely wrapped and put away. “Now on to getting you some heels.”

“I think I know just the kind,” you stated with a coy grin.

The two of you got everything paid for and packed, and walked out the door, going a few storefronts down to a high end shoe store. Being with Shannon was actually nice in more than one way. People recognized her as the future Mrs. Stark. The woman on the front of every social magazine, in every celebrity coverage. She made accomplishments on her own constantly in her field of work, and now her engagement to Tony. It certainly made you blend into the background, which was sperfect. You didn’t need anyone remembering who you were or what you’d done.

You leaned over and told Shannon exactly what you wanted. “I want shiny pumps. Closed toe or peep toe are fine. But I want shiny,” you emphasized.

“Shiny as in glitter or like glossy pumps?” She looked up both types for you to see. “I think either one would work for the ensemble you have.”

“Glossy,” you clarified.

“Okay let’s see what we can find.”

Immediately, you two went in different directions. It was how you always shopped, covering as much ground as possible in the quickest time. A strategy the two of you had developed over years of work, and now it was like second nature. In no time, you had three pairs you wanted to try, and Shannon had two. A sales associate showed you to an area to try them each on. In the end, you found a pair for $500 that you really liked, that were perfect. The shoe was glossy black, but the heel sparkled with encrusted black crystals of various sizes.

“That pair looks amazing!” Shannon said. “Try them on. I wanna see how you look in them.” She pointed at a chair for you to sit in.

You did as instructed, strapping into the stilettos. You twisted your foot about before standing up, showing her each side. “What do you think? I think they’re perfect but, as always, I want your honest opinion.”

“This looks cute but I think that it would be better for like going clubbing than for that night.” She looked at the shoes now that you were wearing them. “But then again maybe if I see the heels with the outfit it’ll work,” she thought out loud about it.

You made a face. “You think? Well, do you want me to put on the outfit here or...?” you wondered.

“I’m sure if I asked we could get a private place so you can see all of them with the outfit,” she suggested. “That's if you wanted to though.”

“Sure. It shouldn’t take too long, and I want to make sure they go just right,” you stated.

“Then let’s get this, girl!” She walked away and got someone to give them one of the private areas to try the shoes on.  “Now let’s see which one of these shoes goes great with your new outfit.”

You nodded and slipped into the delicate ensemble, including your new favorite garter. Carefully, you sat and put on the first few pairs that weren’t your favorites, just to ultimately rule them out. You were hoping that Shannon could see how the other heels dulled in comparison with your favorites.

“I think that all the ones we found aren't the best option,” she said, seeing how they weren’t popping. “The only ones that work are the ones you picked, especially the ones with the encrusted black crystals,” she hummed

“Yay!” you all but squealed. You ran to hug her. “I think so too! I know he’s just gonna love these,” you stated with pure delight as you tore them off and dropped them back in the box. In haste, you undressed from your lingerie and slipped back into street clothes.

The two of you went to the cashier and paid for the expensive shoes. You turned to Shannon.

“What next?” you wondered, excited. “I’ve got all my lingerie, food for dinner. So… what now?”

“What are you missing for the apartment?” she asked now that they were done with those things.

“Some things for Loki. Razor, shaving cream, guy stuff. You know? I want it to feel like his space too. Not just a bunch of my shit crammed in there since college,” you noted. “Would it be possible to install the system that showed us Asgard, into one of the rooms in the apartment?” you wondered. “Other than that, I think Loki needs his own nightstand, maybe a lamp, oh, some of my favorite books for sure…” You prattled on about some things he might want.

While you named everything that was missing Shannon set about making a list so you two could get the stuff at an Ikea. She knew that the system with Asgard would be super quick to install and she could get that done while the apartment gets its final touches done.

“Alright. let’s go grab the last of the things and some dinner and head back to the apartment,” she told you as the trunk was closed after putting the bags away. “Let’s head over to Ikea and get the nightstand the lamp and a bookshelf for your books.”

“Sounds perfect,” you remarked.

Quickly, the two of you ran to Ikea, and you grabbed everything you needed from a new shower curtain, to a bookshelf, to nightstands. After that, you and Shannon grabbed pizza from your favorite place with a couple of 2 liters and headed to the apartment. You wolfed down the food and then you two sat to work. Hours of work poured into building furniture, taking down old decor, putting up new, and getting the fridge and pantry stocked.

Not to mention, tons of girl talk in between. Secrets and gossip shared about Tony and Loki. Little things you had forgotten to mention about Asgard. Funny things about the Avengers Shannon had encountered. You even talked about work, complaining about conundrums you found, which was nice to feel like a contributing member of society again with a real job and real complaints.

Before you knew it, the night had flown by and it was three am before the two of you passed out on your bed. In a few short hours, your alarm went off, waking you up to the day for your beloved to finally be free alongside you, marking a brand-new, hopefully happy, chapter in your lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @essie1876​ @magpiegirl80​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @iamwarrenspeace​ @marvel-imagines-yes-please​ @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification​ @thejemersoninferno​ @rda1989​ @munlis​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @bubblyanarocks3​​ @igiveupicantthinkofausername​​ @kaliforniacoastalteens​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @kaelingoat​ @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​ @damalseer​​ @heyitscam99​​ @yknott81​​ @sorryimacrapwriter​​ @glitterquadricorn​​ @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm​​ @alyssaj23​​ @sea040561​​ @princess76179​​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ @sarahp879​​ @malfoysqueen14​​ @ellallheart​​ @breezy1415​​ @marvelmayo​​ @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711​

Loki: @lostinspace33​​ @ultrarebelheart​​ @lenawiinchester​​ @esoltis280​​ @tngrayson​​ @wangdeasang​​ @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice​​

UC: @lokis-high-priestess​

@pandacookieowo​

[jaqdawks]

added a short story bellow :)

content warnings: alcohol and implied nsfw acts, also mention of death.

—————————————

Nickolai awoke in someone else’s bed with a splitting hangover. He sat up and looked around the unfamiliar room. He checked if it was possibly Alcor’s, until he realized he didn’t know what Alcor’s bedroom looked like at all. He also didn’t know what most of Alcor’s flat looked like; he’d only ever been as far in as a single hallway.

For a few minutes, Nickolai fought the hangover to remember who he was with and what identity he’d assumed. All he could remember was Noah. He had a fake ID that said Noah, and his false identity as a Noah was a man who fixed computers. Noah was a common name though, and he couldn’t remember who the Noah here was.

He didn’t think about it much longer before he succumbed to the hangover and flopped back onto the bed—which Nickolai was alone in. The disturbed sheets on the spot next to him hinted to someone else having been in it earlier.

The door began to creak open, and Nickolai shut his eyes.

“Hey, it’s almost noon. I don’t want to be rude but you need to wake up,” sounded an unfamiliar voice.

Nickolai grumbled a little. He looked at the stranger, who had soft green eyes and curly red hair. He didn’t look untrustworthy, to Nickolai’s relief. Then again, Nickolai didn’t look untrustworthy either on a normal day.

“I have Advil if you need something for a hangover,” the stranger offered.

Nickolai sat up again, for real now. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

The stranger laughed. “I’m Joel. Were you too hammered to remember my name?”

Nickolai shook his head.

The stranger seemed concerned. “How much do you remember then?”

“I don’t know, I remember thinking I should get mad drunk in public instead of passing out on my couch. After that it’s just fuzzy.” Nickolai assumed he told Joel that his name was Noah.

Joel looked a little perturbed in an endearing way. “Ah, well, do you want me to fill the gaps or. . ?”

“Can I get some Advil first?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get some water for you to swallow it with,” Joel complied. “You should get dressed.”

Nickolai waited for Joel to leave before getting out of bed and tracking down all his clothes, which were strewn about the room. His shirt smelled like liquor to the point that Nickolai thought he might gag. However, he didn’t have any spare clothes and decided to just put up with it.

Joel was back a few minutes after Nickolai got dressed. It was clear he was trying to ignore the smell, but after Nickolai took the Advil, Joel asked if he needed to borrow something that didn’t smell so rancid. Nickolai obliged and was relieved to be able to rid the putrid button-down.

“Okay, so the parts you don’t remember,” Joel began. “I can’t say I remember it too well either, but I think I have a decent memory with these things.”

Nickolai nodded. “Go on.”

“So,” Joel continued. “It began when I think I saw the bartender cut you off on drinks, and I felt kind of bad about that. So I thought, hey, company’s much better than drinks, even though I was also drinking, like a lot. And I guess at some point we kinda started flirting, and I was like ‘should we take this back to your place?’ and you began to freak out. I think you said you have a dog that bites people or something? Is that true?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Well anyways, you did not seem to be very happy with the idea of taking anyone to your place, so I took you to mine. And you can probably guess the rest, considering you woke up naked in my bed.”

Nickolai silently acknowledged the implications in his head. This wasn’t how he planned to start his weekend, but he could roll with it. “Yeah. Sorry for sleeping until noon, by the way. I’m not at all a morning person.”

Joel smiled with amusement. “How do you pull that off? I can’t even sleep past nine on a good day.”

“Sadness.”

