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eldritch-spouse · 3 months ago

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Next part to [this series]

[Minors DNI][Fem reader][Interactive poll!]

TW: Kidnapping; Descriptions of gore.

He watches you put the cup back down.

It had been a bad decision to give you a taste of such. Hudsyn can admit that much.

Could he be blamed however, in his want to make you appreciate your time with him more? An angel's tears- The delicacy of times forgotten, something both holy and blasphemous, rich spoils only he can gift you. Can you even comprehend the magnitude of what he's offered you?

The two of you, enjoying a priceless commodity, one which no other common mortals in this world can even conceive of in this day and age. It's poetic, it signifies your importance, your achievements to come- It's romantic, dare Hudd say.

And yet, it was also a mistake. More and more, he gets painfully reminded of the risks of romanticism, of letting that little spark of pride in him -What's left of it- Blind him to reality, sideline his goals. Hudsyn's never wanted to impress someone as badly as he does you and it shows. Perhaps to you it doesn't, but to the few who know him, it'd be the most glaringly obvious slap to the face.

Point being, that drink had its uses. It was meant to keep you lulled, susceptible, easy to grasp his meanings and emotions. He didn't plan for the possibility of him being unable to keep his feelings in check, which, to be fair, isn't something Hudd often has to worry about to begin with. They bled into you, some less pretty things dancing around his excited mind… Put you on edge, overwhelmed you. Whatever channel was formed between you two was interrupted by something else at the end, something Hudd desperately hopes he can keep at bay now that you've obediently placed the cup down.

Dangerous. Dangerous unknowable variables. Thorns.

That cup. He wanted to blurt out the oh so riveting references it possessed instantly, but far be it of the demonoid to prematurely ruin a surprise. The feathers, the eye, the celestial tears- Oh, it's in moments like this that he can't help sing his own praises. He's charming. He's clever.

Hudsyn admits he's been stalling.

Not that it's detrimental to his goal, he was entirely honest when he told you that you still had a nick of time to converse before things got serious. And it's only natural he'd want to take advantage of every second he so graciously granted the two of you to ground himself, to calm down, to focus. Because, as he said, you're about to do something very very special together. It's a tricky situation, but if it all goes swimmingly, you'll be the ones to fix Hell's murky history, to finally glimpse into the world before monsters, before abandonment, before sin. Translating it into scripture.

The one true scripture of the world that formed Perdition.

Just thinking about it has Hudd a little emotional. Okay, very emotional.

Can he cry? These eyes, the way they work… Hudd has wept enough. Perhaps angels can weep in his stead now.

To think that you'll do this with him, for him, his darling precious mentee- There for him always, understanding, empathetic, a breath of much needed fresh air for his starved lungs and unfortunately also the bane of his loins. It's been too long since the demonoid was this consistently aroused. A state that should disgust him, yet the images conjured in his mind never seem to let him get rightfully upset. Oh, you and him will be beautiful. You will make everyone proud. Hudd only wishes he could make you see that now, take away the little seed of doubt he sometimes sees in your eyes. You need never doubt him, he knows best, and you've been aware of such up until now too.

" Mentee. " He starts, after a pause. " We ought to get to work. "

There. Focus. Good.

When you look at him, hues betraying an inner battle, hesitant yet curious, he really cannot fault you. For as much as Hudd has spent small eternities planning this day from start to finish, he alone cannot guarantee its success. You play too large a part to do so, without you, without your cooperation, everything will be so needlessly hard.

And yet… In the time he's come to know you, Hudd’s sixth sense hasn't technically failed him. You fit the profile of someone he needs for this kind of thing. Why, at times, you even revealed yourself as knowing more than any ordinary human should.

You wouldn't just walk out. Wouldn't get in his way.

You're better than that. You're intelligent enough to understand, you will know to make the correct choices when the time comes.

He trusts you with the most important moment of his life.

And the realization sends a rattling shiver down his spine.

When he stands up, so do you.

This has been scaring you a little.

Hudd was never someone you'd consider easy to read, not exactly an open book, even if he seemed to want to be transparent at times. Intriguing, cultured, fascinating and… Unsafe. Frantic. Invasive.

Hudd is a man on a mission, that much has been clear from day one.

And the depths of his dedication are something you're only truly grasping now, after being… Kidnapped, into this location. After becoming a part of his project.

The historian had yet to lay a hand on you. There's no immediate danger, only tension, unease- And that ever present morbid curiosity that begs you to discard any crumb of self-preservation you have.

What were the images you saw in his mind? Why did you see those things?

Who talked to you?

Help. Who asked for your help?

" What are we doing? " Something you feel the need to ask again. Maybe this time you'll get an answer.

The demonoid pauses, a hint of irritation flashing there for a moment. " Follow me, if you will, there are some things you need to see to understand, and I do not enjoy wasting breath. "

That robe-clad form turns towards that hall again. The voice… It came from there. No, you heard it in your mind, but the fact that it beckoned you to glance that way... Does something loom there? Hidden in that thick blanket of darkness that threatens to swallow the rest of the room? Whatever it is, if it is there at all, sounded small. Helpless. Corralled.

Desperation, but entirely unlike the one you felt in Hudsyn.

" My, are you really that tired? I need you to make an effort to keep up with me here, Mentee. This is important. “ The demon tuts again, coming closer to you. It's odd, you've never really paid that much attention to the difference in heights between yourself and the historian up until now.

He's taller than you. Not by that much. If you had to guess, around the six foot mark, six foot something. But those horns, the way they curve over his head like great symmetrical arches, the pitch black canvas of his face and the mystery of what lies beneath, what he tries to cover thoroughly enough to never wear anything other than those plain robes. Hudd is a tad creepy.

“ You won't forgive yourself if you falter during this. “ He warns, stern.

There's a gulp, you don't like the way he's talking. It's very clear you'll be doing something risky eventually, and you don't particularly want to chance being harmed. The fear has to be evident in your face, because he continues.

“ I have mulled over this for more years than you have been alive, protégé… So long as you follow my instructions, everything will go perfectly, and we'll emerge with the answers we need. “

A pallid palm extends in your direction, fingers curling slightly and claws glinting. “ I chose you because I know you are capable of doing this with me. Come. “

And, maybe because you can’t control your rabid curiosity anymore, maybe just because he believes in you so much, you take that hand in yours.

It feels like the seal of a promise, a contract officialized in impulsive compassion.

What would happen if you denied him now anyway? You haven’t the faintest idea where you are, bereft of any personal belongings except the very pajamas you went to bed with. Could you find a way out of his home if things went south? Could you find help in time? Would Hudd hurt you? Or… Would he simply drop you back home?

No, this is too important to him, you’re not willing to believe breaking the perception he has of your “potential” is something the demonoid would take very well.

He smiles, nodding.

Pulled along by said hand, its hold more of a periodic squeeze than anything, you’re guided into that hall. And, as soon as you set foot in said ambiguous darkness, the shabby lamp that furnishes the wall at its very edge crackles loudly, the bulb within it giving its last few sparks of light before becoming utterly useless. In that moment, you truly become submerged in a sea of blackness, unable to pinpoint where you're going at all. Hudd, on the other hand, seems hardly bothered by the change. Perks of being a demon, you presume…

When you step over something that creaks, your hand instinctively tightens around the historian's, causing him to audibly halt.

“ Oh… “ He starts, a giddy hint lying there. “ You can't see very well, can you? “

" No. "

“ Forgive the lapse, this house… It's been a while since I did maintenance checks on it. Here, I will guide you, mentee. “

A warmth envelops your side, one of Hudd's hands presumably sets on your right shoulder and the other balances your front. The sensation of those pointed claws poking through your pajamas is mildly stressing. If he were to put the smallest amount of pressure on them, he could probably draw blood.

The demonoid's closeness is a tad confusing, the only thing audible now being soft footfalls and his slightly uneven breathing. Why not just get a flashlight? Does he seriously not have any?

A sudden intake of air has the hairs on your back rising. You'd rather stumble through the dark than feel this stifling hold upon your form. Hudd hasn't said a word but he feels and sounds even more excited than before. Like this, you are once more reminded of your short-comings as a human, and how every one of them is against you if you were to attempt to flee.

“ There's a staircase ahead, you should… Grab onto me. “

Ah, that makes a little more sense.

He wasn’t lying, because sure enough, you feel the first step, as well as his hands tightening around your body. Although your arms spread in an attempt to perhaps find a wall or a handrail, you’re unable to, having to pace yourself and take Hudd’s advice instead.

“ I won’t lie, sometimes I do forget how fragile humans are. Just look at you, blind like a bat, a fall from this staircase would probably break more than a few bones. Hm… Now that I think about it, you could die, if you fell just the wrong way. “

What the Hell is his problem right now…

“ Ah, I didn’t mean to alarm you. “ He has the nerve to say, helping you down yet another step. “ Besides, I’m here, I would never let that happen to you. “

Reassuring. Totally.

Just how many steps does this staircase have? Maybe having no vision alters your perception of time, or maybe he's descending at a snail's pace, but it feels as if you've been going down for too long. You're antsy.

“ In any case, it's rather convenient the lights aren't working very well in this next area. A different kind of lighting is necessary for it all to work. “

It all… You still don't know what he's on about.

When it feels as though you two have finally reached another division, a pause unfolds. Instead of letting you go, you feel him move to stand behind you, silently. Both of his arms shift to now hold you against him by the waist. Sensory experiences heightened by the lack of visual input, the soft rise and fall of his chest is felt clearly, as is the shape of a rather thin build behind those deceitful robes.

Seconds pass in this stillness. Part of you is hoping he'll reach for some kind of light switch on the wall or continue to guide you somewhere else, but all the demon seems content to do is stand there. If you didn't know better, you'd say he's lost too, or falling asleep.

" ... Hudd? "

No response.

" What's happening now...? "

For a few more moments, he doesn't make a peep. The very second you're considering ripping yourself free of his grasp, the monster finally speaks.

" I've been waiting for this long enough that it almost feels like a dream, you know? "

" H- Huh? "

" Shh... "

A palm slithers up your front, a finger tapping at your chin before softly resting on bottom lip.

" Ever since that night, actually. "

You figure he's going to enter another one of his long-winded speeches, so it's better to just let it happen.

" At the time, fool that I was, my act of theft was done out of spite. I wanted to save my dignity, to lash out in the only real way I could before disappearing... " He sighs. " Turns out what I unknowingly got my hands on was the very key to my success. To proving everyone wrong. To be more than any of those worthless, cowardly animals ever could amount to- "

His tone dips to a growl so bitter it drips poison.

" For decades, I have been putting everything together, down to the last detail. Mentee, I've translated ancient infernal enough times that it could be my mother tongue by now... "

There's shifting, warmth reaches the side of your face. When he opens his mouth again, a dialect you can't make heads or tails of is whispered into your ears. It's harsh and grating, aggressive, filthy. It makes you want to scratch your face.

" There was a time when things were so different. It's almost hard to conceive of now... I ventured into a place I should never have, according to them, but it opened my eyes. Perhaps I didn't leave unscathed, but it gave me the courage to do what I'm doing now, to do everything that has lead up to this. And even, to seek you out. "

" I persevered. I didn't let them dictate what I should do, I didn't let them define my actions or even continue to punish me for daring to make a breakthrough! "

His hands move again, this time to grab yours and place them on your front, wrapped by his.

" Perhaps it doesn't matter to you, but I want you to know that I've lost a lot in this search, and you can't fathom how much getting this far means to me. "

" I know you're scared. In the past, I would also see this as something frightening. But both our fates will rely on one thing alone today, your ability to listen to me. "

" O- Okay. "

You're not sure what to say to that, or even if you should pry into what little of his past this demon has let slip.

" Are you ready, protégé? "

What use is there stalling anymore? You can't even go back up the stairs alone. " ... Yes. "

" Very well. Then, I ask you to remain calm. "

Finally, almost begrudgingly even, Hudd detaches from you, moving fluidly in the darkness, the sound of a match being lit resounding across the walls. Little by little, candle flames soar, you can see the silhouette of his horns as the historian moves to quickly create a dimly lit atmosphere in the room.

The sight that greets you is more than a little disconcerting.

This room, or basement rather, is in disrepair. Wherein the living room you had been conversing with Hudd looked rather spacious and and well put together, even comforting- This division barely has any kind of furniture in it aside from shelves and work benches currently drowning in ambiguous paraphernalia. The walls themselves are badly chipped and cracked, no semblance of paint to cover what you really hope aren't splashes of long-dried blood. Some long gashes running their length can only be the result of claw marks. Scuffles. Papers litter the place. Some printed, others harshly scribbled, pages ripped from books, hurriedly pinned or glued to walls, combed over so many times that their edges start to crinkle and yellow, text fading. Pens and markers in various states scatter on the ground.

This... This is like a madman's playground.

Not that you ever though Hudd was very down to Earth.

It feels as if just stepping into this room has drained some of your very sanity. You can picture him clear as day, bent over these tables, scribbling frantically, pinning things together, wrangling someone or something into this location to do who knows what with. The more time you spend around this demonoid, the less you seem to know him.

Opting to say nothing regarding this mess of a room, you focus instead on the larger illustrations half-covered in illegible text. It only takes you a few seconds to realize how similar in nature they are to the ones you spotted upstairs, on his wall. Granted, those were a little too far away for you to actually discern what contents they displayed. But the one he specifically showed you, the one with the angel, is similar to these.

Truth be told, you don't want to believe Hudd. When you looked at that creature he had drawn, many things came to mind but an angel was your last ditch answer. And yet, he eagerly confirmed it. Told you there were more even, here on Earth. Madness, maybe he really is starting to see things, maybe he's ill. Perhaps all this time you've been humoring the drivel of a demonoid entirely disconnected from reality. Well, either way, it doesn't really matter, you just have to make it through whatever this is, right?

He's been... Nice to you, so far. Kind of? You're pretty sure he likes you. Yes, that's a point in your favor.

The illustrations on these walls depict the same being, different parts of their body in more detail. It's a fascinating thing to look at, several notes and underlined information accompany these decent sketches of the lifeform itself, the angel.

What did Hudd say it was again, a guardian?

You confess you don't really understand why this entity looks the way it does or why the demon is so obsessed with it. Might as well ask.

" Hey Hu- "

" Ah, don't mind those. " He starts, close enough to your figure that the skin nearly leaps off your body. " We don't have time to comb over my documents, as rich in knowledge as they are, yes, you will listen and learn as we go along, yes? "

" ... Uhuh. "

" I will ask you, once more, to remain calm. "

It's hard to do so when he keeps reminding you of such. Paranoia dances just beneath your skin as you attempt to nod slowly.

It seems to be confirmation enough, the demon only hesitating for a couple of silent seconds before moving further, into a section of the room you hadn't even cast thought towards. How could you, when everything else was so jarring? The obscured right edge, kept dark on purpose you can only imagine...

A final, tall candle is lit when Hudd stretches, and something likes beneath it, obscured by an inconveniently placed desk, revealing a smooth expanse of what you can only call a head. Immediately, you take a few steps to the left, forward.

The blood in your vessels stutters.

You had expected, unfortunately, to find someone else in there. Some poor soul who, like you, had gotten the bizarre demon's attention and, unlike you, didn't learn to manage his eccentricities well enough.

Little did you think reality could be worse than that already glum possibility.

Because, there, on the cold and harsh ground, shackled to the wall with rusted chains and scribbled magic engravings around them, is what can only be an angel.

The angel.

The one Hudd showed to you only mere moments ago! The one in these pictures, these sketches, detailed from head to toe like some kind of laboratory experiment, some rat.

They seem unconscious, huddled into as small of a ball as they can be, leathered wings frozen in an uncomfortable shape, like the crooked legs of a dead insect. Something mars their pale hide, a series of unknowable symbols expanding into every limb, looping around their torso, probably following into the expanse of their back and even reaching those... Odd tentacles on their lower-half. You're smart enough to understand this isn't simply a tattooed angel, how ludicrous, these scripts are magical in nature, and they've been inflicted upon the holy being. Every now and then, the darkened marks pulse a faint reddish light, and it takes you a moment to understand that the pace is akin to a heartbeat. Their heartbeat.

This lifeform is being kept in a stasis, an unpleasant one if you had to guess.

The crease on that thin abdomen you couldn't quite understand opens the slightest amount, revealing what must be a beautifully colored eye for a sliver of a second.

You can almost begin to imagine what they might look like, without those sigils, without the chains holding their wrists up to the wall...

Yes, beautiful in its own right.

Not your first idea of what an angel might be, but simply gazing upon them brings you an intense sensation of awareness. Instinctually, it's as if you recognize you're in the presence of someone that begets authority and safety.

Never have you felt something similar to this. Perhaps when you were but a youngling, feeling content in the arms of your parents as they pulled you out of a troublesome situation.

You want to get closer to this creature.

" ... please. you came! "

This time, the voice startles you. Because it sounds that much closer, that much desperate, as if a force were shaking you from top to bottom, begging, crying, do something-

" Mentee! "

The noise that leaves you is akin to a goat's bleating. Hudd blinks.

" You've been standing there like a donkey this whole time! "

You frown. " Hudd... That's- That- "

The demonoid huffs, combing over the scripts on the floor and hurriedly testing the sturdiness of the chains holding the angel's wrists. With their head bent at such an angle, you can see the cloth covering it droop, but there's no visible seam between it and the angel's skin. Whatever could be beneath it?

" The specimen I showed you, yes. That's it. Did you listen to a single thing I said just now? "

It.

The demonoid scratches his way back up to a rapid stand and approaches you with a look so dead serious that it deeply unsettles you. " I have come too far. You are not allowed to freak out on me! "

Yes. For your own good, you shouldn't freak out at all.

" But Hudd... Why is he chained to a wall? What- What are you doing to him? " It's impossible to mask the growing distrust, the anxiety, you have no idea what to think of this monster.

Clearly he's not well, and possibly, he's not sane either. But this franticness, as if he's on the clock for something incredibly important, what is driving him to be this unhinged?

The demon shakes his head like you're not quite all there mentally. " Do you sincerely think an angel would willingly converse with me, mentee? I hold no ill-will towards these beings, but all of them would have me set aflame in celestial fires! It's not as if I could merely ask one to clarify a few things... "

Point taken.

" I had... Well, I'm not happy about current circumstances, I know I must look like a mindless torturer to you, but to do this safely, I could only think to remove this guardian from his flock. Not an easy task, mind you. "

This is insane. A flock? Meaning there are possibly more angels out there looking for this one. How does he plan to evade them? Has he thought that far ahead? You hope, against all odds, that Hudd bothered with that. He tends to be thorough, maybe he does know exactly every single risk he's taking right now.

" Pay close attention. " He says, handing you a thoroughly yellowed scroll. The paper feels odd. Where had he been hiding that? " He's currently dormant, and I'm going to wake him up. "

" You're insane. " It escapes you before you can halt it.

Hudsyn very visibly fumes, growling and tugging at a horn. A tone you've yet to hear from the monster rips from his ribcage. " Will you just fucking listen! "

Alright. Okay. Sure.

Your silence calms him. " There's absolutely no reason to fear, I have him entirely under control, all you have to do is follow my instructions if I tell you to do something, it won't be too complex. "

The silence from your part continues as you merely nod, ever confounded and doubtful of where any of this is going. That's a common thing here, isn't it? No matter how much Hudd insists you're vital to this, no matter how eager he is to have you involved and to ramble, you never understood a single thing about his goals, about his methods. A historian, he calls himself, scorned, interested in mapping out the "true" history of Hell and its Rings. But how does a captured angel feature into this?

Hudd sees the annoyance written plainly on your face.

" Please protégé. I know this doesn't look right to you, I'm not dumb. And if we had more time on our hands, if- If I had structured things better, taking into account your- " He sighs, turning away like he just tasted something horrid. " I wish I could have explained things to you better. Talked to you better. But... "

There's a forced cough. " I haven't talked properly to anyone in years, honestly. Maybe, lost in the grander scheme of things, I forgot how to along the way. "

Something heavy starts hanging in the air, the atmosphere drips with sudden awkwardness. No normal demon of his kin would say such a thing if they weren't grasping at straws, if they weren't at the limits of their mind, fraying their nerve endings.

Maybe it's pity, maybe it's sympathy, but you can't help wonder why Hudd is the way that he is, if all this time he's just been calling out for help or acting out to process something he's yet to reveal. Truth is that, unhinged or not, the demon sees in you someone he can trust with what he considers to be the culmination of his life's work and his sole goal moving forward. You are, effectively, his only anchor.

One doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to understand abandoning the demon in this moment would cause him to break down spectacularly. Putting aside what might happen to you as well.

" So... " Breaking a tense silence has never really been your forte. " How do we wake him up? "

Hudd's head snaps your way, and like a switch, he dons the most excited grin. " Easy, mentee! See those symbols on the guardian's chest? I just have to smudge one away, but only one! " His finger raises humorously to emphasize. " We want him conscious, not alert and energized. "

" Is it... " You watch as Hudd shoves important items into desk shelves and arranges a wide radius around the chained angel. He seems to be thinking of any last minute adjustments before going through with this event. It's making your skin crawl. " Is it safe? "

Crouched next to the angel, Hudd gestures for you to get closer, which you tentatively do. Pallid hands grab onto one of yours. " Trust me. I have planned every detail of this. "

The very moment your anxiety starts to die down a little, Hudsyn lets go of your hand to reach under his robes and place, on the ground, a blade.

And his gesture becomes moot.

The entire thing is black, patterns of what you'd guess is gold lining the sleek segments. It looks incredibly sharp and emanates warmth, you'd be a fool to think of it as an ordinary knife.

" Alright, get ready. "

Trying to distract yourself from the nerves steadily climbing back up your spine, you instead inspect the scroll previously handed to you. Predictably, it's not in a language you recognize. It's definitely not infernal, in fact, this feels like a mixture of different foreign alphabets jumbled in a pattern that seems random, but you're sure must hold meaning, if Hudd is holding onto it. It feels old enough that it might disintegrate into ashes on your fingers.

" ... Hey, what does it say in he- "

A flap startles you, scroll clutched tight to your chest as the captured lifeform, the angel, starts stirring. Those leathery looking wings flap harshly a couple of times and his neck twists in a jolt of desperation to stretch, to rise, before the air escapes his chest and the entity sags, wilting to the side soundlessly.

Oh God. It's awake. The guardian is awake, it's alive!

You glance at its chest again, past the light blue cloth, seeing where Hudd wiped the sigil. He's just as still as you are, frozen, evaluating. You notice his claws hovering next to the blade.

In spite of being well awake, the angel doesn't do much of anything, limiting himself to breathing as well as he can in this position. Although his mouth is uncovered, he doesn't say a single thing. The eye on its stomach opens once more, this time fully, and you can hardly believe how beautiful it is. Looking into it, a swirl of warm hues welcomes you, this gentle warmth spreading across your whole figure the longer you stare into it. Hudd doesn't seem to feel any of this, unfazed.

Much to your surprise, that isn't the only eye that reveals itself, because the odd fissures in the angel's immobilized hands part, and from them, two smaller versions of his biggest eyeball are unveiled.

Woah, you've never seen that before...

The guardian looks around. Although, nothing about him betrays fear, sadness or even anger, he's just appraising his surroundings, as if relieved.

" Guardian. " Hudd begins, tone authoritative when he sits and crosses his legs. You don't quite know what to do, so you sit next to him wordlessly.

The angel senses your movement, three eyes focused solely on you for a couple of tense seconds. You've been trying to ignore it, but deep down, you know this is the voice that has been calling out to you this whole time.

" Demon. " He replies, calmly, with no real animosity or much of any inflection honestly. One of his eyes remains glued to you, the others disperse to the infernal monster. Yes, that voice, unmistakable...

" You have been transported here for one reason and one reason alone. "

Hudsyn looks serious in a way you've never seen him before. And you suppose that's warranted, this moment is crucially important to him. You can imagine all the nerves brewing under that impeccably collected act he's putting on. He even seems to think of his body language, keeping it entirely neutral, surveilling the angel with the eyes of a hawk. Even then, can those eyes compare to those of a holy creature?

Is Hudd not playing with something far too complex and foreign to be manipulated?

" I have something of great importance in my possession, and I only crave one thing, to understand it. " There's a measured pause. To the demon's credit, his captive does look engaged. " But see, for me to achieve such, I first need to understand something a lot more complex, something my kind wasn't made to grasp. "

The scroll is taken from your grasp, bounced onto his.

" The languages of siadar. "

It's a term not too well-known to you. Although you have a vague idea of what highers are, and recognize the names of the two apparently said to be on Earth at this moment, Hudsyn is a lot more well-versed in all of this than you ever will be, in all honesty.

The angel becomes, somehow, even more motionless at the mention of siadar. Like stone, really, unblinking, judgmental stone blazing into the demon beside you. It feels like a piercing gaze, a forceful stab into one's deepest wants. Whatever the guardian sees there, he doesn't approve of it.

" I would advise you not to meddle with what does not concern you, Hudsyn. " He starts, slow, tentative, trying to pass some sense into a monster that never had any to begin with.

" Spare me the moralizing, the lot of you are mere cattle. " Hudd huffs.

The angel tilts his head slightly, as much as he can. " Cattle... You find it demeaning that we have a purpose? That we exist to be extensions of our Mothers and Fathers? There is dignity in service. "

The demon looks ready to belt out a couple of retorts, yet holds his tongue at the last second, eyes narrowing in realization. The two are playing a game you're not fully aware of.

" I have no time to entertain this type of debate. " Clawed hands wave the topic away. " And I'm no fool either, I know every each one of you can read the scripts of your Lords, you will read one for me. "

Hudsyn caresses the scroll previously in your hold as if it were a newborn, fragile and immeasurably precious.

" Those scripts are incoherent to you for a reason. They are not meant to be interpreted by anyone other than celestials and siadar. " The other cautions once more.

" Bah-! That's for me to decide! " A growl rises in his throat, yet fails to instill the terror it should've.

" You judge yourself a lord of this world's balance? Delusion favors you greatly. "

You blink.

" Balance?! You call this putrid stagnation balance? If no one else will, then I must set the records straight, whether you like it or not. Balance... " Hudd huffs. " I don't care for it. "

" ... I see. " There's a long pause as the guardian takes that reply in, it appears to have revealed something to him. Eventually, that eyeless veil shifts in your direction, sending a paralyzing jolt right through your core. " And you? Do you value balance? "

You cannot answer. The words are stuck to the roof of your mouth, which seems to dry and burn whenever you so much as try to make a sound. Holding eye contact with him is not an option, for a mere glimpse of those hues fills you with too much emotion at once.

A snarl resounds. " Quiet! This encounter is between you and I only. "

" And yet she is here. " The other retorts easily. " Am I wrong to assume you value this lesser's input? "

" My mentee and I are on the same page, you won't bother her. "

Another pause. The guardian painfully rolls his head back in Hudd's direction. You wonder why he does that, when his eyes aren't there.

" Very well. "

Hudsyn unfurls the scroll, confirming to himself that this is, in fact, the correct one. Part of you is too scared to guess how many cursed scrolls he could have lying around.

" Protégé. "

You jolt.

" Grab a paper and a pen, you'll find some around. "

It's a while before you do, admittedly. Not only are you shaky with anticipation, this room is a complete mess. Eventually, you come across a crumpled stack of blank paper and a pen that has seen much better days. That'll do.

You're about to take your seat back when one long sleeved arm rises.

" No. Take a few steps back. " He waits until you comply. " Sit there. I don't want you looking at him no matter what, you hear me? "

" Y- " Your own saliva chokes you. " Yes. "

" Good. "

And just like that, the scene closes between Hudd and the captured guardian.

Hudd combs his fingers over the aged paper again, before holding it up to the guardian's main eye in complete silence for a couple of seconds. You don't know if the ensuing pause is born out of the angel's reluctance to translate or if he's simply processing the document. Hudd breaks it anyway.

" Now, I may not understand much of this language, but it doesn't take a genius to understand that these- " He points at a section. " Are supposed to be numbers. And these- " Another point. " Are axis indicators. "

That large celestial eye drifts from the paper, towards Hudsyn.

" These are coordinates. You'll translate them to me. " Seemingly getting excited by his own ingenious set up, Hudd has the nerve to tap a claw against the angel's veiled head. " Remember that you taint yourself everytime you lie to me, bahah... "

You have no idea whether the runes applied to the guardian's body actually hurt him whenever he attempts to deceive someone, or if Hudd is just being theatrical about the purity of angels as a whole.

The guardian doesn't find this nearly as humorous as Hudd does. " You know not what you ask me to do, demon. "

And, like a switch, the demonoid gets serious too. " Oh, but I do. Start talking. "

The aged paper is brought closer to the angel's main eye, not that you think a 'celestial' would have sight issues. Yet, perhaps in an effort to stall, or simply because he can't quite believe what he's reading, the guardian refuses to utter a single word. Tension wordlessly rises between the two monsters, thick enough to choke your own cool. Fortunately, or unfortunately, one of them is vastly immobile. The large orb on the angel's abdomen shifts and blinks, he's very clearly able to understand what's written in at least some of it.

It makes you wonder.

Is it just that an angel is prohibited from disclosing the nature of any higher documentation without explicit permission, or is it that the information contained in this specific one is of such abnormal sensitivity that he'd rather remain locked in a mad man's possession than reveal it?

Hudd's shoulders quake, you assume he's overwhelmed with rage until short, raspy chuckling rings.

" I don't think you quite understand that you have no choice. "

Anxious, you begin quietly tapping the pen on an empty page, soothing growing nerves. The guardian offers no direct response, silently and slowly turning his face away. Similarly, his hues point to any target but the scroll's contents.

" Very well... And I had been so clear about it too. "

When Hudsyn sets the scroll down neatly, his freed hands gravitate towards the blade and a lump forms in your throat.

Angels... Elusive creatures. For all his often concerning raving, the demon has been consistently right on one thing. We no longer know how they function, that information has been degenerated and lost. It's impossible to know what truly harms an angel. How to effectively kill one. Some records claim that an angel can and will heal from all bodily damage inflicted upon them, that one can only ever slow them down. Others say that no earthly weapon can even nick them. What of fiendish weapons? What of their own weapons? Has an angel ever pointed its tool at another and sought to harm them? How did the first angels and the first demons fight?

More importantly, what does Hudd think he's going to achieve with that blade?

The angel doesn't budge at the sound of its' sharpness grinding across the floor. Hudd rises, you can't even see his face from this angle, but you understand that he's staring the celestial being down, giving them a few seconds to reconsider, to lose bravado. They don't.

You expected many things.

Perhaps that Hudd would hold the blade to the other's neck, slice across their forearm, even jab that knife into those bizarre tendrils. But then, it's foolish to try and predict the moves of a monster so desperate to achieve their self-proclaimed life's goal.

A flash of movement unfolds, the candles around the room flicker, and a horrid wail pierces into your ears.

It's not the scream of someone who's been stabbed, it's a harmonious, broken screech of a creature that never knew real pain. More than suffering, it's a cry of pure shock and fear.

As soon as the lighting stabilizes, you disobey the demonoid's wishes and crane your neck to see Hudd tightly gripping the angel's right wrist. The blade has pierced through their palm, through the eye that was supposed to be there. A sizzling noise stands out amidst the angel's shrieking, the rainbow-like hue of colors that ooze from the wound rapidly burning into a tar-like void. The blade... Scorched him? You don't understand.

All you know is that his cries are making your hairs stand, and that Hudd just stabbed someone. " Stop- Stop it! " You choke out.

It's only a few spine-chilling moments after your call that Hudd stops grinding the sharp object, yanking it right out and shaking the contaminated blood away before taking a step back. The guardian trembles, agony wracks him, the two remaining eyes shedding large, shining tears while the fingers of his mangled hand twist like the legs of a dying insect. He seems befuddled, staring at Hudd and the stained blade as if what just transpired couldn't be possible.

" That eye's not coming back- " Hudsyn snorts. " Believe me. "

Consistent in his madness, the demonoid clumsily wipes the knife on his robes, before making a much more shallow cut across his own palm. You hear the sound of his skin zipping apart, blinking when he quickly holds the dripping appendage over the angel's ruined socket.

All it takes is one drop of his blood.

The guardian grits his teeth, a sound not too different from the choked groans of someone who's bit their own tongue, before managing to throw his head back hard enough to make a gruesome thud against a now dented wall.

" GODDESS- "

It's a plea. Just the mingling of Hudd's blood with his own makes the celestial cry for their salvation, like a lost cub echoing calls for its' mother.

In the middle of the dread consuming you, it's impossible not to spot the veins of black spreading on his arm now, making small blisters on pale skin. An allergic reaction? Is his body trying to expel it in pockets? It looks incredibly inflamed and uncomfortable.

Finally, after allowing the angel's frightened sobs die down minimally, Hudd appears to be done with his torment. It's incredibly unnerving how he just... Sits back down, as if nothing had transpired.

" Are we ready to read now? "

" Stop this... Stop. "

The angel murmurs, voice small, a trembling whisper cradled in pure terror.

" I'll stop. I will, trust me, I'm not here to torture you- " Hudd laughs, as if the notion were ludicrous, as if he didn't just deliberately heighten the guardian's pain only moments ago. " Just read for me. "

The scroll is once more brought close to the angel's largest eye. Hudsyn looks serious, unrelenting. You can picture those pinprick white eyes blazing eerily at the celestial, the same way they once did when he showed up at your home. Unannounced, uninvited, with dubious-intent.

Imagine what he might have done to you then, if he felt like it. This demonoid has an angel subdued and wounded right now, a human is hardly an opponent. You picture yourself in the guardian's place, getting a knife drilled through your socket, a visceral chill shakes you.

" Read, angel. Or I'll scoop the other one. " Hudd turns back to you for a second. " Mentee, would you like a little souvenir from this adventure? Perhaps a resin paper weight with a guardian's eye? "

You don't answer. He's not looking for an answer anyway.

The guardian in question takes a few moments to deliberate on something. Probably the consequences of doing this, of providing a demon with information it most definitely is not meant to have. You have a feeling there's too much in that head for you to even begin to grasp.

More stiflingly silent seconds pass before his voice finally rings again.

" From the depths of our glorious Perdition, I pen these words with naught but ultimate scorn and haste, for my own existence is far from secured. Even now, I hear it all, above. Defeat, disorder, panic. I sense an age of calamity and ruination will befall this annex, His Kingdom, His chosen. "

The guardian pauses, likely to translate what must be entirely alien vocabulary into something tangible. Hudd fists the ground, not merely jolting you into action, but also reminding you to jot this down.