Joel’s face went blank with a bit of underlying surprise at Nickolai’s off hand answer. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, no harm no foul.” Nickolai was vehemently aware that he may have used that saying incorrectly.

Joel veered the conversation away from the topic. “How does your head feel?”

“A little better.”

Joel was oddly kind. Nickolai wasn’t used to receiving this hospitality from strangers like him, but that probably had more to do with who Nickolai associated himself with and not people in general. Nickolai decided he liked Joel, even if he barely knew him.

“I would offer you some breakfast, but. . . it’s almost one in the afternoon. You’re probably hungry though, right?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Nickolai attempted to smile back at Joel but he was too tired to count off what would make it look genuine. Regardless, Joel didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m gonna do it anyway,” Joel decided. “Any allergies?”

“Strawberries.”

“Oh! That’s a rare one.”

Nickolai shrugged. “I seem to cash in on the rare things a lot. Albinism, an extra rib, and the strawberry allergy.”

“Casinos must hate you if you’re that lucky.”

Nickolai let out a genuine laugh. He decided he definitely liked Joel. He also felt a tinge of astonishment that someone like Joel casually hooked up with him, or generally anyone. He seemed like too much of an angel to even drink.

Nickolai followed Joel out of his room. Joel’s place was considerably nice, to the point Nickolai was in a bit of disbelief. He couldn’t have wound up in an upper class area if he had started last night at a shoddy bar, right? Joel didn’t act like he was rich, he didn’t seem like it either. But this place completely contrasted whatever Joel was like. Even Joel’s cat, a rather well groomed Norwegian forest cat—which was massive and somewhat intimidating—seemed to completely outclass Nickolai.

“Do you live here by yourself?” Nickolai asked as he surveyed the expensive wallpaper lining the kitchen walls.

“Nah, I have a housemate named Anwyll. He’s visiting family right now though.”

Nickolai froze. “Anwyll. . . As in Anwyll Tait?”

“That’s the one!”

Nickolai suddenly felt sick. “Oh fuck.”

“Is something wrong?”

Nickolai retched. Had his stomach not been empty, he had no doubt he would have thrown up all over the nice counter top.

Joel dropped what he was doing and crossed the room to Nickolai. “Are you okay?” He was suddenly at Nickolai’s side with his hand placed gently on Nickolai’s back.

Nickolai’s head spun. He knew he couldn’t tell Joel that Anwyll Tait took his brother’s life in the deathmatches. If he did, Joel would have a catalogue of every possible person Nickolai could truly be, and it would clearly point to Yuskol Voskoboinikov.

Nickolai ran through every excuse he could think up. He could say he hated the rich, but that could offend Joel. He could say the deathmatches made him sick, but Joel was obviously linked to them somehow if he was in league with a Tait. Joel felt like dangerous company, a double edged sword.

“Noah?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Nickolai croaked. “I think it’s just the hangover. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, so I guess I don’t have anything to throw up.”

That was the safest excuse.

Joel looked at Nickolai with pity. “Do you think you can eat right now?”

“Yeah.”

Nickolai felt somewhat content that he had definite confirmation that he had told Joel his name was Noah last night. The slight accent in his voice may throw off the authenticity in his identity as Noah Martin, but it wasn’t consistent enough to jeopardize him.

At the same time, the fact that he slept with someone of such high class alarmed him. Most public record photos of Nickolai Voskoboinikov’s face was outdated or somewhat photoshopped, but a Tait might be able to figure him out if they surveyed him for long enough.

“So, what’s your housemate like?” Nickolai asked. He tried to keep the nervousness from spreading to his voice.

“Anwyll can be such a jerk sometimes, but he’s also sorta nice. I’ve known him since I was little,” Joel said. “He doesn’t like new people that much, but I think he’d like you.”

“Dunno. I can be very unlikeable when I’m on my medication.” Nickolai knew with certainty that Anwyll would hate him no matter what. “Also I’m. . . lower class.” Nickolai also knew that Anwyll was a classist asshole.

“Lower class? That doesn’t matter,” Joel piped up. “The whole class thing is kind of stupid. I think the way it’s set up is interesting, but it won’t stop me from having friends from all kinds of walks of life.”

“I. . . yeah. I guess so,” Nickolai mumbled. He doubted Joel would be this positive if he knew of Nickolai’s illegal trades ties, the upper class notoriously hated brokers like him. They also especially hated him in particular.

Being there felt like the most dangerous stunt Nickolai had pulled, and he hadn’t even done it on purpose.

Joel set a ridiculously fancy, yet somehow definitely homemade, grilled cheese sandwich on a plate in front of him.

“Wow,” Nickolai mused. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. “This looks like something an expensive ass chef would make.”

“Thanks! I went to the top culinary school in the city, my parents say it was a waste of time.”

“Fuck what your parents say,” Nickolai replied before he took a bite. The sandwich tasted unreal. The last time he had food as good as this was when he posed as an intern for one of the deathmatch organizers.

“I’m glad you like it,” Joel smiled. Nickolai felt unease crawl back into his chest. Joel seemed so genuinely friendly, though a nagging suspicion told Nickolai it could be a lie. Nickolai couldn’t take a risk by being near him for much longer. At the same time, however, he felt captivated. Joel had that charisma that so many of the notorious upper class families seemed to unanimously mirror. He was a golden face among a sea of golden faces, all rotten under their skin. Nickolai knew what they were like.

Even then, Joel seemed to care a lot more than most would let on.

Nickolai took a deep breath. “I have to go home, sorry. I left my meds there, and I probably have people flooding my inbox about work and all that bullshit.”

“That’s alright. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your job?”

“I fix computers,” Nickolai lied. That was Noah’s persona, and a story that should hold up if Joel decided to try and look in to it.

To be polite, he exchanged phone numbers. Nickolai only had his burner phone on him, which was a relief. The calls and texts that flooded Nickolai’s personal phone daily would have definitely been suspicious.

Nickolai liked Joel, but he knew he wouldn’t call him. Nickolai had a hunch that Joel may not be the worst of his kind, but he knew he wouldn’t text him back. It felt harsh to shut Joel out like this, but Nickolai wasn’t going to risk identification simply because he had a good encounter. They waved goodbye, and Joel’s cheery expression was a reminder that Nickolai would have to be silently cruel.

Nickolai didn’t call for a cab, he walked until his hangover began to bother him again. Then he called Alcor—Alcor didn’t have Nickolai’s burner phone address, but he was a safer bet than any cabs in this place.

The phone rang for a while before Alcor picked up.

“Who’s this?”

Nickolai felt relief wash over him to hear a familiar voice. “It’s Nick. Can you come pick me up?”

Alcor’s words were laced with suspicion as he spoke over the phone. “. . . Sure. Where are you?”

Nickolai looked at the street sign. Of course he had to stop on Ivory Street—the richest and most notorious, and also the one Nickolai hated the most for almost no real reason. With a sigh, he said, “Ivory Street.”

“How the fuck did you get there?”

“Drunkenly and against my conscious knowing.”

“Is this going to be dangerous?”

Nickolai groaned. “Not as dangerous as standing in the house that belongs to the man who killed my brother. Now get over here, I don’t think it’d be safe to use public transport in this area.”

There was a silence on the other end, then Alcor replied, “I’m on my way.”

[wr1tersblock42]

The Two Of Us - Chapter 3

Story Summary: All Vegeta wants to do is train to defeat Kakarot and maybe get laid. The ghost of Frieza has other plans.

Start the story on FFic or A03.

Chapter 3...

Bulma was tempted to blame the whole incident on her overactive imagination. After all, to be a scientist, one had to have an imagination that lead to discoveries outside the realm of current possibilities. Or maybe the scary movie she’d watched last night had affected her more than she’d thought. Because while Bulma knew the universe had far more crazy shit than most Earthings even dreamed about, ghosts were not real.

“But you didn’t think aliens were real until they showed up,” Bulma muttered to herself, glaring at the computer screen as it played a slow motion recording of how Vegeta received his most recent injury.

No, no, no . Ghosts weren’t real. Her friends had all died and come back to life without any mention of the dead wandering the Earth in their spare time. Once dead, they stayed up there (or down there in Frieza’s case) unless they were granted a second chance at life by the dragon balls.

Even so… Bulma zoomed in and replayed the last five seconds of the video, swallowing hard. If the apparition of Frieza was not walking the halls of Capsule Corp, what exactly was that purple blur on screen that had so clearly startled Vegeta mid training?

Vegeta took a bite of steak, relishing the juices as he chewed. Every time he lifted his chopsticks to his mouth, his arm burned with the effort, and even sitting upright and breathing at the dining table made him feel as tired as he had training in increased gravity, but after days of being forced to eat the nutrient-rich but flavourless mush Bulma called recovery food, this was heaven. Lightly stir fried in soy sauce and garlic, just as he preferred.

Bulma Briefs might think herself the most intelligent person on the planet, but as far as Vegeta was concerned it was Mrs Briefs who was the real genius around here. Every mouthful that woman prepared was sublime, and if he hadn’t a need to prepare for the androids arrival he would have been tempted to stick around anyway.