" Eden sings today, frivolous, mocking choirs in our skies, for their brutish extermination was successful, and they think themselves supreme. We know better, we are better, us the ones who were always loyal. He holds nothing from us, and this is not the end. May the Curator be as good as blind, for what he received was the mere flicker of Him. "

Hudd tugs at one of his horns, wheezing breathlessly.

" He remains with us, always. I do not weep, because the one who finds this finds Him. I will make sure of it. Welcome Him. Cherish Him. Make Him proud. Be more than us. Be worthy. "

" The great silence chases after me, these moments are my last, these breaths are my last. I beg you to seek Him, when the time is right, when the Dust has settled. Below lie the... "

The angel's voice dims into a whisper, then nothing at all. Your hand shakes over the paper.

" The coordinates! " Hudsyn all but shrieks, nearly ripping the scroll from how tightly he holds it. " Read them!! "

Silent and motionless, the celestial begins crying again. He knows what this will achieve already, he knows he can't lie. You have an inkling of what this scroll is conveying, and if it's enough to make an angel cry... If it's real...

" FUCKING TELL ME- "

The demonoid is hysterical. Understandably so, this is the very plateau of all he's worked for, and he's being unceremoniously edged along. You suppose you'd be half as mad as him too.

Patience eroded, nerves frayed, Hudd spares no mercy for the angel's continued stalling, picking the bloodied knife back up.

Quiet sobs turn into screams of desperation, distressing pleas for him to wait please wait don't please don't stop please-

You know what he's going to do, the second eye on the angel's unblemished palm will be destroyed, just as promised.

Time seems to slow down as your heartrate quickens. You ponder what to do. There's a heavy-looking vintage lamp beside you. It's not being used, of course, but it's there nonetheless, collecting dust. Quietly, you set the papers aside, rising to a squat and stretching just enough to grab it, the cord dragging along. The metal is cold and dense in your hands. It provides a sense of safety.

Do you trust the demonoid the same way he claims to trust you? Do you want to see where this goes? Is letting him achieve this the safest option? Do you share affections for this monster, in spite of his erratic nature?

Or... Is the angel, the voice in your mind, a way to avoid something catastrophic? A way to free yourself?

Hudsyn hunches over the wounded, begging guardian.

#Hudd oc #pinnie's art #monster oc #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #terato #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #monster x you #demon oc #angel oc #minors dni

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strawberriemarswrites · 11 months ago

Text

CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Summary: Bartolomeo wants to make sure you're okay and has a close call. He needs a bit of stress relief. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+ for the story, NSFW chapter) TW: mentions of the violence and attempted drugging of last chapter; stalking; Bartolomeo watching you sleep and then masturbating about it. Ao3 Link: Chapter Three (3,550 words)

“Oh, ew!” Nami recoiled, opening the front-passenger door. “And you didn’t slap him for that?”

You shook your head, face twisted. “He smelled like rotten fish. I didn’t want to touch him in case the smell got stuck to me.”

You and your friends were piling into Drake’s SUV after leaving the bar. You and Robin had split the cost of the tab after she’d warned you it was probably time to go before things went sideways. Curiously, you noticed the receipt showed a discount, but didn’t think much of it and still made sure to leave a hefty tip in the jar before you left.

“I’m sorry about your last drink,” Robin said. “I should have made sure you moved it to our table before we left so it didn't have to go to waste.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. If he did something to it, he’s just gonna have to be salty that his plan didn’t work.”

“He tried,” Drake said.

You and Nami shouted simultaneously, “WHAT!?”

He nodded, starting the engine. “I was going to say something, but then I saw your friend behind the bar switch the glasses.” He looked at you in the rear view while backing up. “I can guarantee you, that prick is having a much worse night.”

Your heart leapt to your throat. Bartolomeo did what? Of any other option he could have picked — getting you a fresh drink when you got back, kicking the guy out, even warning you what happened — he switched the drinks, and made a man drug himself.

Nami's laughter cut through your thoughts. “Holy shit, that’s priceless.”

Robin concealed her mouth when she giggled, though the mirth still shone in her eyes. “You should join us for drinks more often, Drake. You have a sharp eye.”

“I would like that.” His eyes flicked to Robin for a moment before coming back to you. “I’m not trying to overstep here when I ask this, but can I say something I hope you’ll keep in mind?”

You nodded, and he continued. “I know I’m not really the chattiest at work, so I don’t know you very well, or how well you know Bartolomeo. But even if I wasn’t made aware that he was part of why you picked that bar, I can tell you’re interested in him at the very least.” Drake shifted into drive, now focused on getting out of the parking garage. “While I'm not against what he did from a moral standpoint, it seemed to be a bit of an extreme measure.” He glanced at you once more in the rearview. “Someone who does something like that without hesitation — he’s either cocky, reckless, or dangerous. Maybe even all three.”

“Oh, come on.” Nami nudged him. “That creep got what he deserved! Besides, it's in the big guy’s best interest to keep the bar and customers safe. I don't know about you, but I think making a guy roofie himself is a great way to deter bad behavior.”

“It is a bit unorthodox,” Robin said. “And technically, if anything bad happens to him afterward, Rooster could be held responsible even if the reasons were justified.” She then smiled again. “Very justified.”

“I just said I wasn’t against it morally,” Drake muttered, sighing. “Just be careful if you intend on seeing him more. Keep one of us in the loop in case anything happens.”

You nodded again, taken a bit by surprise. Drake wasn’t exaggerating when he said he didn’t talk much at work. He tended to keep to himself, only really interacting with Vivi and the head archivist. Yet, you learned more about him in one night out than you’d learned in the four months you’d been working with him. And while you felt his assumptions about Bartolomeo were somewhat misguided, you were still relieved to know that you had an extra person in your corner.

It was nearly midnight by the time you were dropped off at the apartment building. Nami and Robin had already messaged Vivi and Rebecca about the night you all had, and a new group chat was made so that Drake could be included on pay-day drinks planning. You had gotten to see Bartolomeo, and he made a very... interesting impression on your coworkers. And you’d spent the entire night unworried by any break-ins, which upon returning to your apartment you found no evidence of, bringing further comfort to your once anxious mind.

All things considered, the night had been a success. And you were exhausted.

You collapsed onto your bed, now in your comfiest pajamas and staring up at the ceiling. You wondered what time the bar closed, if you’d be awake when Bartolomeo got off work. Okay, it was probably a little shady how he decided to go about handling a drink-spiking creep, but at the same time it was kind of thrilling to think how bold that move was. Besides, it felt like he was dealing a little bit of karmic justice. Maybe he was just protecting his bar and his other patrons, like Nami had suggested, but something deep inside you couldn’t help but hope that maybe he’d done it specifically to protect you.

I’ll need to find some way to thank him, was your last thought before you slipped off to sleep.

It was nearly three in the morning when Bartolomeo returned to the apartment building. The rush in his veins still hadn’t subsided, even after he’d purposefully ridden the subway past the correct stop to try and walk off the rest of the adrenaline. All he wanted to do was see you again and ask if you were all right after what happened.

He knew you were all right, he’d seen you leave with your friends and you hadn’t tried to reach for “your” drink. Even if the guy with the glasses said something to you about the swap, you’d still never need to know just how much further Bartolomeo had gone to protect you. He’d never try to make himself out as wholly innocent — that would just be ridiculous. And frankly impossible. But it was still better if you didn’t know just how vicious he could be.

All the same, however, Bartolomeo imagined you’d probably be a little shaken if you were told about what nearly happened. Anyone would be. So even though he knew you were okay, he had to be sure.

That’s what he kept telling himself as he broke his promise to himself not to climb the fire escape again.

Correction: he never promised not to do that. What he promised was that he’d stop breaking in. There wouldn’t be any harm in just looking through the window, right?

Once he reached the fourth floor, Bartolomeo just barely managed to keep from reaching for the window’s bottom rail, instead sitting down and leaning his shoulder against the building. He bent one knee and propped his forearm atop it, resting his head against the glass pane, its chilled surface like a fire extinguisher to his overheating nerves. After a few deep breaths to bring him down the rest of the way, he peered into the darkness of your bedroom, bringing one hand level with his brow to better block out the reflections in the window.

You were sleeping. Pretty soundly by the look of it. Good. If you were asleep, you weren’t worried. If you weren’t worried, you felt safe. And you were safe — he was going to keep it that way. He watched for a few minutes, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest lulling him into a sense of calm he desperately needed after stabbing that fucking scumbag.

His fingers twitched. He was no stranger to violence. In a way, he thrived off of it. He’d spent most of his childhood getting into fistfights with other kids over things like whose turn was it to look after the class hamster (“Don't let Bartolomeo do it, he’ll eat it!”), or who was better at dodgeball (“Just because you throw the ball hard doesn’t make you good at it!”). When he first met Gambia in middle school they didn’t introduce themselves, they just started throwing punches until someone caved, and then they were thick as thieves. That was how most of his friendships were made, and even more of his rivalries.

As he got older, the spontaneity of the fights had subsided, though the brutality had increased. People enjoyed trying to get under his skin over superficial shit — his brow, his nose, how he did his hair — and he quickly learned to ignore that. They could say whatever they wanted about him. What he didn’t tolerate was kicking when people were down, or taking advantage of others who didn’t know any different, or people who thought because they were born into better-off families that they were better than others. And god help anyone who decided tried to mess with his friends.

That shit — that was the kind of shit that made his blood boil. He cracked a football player’s ribs for that once.

Bartolomeo didn’t fancy himself a hero or anything, just someone who didn’t tolerate heinous bullshit. With a penchant for fighting dirty.

Still, the fights grew less frequent as he got out of school. He’d had run-ins with people stupid enough to get in his face, and the odd person at the bar attempting to start a brawl that he’d ultimately finish. But those fights felt almost hollow. Routine, even. No thrill or enjoyment to them, just him doing what he does best.

Stabbing some sick creep’s hand as penance for him trying to get you? Felt better than any petty altercation Bartolomeo had gotten involved in. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt by someone. But if you did, he’d make sure they'd never do it again, especially after how good it felt knowing it’s to protect you.

His breath fogging up the glass drew him from his thoughts, and he realized that his ass was getting sore from sitting on the metal grating of the fire escape landing. With a heavy sigh he started to push himself upright —

You flinched in your sleep.

Bartolomeo’s hand went for the window in an instant. But he didn’t open it. He held his breath, and waited.

Your breathing evened back out, and he released his own, his hand falling back to his side.

And then he booked it. He didn’t stop until he was back in his own apartment and laying on his bed, though if asked he couldn’t answer whether he went through the front door or up the fire escape on his side of the building. What he did know is that he just risked getting himself caught — what the hell had he been thinking? What exactly was he planning on doing if you woke up and saw him?!

Okay. Now Bartolomeo promised himself he wouldn’t climb back up the fire escape.

But... you looked so cute when you slept. Maybe, if he only did it late at night—

NO. He smacked both hands over his face, groaning. Bad Barto.

Why did he hear that second thought in your voice?

He swallowed, a chill creeping down his spine. He’d almost forgotten your shirt was right beneath his pillow, your perfume wafting up and creeping through his senses. He pushed himself upright, sitting against the headboard as he tugged it free and buried his nose into it. Almost immediately, the tension dissipated, and his mind was filled with images of you: how your face lit up when he called you “sweetheart”, the cute little outfit you’d worn, the way you’d rushed up to the bar and stuck your tongue out at him. How would that tongue feel on his—

Down, boy.

Your voice came to mind again and he whimpered, pulling his knees up. He was rapidly becoming more and more aware of a tightness in his jeans. He briefly considered ignoring it, but the dam had cracked, and he started to think about what it must be like to kiss you. Would you be sweet and shy, making soft little moans every time he pushed against you? Maybe you’d tease him with little bites on his lip, goading him into biting down on yours with just enough pressure to make you wonder if he’d actually puncture.

Really, it was foolish of Bartolomeo not to think it would come to this. How he held off for as long as he did, he’d never know.

One foot slowly slid atop the comforter, laying one leg flat while he busied a hand with undoing his belt and fly. He let his fingers brush against the patch of hair just above his pubic bone, his breath hitching again the further down he went until he finally freed his aching cock from its confines. He let his imagination go a little further down, wondering how your hands would feel against his chest. He thought of you tracing your fingers over the tattoo he had there, ghosting along the curve and dipping near his midsection with each tip of its inked teeth. And then your hand sliding lower, over that same patch of hair he just touched, before wrapping around the base of his shaft, giving him long, lazy strokes. His hand wasn’t as soft as yours probably was, but it would do.

Let me take care of you.

No. He was supposed to take care of you. He was watching out for you, after all. What could he do to prove he wanted to take care of you? Bartolomeo inhaled your scent, moaning and tightening his grip. He would start with kissing you, definitely. Not just your lips, though — every inch of you that he could possibly cover, he’d do it. Your cheeks, your shoulders, your neck. He’d trail down your stomach, stopping right around your hips, then he’d start from the bottom by nipping at your ankles, drawing a path upwards along the underside of your knees and between your thighs.

He increased his pace, your name tumbling out before he could even think to hold it back. He thought about what you would taste like with his tongue sliding between your folds and making you say his name the same way. He thought about how hard it would be for him to keep from holding too tightly to your thighs as you writhed against his face. How he’d have to do everything he could not to dig in and feast.

Barto, please.

From there, Bartolomeo’s thoughts were less coherent. Images flashed through his mind, both from memory and fantasy, as pressure began to build. Your hands fidgeting. Your hands in his hair. Your tongue peeking out at the bar. Your tongue whirling around the tip of his cock. You alone in your bed, then with him in his. Whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Pushing your legs up to your chest and sinking into you as far as you could take him.

I love y—

A desperate, unabashed groan came from deep within his chest, enveloping your name as he again let it slip out. The sound was hardly muffled despite how close he had pressed your shirt to his face as seed spilled forth and coated his hand. A few hard spurts sent it spattering over his leg and onto the comforter. He wasn’t sure when his hips left the bed, but they came crashing back down, making the bed frame creak obscenely as he rode out the last few waves of his orgasm.

Panting, sweating, and feeling like he’d just had the hardest come of his life yet, Bartolomeo let your shirt drop down beside the bed, sparing it from the offense of using it to clean himself up. He stood with a sigh and started stripping, using his own shirt to at least wipe his hand off before throwing it and the rest of his clothes in the hamper. He’d worry about the comforter later. Right now, he needed a cold shower.

Bartolomeo woke up the next morning to knocking on his door. With a groan he pried his eyes open, greeted by the apartment ceiling as he was sprawled out diagonally across his bed. He wiped away the dried drool on his cheek and felt around the nightstand for his phone, sunlight creeping in beneath the cheap blackout shades.

The knocking came again, light and quick.

“All right, all right, I heard you the first time!” he called, managing to find his phone and sit upright. The cracked screen read 10:12 AM, early enough for this to be a pain in the ass. No missed calls from anyone, or messages saying they were coming over, so as he stumbled through the apartment in loose sweats and no shirt, he hadn’t the slightest clue who his visitor could be. With enough force to nearly pull it off its hinges, he swung open his door, ready to chew out whoever it was that thought they could wake him after only four hours of sleep.

You jumped out of your skin at the aggressive opening, but smiled at Bartolomeo all the same. “Hi.”

He about slammed the door out of sheer embarrassment. Why didn’t he think for two seconds longer before opening the door — he probably gave you a worse jump scare than you’d given him! He would have berated himself internally for much longer if you weren’t standing right there, staring up at him with those eyes he liked so much.

“Hi,” he said, having the decency to blush. “Uh. Sorry about that. I thought — well —”

You giggled, a wonderful sound that made his heart rate shoot through the stratosphere. “Not a morning person?”

“No. Yeah. Uh.” His hand slid down the door frame and he leaned against it with all the nonchalance he could muster. “Just wasn’t expecting my day to start before noon.”

You shrank back a little. “Oh, shit — I’m sorry, I can come back later?”

“Nah, you’re here now.” No no no — don’t go. “Whaddya need?”

You folded your hands in front of you, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. “Well, one of my friends saw what you did for me last night, and they didn’t mention anything until after we left.” Your eyes began to flick between his face and his torso, and your cheeks rapidly flushed. “I wanted — I wanted to come by and, ah. Thank you. So.” And then your gaze went straight to the floor, your ears a bright pink. “Thank you.”

Bartolomeo cocked his head, puzzled by your sudden onset of bashfulness. But without you giving him those pretty eyes, it did make it a little easier for him to concentrate. “Oh. Well. I mean, I told ya I was gonna look out for you, didn’t I?”

You looked up at his face, smiling wide and still blushing. “You did. But... well, no one’s ever done something like that for me before.” You averted your gaze again, your little sway halted as you started fidgeting. “I mean, granted, even though I know how to keep myself safe against those kinds of things, I’ve never had someone actually be ballsy enough to try and drug me before. If I’d been a little more careless, I could have been in real trouble.” You glanced at him from your periphery. “But you swapped the glasses, so I still would have been okay.”

This was weird. Normally it was him who had trouble looking you in the eye, but you were being way more skittish. Was everything really okay?

“Anyways.” You took a deep breath, seeming to steel yourself as you looked up at him. “I was wondering if you’d like to get lunch sometime.” You glanced down and up again. “It — it doesn’t have to be today, if that’s too last minute for you, but—”

“Yeah.”

The ease and quickness with which Bartolomeo answered the question startled both of you. He cleared his throat, standing up straighter. “No — yeah — I mean —” He exhaled through his nose, composing himself. “Today’s perfect.”