“Maybe I’ll force the blonde woman to cook you and your girlfriend,” Frieza mused, sidling up beside Vegeta to bend over his plate and inhale deeply. “I’m sure she’d be able to make your stringy carcass into something edible.”

Vegeta clenched his jaw but kept chewing, even though the food now tasted like ashes in his mouth. He would not give Frieza - even an imaginary Frieza - the satisfaction of knowing that his words affected him.

“That Bulma though…” Frieza’s pink tongue darted out. “With those curves…” he brought his fingers to his mouth and kissed them.

Vegeta risked as glance at Bulma, who sat opposite him, not eating which was very unlike her considering she’d moved onto dessert and had strawberries in front of her. She had an odd expression on her face, and he realised she’d been watching him, but he had no idea for how long.

Frieza let out a cackle, and clapped his hand on Vegeta’s shoulder. Vegeta couldn’t feel the grip, but it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Are you feeling okay?” Bulma asked, picking up a strawberry and dangling it from her fingers. “If your injuries are still bothering you maybe you should hold off on getting back into training.”

“I’m fine.” Vegeta stood up abruptly, bitterly disappointed that what promised to be a delicious meal was ruined by his old master.

“You haven’t finished your food,” Bulma snapped, dropping the strawberry and rising as well.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“Not all of us are guided by our base instincts,” Vegeta growled out. “Stop trying to distract me.”

A flash of hurt crossed Bulma’s face. “I’m just worried about you, Vegeta. Something is wrong. You can tell me, you know…”

She kept talking but her words were drowned out by Frieza’s sudden rambling and the subsequent ringing fury in Vegeta’s ears.

“Everything is wrong with you , my dear boy,” Frieza said. “It’s a pity your father didn’t cull you at birth. Would have made everyone’s lives a great deal easier. You killed your mother you know, just by being born. If that wasn’t a sign of things to come then I don’t know what is.”

“Shut up!” Vegeta’s ki erupted and everything on the table flew off around the room.

Bulma remained standing, looking oddly calm even as her hair whipped around her thanks to the raging ki. “Is Frieza bothering you again?” she asked, sounding so matter of fact that Vegeta completely dropped his ki in surprise.

They stood there, facing each other across the table that now looked like a disaster zone, and an eerie silence fell across the room. Even Frieza kept his mouth shut, his gaze flickering from Saiyan to human curiously.

“How… what… what are you talking about?” Vegeta finally stammered out, the lunch he’d just eaten threatening to resurface. Gods, if she knew just how crazy fucked up he was she’d throw him out of the house without a second thought. It was one thing to invite a psychotic alien to stay when he was planning on saving her planet, but a whole other level of crazy to let him stay once she knew how unstable he was, and just how likely he was to kill them all - accidentally, probably - before the androids came close to arriving thanks to his severe delusions.

“Where is he?” Bulma asked, her tone gentle and a complete contrast to how she normally spoke to him. “When you were injured, you said he was next to me.”

Fuck. Or as Bulma liked to say every time she had trouble with one of the bots, fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck. Vegeta sat back down in his chair. This wasn’t good. She knew. She fucking knew he was crazy.

He must have mentioned Frieza when he was high on those drugs she insisted on pumping into him whenever he got so much as a scraped knee. Gods, of all the idiot things to say.

Wait…

He’d clearly said something when he was high. Surely she couldn’t believe take anything he said then seriously?

“I don’t recall that conversation,” he said carefully, laying his palms flat down on the table in an attempt to ground himself, to prevent him from incriminating himself any further.

“Hoo, hoo, hoo!” Frieza chortled, hopping up on the buffet against the wall and standing with his hands on his hips. “Now this promises to be quite the show.”

Bulma sat down as well, scraping her chair noisily to come closer to the table. “Vegeta,” she said in that same tone. Her hand reached across the table and she placed her cool fingers on top of his.

He would have normally pulled away, recoiling from any touch of hers that wasn’t specifically designed for pleasure. But he was frozen, unable to bear the weight of what was about to unfold. Frieza was right. He was weak, and pathetic, and-

“I heard him too.”

Finish the rest of the chapter on FFic or AO3.

[a-court-of-illyrian-warriors]

The Fox and the Doe

In which Elain wants her mate to come visit. Written for my absolutely wonderful friend @my-boyo-fenrys. (Sorry it took so long! Lucien is a bit hard for me to write (even though he’s only in like half of it shhh))

if you want to request a story, I have a post for that, or just drop it in my asks or messages!

Word count: 2499

“Feyre,” Elain started, sitting down in the townhouse’s eat-in kitchen next to her younger sister.

“Yes, Elain?” The youngest Archeron responds, shoveling a fork full of eggs into her mouth. Azriel, the best chef of them all, sat down a plate of eggs and fruit in front of Elain, giving her a gentle smile. The brown-eyed girl offered a smile in return and a quiet thank you before turning back to her sister.

“I want Lucien to visit,” she states, confidence lining her voice. This was something she thought of everyday since her mate left to help Tamlin in the Spring Court. Feyre stopped, her fork half way to her mouth. Azriel fumbled, a few bits of scrambled egg dropping from the pan that almost clattered to the floor. 

The High Lady recovered quickly, “okay,” she replied before continuing with her breakfast. Elain stabbed a strawberry, popping it into her mouth. 

“If you want,” Rhysand said, entering the room, “you can write him a letter telling him that yourself. We can send it off today.” He plopped down next to his wife, his hand resting on her thigh. 

Suddenly Elain became shy. She wanted to see her mate, but had not thought of what they would do or what she would say once he arrived. “Can I just have Feyre write it?” She questioned, her fork snapping against the plate as a blueberry escaped the tines. 

Her sister gave her a questioning look, but complied anyways. Swallowing the last bite of her breakfast she said, “I’ll go write it now.“ 

Elain could hear bickering over the scrape of Rhys’s spoon on his ceramic oatmeal bowl. It really bothered her but she was too polite to ask him to try to avoid that horrid sound. Nesta came stomping down the stairs, already in a miserable mood, most likely thanks to the winged male trailing after her. 

"Come on, Nes. Just train with me once. It’ll be fun I promise,” Cassian drawled, smirking.

“No.” The eldest Archeron replied, grabbing an apple and heading to the sitting room. 

Cassian huffed, squeezing himself into the small seat between Elain and the High Lord, his giant wings spread out behind him. Even relaxed his wings stretched out to the side of Elain farthest from the commander. Azriel had once told her a secret she had to promise to keep. The commander’s wings were actually the smallest of the three Illyrians’. Once as young men, brimming with pride and narcissim, they had all compared wing spans. The Shadowsinger had them beat by a full inch, Cassian’s were just a quarter shorter than Rhys’s. They all agreed to never speak of it again, for Cassian’s sake. 

Elain munched on her fruit, only half paying attention to the Commander’s idle conversation with his brothers. She finished her fruit and a few bites of egg in silence, not really having anything of worth to add to the conversation, despite Azriel’s futile attempts to include her. 

She washed her plate and drained her glass before going to find her sister. “How’s the letter?” Elain asked, finding Feyre with papers in hand. 

“Oh, I sent that ten minutes ago. This is work,” she said, ruffling the papers in her hands. Even after the war the High Lord and Lady are swamped in work, possibly more than before. Elain thought they would have nothing to do.  "If he’s not that busy you can expect a reply in an hour or two.“

"But– how can the letters deliver so quickly? The spring court is so far away.” Elain asked, confusion crossing her delicate features. 

“Ah, there’s magic paper here. I just write my letter and off it goes, right into Lucien’s lap.”

“Oh. Can I go out to the garden?”

“Of course. You might want to change first, that’s a nice dress.” Feyre answered, barely taking her eyes off the papers. 

Elain left, going to her room. She put on a plain cream colored dress made of simple fabric. She quickly pulled her hair into a braid and fled to the garden. She could hear Nesta and Cassian’s bickering again– Feyre had said they were just teasing each other but to Elain it sounded a lot like fighting. 

She grabbed her gloves and wide brimmed hat from the bench by the garden entrance. Entering the garden, she placed her hands on her hips and sighed. Her garden quickly grew out of control over the short time they were away for the war. Even though she had been working like crazy there was still a lot to do. 

She started by weeding the beds of her evening primroses. They were her favorite flower native to the Night Court, they only bloomed at night. She got lost between the soil and stems, the next hour passing as quick as a minute. Elain barely accomplished anything, but Azriel was calling her in, telling her she would burn in the sun if she stayed much longer. Her forearms we’re already quite tan due to countless hours spent in her beloved garden, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. 

Not bothering to change, she nestled herself into a plush chair, Azriel in one next to her. “I’m so bored.” Elain sighed, throwing her feet over one arm rest. 

“Welcome to the immortal life,” the Shadowsinger replied. 

“Do you have any puzzles?” Elain inquired. 

“Puzzles?” Azriel quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that. Let’s go check.” They looked in the downstairs closet. After much rummaging they found a lovely garden scene puzzle that Elain insisted on putting together. 

They set it out on the coffee table in the sitting room. Sitting side by side, Elain didn’t notice Azriel smirking as his shadows intensified. She only took notice as the Shadowsinger placed piece after piece of the puzzle together.

“How are you so good at puzz-,” she gasped. “No! You can’t use your shadows, Az!” The female exclaimed, hitting Azriel’s arm.

Sure enough the Shadowsinger’s shadows we’re sliding over the pieces, pointing out the correct ones. “Why not?” He countered.

“That’s cheating!” Elain explained. 

“I didn’t know there were rules to puzzles.” Azriel replied, smirking slightly.

“Elain!” A voice called, followed by quick footsteps down the stairs. “A letter! From Lucien,” Feyre exclaimed, holding a letter above her head as she entered the room.  

Elain jumped up, taking the letter from her sister and falling into a chair. She opened it up, her eyes hungrily eating up every curve of her mates small yet elegant penmanship. As if Lucien knew Elain was reading the letter, she felt a small tug near her lower rib, the bond. She smiled as she read the beautiful, flowing script.

“Dear High Lady, 

Of course I would love to visit Elain. I’ve been waiting for this letter since I left. I’ve got just a few things left to finish up before I can come back to the Night Court. Please tell Elain I am ever looking forward to visiting, or better yet let her read this letter. You can expect me on Monday, unless something comes up. I will keep you updated on any developments. 

Well wishes, Lucien”

The next week went agonizingly slow for Elain. She spent her time lounging around, in her garden, doing puzzles with Azriel when he wasn’t working, and anticipating her mates arrival.

Finally the day had arrived and Elain was bouncing off the walls. The night before Nesta had braided her sisters damp hair. Elain’s golden brown hair now flowed down her shoulders like the gentle fountains in the garden. She wore a pale orange dress made of gauzy material, one Feyre had found for her in Velaris. 

She was waiting in the sitting room, reviewing the things she planned to say and ask. But when there was a light knock on the door and Nesta opened it to reveal the red-haired beauty behind it, Elain’s mind went blank. Nesta glared as Lucien walked in, stopping as his eyes met Elain’s. The Seer stood, but did not move closer even though it felt like every bone in her body was screaming for him. Her mate. 

“Hello, Elain,” Lucien greeted, smiling. “You look absolutely lovely.”

Elain faintly felt the blush climb up her cheeks as she responded, “Thank you, Lucien. You look nice yourself.”

Lucien cherished the way his name sounded when she said it. He didn’t pay attention to Nesta’s death glares as he drank in the site of his mate. A month and a half was too long to stay at the Spring Court.

Elain noticed Nesta open her mouth, no doubtedly going to threaten Lucien. Not wanting a battle of wits to ensue, she beat her sister to it. “Lucien, would you like to see the garden?” She had been working tirelessly, and for as long as she could bear the heat, to tidy up the garden enough that it would be presentable to Lucien. She planned spending the majority of their time there, the hovering of her sisters could be suffocating. 

“Of course,” Lucien replied, holding out his arm for her to take. She slipped her hand into the crooked of his elbow and allowed him to escort her to the garden. Elain certainly did not miss the glare Nesta continued to bore into her mate’s back.

“Can you give me a tour?” The ginger asked as they entered the garden.

“Certainly,” the female replied, allowing herself to move slightly in front of him so she could guide him around. She watched in silence as he marvelled at the beds of flowers and murmuring fountains. She couldn’t help but stare as the sun filled his russet eye and made it seem like it was liquid fire. The sun reflected off his golden eye, his brutal, pale scar contrasting with his darker skin. She admired his scar, what it meant, the story behind it (which he had told her before the war) and how it added a sense of something she couldn’t describe to his elegant features. 

He noticed her staring, so she quickly looked away, hiding her blush as she pointed to the evening primroses. She started rattling off facts, like it’s scientific name, preferred climate, how much shade it likes, how she found it fascinating that it only bloomed at night.

She showed him a spot where she had planted some candytuft, a flower native to the Autumn Court. It wasn’t quite in bloom yet, but when it was it would spill over the short brick wall of the raised flower bed. They spent an hour at least roaming the small garden, Elain telling him every fact she knew about the plants, and Lucien hung on to every word that tumbled from his mates pretty lips. Eventually they found their way back to a small bench underneath a big shade tree when the sun started to rise higher in the sky. 

“What was your childhood like?” Elain asked, her hand still wrapped around his arm. 

“Nothing spectacular. My brothers and I were always fighting. My mother threw lots of balls and parties so I had plenty of etiquette classes.”

“Did you ever learn any instruments? Azriel is trying to teach me how to play the piano, but I fear it’s not going too well." 

"Really? I’m sure it just takes time. I can play the harp, my mother insisted I learn.”

Elain giggled, thinking of her fiery mate playing such a delicate instrument, but somehow it seemed fitting. “If I have Feyre find a harp, will you play for me?" 

"I’ll try. I’m not sure I’ll be much good after a hundred years,” Lucien looked down at her, smiling slightly and admiring the way her hair glimmered. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Elain spoke again, quietly.

“What’s the Spring Court like? I hear they have magnificent gardens, but I don’t want to ask Feyre about it, not after the time she spent there.”

“It’s astounding. The whole manor smells like roses. They have amazing rose tea, and rose cake. Roses are really their thing. They have other flowers too, I’m not familiar with their names though. There’s rolling green hills as far as you can see, some covered in vibrant forests. The next time I go, you’re welcome to come along if you wish. That is of course if it were okay with Feyre, I’d keep you far away from Tamlin.” Lucien couldn’t help but smile as he watched Elain’s eyes light up as he described the beauty of spring. He couldn’t help but soften his usually sharp personality around Elain. He wanted nothing more than to shower her with affection and treat her like pure gold. 

“That would be lovely. I’ve never had rose tea before,” she paused for a minute. “And what of the Autumn Court? Do you ever wish to return? It must be beautiful.”

“It is, it’s stunning. The leaves act like stained glass in the forest, and sunlight filters through them in golden rays. If I ever go, I’ll make sure to bring you, too.”

Elain laughed. “It sounds wonderful. It also sounds like we have a lot of traveling to do.”

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it? And maybe while we’re at it we can see the Day Court, Helion must have beautiful flowers. And the Dawn Court is filled with dripping wisteria. I think you would love it.”

Elain’s delicate pink lips formed into a small frown, an act Lucien hated. He never wanted to see her frown again.

“What about you the Winter Court, Lu? They mustn’t have any green things.” Lucien’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the new nickname Elain had found for him. Lu. He dearly hoped she would continue the use of that one.

“Don’t fret, darling. I’m sure there’s at least one flower that blooms in the snow. If it really matters, Morrigan could ask Vivianne for you. Or you could write them yourself.”

“Yes, I’d like to do that. And maybe we could visit and I could bring them a house plant." 

Lucien couldn’t help but stare as Elain’s slender fingers played with her bottom lip, before he left for the Continent, he noticed it was something she did when deep in thought. 

"I think they’d love that, dear. It’s getting rather hot, would you like to go inside?” Lucien stood, offering his had to his mate.

“Yes. And maybe we could get some lunch. I was too nervous to eat much this morning,” Elain blushed at her confession, but followed the red-head inside, her tiny hand slipped into his larger one. 

Elain wasn’t sure what was in her future, and she didn’t think she’d like to know, if she ever found out how to control her visions. She’d like to be surprised at all the things waiting for her and Lucien, her mate. She did know that she was glad he was back. And could not wait to spend her days with him.

[archiveofidentityconstellations]

writing through the ages...

I basically wanted to share my writing and how it's progressed. It's a two-way challenge 1) Try to see if you can get through it 2) Try to see if you want to share your own version of your evolving writing. 

Age 12 (Tokyo Mew Mew crack fanfiction)

"Would you two shut-up!? You two are always arguing that nobody can enjoy working here anymore! I mean, COME ON!" Silence. Mint nodded, satisfied. Then it started back up again! Mint was about to scream when she had an idea. A gorgeous idea that would make everything alright again. A great idea! A glorious idea! And maybe a little evil… "Pudding," she whispered and gestured the others to come. She told them her little plan. They smirked. Pudding crept up to Ichigo and Ryou. With a yodel she pulled out some handcuffs and placed them around Ryou and Ichigo's hands. "PUDDING! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?" they screamed in unison. Pudding tapped her foot and glared. "We are all sick of you yelling and screaming that we decided to take action. You two have to stay chained together for a day. That's our punishment to you!" "Are you serious?" "YES!" exclaimed everyone that it nearly made an earthquake. Ryou and Ichigo shrunk back. Looks like they were stuck doing this…

At school…

Ryou looked over Ichigo's math problem. He sighed. Ichigo turned to look at him. "What's the problem?" "I never realized you were this dumb, baka strawberry." "Shut-up! If you'reso smart than do it youself!" "I'm not falling for that old trick. Your work, you do it!" "It would help if you weren't contradicting me at every move I make!" Ryou looked away and Ichigo went back to her problem. He chuckled. "You are doing it all wrong, baka!" "SHUT-UP!" Everyone turned to look at Ichigo, who blushed. "Momomiya! Is something wrong!" reprimanded the teacher. "Yes, can I go to the school nurse?"