Few things made his chest tighten with the urge to cry: disabled cats, movies where the dog actually made it to the end, and the way your face lit up with the intensity of a supernova over him agreeing to go to lunch with you.

“Great!” You bounced on your toes, pointing over your shoulder with both hands. “I can uh — I’ll give you time to get ready, yeah? And then when you’re good just come over and knock, aaand we’ll get going!”

Get ready?

It dawned on him: he was still shirtless. Oh my god.

“Yeah!” His voice was at least an octave higher. OH MY GOD. With another awkward throat clearing it returned to its normal cadence as he backed into his apartment. “That sounds great — I’ll uh. I’ll be out. And we can go.”

“Yeah, no, take your time.” You were backing up toward your door and clumsily opening it, still smiling. And then your eyes flicked downward to his sweats and the blush turned outright excessive. “Bye!”

Both doors slammed at the same time. Neither you or Bartolomeo seemed to care if the other one heard inarticulate, flustered yelling.

#bartolomeo #bartolomeo one piece #bartolomeo the cannibal #bartolomeo x you #one piece x reader #reader insert #yandere!bartolomeo #yandere #i'll fucking digest you one kiss at a time #ifdyokaat #no fun facts this time -- just enjoy ;3c

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psychedelic-ink · 4 years ago

Photo

This is my commission for @your-local-trainwreck ! Thank you so much for commissioning me and thank you so much for your patience as well! It’s been a bit rough these past couple of week and I’m thankful for your understanding, I hope you enjoy this uwu

Pairing: Marco/fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/comfort

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: You’re a princess who ran away from your abusive father a year ago, what happens when your past comes to haunt you?

Warnings: Abusive father, mentions of physical abuse

Commissions | Ko-Fi

The wind blew cold against your burning skin. Your eyes were glued to the horizon, the sea met the sky, both of them grey and grim. A shiver went down your spine as realization dawned on you. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same. You took in a deep breath, filling your lungs with fresh air, the salty scent of the sea relaxing you. Hugging yourself you turned, the grey clouds above you became darker and darker as the faint sound of thunder could be heard. Another tremble overtook your body and your eyes searched for a familiar face but sadly none was found. You sigh and just as you were turning to face the sea once again with the corner of your eye you saw a large shadow looming across the deck and your mouth fell open.

You didn’t even need to see the man’s face to know that you were afraid. You hugged yourself tighter as you took a step back, your lips feeling dry and mouth feeling numb. Heavy steps were heard, the shadow inching closer and closer towards you. Suddenly the ship felt small, so small that you were sure with his next step he would be standing right infront of you.

Holding your breath you took another step back, the small of your back faced resistance and realization that you couldn’t run away anymore dawned on you. Fear and desperation bubbled inside you. There was no were else to go. Nowhere else to run. Your lungs starting to feel tight, you watched as the looming figure came closer and closer and soon he was standing right infront of you. The figure placed a hand on your head and combed your hair with his fingers then just as you thought maybe it was okay, he took a fist full of your hair and pulled you closer. A pain retched scream echoed throughout the endless sea and rain started to pour from the heavens. Tears mixed with rain and you found yourself being pulled along with the man. Your scalp felt like it was going to tear away and you could do nothing but beg him to stop as he took you back to the prison you called home.

╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

“Y/N, wake up!”

Two strong hands gripped tightly at your shoulders and gently shook you. The alarmed voice called out to you again and again, slowly bringing you back to reality. You blinked your eyes open. The familiar sight of the wooden ceiling came into view, the soft light of a candle filled the dark room and you took in a deep breath.

“Marco?” you called out, your voice hoarse and lips dry.

Your body still trembling you straightened up, the sheets slid down and the cold of the room made you shiver. Pressing your back against the wall, you let out a deep breath as you let your head fall back. Marco shot you a worried glance as he looked up to you, he propped himself up on his elbow and lifted his hand as an attempt to place it on your cheek. It was an innocent gesture but it made your eyes widen and cower in fear. Noticing this, he sighed and let his hand fall back on the bed. He knew nothing of your past and upbringings. You were grateful he never asked but you couldn’t hide it forever.

“You were screaming in your sleep.” he said calmly but you could still hear the hints of worry. “I understand that you don’t want to tell me about your past but this has been going on for a week. I’m worried.”

Your heart broke at his tone and his words. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark. It has been almost a year since you started sailing with the Whitebeard Pirates and still no one knew, not even your boyfriend Marco. You took in a shaky breath and ruffled your hair. Your skin was cold yet you felt like you were burning. Sighing for the nth time, you turn your gaze towards him.

“I’m really sorry Marco,” you muttered. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

With a smile you placed a hand on his cheek, unlike you he was warm to the touch, Marco pressed himself against your palm and placed a kiss. His lips tickled your palm and your smile widened. Seeing how gentle he was with you, your heart fluttered with love.

“I’ll be alright,” you whispered, your voice going soft. “I promise. Just...give me some time.”

Marco gave you a doubtful glance and you knew he didn’t believe you. He let out a groan and took your hand into his. Gently he caressed the top of your hand with his thumb, it was a soothing gesture and made your heart throb. Marco truly was one of the best parts of your life. You were thankful for him.

He sighed, “Fine, but please let me know if I can help.”

You smile and slowly nod. Marco, finally content, let himself fall back to the bed and pulled you along with him. With a gasp you fell on to his chest, he planted his lips on the top of your head and stroked your hair. You hummed happily and with a smile you nuzzled his chest. Suddenly all the fear and anxiety from your nightmare had disappeared. Marco wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close as you hummed happily.

“We should sleep.” he muttered almost in a whisper.

You nodded against his chest, the warmth radiating from him starting to lull you into sleep. Your lips parted for a yawn and you snuggled him once again. You hear him puffing out a gust of air and the flame that so dimly lit the room disappeared, darkness engulfing you both. Slowly, your mind started to fall into a peaceful emptiness accompanied by a familiar melody sung by the one you loved.

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

You are jolted awake by the sound of shouting, hurried footsteps could be heard coming from the deck and you quickly glance to the side of the bed only to see it empty. Panic flooded your veins and you quickly got up, not bothering to change out of your sweatpants and basic tee, you quickly grabbed a sweatshirt and put it on.

As soon as you took a step outside you were immediately aware that it was still early in the morning. The sun wasn’t fully up and the morning cold went through your sweatshirt with ease and chilled your bones. You shivered and took a step forward, with the corner of your eye you could see that there were unfamiliar faces on the deck. Pirates? You thought but they seemed too overly dressed to be pirates. You observe further, taking another step closer. A sudden shine blinded you and you blinked as you tried to see what it was.

Your eyes widened with horror.

A pin that was all too familiar was reflecting the sun directly into your eyes. It was an emblem of a crow surrounded by roses with sharp thorns, trapping the crow in amidst them. Deep down you always related to that dumb crow, no matter what it did, the animal could never escape and even if it miracoulously did there was no escape from the damage caused by the thorns.

“Who are you?”

You hear the captain’s voice echo across the ship. The remainder of the crew surrounded him. You could see Thatch, Ace and more importantly Marco.

“Our king has been looking for her daughter for over a year.” the unfamiliar man spoke. “He wishes to reunite with her and we have intel that she’s aboard your ship.”

“There’s no princess here,” Ace took a step forward, crossing his arms in front of him. “Now leave.”

Technically Ace wasn’t lying. He just didn’t know the truth.

You glanced back to Marco. He was standing right next to Whitebeard, the blond seemed thoughtful. You could almost see the gears churning in his head, meanwhile the captain looked more bored than anything.

“You would be rewarded handsomely,” another guard spoke, smiling like a rat. “With a lot of gold and priceless jewels.”

That seemed to anger Marco the most.

“If you think we would just give up a comrade just for riches you’re more of an idiot then you look.”

The guard seemed taken aback by his words, he snarled at the blond but said nothing and directed his gaze up to the captain. Now Marco too had defensively crossed his arms in front of him, he slightly tilted his head—

Then your eyes lock onto each other.

You shivered. Marco’s gaze was calm yet puzzled. He seemed to expect you to come onto deck like the rest of them, but when he saw fear clouding your eyes he knew. Marco sighed and turned his gaze back to the intruders.

“Your princess isn’t here.” he said. “Now leave.”

With a piercing gaze, he took a step forward. He was daring the guards to do something, anything. Small blue and yellow flames could now be seen dancing across Marco’s shoulders. You could faintly feel the threatening aura he emitted and it seemed like it was rather effective on the intruders. They scrambled back, annoyed grunts accompanying them. It didn’t seem like they wanted to fight a phoenix without further help.

When they got off the ship you finally let go of the breath you hadn’t realized that you had been holding. You came out from hiding and made your towards the rest of the crew. Marco was quick to pull you into an embrace, prompting Whitebeard to raise an eyebrow at the two of you. But before the captain could ask anything, Marco placed a kiss on the top of your head and muttered a question instead.

“Do you want to explain to us what’s going on?”

Shyly you looked up at Whitebeard, he was patiently awaiting your explanation.

“They’re guards from my island.” you began with a sigh. “I’m a runaway princess.”

Without being prompted your eyes start to well up, you quickly averted your gaze. Marco’s hand was securely resting on your waist but you knew what had to happen. Fear overtook your body and you trembled before your captain. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say. You had been lying to them for so long, you doubted he had anything good to say. You would have to leave, leave the place you called home for so long. It was that simple. You couldn’t endanger your family and you surely couldn’t ask for them to fight for you. With trembling lips you peel away from Marco and are immediately embraced by the cold.

“I’ll leave as soon as possible.” you replied barely in a whisper. Your voice sounded defeated. “Thank you for taking me in. Sorry for the trouble.”

You turned to leave but a strong grip took a hold of your wrist and you shot Marco a confused glance, though he seemed just as confused as you.

“Where are you going?” he asked, baffled.

“Away.” you replied nonchalantly, surprised that he didn’t understand. “I can’t endanger the crew. My father, you don’t know him, he’s a monster.”

“Are you forgetting who your crewmates are?” Marco snapped back, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not the only one with baggage you know, we’ll protect you.”

“You’re biased...”

“Marco’s right.”

The captain’s voice cut you off. He looked down at the both of you, his gaze was one of compassion and you felt your heart flutter. Once again tears threaten to fall from your eyes and you avert your gaze. How could they be so kind? Before you can ask this specific question the rest of the crew came closer, surrounding the two of you with words of comfort and threats flung towards their enemy. You stare at them all with wide, confused eyes.

You slowly parted your lips, your bottom lip trembled as you tried to speak but before you could mutter out a single thank you loud footsteps were heard and everyone’s head turned towards the source. A whine left your throat instead.

He was here.

Your demeanor changed immediately. Gripping Marco’s arm you hid behind him as much as you could, slouching and making your body small. His eyes shifted to you and understanding how you felt, he shielded you from the men that were boarding the Moby Dick. Your father stood directly in front of you, Marco and Whitebeard. With the way he wrinkled his nose, he seemed almost disgusted that he had to negotiate with pirates. Anger accompanied by fear boiled inside of you.

Your father’s eyes momentarily were locked onto yours but quickly shifted his glance towards Whitebeard.

“I see that my daughter has made some friends,” he snarled. “But playtime is over. She has duties as a princess and she’ll be coming with me.”

“No.” the captain shut him down quickly. “She doesn't wish to leave with you and I will respect her wishes.”

Your father sighed and turned his gaze back to you, he took a step forward.

“This is idiotic,” he growled, reaching out. “You’ll be coming with me, the less your resist the less your punishment will—”

Marco’s hand shot up instantly and took a hold of his wrist. His brows furrowed; he glared at the man with anger mixed and hatred.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marco said, his voice high. “What have you done to her?”

You’ve never seen Marco like this before. He resembled a beast ready to attack but at that moment, in your mind, you couldn’t believe any of your comrades could protect you. Your ears rang and your heart beated loudly against your chest. It was almost painful how the fear mixed with adrenaline pumped through your veins. You took a step back, fearing that your worst nightmare was about to come true.

Your father glared at Marco before pulling his wrist away. The wrinkles around his nose deepened. If his disgusted face wasn’t visible before it surely was visible now. Marco was emitting a threatening aura, flames now uncontrollably spewing from each corner of his body. The other man took a step forward, looking down at the blond.

“You dare touch a king?” he hissed, his blood boiling. “Such unacceptable behavior.”

With that he elegantly raised his hand and flicked his fingers, with that all hell broke loose.

The guards were quick to pull out their weapons and from the looks of it some of them were devil fruit users. The crew immediately fought back, not a hesitation in their movements as they fought for you. You felt helpless as you stood by and watched, Marco continued to glare at your father who was grinning maliciously.

“Give me my daughter and there won’t be bloodshed.”

The question was directed at Marco but the one who replied was the captain who now stood, his presence strong and frightening.

“You talk big for such a small man.”

Your father looked up at him with gritted teeth, he shouted words that you couldn’t hear as Marco pushed you away.

“Go to the back.” he said quickly. “I’ll find you when this is over.”

“No!” you shouted, eyes wide. “I can’t leave all of you fighting my battle.”

Marco smiled, seemingly knowing you would protest, “Just go. You’ll make it up to us later.”

He pushed you away once more and your feet moved on their own. You ran towards the back, the sound of screaming and weapons clashing echoing throughout the ship. You didn’t dare to stop, breathing heavily, finally you let go of your tears. Your vision now blurred, you continued to run blindly until you reached the end just like Marco said. The wretched noise of fighting was now distant and sounded as if it was coming from far away. You crouched behind a pole and covered your ears. The realization that you would never be free clawed against your throat and squeezed your heart. You took in deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself.

You had no idea how long you stood like that. Tears falling from your eyes and ears covered, your body trembled as you waited for the outcome. You would be shifted back to reality with either a gentle touch from Marco or a painful pull by the hair from your father. A whine escaped your lips. You wished all of this was a nightmare and that you would wake up soon. It all seemed so unfair.

There’s a touch on your shoulder and you visibly flinched as your eyes shot open. Your vision was still blurry but you could make out blond hair and a gentle smile. Marco kneeled next to you and pulled you into an embrace. Your eyes widened momentarily before closing them once again and letting your tears flow freely as you nuzzled his neck. The salty tears wetted his shirt and you felt him hug you closer, tighter. You could faintly hear him muttering words of comfort, your ears still ringing, your head throbbed. You feel his fingers combing your hair and his other hand soothingly rubbing your back.

“It’s alright now,” he muttered, his voice finally reaching you. “He’s gone.”

“Really?” your breath hitched. “Marco I’m so sorry, this was all my fault.”

“No it’s not.” he whispered softly, his lips moving against your ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what you’ve been through sooner.”

You took in deep breaths, his calming scent filling your nostrils, you managed to peel yourself away from his neck and look at him with glassy eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” you replied, voice hoarse. “I never told you. I didn’t want anyone to know, I just wanted to forget about it, forget about him.”

Marco’s hand slid down from your hair and to your cheek, his thumb went in circles around your damp skin. Placing a kiss on your temple he smiled at you.

“Believe me, none of this was your fault,” then he chuckled. “Besides no one got hurt and I’m pretty sure they enjoyed a bit of fighting. We are pirates after all.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, his smile widened and this time he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I’ll always be here to protect you, don’t you ever forget that y/n.” he breathed out, lips moving against your skin. “Even if he does come back I will never let him lay a finger on you ever again.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece marco #marco x reader #marco the pheonix #writing commission #hurt/comfort #one piece imagine #one piece scenario

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vesuviannights · 5 years ago

Text

Lucio x Reader 🍋🍋

Gender neutral reader, no pronouns or body parts.

As an Omega, you’ve spent your life yearning for adventure and covering your symptoms with any range of spells and herbs you could find. And the world has been kind to you, keeping you hidden from any Alpha who would wish to have you - until a white wolf appears in your forest sanctuary, golden eyes and blood-stained maw, and your carefully crafted control begins to unravel.

5411 words.

Featuring: omegaverse lore, knotting, breeding kink, cum stuffing, biting/claiming, Alpha Lucio, Omega Reader, some Asra x Muriel, mentions of blood, mentions of starvation

If you’re familiar with Omegaverse lore, know that I’ve fiddled with some of it to merge it with what we know of the Arcana universe. If not - welcome, and I hope you enjoy your stay! Here’s an informative page if you want to learn about it before you read, but if not there’s just enough exposition woven throughout the fic to give you the basics.

Also, the whole ‘consent what consent’ vibe in Omegaverse fics always throws me a bit, so there’s some vaguely political stuff in here to address that.

This is the second fic (and third prompt) for my Terrifying Ten scorecard!

You had never wanted to be an Omega. Or a Beta. Or even an Alpha. You had only ever wanted to be you, and free to do whatever you pleased, and not weighed down by what each label meant, or how others looked at you because of it.

And so you had spent every year since your first heat, that horrifying moment you could no longer deny exactly what you were, trying to figure out new ways to stop or mask it.

Casting spells. Starving yourself. Hiding out in certain magical places to mask your scent. Carrying specific herbs or magical items with you to ward off the all-too-obvious symptoms until you could find sanctuary.

You knew it was dangerous. Illegal, in some parts. The right kind of Omega might be considered property by the wrong kind of Alpha, and the longer an Omega went through their heats without sating them by submitting to an Alpha, the more they risked one day being crippled by them.

But you…you risked it all. All for freedom. All for the world. For wanting to see and explore and live how you wanted and not for someone else.