With the nurse…

"It seems like nothing is wrong with you," the nurse told the couple. "But why are you stuck together?" "Our therapist thinks we have anger problems!" exclaimed Ichigo. "Yeah, and she's only eleven!" Ryou screamed, referring about Pudding. "Which we don't!" "That's right!" The nurse seemed a bit dizzy, then replied, "Maybe she thought you were a bit emotional and needed to understand each other." "Why would we would need to do that!?" "We both understand that we hate each other!" The nurse smiled. "See, you're already understanding each other!" "ARRGGHHHHH!" they cried. The nurse looked a puffed and frazzled. When she got a hold of herself she urged, "Well, if there is anything I can do please tell me." "Absolutely nothing at all," Ryou brushed her away. Ichigo turned to go but stopped. "Actually," she turned. "Yes?" The poor nurse asked. "Do you have a saw?"

-

"Be careful," cautioned Ryou. "I'm being as careful as I can!" Ichigo snapped. "What if you chop my hand off?" "Oh, that's all right! Now quit complaining!" "Look, why don't I use the saw? I'm stronger than you." "Then YOU will chop MY hand off!" Ichigo had a saw in one hand, trying to break the chain. Ryou was trying to grasp it, when she dropped it on the road. ZOOM! A car whizzed by. CRACK! The saw broke. Both of their mouths opened into a perfect O. "You baka! This all your fault!" Ryou moaned. "MY fault!? If you didn't lock me in the closet we wouldn't be in this mess!" They continued to argue, then Ryou made up his mind to do something. He dragged Ichigo while she exclaimed, "Where are you going?!" "To the café. We're going to tell them to take this off and we won't take 'no' for an answer!"

Age 14 (original abandoned story)

I walked down the hall, scuffing my feet on the floor. Squeak, squeak. The tip of my shoes squealed in protest. I can never decide if I like the squeaking sound or not. In a way, it's so obnoxious, squeaking when it should be silent. But on the other hand, it's comforting. Letting me know that it's there for me. Even when it should be silent. I gave a half-hearted spin and sighed. It has been a three months since Terra had left for the desert-survival task. We, Jett and Kyle and I, hadn't heard from her. No messages. No communication. Zip. Squeak, squeak. Not that we expected much. Her current living conditions were barren desert land. But she was Terra. Terra could do anything, even when things seemed impossible. She had aced every exam, beat every trainer, fooled all the pig-headed directors. All with a raise of one eyebrow. I stopped walking, momentarily pondering over this. Everyone knew Cawlwig had hacked her name into the list. She was too young--twelve--to even go on a survival task. It should have been illegal. Not that, I realized, that had ever stopped the Academy before. Main object, Cawlwig was her enemy. Cawlwig wanted her broken. Wanted her dead. I started walking again, trying not to think of death as a possibility. Squeak, squeak. Why? I don't know why. Terra had made an enemy of a pompous, yet powerful man. How had she done it? My best guess is that she knew his secrets. And she could plan his downfall. Squeak, squeak. Squeak, squeak. Squeak, squ-- A hand reached out and grabbed me. Before I could react, an object (bat or leg) hit me hard in the back of my knees, decapitating me of defense. Collapsing, I was dragged into a dark room, door slamming away the sunlight. Darn. My squeaky shoes betrayed me.

Age 19 -- I had stopped writing for a long while, but took it up again when I turned 19 (same original abandoned story)

The mud oozed through his shoes. Jett fleetingly thought of his time in Ireland, pushing the large, inky-green leaves away from his head. They were in a forest such as the one he inhabited now (though considerably less humid) and had gotten lost. After a considerable amount of boredom and walking, they had given up on and played Fly and Web. Jett slapped his neck at a mosquito, wiping his fingers against his wet pants to clear away the blood. All was well until Mirage had a turn as Fly and fell into a stream. He grinned. The sound of her scream would be remembered for eternity. In truth, it was the mud that had her near tears. She stammered about bacteria and parasites and overall uncleanliness while he and Kyle laughed hysterically at the stream’s ridge. Terra took one look at her and the next moment was against a tree in silent snickers. He shouldered some low-hanging branches out of the way. Those times spent with his team were good. They were home to him. His lips frowned on their own accord while his chest tightened. Home. Where he’d be if he wasn’t in the forsaken Amazon rainforest, trying to make his way to a communication station with a group of equally forsaken Miners. His hands twisted around his belt holster. It’d been a while. To be honest, Jett hadn’t been counting the days since the attack. There had been a close-calls from then until now, but the lot of them had been able to stay safe for a the time being. In fact, one could even say that it had been… His eyes narrowed. The forest was quiet. Too quiet. His feet stopped. The Miners behind him noticed and stilled, reaching for their guns with one hand and clicking on their siwatch on the other. They were Spyders. They knew the danger of a single misspent second. The Wardens, on the other hand… “Commander,” Jett whispered hoarsely. The man paid him no heed, crashing through the underbrush with his second in command, Eskil. “Commander,” Jett said louder, tone imperative. Boucher turned around, face drawn in stern lines. He spat, “What is it, forty-sev–” BOOM! Gun fire blasted across the forest, sparks alighting like fireflies. A snarl of animal-might shook the ground. Vines gave way to life, twirling like snakes. Shouts of agony replaced the gunfire as more and more Miners went down. “Take cover!” Jett pushed the retreat, yanking Claude away from a vine. A laugh echoed throughout the forest, deep as the shadows between the trees. “Come out,” the voice purred. Dacia’s breath caught in her throat. Jett caught her wide eyes and shook his head. “Don’t do anything,” he mouthed. The voice became more insistent. “Come out.” They lay against the mud, heads perched behind a fallen log, still as death without so much as a heaving breath. Their fallen comrades lay in the wooded meadow beyond, sun flickering over their skin like lace. “Come out.” Silence. “I won’t ask again.” They inhaled. THUMP. Dacia’s hands fisted the dirt. A shudder ran through them all. Boucher rolled over onto his stomach, cocking his gun. “Stand up,” he ordered them gruffly. No one moved. THUMP. “Stand up,” he ordered again. Xing drew closer to the ground, shakily twisting his Radiors. He met Jett’s eyes; Jett shook his head. “Stand up.” Lilka drew her head unto Ghazi’s shoulder, tears getting caught on her pale eyelashes. THUMP. “Stand up!” “You stand up,” Juan hissed, dark eyes gleaming like molten lava. Boucher cocked his gun. “Stand up,” he commanded, jaw tight and voice lethal, “or I’ll shoot you.” Silence. THUMP. The atmosphere muffled. Dacia shook beside him. Claude went rigid. THUMP. Jett’s eyes never left the gun. Boucher leveled it at each of them individually, finally resting on the Elder boy. THUMP. Jett didn’t hesitate. “Go ahead.” Boucher’s eyes narrowed. An inhuman roar rippled throughout the air. The log rose and splintered, a weapon that plunged into the slow ones. Lilka screamed. Xing stood, throwing his helios at the figure charging at them. Taur. They almost missed, but clipped Taur in the shoulder. He growled and knocked Xing to the ground. “RUN!” Xing instructed them breathlessly. A snap sounded and he went still. Jett wasted no time. “To the river!” he shouted. The remaining Miners rushed forth, throwing their packs behind. The vines withered and whipped around, slithering around necks and thrusting into limbs. Eskil was caught in a web of vines, struggling like an insect. Zinara crawled down the branches, tendrils of red hair contrasting against green. She shook her head, eyes displaying a racing storm of anger. “I told you,” she thundered as she cracked vines on and through Eskil. “I told you!” The poor man bubbled with gasps of pain. Boucher turned, paused for a moment. “Eskil,” he breathed. Juan shoved him forward, shouting, “No time!” Taur plowed behind the group like a cannon. Jett could feel the Jabber’s hot breath on his neck. His lungs burned. He couldn’t give up. He had to return. He had to return to Diana. Diana. Taur snorted, hand encompassing Jett’s shoulder. “Jett!” He turned, quick as a flash and blasted electricity into the man’s left eye. Taur screamed, hand working to aid his visual appendage. He screamed again as the electricity struck his hand and worked up his arm. “Taur!” Zinara gasped, leaving Eskil behind. The plant Talent hesitated; aid her partner, or go after the perpetrator? Jett didn’t wait to find out.

Age 21 (original vignette) 

Crreeeaakk. “You can’t even imagine how much I hate you right now.” The eyelashes don’t flutter. There is no sharp gulp. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Stumbling legs, curses, laughter, and one broken stool. “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to vomit.” “Hah.” Shrugging off the sweater. “You would like that, wouldn’t you.” The brow doesn’t furrow. Gentle hands simply fold the sweater and set it on the nearby dresser. “You should drink some water before you go to bed.” “I’m fine.” “You might get a headache–” “Stop.” Whipcrack. “Just…stop.” The bed groans with the added weight. “I hate you so much, you know.” No reply. “You’re so…good. Why are you so good? Why couldn’t you have left some room for the rest of us? Why did you have to stand up on that pedestal with your shiny halo and look down on us filthy nothings?” Car lights illuminate the room through the front window. They are quiet, for a time. A cleared throat. “Your neighbor is heading to work?” “Carol works night shift. Just getting back.” The mumble is dry, like sandpaper and yes, water is needed and wanted but damn that sentiment. A nod. “You could have…the least you could have done was stayed. That way I could have yelled at you and seen you for all that you were. That way I wouldn’t be stuck with memories of you being so good and perfect and not here.” The clear stare, neither condemning nor pitying. “I mean, damn.” Cold hands fisted in hair. “That’s the least you could have done.” The sky is lightening, and the birds are beginning to chirp in that sort of way that promise new beginnings, but you know that those beginnings are not for you. Never for you. Whatever. Dusk is preferred anyway. The sun starts to shine, filtered between sleepy lids and eyelashes. A soft breath. “You should get some sleep.” A half nod, head buried into knees. “Hey.” “Yeah?” “I love you.” Sometimes, smiles can be felt. “I love you too.” The pillows feel soft instead of grating. A deep breath. Blinking. One last look before the pull of the unconscious. No one in the room. A snort as the eyelids close. “The least you could have done.”

So yeah. I wanted to share because I thought it was a good idea to show people how you always keep moving, even when it doesn't feel like it. 

If anybody else wants to try this challenge, please do! ^.^

[thefuturistknows]

Some Prayers Never Know | May 29, 2016

It's everything you wanted It's everything you don't

It's one door swinging open And one door swinging closed

Some prayers find an answer Some prayers never know

We're holding on and letting go 

Holding On and Letting Go >> Ross Copperman

Steve was at Tony’s door barely ten minutes after he had gotten back home that night. Tony had been waiting for him, not because Steve had given word that he’d come, but because he’d asked JARVIS to keep him apprised of Tony’s arrival, and JARVIS had in turn relayed that to Tony, because that’s what he did. Tony preferred to have the final word as to whether someone would know he’d gotten back to the Tower or not. That night, he was fine with Steve knowing.

“You better not have a whole surprise party hiding behind you this time,” Tony said with a debonair smirk when he opened the door. “I was about to change and go to bed.”

(He wouldn’t have said that if he knew Steve was pulling another surprise party.)

(He’d checked.)

“Look, the only reason why there isn’t one is because you said you were busy but you were too vague for me to plan anything around it.”

Yes, indeed, Tony had finally talked to Damien again this afternoon.

“But if you’re tired, we can just do this tomorrow…”

“Nice try.” Tony stepped aside, inviting Steve in with a flourish of his hand. He’d noted Steve was carrying a transparent plastic box with a dozen cupcakes. “I see frosting. You’re staying.”

Tony was tired, truth be told. Seeing Damien again and apologizing had been stressful, even if it’d also been successful, all things considered. At least on the surface, anyway – Tony knew he would dissect every detail of this afternoon. He’d already started. Maybe that was why he’d let Steve in instead of just “going to bed.”

They ended up settling on either side of the island in Tony’s kitchen, with the cupcake box sitting on the countertop between them. The frosting came in Iron Man colors. Tony pretended to be annoyed when Steve whipped an unopened pack of birthday candles from his back pocket, then he watched Steve as he placed one candle on each cupcake and lit them up while telling the story of the 87-year-old baseball fan he’d met at the store.

“Sounds like your type of girl.”

“Very funny.”

He looked well, actually. Steve. He looked happy. Tony might even say Steve looked happy to be here, with him. If he’d allow himself that much optimism. And he did for a second there, while he blew out the candles.

Steve reached for a cupcake after Tony did. Tony had been about to open the drawer to get a fork, but then he stopped to watch as Steve separated the bottom of his cupcake from the rest using his fingers.

“Oh, God, you’re one of those people.”

Steve flipped the cupcake so that the frosting was sandwiched between the two halves.

“You’re not?”

“I like to think of myself as ‘civilized.’”

Steve scoffed.

“It’s called the ‘gentleman way’ of eating cupcakes.”

Now Tony scoffed.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is, I saw it on WikiHow.”

“You googled ‘how to eat cupcakes?’”

“That’s not the point.”

“If you needed Google to help you eat a cupcake without making a mess, that’s exactly my point.”

“It was years ago, I was testing the limits of the Internet.”

Tony chuckled.

“You wouldn’t believe the stuff I googled.”

“Please don’t tempt me to browse your history.”

For one second Steve looked genuinely mortified, like he’d just remembered Tony had the power to do exactly that while standing there and he wouldn’t even know. Tony leaned a hand against the countertop then used the other to reach into a drawer and grab a fork.

“What are you doing?”

Tony had been about to pick at some of the frosting using the fork.

“I’m wearing a nice shirt, okay.”

“I can’t believe this, you just tried to judge the way I eat cupcakes.”

“Yeah, if you’d gotten here while I was in my pajamas, then we’d be cupcake heathens together. Until then…” Tony took a forkful of frosting to his mouth. “I’m wearing a nice shirt.”

They spent a few seconds eating in silence – Steve finished his sandwich and Tony cleaned more than half the frosting off the top of his cupcake – until Steve couldn’t help his chuckle.

“You know, I can deal with a lot. I dealt with it the day you had to sit down to eat your hot dog off a plate using silverware–”

“Same situation. Nice clothes. Middle of my work day, come on.”

“I dealt with your no-ketchup-on-pasta-under-any-circumstances rule—”

“It’s not my rule, it’s a pasta rule.”

(An Italian rule, actually – or his mother’s rule, as far as Tony cared for it at all.)

“But a line’s gotta be drawn somewhere. I think I’m drawing it at cupcakes and silverware.”

“This is way more normal than the hot dog thing.”

“It’s sad, are you just not gonna eat the cake?”

“I will eat the cake, I just like giving the two parts, uh, individualized attention.”

Steve kept looking at him. Tony eventually dropped his fork with an, “All right, fine,” and used his index finger to scoop some frosting off the cupcake.

“I swear, if anything happens to this particular Ralph Lauren, that’s on you.”

Steve stopped mid-chuckle when Tony licked the frosting off his finger. He caught some with his thumb as well, and sucked it for a second. Then back to the index finger.

“What?”

He’d noticed Steve was looking again.

“Nothing.”

“Wrong answer.” Tony sucked the last of the frosting from his index finger. “Say something. I need to be distracted from how disgusting this is, I can only do that if I’m busy and already under nineteen layers of garage grime or having sex--”

Steve cleared his throat at the last part.

“Nineteen – why nineteen layers?”

“What?” Tony had picked up the rest of the cupcake and was tearing the paper off the bottom.

“Nineteen layers of grime?”

“It’s a random number.”

“Oh.”

“I do that all the time.”

“It’s just that you being you, I thought…” Steve waved dismissively with his hand before reaching for a new cupcake. “I thought there might be something technical about how you use your fingers – I mean, numbers.”

Tony put down his half-eaten cupcake again, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

“Are you okay? You look a bit…”

Nervous?

“Uh, it’s fine.”

Steve put his second cupcake down as well, then leaned both his hands on the countertop. Bit into his bottom lip. Shrugged. Smiled. Tony looked at him, the fading bite marks on his pink lips and the blush across his cheek bones and the contrast between his skin and his eyes and the way his eye lashes caught the artificial light and

Steve scrunched his nose.

“Tony…”

Suddenly self-aware, Tony looked down to his own chest and finally realized he’d been absent-mindedly wiping his fingers on his shirt.

“Oh, God – damn it – see, this is exactly why I have strict rules for nice clothes–”

Tony left his spot and moved toward the sink, even though the damage to the shirt had been minimum. He took it off anyway, revealing the gray tank top underneath. Steve cleared his throat again, loudly enough to make Tony look at him from over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. Have you been working out?”

Tony faced forward again and dropped his shirt into the sink.

“A little.” He turned the faucet on. “Don’t get jealous. I’m getting ready for when you have time for me again.”

“I always have time for you. I mean – when you… want.”

Tony watched the shirt getting soaked for a moment before he decided he didn’t care that much. He turned around. Steve had turned too, and they were facing each other without the kitchen island between them.

“The point is, you look good – better.”

Tony smiled, leaning the small of his back back against the sink.

“Happier.”

“I am.”

He wasn’t lying, and the smile wasn’t fake. That was probably the big difference between looking good and being happy.

“And the hair… too, did you do something?”

Tony’s smile faded.

“Hold on. Does the hair look different in the ‘actually looks different’ kind of way, or in the kind of way where you’ve got something embarrassing catching on your throat so you just spit out something about the hair? I do that with Pepper all the time.”

“Well—”

“I’m not putting you on the spot, it’s a legitimate question—”

“Darker?”

“Well, yeah, but can you tell because you can tell or is it just because you’re staring—”

“Are you looking for a specific answer?”

“No, it’s–” Tony combed his bangs back with one hand then stepped away from the sink. “I had it dyed a shade darker, but it’s supposed to, you know. To be part of a gradual transition, I want to skip the part where everyone’s all ‘oh wow, you did something to your hair’ – you know --”

Tony got back to his original spot, the kitchen island between him and Steve.