And all because of what your Aunt had told you one day, when you had been walking past the Count’s palace. Her eyes had glazed over, her voice had become fickle and husky, like it always did whenever she was possessed by the spirits.

And then she had turned to you and whispered the six words you knew you could never escape:

One day he will have you.

The air is crisp around you as you push your fingers through the damp soil, seeking the mushrooms and roots you need for your evening meal.

Beside you, a basket is already near-filled with them, all sorts and varieties and colours, ready to be washed and made into stew. You would usually never pick so many for yourself, especially not during your heat when you were too nauseous to eat, but you always enjoyed leaving some for Muriel as a thanks for letting you kick him out of his hut for a week.

You didn’t think you could ever thank him enough, really, but you tried to every moment you could. The sanctuary it allowed for you to have was priceless, and no gift would ever suffice in return.

You drop a few more roots into your basket before dusting the dirt from your hands. A little is still there when you move your hair from your face, and flecks of it catch in the strands and on your cheeks.

You huff quietly under your breath.

—and just barely hear a second, more distance huff join it.

You freeze at the sound, an almost low growl that reverberates through the clearing and straight into your chest.

And that’s when you feel it.

Eyes.

Watching, waiting, curious.

Ready to devour.

You stand on shaking legs, your eyes darting around the edges of the clearing. Three rapid beats of your heart pass before you see it, hidden in the shadows of the trees just beyond reach.

It’s a wolf. White as snow, with two golden eyes and a bloodstained maw that curls back over its glistening teeth.

Your knees nearly buckle at the sight of it, the world stilling around you as its eyes pin you in place. There is a burn at the base of your throat, a thickness you can’t quite dislodge. A soft wind pulls at your clothes, rustles the trees around you, and when the wolf takes a single step forward, you’re hit with the faintest scent of honey.

It’s this that snaps you from your daze, that awakens you enough to release a short gasp as you take a single step back. The wolf’s ears perk, its pupils blow out, but it doesn’t take another step, and you manage to clamber your way back into the hut and slam the back door shut.

You pull every lock but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

You wait out the night in the bedroom upstairs in darkness, all curtains pulled, alone with your thoughts and fears until the sun peaks over the frosted forest trees and you are safe once more.

There are no more signs of the wolf, a mere figment of your imagination when you set foot back in the city a week later. Asra sends word that same day of his own return—without Muriel, but with fresh fish from the northern rivers.

And so you venture into the markets that evening with your satchel and coins, determined to have at least something in the house other than dried fruits and stale bread. Perhaps some root vegetables and spices for the fish. Some wine to pair with it.

The city is bustling at the evening hour, and you pick your way through it via a series of back streets and alleys you know well. Already in your bag is a fresh pick of swedes, and your mind is set on the mulled wine from the vendor by Salasi.

As you side step a cart and duck into an alley, you let out a quiet sigh—and are immediately hit with a swoop of heat that nearly crushes you.

It moves from head to toe with brutal force, one clean swoop before it settles in your gut. Your knees give from beneath you, and you barely notice the sting of you palms as you catch yourself on the ground.

Your vision is pinpricks of black, a foggy midnight. Racing heart. Short, shallow gasps.

And when you look up, you see it.

The wolf.

The sounds of the city are so distant, cut off by a fog you barely have the clarity to try and push your way through.

There, in the airless alley, there is nothing in the universe except for you and the white wolf as he paws forward, sharp claws clicking on the cobble.

His eyes are searing into your soul, and with each step he takes closer you find yourself keening, little whines and huffs from somewhere deep in your chest as your fingernails curl into the ground, near snapping from the force.

The wolf comes to a stop before you. As you wait on shaking hands and knees, it presses its nose to your face, your jaw, your neck. It inhales, and with it comes an oh-so-soft growl before it begins to circle.

And there you kneel, barely a day after your heat had already passed, brought down by the Alpha who circles and inhales you like its last meal.

When it steps behind you, you feel quiet noises of protest bubble in your chest, little whispers of no no no no no as he presses his maw between your legs—and with that singular action comes the wolf’s deepest growl yet, one that makes your arms give out from under you.

You fall and curl in on yourself, shaking and shivering even though it feels like a baby sun has found its home in your body, flaring and stretching itself out to every nerve and muscle it can find.

You’re barely aware of the wolf shifting, of its human scent hitting you.

A dying campfire. Honeysuckle.

You gasp out and try to shift out of his arms when he scoops you up.

“No, no,” you moan. “Please—please, I don’t—”

“Ssshhh.”

His voice is so soothing, right against your ear. Gentle. Safe.

You relax, the world slipping for a few moments as you press your face into his chest. His hands—one soft, one hard—curl into your body to keep you close. You sway as he walks, a soft oceanic movement that lulls you, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones.

And then the world goes black.

You blink and push yourself up on a shaking hand, the room slowly clearing as you brush the sleep from your eyes.

Every part of you is a little sore, as though you had run for too long without water. It’s daylight. The smell of fresh bread lingers in the room, and a moment later—

Asra appears in the door, soft smile and dazzling eyes as he leans against the frame.

The shop. You’re back in the shop.

“I was wondering when you would wake.”

He has that look about him. That freshly-fucked glow, the kind he always has when he comes back from being railed by a rutting Muriel’s fourteen inch cock for six days straight.

You stand, stretch, rub your face. “Is there food?”

“Plenty. You know I always need to replenish when I’m back.”

Downstairs, there is a ridiculous spread. Dried figs, small chunks of cheese, breads and olive oils, cold cured meats from your favourite market vendor. There is even a small selection of sweets in the corner, placed closest to Asra for ease of access.

The sight of so much food should be overwhelming, but you’re used to it. Asra never puts his money where his mouth is, or rather the food—always says he wants to eat and eat and eat after returning home, when really all he wants is to pick at things like a spoiled concubine.

He lounges on his side by the low table, supported by plush silk cushions while you lower yourself to sit cross-legged opposite him.

The two of you immediately begin working through the food while he talks about his plans for the week, how the weather will turn just enough for the two of you to spend a night out in the fields stargazing.

You murmur and agree to each thing, though you don’t really remember them once he moves on to the next one. Your concentration isn’t normally so poor, and if he notices you thinking on it, he doesn’t say a thing.

The spread of food slowly clears, until about half remains, and Asra has stopped picking.

You have a piece of toast halfway to your mouth when it hits you. Hazy and not entirely there and curious.

The alley. The wolf. The…the scent.

“Are you alright, love?” Asra asks, his voice coming to you as though through a thick fog.

You’re frowning, eyes unfocused. You don’t know if you’re alright. You can’t quite recall how you got home, or what happened after the scent.

Asra’s face shifts. He reaches out for your knee, squeezes. Your hazy memories become a little more so, and then you blink, and they are gone.

You exhale softly, and accept a small circle of cheese Asra pushes toward you. Your cheeks bloom in your happiness: it’s your favourite, a kind only available in a far-off city on the continent.

Grabbing it up with unapologetic greed, you take your first bite and release a soft moan. Asra beams at your pleasure, and the final sliver of uncertainty eases itself from the room.

“How did your week go?” He asks.

You nod, and you tell him it went well. You got a lot of reading done. You tried to paint. Muriel has a new row of herbs in his garden, though you couldn’t say what—identifying seeds has never been your specialty.

Asra’s eyes light up, and he laughs. “Muri will adore them, I’m sure.”

And you smile back, and bite into your toast.

“Last time I changed something in his hut,” you remind him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “He pouted for a week. Remember? He hated those carvings. Said he wanted to move out, they were so hideous.”

Asra’s lips twitch up, but something seems to fall, too. You tilt your head and watch as his gaze lingers for a second longer, then loses the fight and drops away.

“He’s…not leaving the hut, is he?” You ask slowly, a little more alert. And then, with a slightly tighter chest, “You’re not leaving, are you?”

He shakes his head, no, and then shrugs.

“Maybe. Muri is getting restless anyway,” he says. His gaze drops to his hands, where he’s picking at his nail beds. “He wants pups.”

“Do you?”

And then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, a resigned, “Yeah.”

But. There’s a ‘but’ there, one you know not to push.

With the remains of your meal scattered and a new weight settled over the shop, you stand and begin to collect whatever you can save for the next day. Asra remains in his spot, staring at his nail beds, until you crouch by him and kiss his head, nodding toward your shared room.

The day melts into the afternoon, until the sun begins to disappear beneath the skyline and you’re stirred from your dozing by the sounds of rapping at the shop door.

Asra murmurs and stretches out beside you, then slowly unfurls each of his limbs from each of yours and moves for the door. Faust slithers out from the sheets at the foot of the bed and curls into the curve of your neck, and the two of you are very nearly back to sleep when Asra returns with a small piece of paper bearing the palace seal on the back.

He holds it up to you between two fingers, nose crinkled in mild distaste.

“It’s—” You pause to yawn, murmuring quietly as you sit up and rub at your eyes. “It’s from the Countess?”

Asra nods.

“The Count’s ruts have been getting longer and longer,” he sighs. The paper vanishes in a puff of magic, and he begins to gather his scarf and coat as he speaks. “And she can only be alone with the insufferable twat for so long herself.”

Your lips twitch a little at the comment, and he slings his bag over his shoulder before offering out a hand for Faust to slither up.

“Muriel isn’t back in the city yet,” he says, looking a little worried. “Will you be okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” you assure. You lean forward to kiss Faust on her nose, and then flop back down into the sheets, ready to settle in for another nap. “Wake me when you get back.”

Asra murmurs his goodbye, and you’re already slipping when he closes the shop door behind him.

Until another rapping comes, this time much firmer and a little more impatient.

Near blind, you push yourself up and stumble toward the door, still rubbing sleep from your eyes with the heel of your palm as you open the door.

And before you stands your white wolf.

Count Lucio.

You know it without thought, without consideration, as though every nerve in your body knew the exact feel of the flames that licked at them whenever he came close, in whichever form he chose.

You wait for it to hit you, that crippling heat, that burning need, but as you stare up at him through your lashes and his canines glint in the torchlight, you find nothing inside of yourself except your own racing heart.

You pause before you speak, body still as your eyes flicker over his face. “How—how did you know Asra would leave?”

He peers into the shop and steps inside, not waiting for an invitation as he looks around.

“I was a particularly insufferable twat today,” he tells you. “So that Noddy would request your master’s company.”

You exhale hard to cover the shake in your chest as you close the door, and against your better judgement you lock it.

“He’s…not my master,” you murmur to him.

He turns to you, canines glinting in the torchlight. “No. He’s not.”

With long, sure strides he stalks toward you, and of your own accord your eyes drop down and you walk yourself back until you hit the wall. He gives a low growl of approval, and—

There it is again, that scent, honeysuckle and a dying fire. Your eyes flutter shut; you can already feel the promise of what comes next.

“You’ll find I’m not a patient Alpha, my sweet,” he murmurs to you.

His alchemical arm reaches down, you feel it brush against the fabric of your clothes before he pulls something out. Your eyes catch on it, but you still can’t look up, still can’t raise your voice above a whisper.

“What is that?” You ask.

But of course, you know what it is.

“You know what it is,” he answers, an impatient lilt there. “Though perhaps you haven’t been knowledgeable in the ways you’ve been using it.”

He holds it out, and you take it in trembling fingers.

Myrrh. You knew it well, despite your attempt at ignorance. Muriel used it so people forgot him, and you used it to ignore what you were.

Asra had introduced it to you as something he himself had used in his battle to fight off his own heat and find true love instead—something that had clearly worked, and knowing that Muriel and Asra were as much in love as they were mated kept you religious about carrying it with you wherever you went.

With a clever combination of other herbs and spells, it kept the worst of it at bay. The pain was still there, but not the crippling heat, not the burning desire to be fucked and pupped without conscious choice.

You had never submitted to an Alpha, and you had never attracted any.

Until now.

Lucio tuts, pushes the hair from your face, laughs with an almost condescending edge.

“You’ve never submitted to an Alpha before now because you were waiting for me. This—“ He snatches it back to brandish it, then crushes it in his alchemical hand with a scoff. “This means nothing. That day in the forest I could have had you, could have pinned you and pupped you while you screamed.”

You shiver at his words. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you said ‘no’. Then, and last night when you collapsed in the alley. I’m an Alpha, but I’m not a monster.”

He traces your bottom lip, and it trembles then parts as your tongue darts out, hesitantly lapping at the tip of his thumb. You dare a glance up and see the approval in his eyes, the darkening of his irises, and your stomach leaps at the look. You turn your head and close your lips over his thumb, whimpering and whining as you suckle.

“You won’t last forever, pet,” he says. “You will have to submit. Your body demands it. Even now I can see the sweat of your brow, the tremble in your thighs…the myrrh and spells hide the symptoms but they don’t erase them forever.”

And at his words, your entire body shudders and you drop against him. It’s the alley all over again, a heat licking up your spine and every nerve, clawing at your veins, you’re whimpering and whining and the only thing you know is honeysuckle and dying woodfire.

He is growling, muscles rolling, pressing you against the wall as he nuzzles into your neck, as he paws at your clothes.

Say it say it say it say it—

You don’t know what he’s asking for, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, your chest heaving, you need it now, you need to be rewarded, filled, fucked, pupped—

The thought slams into you without elegance and without warning, and you gasp out and shove him away, but he comes right back. He smashes his lips to yours, teeth clashing as he ruts his hips into your thigh.

“Say it!” He growls; it’s deeper, it echoes in your mind, demands. An Alpha’s voice.

You whimper, and the word tumbles from your lips in a pathetic cry.

“YES!”

And then he’s on you. He’s shredding your clothes, his teeth are at your neck, grazing and threatening to mark. You can feel the heat of his cock as he throws you down onto the table, you part your legs whining and clawing at the wood.

He snorts at the sight of you, a cold sneer as he looks you over. “What am I supposed to do with you like this? Present yourself.”

You scramble to roll over onto your stomach and push your hips into the air. You can feel your sudden heat lashing at your body, causing arousal to drip down your thighs, lubricating you for everything to come. You push your hips back, panting and whimpering, trying so desperately to find the heat of his cock.

His cock, his seed, to be filled, to be swelled, to be knotted and held there and bred and pupped and fucked over and over and over again—

“Please!” You whine and look over your shoulder, but he growls and pushes your head back down.

“Behave yourself.”

You feel his cock press into your inner thigh, and you know he must have shifted into his mating form, because no human cock could be so large, so thick. You shudder, your eyes sting from desperation.

He just laughs. An Alpha in control, desperate to fuck you and pup you, but he won’t make it easy for you to get what you want.

“Please!” You gasp out again. “I’ll—I’ll be good, I promise—”

“Oh, my dear little Omega,” he purrs into your shoulder blade. He pauses to graze his teeth there, and you go near-feral from the sting. “You will be good no matter what, my cock will see to that. Have you ever taken a cock this big before?”

You shake your head.

“Have you ever taken cock at all?”

You swallow, and when you don’t answer, his grip on your hips tightens.

“AH!” You yelp and jerk away from the bruising, but he drags you right back with a warning growl.

The action causes the head of his cock to slip into you, and you sob at the stretch of it, as the ache in your body burns even deeper at the knowledge that he’s inside of you, but not enough to sate you.

“Do you want my cock, little Omega?” He purrs. “Do you want me to fill you?” You give a pathetic whine. “Oh, you do? Well, then perhaps you should ask for it.”

Your words begin bubbling out before you can stop them.

“Please, please please—”

He scoffs. “Better than that, my dearest.”

His alchemical fingertips trace the curve of your spine. You clench and shudder around the head of his cock, but he remains perfectly still.

“Tell me exactly how you want me to take you.”

Your eyes roll as you gather your next words.

“I—I want—” You attempt to turn your face into the table to hide yourself, the drooling mess of your mouth, the crossing of your eyes, but he twists you back with an impatient growl. “PLEASE! Please, f-fuck me, please fuck me, fill me with your cock, breed me and pup me and fuck me please—”

Your words snap his final ounce of control, and he slams into you in one go with a howl, one that seems to shake the walls of the shop and every object on the shelves.

An Alpha’s howl.

A claiming howl.

The Count of Vesuvia, finally having found his Omega.

He begins fucking you without warning, long and thick strokes you know couldn’t possibly fit inside you. But they do, your body has shifted along with his own and every inch of him can fit inside of your dripping hole.

The room echoes with wet squelching noises as he moves at a brutal pace, his growing knot and balls slamming against you as he buries himself as deep as possible each time.

“Ohhh, does that feel better, pet?” He croons to you. “Does it feel good having my cock inside of you, fucking you like the submissive little bitch you are after you spent so long denying it?”

You nod and gasp, nails dragging along the oak of the table as you try to gain purchase to push back. You want his knot. You need it so bad, you need to be filled—

You sob. “P-please!”

“’Please’?” He laughs, and the barely-hidden edge makes that final hold on you snap.

“I WANT YOUR KNOT!” You scream. “I need your cum—I need it please—”

He reaches forward and closes a hand around your neck, yanking you up and back against his chest. His movements don’t still as both arms close around your waist, caging you in.

“I’ll knot you,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. “I’ll fill you with my cum and then my pups and watch you swell with them over and over again—” You whine as he speaks, and the deep growl from his chest is his approval. “But first, you must give me something in return.”

And then you feel it—the scrape of his too-sharp canines against your neck.

He wants to mark you.

Claim you.

Make you his, and only his, for everyone to see.

“Yes!” You gasp it out without even thinking, without needing to. “Mark me, I’m yours, I’m your mate—”

He lets out a feral growl at the word. “Say it again.”