“Because if people can tell I’m having my hair dyed at my age, well, they’re gonna know why.”

He chuckled. (This one was a bit forced.)

“Well, no, it--”

“I’m taking it to full black.” More like his mother’s. “I mean, I might as well, the brown’s going away anyway – Pepper kind of did this, you know? It’s how I got the idea, but she went from redhead to blonde. It was kind of uncanny, actually, like one day she’s a redhead, right. Like full orange head of ‘absolutely sure she’s a redhead.’ And then one day I look, and it’s like – blonde? Strawberry blonde? And when did that happen? I couldn’t even tell–”

Another chuckle, a nervous one. He was ranting. Why was he ranting?

(Also, he missed Pepper.)

“It’s just like watching my kids grow, you know, you see them a lot so it’s not like you catch it happening, but one day they’re babies, and yesterday Leia almost strung a whole sentence together--”

“Oh, so – Thor’s.”

Tony had been looking to the side while reminiscing, but now he looked at Steve again.

“What?”

“I was wondering which kids, you said yours, so--”

“Obviously I just slipped.”

“Sorry.” Tony blinked his gaze away briefly to breathe out his sudden defensiveness. “It’s not that obvious, you have a small army – ‘my kids’ is usually the Haven kids. I was just wondering.”

“It’s fine – I wouldn’t talk about watching the Haven kids grow, you know, if I’m watching them grow while needing my homeless shelter, that’s—”

“Right. Yeah.”

“It’s not cute. And when I say ‘my’ I don’t mean it as in, you know, ‘mine,’ I mean ‘mine’ as in… well, somebody else’s, but--”

“Sorry. I know it’s a sore subject.”

“I’m not sore. It’s just a – subject.”

Tony hadn’t been able to reestablish eye contact yet, he was focusing on using the fork from before to pick at the frosting of one of the cupcakes still in the box.

“Tony.”

“Do you ever wonder?”

He looked up, and dropped the fork.

“I mean, just… idle fantasizing. Everyone does it, right?”

He would love to adopt a kid. One that was old enough to realize what was happening, and maybe too old to be adopted by somebody else.

“I mean, when you go and look at Thor and Jane, do you… wish…” Tony shrugged. “You know, the whole nine yards with the kids and…”

“Sometimes.”

Tony kept his eyes on Steve until Steve cracked a smile to save face.

“Does this mean I’m officially allowed to have all sorts of embittered senior citizen conversations with you now, no judgments?”

“You’ll be great at it,” Tony said. He ignored the joke. “At the whole nine yards.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you don’t deserve to have it.”

“Who told that to you?”

Tony smiled, a little bitterly, then looked to the side. He’d told that to himself. He knew Steve knew the answer to that question.

“The general conclusion is I’m right and you should listen to me.”

He finally grabbed his second cupcake from the box.

“You know, Tony, even if it feels like it’s too late, it’s not. Trust me on that one.”

Tony didn’t say anything at first, he picked some of the red sprinkles from the cupcake with his fingers.

“I can see you as—”

“— somebody eating all the cupcakes left on my own?” Tony looked up at him, smiling again. “Wrong picture. You’re the one with the creepy metabolism, you have a moral duty to help me here.”

Steve took the hint, and reached for another cupcake. They changed topics, and Tony eventually got back to not faking his smiles.

[ecotone99]

[RF] The Arc of a dream

Lhotsa pushed open the door with a fling of her arm. Exiting the cold, conditioned air of the library, she stepped out into the bright rays of the mid-day sun. The heat seemed to penetrate her body causing an uncontrollable tightness in her chest and limbs. She was not one to complain about the sudden change in temperature. She took pride in her presence of mind to notice how her body acclimated to the outdoors, having spent most of the morning wandering through the climate controlled library. It was her favorite place to go after all. Being amongst the books filled her with wonder and joy. There were so many voices, so many stories - some true, some fantasy - each of them windows into the minds of their authors. What an incredible life it must be to craft a story with such depth, color and wholeness; a universe imagined in the mind. To Lhotsa, the most powerful thing a person could do was use their words to pull a reader out of their daily life and put them in the middle of a story imagined by someone else. Even the most mundane non-fiction works required the author to cultivate a sense of setting. After all, the words that tell a story are nothing more than black letters arranged on a contrasted white page. With the exception of children's books, the stories had no visual to force the reader to see the world exactly as the author intended. Each person brings their own imagination, built upon a lifetime of unique experience to the book guided by the author's creativity.

Lhotsa pushed ahead into the heat. Her feet pounding the sidewalk in a confident, headstrong pace. Her top, loose and billowy, flared behind her in a sail of pastel colored silk. Her frantic pace pulled the front of her blouse close to her skin, now dampening with sweat. She held her head high with a smile of contentment and subtle mischief. Across her right shoulder she held a large canvas bag emblazoned with the now faded logo of the 1999 International Book Fair. The bag was filled with the spoils of her library visit; books weighing the bag down until the straps dug into the flesh of her shoulder. It wasn't uncomfortable for Lhosta to carry a load like this. She was energized by what lay ahead. The anticipation of curling up on her couch, tattered and stained from her college parties, overpowered her sense of discomfort. In fact, she drew strength from the thought of pouring her body, mind and soul into a new book. It was a wonderful feeling for Lhotsa when she completely engulfed herself in a good story. She could disassociate from the banalities of daily life. Wether she was reading of swordsmen and wizards or crafty, if not a little disturbed, detectives hot on the tail of their criminal prey, Lhotsa felt the absorption of her existence as a welcome relief from responsibility.

What most fueled Lhotsa was escapism from her beige life. Born to middle-class Midwestern parents she grew up in a forgetful suburban town in a forgetful suburban house. A forgetful suburban childhood eventually gave way to a forgetful suburban life. Her parents weren't exciting. Lhotsa's mother got pregnant and never finished college. She married Lhotsa's father and settled into whatever mindless work would allow her to spend a few more hours tending to her kids. Lohtsa's father was a dreamer but lacked all ambition to do anything about it. He grew up with his nose buried in National Geographic magazines, drawn to the world that existed too far away to see. While his wanderlust never faded, he ended up parking those plans for another day. He worked too many hours as some sort of accountant, or was it in purchasing? Lhotsa never truly understood what her father did for a living and she never cared to know more.

It was her father who gave her the name Lhotsa. He saw the name pop out from the well worn pages of a National Geographic he was reading for the hundredth time. This particular issue was one of his favorites. In it was a full two-page spread of the Himalayan mountain range. He immersed himself in the photos of snowy, bearded faces of Sherpas peeking out behind the layers of their coats. Her father could transport himself away from his meager life to the highest peaks of K2, Everest, and Everest's sister peak Lhotsa. To be climbing the last few steps towards the summit of these mountains at the top of the world was the farthest place he could possibly be from his suburban life and his suburban wife.

Lhotsa eventually grew to accept her name and eventually found pride in it's uniqueness. That's not to say she didn't have her share of frustration as a child. Her teachers would look at her pale skin and strawberry blond hair and wonder if their roster somehow was wrong. It wasn't everyday that the "All American Girl" had an ethnic name. When she was out, inevitably someone would assume her darker skinned friends carried her name. As she entered college the world opened up. The constraints and stereotypes rampant in suburbia hell fell away to an uncomfortable liberalism. The tolerance of all backgrounds felt more like an undercurrent of anxiety. Were people genuine in their acceptance or were they simply too fragile to accept they might offend someone that they shielded themselves behind political correctness? Lhotsa couldn't tell but in the end she accepted the change in setting. It was in college that she also found her place amongst the books.

Lhotsa was a fair student at best. Her mind wandered aimlessly through most of her classes. The large lecture halls were particularly painful for her. She felt stifled, claustrophobic, despite the relatively large space. She was alone in a sea of faces, untethered, afraid she would float away if she didn't hang on tight. The anxiety of anonymity overwhelmed her. Lhotsa needed grounding.

Story was important to her, she could relate to a subject if there was story behind it. History was easier for her even if it wasn't her favorite subject. At least history was full of characters, action, and a sense of setting. Math made her skin crawl. She was overwhelmed, anxious, and stressed when faced with numbers. Of all of her classes, Lhotsa was drawn to literature most of all. It was in her literature class that she finally felt free. Her mind found a place to rest within the books they were reading. Finally, found what she was unaware she was searching for. The light pierced through her mental fog, casting it's beam on a life she wanted to live fully within. And so, in her freshman literature class, Lhotsa's dream to become an author bloomed from the seed planted within her soil so long ago.

It seemed to her that these thought came poking up whenever she visited the library. As much as Lhotsa loved her books, it was always a reminder that she left her dream to write her own books behind as life moved forward. Lhotsa shook her head to clear the clouds of doubt rolling through her mind. She realized she was about to step off the curb. She had spent the last few blocks completely inside her head again. Her spirit was full of stories, especially those that guide her perception of herself; often negative and critical. How many times had she peered up to realize the clock shifted ahead by hours? How many times did she retreat into her mind while riding the subway to work? Her instincts and muscle memory the only guides to ensuring she didn't miss her stop. It was the gift she inherited from her dad, to forever lost in thought.

Lhotsa criticized herself for holding childish dreams. Writing wasn't a way to make a living unless you were someone famous like Stephen King. Or was he rich and famous because he put the work in and struggled early in his career? It was a dichotomy Lhotsa immediately felt uncomfortable with. How could she realistically step away from her life to pour herself into writing and find a way to survive? How else could she achieve her dream of becoming an author if she didn't start by giving herself the freedom to begin? It is risky to step into the unknown. Instead, Lhotsa lived as a successful writer in her head where it was safe to exist away from the constraints of reality.

As she waited for the crosswalk signal to change she listened to the sounds of the city around her. Underneath the layers of car horns, honks and the constant roar of traffic she found the subtle song of a bird cheerily sharing its voice with the world, unaware and uncaring of the stress of human life. To the bird there was no dream left unfulfilled, no life to escape from, there was only this moment, full of its own beauty, to which it could contribute its song. As Lhotsa focused her attention on the bird song she released the tightness that had found its way into her shoulders. She repositioned the bag of books and gently rubbed the spot where the strap had pressed into her skin. If I could only find the peace of presence the bird has, then I would be happy, she thought to herself.

Traffic slowed and the crosswalk signaled it was safe for her to cross. Lhotsa's pace had slowed. Her feet shuffled across the sidewalk. The confident spring in her step was left behind her. Somewhere along her path, the energy and excitement she felt as she stepped out of the library stopped as she marched on. This happened occasionally to Lhotsa. She would lose touch with joy when she retreated inside her mind. It was an easy slip if she wasn't paying attention. She had convinced herself that her dreams were not practical. They remained safe as dreams, tucked into the recesses of her heart where she could shield them from failure and criticism. Left unrealized, her dreams slowly ate away at her. Lhotsa would never climb her Everest. Instead she let her dreams slowly wilt.

Lhotsa pressed on, finally reaching her building. Along her path she let her inner voice convince her yet again that she couldn't become who she wanted to be. She resigned herself to a life of guessing what could have been. The air slowly leaked out of her as had happened too many times to count. The lobby door felt heavier than normal as she meekly opened it. Her physical strength flowed out with the receding tide of her strength of will. The cold air blasted her skin causing a chill to radiate over her body, stinging her chest and back, now slick with sweat. The shock of the temperature change shook her out of her sadness. Life wasn't bad after all. She remembered that just upstairs was her lovely small apartment, her cozy warm couch and an escape into the fantastic imaginations of the authors who's books she carries. Her dreams may have blossomed and died on her walk, but they will bloom again. Maybe next time she will grab hold and not let go.

submitted by /u/DcCaps [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2YdqmWo

[itsworn]

The story of Rob Ruska’s 1990 Mustang GT is more than skin deep

Unless your mom and dad stuck to utilitarian vehicles, you most likely have a love towards any cool cars they ever drove. If they drove mini-vans or giant station wagons…well, you might not have been in a rush to go out and buy one after getting your drivers license. However, as impressionable youth, if they drove something even remotely cool, that’s what we wanted once we were street legal.

If we did want a car just like mom or dad, most of us would have to settle for a car similar to what our parents had, but in Rob Ruska’s case, this is the car his dad owned. Yes, the exact one.

“I remember the day my dad brought it home,” Rob tells us about his dad’s 1990 Mustang GT. “I was 10 years old,” he adds. Both his mom and dad took the GT to track days at Watkins Glen. At 12 years old, Rob was the car’s crew, checking tire pressure, fluid levels, and the like.

Want to hear the most asked question Rob gets at a show? “What color is that?” If you’ve been wondering then here’s the answer. It’s DuPont Hot Hues Candy Apple Red with a custom Silver base. Sounds easy enough, but other than the two colors, that’s all we have. Just to see what the car would look like without them, Rob removed all the GT side skirts and rear bumper cover to, “See how it would look,” he says. Once Rob was okay with how the car looked, Retro Designs of Concord, North Carolina handled the rest of the body work and paint, smoothing the area below the moldings in the process. You’re looking closer at the body now aren’t you? The finishing touch on the car is a set of SVE Series 1 Liquid gold 18×9/18×10 front/rear wheels, finished off with Nitto Invo treads. To bring the car to a stop, Rob relies on Wilwood discs at each corner.

Unfortunately, Rob’s dad Ivars Ruska was struck with cancer, and the car sat while he battled for his life. Eventually, Rob’s dad would lose his battle, and pass away on August 30, 2011. “Hours after my dad passed, I pulled the car out and did the most epic burnout in front of the house,” Rob says.

Having moved to North Carolina previous to his dad’s passing, Rob took the car back to tobacco road with him, and drove it for two months before tearing it apart. Being in the car industry all of his life, working in stereo shops, doing window tint and paint protection, and current partner and manager of Sunstoppers Lake Norman location, Rob knew he couldn’t leave the car the way it was. Rob initially just planned on an engine rebuild, and new paint, but like his dad, cancer had taken over a few key areas in the form of rust. To get the GT back in fighting shape, Retro Designs cut out the rusty shock towers, replacing them with good metal and smoothing the engine bay in the process.

To fix the faded and rusted Wild Strawberry body, Retro Designs got after the exterior, smoothing the body below the molding line, fitting the Cervini’s hood, and applying fresh paint. Instead of going back with Wild Strawberry, which his dad chose because it matched the flag of Latvia where Ivars was born and raised, Rob chose to change things up a bit by choosing a custom color combining a custom silver base with DuPont Hot Hues Candy Red. The result is simply amazing. Whenever Rob has the car at a show, the paint mesmerizes those in attendance, ultimately leading to the question, “What color is that?” And to us, the car’s SVE Series 1 wheel in Liquid gold is the perfect peanut butter to the body’s jelly. Up front are 18×9 examples with 18x10s out back, all wrapped in Nitto Invo treads.

Besides the paint on Rob’s GT, the other thing separating the car from every other Fox is the way it sounds. Sounding more like a rowdy big-block, Rob’s GT has a Prestige Motorsports-built 347 stroker with a new block, an Eagle crank, Scat forged connecting rods, SRP pistons, a custom Comp cam, a Melling oil pump, and a 10:1 compression ratio. Edelbrock E-Street aluminum heads with Scorpion roller rockers make a nice resting place for an Edelbrock intake and Quick Fuel Technology SS-650 carburetor. An MSD Digital 6AL ignition with a Blaster coil and Ford Performance spark plug wires make sure the engine has fire, while a Quick Fuel Technology mechanical fuel pump provides the go-juice. Circling back to the exhaust, Rob’s GT uses BBK Performance long-tube headers, an H-pipe, and living up to their name, SLP LoudMouth II mufflers with Flowmaster tailpipes.

When it comes to Fox Mustangs, the red interior gets no respect. It’s probably the least favorite color interior. As such, most are ripped out and replaced with black guts. Rob hasn’t quite made the complete transformation, but we think it has just the right amount of contrast with black carpet, Corbeau seats, black and red dash, Hurst shifter, LMR cupholder console, custom cage, and a Florida 5.0 dash filled with Auto Meter Sport Comp gauges.

Back to Rob’s initial plan of rebuilding the car’s tired engine, Rob added a Prestige Motorsports-built 347 with a sound as breathtaking as the car’s exterior. Prestige started from scratch to put together the car’s powerplant, and Rob backed it with a T5 transmission, McLeod clutch, Pro-5.0 shifter, and the car’s stock driveshaft. To help make the most of that 347, the 8.8 rearend has 4.10 gears in it, but Rob is thinking about a more street-friendly 3.55 in the future, along with an aluminum driveshaft.

Chassis-wise, the car needed plenty to make sure it was structurally ready for the newfound power. Up front, Rob added a Team Z Motorsports K-member with Maximum Motorsports front control arms and coilover springs, Bilstein struts, and Wilwood disc brakes. Out back, the Maximum Motorsports theme continues with the company’s adjustable upper and lower control arms combined with Bilstein shocks, H&R springs, and an Eibach sway bar. Even more strength comes in the form of a custom roll cage and Maximum Motorsports subframe connectors.

“The car is fun, loud, powerful, and handles like a dream,” Rob says of the finished product. “It also has that old school race car feel at the same time,” he adds. The car made its debut at Mustang Week 2016, where Rob met the right people to make it a regular at other big shows like Foxtoberfest and Ponies in the Smokies.

When we asked Rob what he likes best about his car, he says, “The history and story behind it, being my dad’s car.” We also asked him if it would ever be for sale, to which he answered, “Hell no!”

Rob would like to thank Doug Aitken from Prestige Motorsports, Manir Karim from Our Dream Auto Restorations, Caleb Hendricks from Foxcast, Mike Clay and the Mustang Week staff for putting on such a great event, Harris Lue for taking these pics, and “all my Fox body friends,” Rob says. Most of all, though, Rob would like to thank his wife Andrea, and sons Connor and Kyle for their support during the car’s build.

The post The story of Rob Ruska’s 1990 Mustang GT is more than skin deep appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/story-rob-ruskas-1990-mustang-gt-skin-deep/ via IFTTT