“M-mate, I’m—” You feel your grip on reality slip, just for a moment, only to be brought back by his hand at your throat, shaking you as he rattles your body with his brutal pace.

“Louder, again—scream it for the city to hear!”

“MATE!”

His hand tightens just that little bit more.

“Again!”

“MATE, I’M YOUR MATE—AH!”

His teeth sink in, right as his knot does, and it’s the most exquisite pain you have ever felt in your life.

While his teeth cut into your neck and mark you with his scent, claiming you forever as his, his knot stretches you to its impossible size, locking you to him as his cum spills inside of you, copious and hot and thick.

You groan and whine and whimper at the feel, the world blacking out for a few moments as your body strains to take it all in. No world, no words, no time; just the warmth of his cum as it swells your stomach, the sweat that trickles down your collar bone along with the blood that stains your skin and his teeth.

When you return to consciousness a moment later, your own orgasm is rocking through you. It’s burning you from the inside out, leaving you dazed and aching, squeezing around his swollen cock and knot, greedily draining him and everything he is offering you.

As you start to come down, panting and gasping, you can feel something at your thighs. You realise, with heavy eyes and barely-there mewls, that there is so much of his cum inside of you, flooding you, that it has leaked out past his knot. It’s dribbling down your heated skin, following the curve of your thigh, the back of your knee, to the floor with soft little pats.

You let out a soft cry as he pulls his canines from your neck, then laves at the marks with his tongue to seal them. Your hand goes to your stomach, still so impossibly swollen with his cum—and one day, if he had his way, with more than his cum.

His hand joins yours at your stomach, pressing gently. You groan in protest at the ache, and he shushes you with a kiss behind your ear as more of his cum leaks out and runs down each of your legs.

“Oh little Omega, look at the mess you’ve made,” he murmurs.

His voice is quiet now, the Alpha sated, though it’s only temporary. Within half an hour, his knot will have receded, and he will be ready to fuck you again, and knot you again, and fill you with his cum again, over and over throughout the night and well into the next few days, until his rut is over and he has had his fill.

You let out a soft cry as he shifts the two of you to stretch out along the table, his body curved along your spine.

“You’ve been coupling thistle with the myrrh, have you not?” He asks.

You nod. Even though you were so careful to never be exposed to an Alpha until now, you still took the precautions to prevent pregnancy.

“That will have to stop immediately,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. He nuzzles with his nose, and then presses a single, slow, open-mouthed kiss there. “I want you swollen with my pups.”

You swallow thickly, and when you don’t nod or make a noise to agree, he reaches forward and roughly takes hold of your chin. Your eyes go to his lips, feeling the Alpha roll through him again, you can’t meet his gaze.

“Do you not want my pups?” You shake your head. “’No’, you don’t want them, or ‘no’, I’m wrong?”

You swallow. His grip tightens. You whimper, and in response you feel his cock twitch inside of you, setting off a new round of heat that begins to curl around your abdomen and the base of your spine.

You’re already panting a little when you answer. “I want your pups. I want to be your—your breeding bitch.”

“Good mate,” he murmurs. His hand goes back to your stomach, pressing against the swell of it once more.

As if pulled by strings, you whine and twitch against him, and his body rolls with a growl as he nuzzles into your neck.

“B-but—” You gasp it out, and feel him freeze behind you. But he waits. “I…I want to wait. Please. I don’t think I can handle…pups, right now.” You swallow, and when he still hasn’t said a word, you add in a whisper, “I want to see the world.”

It seems like an eternity before he speaks, or moves, or gives you any indication of what he feels. His lips remain at the back of your neck, and his hand against your stomach, the pressure there just enough to be a constant reminder of how full you are of him.

“I would never dream of taking your autonomy from you,” he murmurs, breaking the silence. “If you wish to be swathed in silks, then I will find the best out there. If you wish to spend your days lounging in my palace without lifting a finger, then I shall assign you a thousand hands to help. And if you wish to see the world…”

Your breath catches in your throat. You can hear the shake on his voice, the barely-contained Alpha—and beneath it all, the terrified Count Lucio, afraid that affection will not remain forever. That you will not remain forever.

“…then you will see the world.”

You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to thank him. Instead, you lift a hand to his wrist, holding it against your throat for the comfort and security it offers.

It doesn’t take more than a few moments before you feel him tensing behind you, the Alpha’s growl building in his chest.

“I will fuck you on every surface in this shop until sunrise,” he says, voice deathly still. “Until you can no longer walk, until you can no longer swallow my cum or fit any more of it inside your aching hole, and even then. And if your master returns, I’ll make him watch—maybe I will even make him join, no matter who his Alpha is. How does that sound, pet?”

You’re shivering from the heat again; without the myrrh and with your Alpha so close by, with your new mark burning at your neck, there is little to do.

Everything he says sounds so wonderful. So delicious. You want to be fucked and bred and swollen and held down while he does whatever he needs to you, while he coos to you about how much of his cum is inside of you, how swollen and aching you are, how pretty it looks dribbling down your thighs and leaving drops on the wooden floor of the shop.

All too soon, before you have even managed to answer, you feel him beginning to pull out of you. Along with it, some of his seed spills out onto the table, and you feel tears sting your eyes at the loss.

Until he rights you, hips in the air, and rakes his claws down your spine as he leans in to whisper.

“Spread yourself apart for me like a good little breeding slut.”

And then he slams himself into you once more.

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

#the arcana #lucio #count lucio #lucio x reader #lucio morgasson #the arcana lucio #the arcana count lucio #lemon #writing #theterrifyingten #ttt

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codyfernmorelikedaddyfern · 5 years ago

Note

Could you combine 63 & 91 with Xavier. Either at the fitness studio or at home. Lots of smut please.

Okay so… I started writing this smut prompt and all of a sudden, I felt the light bulb turn on in my head and I was like “Hey. This would fit so well in the Hiding universe.So I wrote it with it in mind… It’s longer than a blurb and it doesn’t have a LOT of smut but, you know, they fuck.

Description: After consuming their relationship for the first time, Xavier struggles to keep his mind off of (Y/N)’s body during his usual aerobic lesson

Warnings: Sex, marking, bruises, the usual…

Word count: 1903

17th May 1984

He couldn’t help his gaze lingering on the swell of her ass or the valley of her breasts. The music, blaring, wasn’t a good enough distraction when he was having the whole room thrust and roll their hips the way he did the night before. How could he focus on their routine when a similar shroud of sweat covered her body, her cheeks still flushed with a dusting of pink? How could he possibly give them an effective workout when the only thing that was going through his mind was (Y/N) desperately asking for more beneath him like the night before.

Xavier had had many lovers, he had fucked plenty of girls and even dabbled with a couple of men. However, there was something so special about how his girl had surrendered herself to him fully, delving far deeper than gentle kisses and tired embraces in the confines of her couch or his bed.(Y/N) had been confident enough to let him taste, feel and truly see her and if he had any doubts about his feelings for the girl before, it was gone quicker than the clothes they wore the night before. Heart thrumming in his chest as he slipped between her folds for the first time, he already knew he was falling in love with her. And so was she.

The clock struck 7 and the tension of have so many eyes trained on his aroused frame left Xavier. Sharing a quick glance,(Y/N) slipped her bag over her shoulder as Montana hooked her finger around the strap to pull her friend with her.“I think Xavier has a thing for you”she teased, poking her (Y/H/C)’s arms. “What do you mean” a blush crept on her face while the blond pulled her to the locker rooms. “He’s had a hard on during the whole class and he looked ready to pounce on you at any second” Tana playfully rolled her eyes at her friend as they made their way to the showers.

It’s only when (Y/N shed her sweat-soaked leotard that the dots connected in Montana’s head. Fingerprints littering her thighs and love bites marking the way down for her collarbones to her navel poorly concealed by the cream towel she wrapped around her body.The expression on the blonde’s face was priceless. She knew all too well the behaviour Xavier could fall into whilst intimate, the need to feel a claim on his lover. The need for them to wear his battle scars. The simple thought of having his girl completely covered under her workout gear whilst no one around her knew how she was begging for him to claim her, touch her and love her.

“So what? We had a bit of fun, (Y/N) playfully rolled her eyes.- How long has it been? Does Chet knows?- It only happened yesterday, chill. And no, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t need to.- So are you guys a thing, the blonde asked.- Tana, it’s really no big deal. We’ve just, you know, been hanging out.- Do you like him?”

The silence and deepening shades of crimson spreading across(Y/N)’s cheeks was good enough of an answer and the flood of answers that passed the blonde’s lips only brought her closer to the conclusion that, as obvious as it was, there was much more than “hanging out” between the both of them, a fact that Xavier and (Y/N) were blatantly aware of.

She silently reached her locker before pulling a fresh outfit out of her bag. “I’ll see you downstairs” the (Y/H/C) smiled at Montana as she slipped her bag over her shoulder, making her way out of the female’s changing room for a toned pair of arms to wrap around her waist.Yanking her back closer to the male’s changing room, the overpowering smell of Xavier’s perfume mixed with body washed made his girl’s heart peak only to calm down pretty much in the same breath. Like a pair of teenagers teetering around the edge of getting caught, they both giggled once faced with each other.

(Y/N) quickly leaned back against the wall, her hands shyly crossed behind her back. He took in the sight of her blushing cheeks and how she slipped her bottom lip between her teeth. “I can’t stop thinking about last night” he whispered after checking the hallway, sure that the halls were empty enough to allow themselves to push another PDA boundary. Reaching up to rest his hand above her head for leverage, he leaned closer, the only thing she could do was chew harder on her lip. “You literally and figuratively blew my mind” his voice teased once again while his lips curved in a cheeky smirk.

Playfully, she gingerly punched his chest as he slipped his other hand in his pocket. “I really want to kiss you right now” Xavier somewhat begged, desired pooling past his lips with a rasp. Her fingers sunk against the aim of his pockets to pull his hips closer as she suppress a chuckle with a tempting “Then do it”. Her neck extended in the same breath as he leaned down, the only thing stopping them to satiate their cravings being the loud clattering of plastic and metal.Instinctively, their fingers left each other’s grasps to straighten up and look in the direction of the noise.

“Sorry about that” Chet mumbled as he walked out of the male’s changing room. “It’s that damn bucket” he continued before pushing past the love birds, turning at the end of the corridor to see Xavier walk back in the changing room. (Y/N) took the hint and slowly made her way down the corridor only to be tugged back in the musty locker room her lover had slipped into.

As he pressed her body against the cold tiles, his lips desperately latched against his mouth, his frame pinning her down to the wall.Parting the kiss to crown her neck with burning hot trails, she gingerly whimpered. “Xavier, we can’t do that here, what if someone catches us?”. A light scoff was all that left his lips as he worked on unbuckling his belt,his other hand clawing and palming at her thighs. “Then we better put on a show, baby girl” his voice rasped once again, releasing his grip on her to pull her further down the room.

Like a pair of fugitives, they quickly pressed each other in one of the many nooks of the shower room and their lips found one another once more to desperately fill the void created by their craving of the other.Quickly than she could process, (Y/N)’s blue denim and cotton panties were pooled at her left ankle, the right one perched high on Xavier’s waist who fought the tight confines of his boxers to free himself.Long and slow strokes were wrapped around his girthy shaft, the lithe fingers of his lover bringing him to full hardness, only stopping as he sheathed himself in a condom. Teeth clashing with another hungry kiss, (Y/N)’s leg pulled the blonde closer. “Someone’s eager” he was quick to tease her only for her to quip back with a “says the one who couldn’t wait to get home”. And she was right, he couldn’t wait. He needed to consume her right here and right now and as he lined himself with her now-dripping folds, she captured her lower lip tightly between her teeth. With a swift roll of his hips, he was finally buried deep between her thighs and she was already whimpering for more.Just like the night before.

Just like they rehearsed less than an hour before, his pelvis went to swivel to meet hers at a moderate pace. (Y/N) softly mewled against the skin of his neck while she nuzzled against him, her hand tucked under his tee-shirt to claw at his supple flesh.The gentle plea for “More” was music to Xavier’s ears and it only encouraged him to thrust quicker between his lover’s thighs after pulling her other leg up to dig deeper in her throbbing cunt. And she was nothing short but eager to let him know how good the faster pace made her feel. White hot sparks of ecstasy coursed through her vein and soon enough, her fingers were committed to dig into the blonde’s back with angry red trails.Another desperate kiss was applying to the column of her neck as she tipped her head back, pants and strained moans escaping her lungs. “I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.” Xavier rasped, his digits creating new bruises against the gentle skin of her thighs. With his words, she allowed a mewl to echo through the empty shower room. “What if Chet is still around? What if he hears us?” she sheepishly moaned once more right before feeling his cock drill faster into her. “Then, let him hear how good I can make you feel” his words fanned out across her skin.

Her orgasm quickly crept up on her at his words, now letting herself succumb fully to his thrusts. Vocalising louder than before in a lewd harmony, (Y/N) reached her climax. Trembling in her lover’s arms, her cunt tightly fluttered against his shaft as she released. If last night was any sort of reference, the guttural groans and sloppy bucking of his hips only meant that he was on the edge of his own Little Death. Moans sputtered out of his lungs while he released deep between her thighs in the safe confines of the condom he slipped on before consuming his girl.

The tension of their debacle slowly seeping out of the air,he gingerly let himself pull out of her before discarding the condom in a nearby bin. Limply pulling her clothes back on, she chuckled playfully as their eyes met, completely fucked and flushed.Tenderly leaning to press a gentle kiss on (Y/N)’s lips, Xavier wrapped his arms around her waist. “Next time, should we try the women’s room?” he whispered in the shell of her ear as he buckled his belt back in place after adjusting himself back in his clothes.

Despite her face saying “How dare you”, he clearly read the soft “yes please” her eyes silently meant. “Maybe even the janitor’s cupboard?” he finished with a wink as she pushed past him. “Sure but the jackpot is the studio.Still need to practice my splits, remember?” (Y/N) cheekily teased,releasing a little yelp when Xavier’s hand landed a sharp spank to her denim-clad ass, causing her to jog out of the changing room without looking back at her lover.

Scratching the back of his neck, he already wished for it to be next Thursday so he could take (Y/N) out for dinner and happily ask his girl to fully belong to him.

______________________________________________________________

Hiding squad: @idespac, @psychobitchtess, @hplotrfan, @tea-party-at-wonderland, @langdxn, @hecohansen31 & @blakewaterxx

Random tags: @antichristfern, @littledemondani, @fckinsupreme, @wroteclassicaly & @leatherduncan

Just let me know if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a piece!

#thank you for the ask!#bvb-rebel25 #xavier plympton #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plymptom x reader smut #The Hiding Saga #smut prompts #writing prompts

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hollenka99 · 5 years ago

Text

For @averyancora

Warnings: Implied death, blood mention

It begins with a chance encounter at a bar. Chase seems to be quite talkative with a bit of drink. His wife left with the children? Oh no. How sad. Perhaps Marvin putting him out of his misery would be benevolent. It would certainly save Chase's bank account if he didn't drain it with alcohol.

Given the degree of intoxication, it would be too easy. Marvin isn't here to take the easy route. Besides, what's the point if the fly isn't aware it's just landed on a web?

Days later, they 'just happen to' bump into each other on the street. Chase is a little off put by the fact Marvin knows him while there's barely any memory of the stranger in his own mind. It is shrugged off with self-conscious laugh. Alcohol can have amnesiac qualities in large volumes. It's no big deal. Chase walks away, off to wherever he has to be, as soon as he deems it polite to excuse himself.

Marvin discovers his workplace through routine observation. It's not a particularly exceptional place. Rather dull, actually. All it encompasses are a couple of unused offices available for renting. Then there's the fooling around. Why would he bother do that for money? Perhaps Marvin should find a worthier pursuit. However, he's already invested a week in this human. Marvin is as much of a quitter as he is alive.

He mistakenly gets cocky. Chase notices the figure in the corner of his eye. It lurks and hovers. Ever present, ever slightly behind him. The idiot doesn't even make an effort to lose him.

Oh, look, he's directed his stalker right to his home. How clever of him. Listen, Marvin himself can admit that sometimes he has done things he later regrets. That said, who in their right mind, while suspecting they are being followed, would go straight home? Marvin doesn't know why he's making such a big deal of this. It has worked in his favour, after all. With an evident lack of self-preservation, it was almost as if the human wanted to be endangered.

Chase spots him from time to time. Care is taken to make it often enough to induce stress and a lack of security yet infrequent enough to suggest false estimations of safety. For fun, he develops erratic patterns in his visiting schedule.

The best morning is when the object of pursuit acts as if he believes the key to defeating the undead is a glaring contest. It's made better by a visitor joining him at the window. Oh, oh Chase. No, what have you done? Look at you bringing unsuspecting innocents into this game.

Marvin makes sure to investigate this friend further. Another player was another player. The second human remains nameless. It would only be a matter of time before that changed.

A morning comes when his eyes light up at the sight of Chase's window. Right there, attached to the glass via blu tack, is a piece of paper with a handwritten message. On it are the words:

IF I LET YOU IN, WILL YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?

Well, who was he to refuse an invitation? This should be an intriguing encounter.

As promised, Chase grants him entry into his apartment. While ordering Marvin to leave him and his friend alone, he lets slip the name 'Jackie'. Jackie, huh? Well, sure, he'll leave them be. Or, more to the point, stay out of their peripheral vision.

He cannot help but laugh when the human before him brandishes a serrated knife. Chase moves swiftly to implant it in his pursuer's chest.

"Ow." Marvin grips his wound, doubling over himself slightly. He can't keep the act up for long before breaking into chuckles. The expression he receives in reaction to him straightening again is priceless. "You do know it wouldn't be that easy, right? Here, you probably want this back."

Startled and horrified, Chase simply watches as Marvin places the weapon on the table. The cream cloth is stained red in that one spot. The apartment's occupant snatches the knife and has it aimed at Marvin once more.

"Don't-" His voice quivers. The attempt to feign bravery would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. "Don't come here again." "Sure." He winks, heading for the door.

The following days are spent ensuring Chase does not notice his lurking presence. This was getting dull. There was only so much paranoia he could stir in a human. Okay, fine! He'd end this already. The first move was eliminating any potential hitches. An ally is more welcome in the home than an enemy.

Fooling Jackie while at his doorstep is surprisingly easy. He gains the permission he requires. It's disappointing in a way. Through all this, ever since Jackie had inadvertently become entangled in his friend's dilemma, Marvin had admired him for his vigilance. How unfortunate to see him lose that for their final encounter.

The illusion of Chase's presence vanishes. "Hello Jackie-" "Oh no." The young man lets out a few quiet, incredulous laughs. "My friends call me Jackie. You can just piss off and leave us alone."

Marvin is tired of formalities too. Jackie frowns venomously with his body pressed against the wall. It's clear he has plenty he'd love to say regarding his present circumstances. A hand firmly covering the mouth has a habit of preventing such things. Marvin leans in, whispering a parting message.

"You know the whole deal with having to be let in, not passing thresholds without permission and all that? Well, the funny thing is... you can rescind that permission at any time. No-one ever seems to think to do that. And I suppose it's a shame, for you at least, that I won't give you the chance to."

Jackie fights against his fate until the last visible display of strength is depleted. He may have tripped on the final hurdle but at least he regains some of his murderer's respect. Whenever he is found, none of those investigating the scene will be able to locate the victim's phone, nor some of his items of clothing. That team will hopefully be wise enough to correctly deduce it is in the perpetrator's possession now.

Marvin heightens Chase's paranoia for approximately a week before making the move. As he had suspected, Jackie had been his only confidante in all this. Therefore, it is Jackie whom Chase rings when in need of comfort.

The conversation certainly goes smoothly. The guy's so devoid of wits he doesn't even notice any potential discrepancies in his friend's portrayal. This was getting more entertaining by the minute. Marvin almost doesn't want this to end. Still, it's been a while since he's last eaten. Not to mention the thrill of progress won't last long.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come in." "Thanks."

Just like that he's let in without hesitation. Chase immediately heads to the kitchen, offering drinks. Out of his view, the door latch is applied. The host halts when he spots this and the individual who is not Jackie seated on an armrest. The sight of confusion stepping aside to let semi-defensive wariness dominate is wonderful.

"Where's the real Jackie?" "Well, I couldn't have him warn you, now could I? I suspect he's not smelling so fresh right now. Honestly, I'm surprised no-one's found him yet. Not a very good friend, are you, if you haven't realised he hasn't spoken to you in days." "But... but we spoke yesterday." Marvin stands. "Did you? I must say, though, you are just like each other. You'll give anyone permission to enter without double checking they're genuine." "Why are you doing this? Why me?" The stillness paired with a cup hanging loosely in his grip makes for a sorrowing image. Christ, at least Jackie had gone out fighting. The lack of that in his friend is purely depressing to witness. "You ran." A series of chuckles are emitted. "Simple as. You gave me something entertaining to do for a while."

Several strides and they are standing face to face. There is one final move to be made in this game and it's Marvin's turn.

"But all this is becoming a hassle. I've put too much effort into keeping track of you to give up now. Funny how exercise can make you really work up an appetite, huh. I think it's time I finally get my reward. Don't you?"

#my writing #writersofjack #marvin the magnificent #chase brody #jackieboy man #tw death #tw blood #hey avery #when you mentioned what happened at your job I thought #'well that really sucks. I should write something for them in the hope it might make them feel a little better'#then I think you said you liked vampires and Marvin so... vamp!Marv #I hope you enjoy it :)

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hellishvu · 5 years ago

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Imagine BTS: when you are sad and they try to cheer you up

— i feel like we all need a cheer up post like this. we all go through a lot and we all deserve to talk to someone when we are feeling sad or depressed. please contact someone or a hotline if you ever need to talk to someone. you can even tell me in my asks if you want, i am here to listen and know that you are heard. school is coming for some of you and know that your health should not be under your grades. keep drinking water, sleeping, and eating. i love you all and thank you for 360 followers <3

Kim Namjoon: ˚✧₊⁎

Namjoon always is aware of things, when someone close to him has a bad day Namjoon is one of the first people to say something to them. So when you do have one of those bad days he still gets nervous.

Bothering you made him afraid and you seemed so isolating and scary sometimes when you had those bad days but Namjoon knew you were just vulnerable. He would check on you by looking, between writing or cooking he would pop his head out seeing if you were still sad or doing worse.

He had a tough time sometimes reading you, seeing you lay on the couch staring at the blank ceiling and other times you would try one of your hobbies but grunt in frustration because they didn’t give you that spark anymore. It was eating you alive whatever was wrong, it had you in its grip almost like it was controlling you.

‘I should do something. Just do anything.’ Namjoon thinks when he sees that giving you personal space was not the solution to your problem. It wasn’t making you feel better it made you feel alone, that Namjoon was getting tired of these sad days you had.

“Hey... muffin are you okay?” Namjoon says siting next to you on the couch. Smiling that he is talking to you, that he wants to listen.

“I’m here for you. Anytime you want to talk, just know that you’re so amazing. So wonderful that it blows my mind that I wake up and be with you. That fate gave me something I never want to lose.” Namjoon looks up to you seeing his eyes glistening, smiling.

Kim Seokjin: ˚✧₊⁎

Seokjin can be serious sometimes but he always finds that comedy is the best medicine if you do it right. Other times people can just be insensitive or try to pull something from their ass to make someone feel better but Seokjin knows you. He understand you more than any other person.

Bringing up memories was one of the many fun ways to bring some joy. Remind you of the good times, and get a nice walk through memory lane. So Seokjin made a box really it was just a shoe box from one of his personal buys. The box was filled of photos to tickets. Even has his own little photo album on his phone.

“Look I even got a screenshot of you thirsting over me.” Seokjin shows you the photo, you noticed that the photo had hearts all over it. They were drawn on the day he screenshotted before you two even started dating. It couldn’t help but get a giggle out of you.

“You’re the one that slid into my dms. Where’s that screenshot?” You ask leaning on his shoulder. Seokjin laughs resting his head on yours. Sliding through the photos of the awkward flirting and the more awkward first couple dates.

“Did you get the photo of when you told me you were an idol? My face was priceless.”

“I did. It’s actually my contact photo for you.” Seokjin snickers seeing you raise your head him showing you it’s true. That every time you call him your shocked face will cover his entire screen. Great.

Min Yoongi: ˚✧₊⁎

Yoongi knows how it is when your mind decides to attack you. How scary it feels when it feels like your own brain and thoughts are against you. He does everything just to make sure you know you don’t have to go through this alone.

Letting you get rest or joins you in your own little hobbies. He supported you and was there every step of the way. Yoongi was so real, he told you how it was and gave you talks of how he used to and still handles these thoughts.

You two usually get take out from both of you being too sleepy to cook, wouldn’t want the house to catch on fire but today was different. Yoongi bought the ingredients of one of your favorite dishes.

From your recent nap you stood up wrapping the blanket around you seeing him cooking. Yoongi mutiltasking of the many things, smoothie on one side of the kitchen while the other he's cooking that delicious meal you crave almost everyday.

“Hun can you set up the plates?” Yoongi asks seeing the meal was almost ready to serve. You smiled giving him a kiss on the cheek grabbing the plates, you were honestly blessed and Yoongi made sure you knew you were loved by him and many.

Eating with him was nice, he asked how you were. If you needed anything and the answer was always “You’re all I need.”

Jung Hoseok: ˚✧₊⁎

Hoseok knows how hard it is to keep the smiling face. How many times you felt like giving in and just having a mental breakdown right then and there but you never did, you always kept that strong face on.

Stern you were, beyond a wildest dream. Hoseok one night comes home a little more late. You were used to it of course because of his career and you never asked him to change his dream for you. You never planned to.

When Hoseok walks pass the living room, setting his bag on the couch dragging his feet across the hallway to the bedroom wanting to cuddle against you. Opening the door he suddenly stopped in his tracks the sounds of crying was heard.

“Oh no honey.” Hoseok pleads out getting to your side immediately, you trying to clean your face before looking at him. He wips the new tears coming down your face.

“What is wrong?” Hoseok asks you turning your body to him, laughing a little because he still has his work clothes on.

“Just dumb brain feelings.” You whisper out your voice croaky due to the crying. Hoseok places your head into his chest reaching for his phone. He made a playlist just these occasions, where your brain decides to load a bunch of sad emotions on you.

“I’ll be with you forever.” Hoseok whispers closing his eyes enjoying your heartbeats start to beat together.

Park Jimin: ˚✧₊⁎

Jimin is compassionate, so he always puts you first. Never in a second of his life that he would think of leaving you alone when you needed him the most. He always promised the company that he will know the choreography like the back of his hand when he comes back. Singing was taken care of because the sweetheart would always sing to you.

“Is it one of those days?” Jimin asks when you weren’t eating. The warning signs of the soon coming storm of thoughts.

Jimin got off the phone with his company giving you a bear hug. You felt bad that he takes time off for you but he always swore that it was no big deal, that armys would understand and the members would also. When you felt like just giving up just wanting to let your brain swallow you alive, you always looked at him. He never left you, not when you were the worst you’ve been or the mild cases.

“Just hold me.” You whisper at him and you staying in the same position for a while in the kitchen. Hearing his breathing at a calm pace made yours too. Jimin’s actions spoke volumes, that every time he said that he loves you. Jimin meant it with every fiber in his being, you being completely thankful.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Jimin repeats himself kissing your cheek seeing you start to form a small smile. That was progress, progress that you should be proud of.

Kim Taehyung: ˚✧₊⁎

Taehyung knew what to do, whether you didn’t want to talk about or you told him everything from the smallest problem to big issue that ate at you everyday. He was there for you through thick and thing, so when on this picticular day Taehyung knew something was wrong. He sensed it the moment he woke up.

Seeing you spacing out while eating breakfast with him, till he offers you to sit on the couch with him. Laying on top of his lap, Taehyung looking down wearing his glasses.

“You’re pretty.” Taehyung smiles seeing you roll your eyes. He brushes your cheek grabbing the book near the shelve.

“I know you’re having a bad day but you know we get to progress in the book.” The book was something Taehyung suggested. One of his favorite books of all time, the story of life being a complete rollercoaster. The characters going through all sorts of problems some you relate and others you’re amazed of how they power through.

You nod seeing Taehyung open the book the bookmark of a cute little bear, carefully placing it on the side of couch. Reading the first words, Taehyung was always an amazing story teller. Through his voice he does all the characteristics of the characters. When the plot grew tense he would changed his voice, the fantasy world you got sucked into disappearing from your own world.

Sometimes you two would stay like this for hours. Taehyung drinking his tea between chapters giving his voice a break asking you if you were ready to share what was wrong. Other times you nodded and spilled, Taehyung holding your hand on top of your thigh while others you didn’t spill him continuing to read the pages.

Jeon Jungkook: ˚✧₊⁎

Jungkook was a gym rat, that’s one of the many reasons why you love him so much. He loves to just push his body to the limit. So when he wakes up one morning hearing you have those sad moments in the morning he would wrap you close to him.

He took the chance of the beginning of the day to try to save the rest of the day. Jungkook didn’t want you to stay inside and burry yourself in your sorrows. He wanted you outside and even if you didn’t like the idea at first you tried because of him.

Depending on the mood you had, sometimes you two would go on easy trails to more difficult ones. The first couple times they were more easy trails but the fact you trusted him enough to do this with him. It spoke volumes, it made his heart warm slowly seeing you breathing in the fresh air, looking at nature, and having the sun hit you.

During the hike he would compliment you, saying things like “Wow you are doing so good!” and “My champ! These trails got nothing on you!” Always making you smiling like a idiot. On the way up you two would talk, sharing the struggles and experiences.

You always learn something new about Jungkook taking the hikes plus getting to kiss him at the top of a beautiful view was also a bonus.

#bts x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #bts hoseok

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thesimplyluxuriouslife · 5 years ago

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279: 15 Life Lessons Learned during my First Year into my 40s

True contentedness is unremarkable to the outside world, or passerby.

Typing away in my cozy chair in the living room in my line of sight Norman eats his breakfast and Oscar acknowledging he will not be able to sneak a bite, takes a long cool drink of water. The croissant for my Sunday morning ritual is proofing in the oven and Sunday Baroque's weekly program fills my home.

Even having lost an hour of the day, I have decided to wake up with the sunset and use the dawn-filled hour to work early before we are able to go for our morning stroll in the woods. All is well, and so much surrounds me for which to be grateful.

I began the morning reading Maria Shriver's weekly email newsletter, and in particular this morning's letter resonated with me, and most likely would you as well as a reader of TSLL. I've included an excerpt below as she describes a moment in which she felt, albeit unexpectedly, truly and sincerely content.

"Over the last few years, I’ve settled into myself. I’ve focused more on my blessings and what I’m doing well rather than my shortcomings and what needs to be adjusted (something I highly recommend). As a result, everything in my mind has calmed down, and therefore my body has calmed down, too. Today, my life finally feels centered, grounded, and solid. I feel like I’ve found my space and my place.

It was one of those profoundly simple, yet headshaking, moments of self-realization that no one ever really talks about. Sure, there are still things in life that give me anxiety (the coronavirus, the election, and Mother Nature as our neighbors in Nashville know all too well). But, through it all, I’ve been able to find my inner fortitude and soothe myself, something I’ve struggled with my entire life.

The truth is I never expected that the peace, joy or success that I chased my whole life would come to me when I was sitting alone, drinking coffee on my porch. I thought I was supposed to find that while giving speeches, accepting awards, and galvanizing change. That’s what our culture teaches us. It’s what infused into our beings at a very young age."

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that on this International Women’s Day, I’m a woman on my own path. I’m living my one wild, precious, joyful and meaningful life. In the end, my friends, that’s what galvanizes true change. Watching, witnessing and being in community with people who are following their authentic paths is what changes the world one breath at a time. I thought of that every time I washed my hands this week and it made me smile.

So, follow your heart personally, professionally, and politically. Because, when you do, you will discover the feeling I felt the other morning. You will find yourself saying to no one in particular, “Wow, I’m good just the way I am.” —Maria Shriver in her 3/8/2020 letter from the editor of The Sunday Paper newsletter

I realize the excerpt above was long, but hopefully, as it did me, it reassured as to what living well truly is. It's simple and intentional. It's internal and individual. It is purpose driven and intangible. It is also experiential and tactile. It requires of us to be present to be engaged with our world acknowledging much needs us to let go, but so too must we stay involved and aware. It is the daily practice of elevating our daily life by how we walk and open our eyes and minds to all that is around us and that is possible.

Each year when my birthday rolls around, here on the blog, I share a reflection of some sort of life lessons, aha moments and discoveries about the world found along my journey. To share, as well, admittedly, as a way to preserve my own growth, my hope is to prompt introspection amongst readers as sometimes, maybe even often, we do not realize all ways in which we have grown as it can sometimes be hard to see when we are the ones walking through the world each day.

I have yet to share my life lessons for my 41st birthday which fell during the final week of February, so I wanted to take today's episode/post to reflect.

1.Dreams, hopes, wishes can indeed materialize so long as we never let them go, we keep making small, yet steady progress, and keep refusing to not believe it can happen.

2. Clear, respectful, honest communication is to be treasured and a necessary ingredient for healthy relationship of all types.

3. Setting personal boundaries is a reflection of your recognition of your innate self-worth which will cause your self-esteem to grow.

4. Giving yourself closure on the past is healthy and necessary for being able to fully move forward. Your closure need not make sense to anyone else but yourself, but give yourself this gift of freedom.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B2aF0dpArA7/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

5. Some friends, family and/or colleagues may not be able to travel with you into your next life chapter as you choose to grow and evolve or your life simply asks of you to travel a different way or in a different way. Letting go need not be dramatic or radical or even known, but rather a natural going about life's path perhaps to meet again at some other time or maybe not. And that is okay and healthy as it shows awareness of the social support that you need to be well.

6. Give yourself permission to be excited about your life journey, your everyday moments and just be giddy. Let your endorphins soar naturally and see your daily life experience improve as well.

7. Say yes to opportunities that cross your path but out of schedule with when you had hoped they might arrive. My trip to Paris and Normandy was not expected nor planned. In fact, I had told myself I would take at least a year off before returning to Paris since my trip in 2018; however, when an invitation arrived to return in 2019, I had to say yes, and all that I learned, experienced, savored and learned some more was more than evidence that I made the right decision.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BzbTLLVg2zl/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

8. Less truly can bring more into your life. The unexpected discovery of my now home and sanctuary which is half the size of the home I owned previously is precisely what I instinctively knew I needed to live well. Less to decorate, but what I choose can be investments that will last. Less to clean, so I have more time to explore and create on the weekends, a perfectly medium size yard and petite garden, but exactly what I enjoy to have Mother Nature at my fingertips without a requirement of more time than I can give.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B5qY6P5giC9/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

9. Mother Nature, moving my feet in Mother Nature, is my creative muse and her gifts are priceless. While I walk nearly everyday outside on the trails in Bend or near the river that runs through Bend, even walking in San Francisco when I needed to get outside, I did so and saw the famed parrots of the Telescope Hill, and oh what a delight. Inspiration is everywhere when we step out into the fresh air.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B5gCmyiAqRb/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

10. My dogs have been for the past 15 years and are my companions in this journey of my life as they let me be "Shannon", provide company as well as freedom, yet keep me grounded as well. Savoring every moment with my two elder gentlemen.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B6y1EUage_B/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

11. Cooking, creating in the kitchen, is to play and forever be learning and savoring everyday moments.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B2r3OEjApER/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

12. Love really does live on inside you even after someone dearly loved passes away.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B4nBcJVgAj_/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

13. Host that dinner party you've been wanting to have. You may just bring beautiful moments and new connections to your guests that they will appreciate more than you will ever know. (read: 10 Ideas Gleaned & Confirmed from my Last Dinner Party, and be sure to check out my first book for details and a menus for hosting a successful gathering.)

https://www.instagram.com/p/By08-OWAsos/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

14. Traveling with my mom created memories of getting to know each other as where we are now in our lives and wonderful shared experiences that I will never forget. Check out our trip to San Francisco. We also had the opportunity to go to Oregon's Garden which exceeded my expectations and opened my eyes even further to my mom's love and knowledge of "green-thumb" life.

https://www.instagram.com/p/By4ciypgFcu/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

https://www.instagram.com/p/BxVse9XA71H/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

15. Continue to follow your heart, its inklings, its tugs, its curiosities, and you will never be led astray. Even when it doesn't make sense to you, even when you do not have a model to forge the path before you traverse it, your insurance is that it is your heart leading the way. I am reminded of Julia Child's quote which she expressed on the penultimate and onto the final page of her memoir My Life in France.

"In Paris in the 1950s, I had the supreme good fortune to study with a remarkably able group of chefs. From them I learned why good French food is an art, and why it makes such sublime eating: nothing is too much trouble if it turns out the way it should. Good results require that one take time and care. If one doesn't use the freshest ingredients or read the whole recipe before starting, and if one rushes through the cooking, the result will be an inferior taste and texture . . . But a careful approach will result in a magnificent burst of flavor, a thoroughly satisfying meal, perhaps even a life-changing experience." —Julia Child

While Julia is directly speaking of her experience in the culinary world of Paris, she indirectly and perhaps most significantly speaks to how to live life well. Invest, have patience, do your homework, and trust the co-mingling of those who know more than you about topics which you love as well as your own passions and curiosities. Beautiful art, the art of life, your life, can materialize in its own time and in its own unique way.

May this birthday year offer insightful and inspired life lessons that elevate the quality of your everyday life even more and bring you all the more contentment, true contentment that you desire.

Petit Plaisir

~Dishing with Julia Child

~A Year in Flowers: Designing Gorgeous Arrangements for Every Season by Erin Benzakein

Tune in to the latest episode of The Simple Sophisticate podcast

#tsllpodcast thesimplesophisticate

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shastelly · 6 years ago

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Team - March Klance Prompts from MonthlyKlance - Day 20

Day 20 TEAM (Part 3 of the Story Began in Day 14 Distance, continued in Day 16 Rivalry)

"It's a good plan Keith." Allura urged.

"I don't like it. It splits us up too much, look what happened when we split up!" Keith growled pointed over to where Lance was lying on the floor. They had managed to get him bandaged up, but he was not in good shape. The wound in his leg was serious and he would not be going anywhere very far. Quite frankly Keith was shocked he'd gotten so far on it. Sometimes he underestimated Lance's stubbornness. But the most concerning injury was the head wound from being slammed in or rather through the wall.

"I know, Keith." Allura placed a hand on his shoulder. "But that doesn't mean this isn't the best idea for getting us all out of here."

"Keith, man, you know I'd be happier if we were all staying together, but I can't see how we can do that and get out of here alive." Hunk frowned, willing Keith to agree.

"I know Hunk, and I keep trying to think of a reason not to split up or go with your plan, but I don't have a good one. Your plan is solid." Keith sighed. "Okay. Let's do it."

Hunk's plan involved splitting the group three ways. They would first find a safe place to keep Lance. Keith would stand guard over him. Hunk would provide a distraction. He would move a relative safe distance from the troop lines around Green and start blasting them, providing a distraction as long as possible. When the Galra move to attack him, he will have to lead them away and then make a break for it and loop back around to a prearranged safe spot. Pidge and Allura would sneak into Green while the guards are distracted and make their way to the castle bringing back Blue and Coran.

It was risky, especially for Hunk, Pidge and Allura. Keith wanted to be out there on the front line taking the risks, but he also wanted to be with Lance. It was frustrating and he kept doubting whether his motives for the decision to move forward with the plan were the right ones.

"Keith. He's awake and asking for you." Pidge called him over to Lance's side. She'd been sitting with him as they talked, having loudly declared her preference for the plan and left them to finally decide to come to the correct decision and agree with her.

"Keith?" Lance blinked bleary eyes, trying to find the boy in question.

"Hey, I'm here." Keith knelt and grabbed the hand that had reached out searching for him. "How's the vision?"

"Are there five of you?" Lance asked shakily.

"No, still just the one."

"Then it sucks, also that's probably for the best. I'm not sure the universe is ready for five Keith Koganes." Lance's voice was weaker than usual, but his humor remained the same.

"Better that than five Lance McClains!" Keith retorted.

"Ha, as if! The universe would collapse under our sheer awesomeness." Lance managed to grin back. Sometimes Keith remembered how much humor kept Lance grounded, kept him sane when everything around him was too much to deal with.

"Did you get the plan?" Keith asked, humor wiped away.

"Hunk's the distraction, Allura and Pidge are the message in a bottle of Green Lion, and you're stuck guarding the dead weight." Lance sighed.

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd been expecting this. Hunk had been expecting this. Lance was prone to such thoughts on a good day, but combine head wound and blood loss and it was inevitable that it would be bad.

"Lance. I would be dead right now if it wasn't for you and most likely we would all be captured. You are not dead weight." Keith stated firmly and evenly. Everything he said was true.

"Okay, granted, but then I went and got myself hurt and now I'm keeping us on this rock and putting Hunk's life in danger and leaving Pidge and Allura to get us help and…" He signed. "I just wish I could help."

"You can help. Pidge has a pretty good rendering of the area around Green from the scans we made when we landed. We need to choose our locations, where Hunk will attack from and the safest and easiest place for Hunk to hide after the attack." Keith pulled the map up on a hologram from the device on his wrist.

Keith had some spots in mind already, but Lance was an excellent strategist and the team's sharpshooter, his input in a plan like this was priceless. ��Keith had found that reassuring Lance of his importance through words helped but give him something to do and an opportunity to prove himself and it was like a cure to his self-doubt. And Lance never failed to prove himself.

"Okay,” Lance squinted and blinked. "Here, this is where we should be, fifth floor."

"Lance we aren't looking for a sniper’s nest. I'm a lousy shot and you can't see straight." Keith frowned.

"Maybe not, but my rifle still has an awesome scope and we can keep an eye on troop movement and the others as the plan goes down." Lance argued firmly.

"Good. That's a good addition to the plan." Keith nodded in agreement.

"Okay, good." Lance flushed with Keith's praise and seemed surprised as always by the compliment. "Hunk should start here. It's a long haul for him to get there, but his weapon has awesome power and range, and this will optimize the effect." Lance pointed to a high rise further within the city. "He'll want to use his jet pack instead of the stairs when he leaves and use these buildings,” Lance pointed to the map, "to stairstep down and then move over to this area to lay low."

"Why that area?" Keith wondered as he looked at the map.

"It's blocked as far as line of sight to Green. I hope they will find it an unlikely place to hide." Lance finished a little out of breath.

"Hunk, Pidge, Allura, come here, Lance has some improvements for the plan." Keith found it easy to admit that the only place that matched his original picks was Hunk's point of attack, but all of Lance's suggestions were good and he was prepared to implement them.

The others gathered round, and they reviewed the plan. Keith showed Lance where Pidge and Allura would be moving in from and Pidge outlined her back up hologram distraction that could be used if needed. They were all in agreement. They could do this.

Lance insisted that he walk. Hunk wanted to carry him, but Lance wasn't having it. He said Hunk needed to be fresh for his role and wearing him out by carrying Lance was a bad plan. Keith hitched Lance up with an arm over his shoulder and said then by that logic he should help him since they would just be sitting and waiting for the rest of the team anyway. Lance scowled, but a few dobashes into the trek could not deny that he needed the help. Each step was agony. His leg throbbed mercilessly, and his back felt like all the muscles were pulled too tight and neither of those held a candle to the agony that was his head.

Allura took point and Hunk brought up the rear. Pidge stuck near Keith and Lance as they slowly crossed the broken city. The Galra that had been searching for Lance were either more spread out now or most of them had given up and headed back to Green because they only once had to hide from a patrol.

It took nearly a varga to reach the building Keith and Lance were supposed to hide out in. Lance got progressively slower but refused help. They had stopped at one point to rest when Pidge adamantly declared she needed a break, though it is not clear if she thought she was fooling anyone as her eyes kept creeping back to Lance's pale sweating face.

"Okay. From here we split up." Keith took a deep breath. "Stay on the coms, follow the plan and stay safe. We'll be out of here and these Galra will be regretting ever thinking they should mess with Voltron before nightfall." He met each team member's eye and each nodded with him in turn.

Allura took his hand and squeezed it before leaning in and whispering in his ear, "Keep him safe." Keith nodded while Allura leaned in to hug Lance as well.

Pidge slugged Keith in the arm and smirked at him, "Don't you too get any ideas, just because we got you a hotel room." Keith blushed and sputtered something.

While Hunk laughed and ruffled Pidge's hair, "Inappropriate humor check."

Pidge moved on to Lance who was grinning but also blushing, while Hunk gave Keith a full bear hug.

"Hunk," this time it was Keith whispering. "Be careful, move when you have to, don't wait too long." Hunk nodded, the anxiety in his eyes was not hidden from Keith. They were both aware this was the role that Lance would normally have taken, the longer distance sniper rifle was less likely to be spotted quickly and the lanky sharpshooter could run circles around Hunk.

Hunk moved to Lance, giving him a gentle wrap that could hardly be compared to his usual hugs. Lance rested his forehead against Hunk’s.

"I'm sorry." He breathed.

"Why? You have nothing to be sorry for." Hunk tensed.

"I just wish I was able to go with you. I don't like you being alone." Lance sighed.

"I got this." Hunk met his eyes and though Lance read worry he could also see the determination.

Lance nodded and gave Hunk another squeeze, "I know you do."

Keith and Lance made their way slowly up the stairs to the fifth floor. Hunk reported in, Allura and Pidge reported in, progress was being made and so far, little resistance. When they made it to the floor, Lance picked a room with a large window from which they could see Green. There were less tall buildings on the outskirts of the city, as though the original planners had intended to provide many with a view of the large lake. Lance wondered if it had been a pretty color before the world had been wiped out.

Keith helped him sit near the window and made sure that they were not visible from the street below. Lance formed his bayard and looked through the scoop of the sniper rifle for Allura and Pidge. Hunk would be at the wrong angle to see right now, but once he was in position, this room offered a view of him as well.

"I've got a patrol coming up two blocks ahead of you." Lance reported to Pidge and Allura. "I can't give you an accurate count though, sorry, vision is still wonky."

"Is that a technical term?" Pidge laughed.

"What's wonky?" Allura inquired honestly. Pidge laughed more.

"He's saying he is still seeing at least double. Can we bypass them, or do we need to wait them out?" Pidge came back.

"Wait. They are moving your way." Lance answered calmly

"Copy that." Pidge and Allura ducked into a building and waited while the patrol came and went.

"Clear." Lance chirped when the patrol was safely out of sight. He could feel Keith hovering at his shoulder, tense. Keith did not like having nothing to do.

"We've reached our location." Pidge reported about half a Varga later.

"Almost there guys, few more stairs." Hunk had puked once on his way up and Lance had snapped at him to slow down. He didn’t need to run up the stairs so fast he made himself dizzy.

"Okay everyone, once Hunk is in place and ready, we'll be a go. Allura, Pidge, be sure to give the troops time to move away from your location. Hunk when they hit that line we talked about; you move out of that building as fast as you can. No waiting." Keith reminded everyone.

"Got it." Hunk answered.

"For the twentieth time." Pidge snarked.

"We understand." Allura assured.

"Okay, I'm in position." Hunk announced.

Lance was being unusually quiet, but then again, he was hurting and trying to focus on watching Pidge and Allura, so Keith let it go.

"Alright team, let's do this."

Hunk's blasts rocked the line of Galra surrounding Green. Several flew back from the first blasts as they landed right on top of the soldiers guarding the lion. They moved and ran for cover as the shots continued to rain. Hunk started blasting the nearby buildings they were using for cover and there was debris and dust everywhere. The damage was too much for the Galra to ignore for long and soon Lance could see large groups of them moving off to where Hunk was stationed.

"Coming your way, Hunk. I'd say two thirds of them if I had to guess." Lance spoke into the coms.

"Give it another dobash or two." Keith cautioned, "I'd like to see at least another group leave before you go in. Keep doing what you are doing Hunk. It's working."

About three dobashes later, "Another group moving out, and great job keeping up the dust, Hunk."

"Okay, we are moving in." Allura announced. She and Pidge began to slowly make their way to Green.

"Hunk, can you see where the first group is?" Keith asked.

"Um, no not really." Hunk admitted.

"Quiznak. Hunk how can you tell if they're too close if you can't see them." Lance reproached.

"I'm going to the other side of the building, Lance, see if I can spot them from there." Keith started moving, "Be ready to go if I say, okay Hunk?"

"Yeah. Okay. How are Allura and Pidge?"

"They are moving, too close to be talking right now." Lance added. He was watching Allura and Pidge navigate the rubble. They were within a football field of reaching Green's particle barrier. There was still a small contingent of guards at the front of the Lion. They would notice the particle barrier dropping. "Pidge, looks like you need to use your hologram plan. There is a group right on Green's front doorstep, they will definitely notice the glowy green wall behind them disappearing." Lance blinked he was still seeing three Green's and it was a bit disorienting.

Pidge hummed into the com. It wasn't long after that the guards at the front started running away. Lance guessed Pidge had set off the hologram, but it didn't really read in his scope, interesting to note.

"Hunk, you need to move. I still can't spot them, but they have to be at the mark or past, stop firing and go." Keith ordered.

"Okay, going." Hunk answered. The sound of his jet pack activating could be heard over the com. "By the way this sucks." Everyone could hear the little whimper as he was forced to jump from the roof and use the jetpack to guide himself down to the next roof and they all breathed a sigh of relief when his exhale indicated he'd landed safely.

Lance watched as the particle barrier dropped and Pidge and Allura scrambled into Green. Her eyes lit up and she leapt into the air. He tried to get up to go to Keith so he could keep an eye on Hunk, but his head spun, and his leg refused to even try to move.

"Keith, help me over there and I can cover him." Lance requested, though his voice sounded weak even in his own ears. He heard footsteps coming into the room and didn't even look up, expecting Keith to be there. The sound of a metallic clank had his head whipping around and staring at the Galran droids that had entered the room. It looked like there were ten or more, but then maybe there were only three it was hard to tell. He spun the bayard rifle around and fired at the droids, trying to aim for the ones in the middle. He knew he hit at least one, because it looked like there were several on the ground, but they were still coming and getting closer.

Then there were the Keiths, all three of them, running into the room blades swirling and catching bots, throwing them around in bits and pieces. Lance decided this is what it would be like to watch a fight through a kaleidoscope. He had stopped firing for fear of hitting Keith.

"Guys?" Hunk's voice echoed.

"Got some droids, must have been the ones that were looking for me." Lance answered though he thought his voice might have slurred some, between his injuries and everything that had happened he was really wearing out fast now.

"I've reached my location. I think I'm secure, but I can come your way if you need me." Hunk seemed unsure about staying where he was.

"No stay, if you come out, they will see you. Besides all these Keiths seem to have this covered." Lance answered noticing there were no longer any standing droids.

"Lance, there is only one of me." Keith huffed.

"Yep, one of you and then there's one of you and another one of you." Lance pointed to nothing on either side of Keith.

"Fine." The Keiths shook their heads. Hunk snorted in laughter.

"Paladins?" Coran's voice echoed in the coms.

"Coran?" The Keiths answered happily. "Did Pidge and Allura get to you?"

"Indeed, they did, Number Four and are on their way back to you now. Number five will be arriving cloaked to retrieve Number Two and then the princess will be there in Blue to fetch you and Number three."

"Hunk, I'm here." Pidge announced a couple of dobashes later. "Okay, Allura, I have Hunk."

Suddenly Blue appeared in front of the window Lance had been looking out of, her mouth open and waiting for them. Keith smiled as he helped Lance to his feet and with the help of the jet packs, they leapt into her waiting mouth.

"Clear, Coran." Allura spoke as they entered the cockpit.

"Blasting." Coran fired the castle weapons destroying a Galra ship that had landed on the outskirts of the city, assuring that they would not be followed into space.

Later that evening when Lance fell out of the cryopod into the waiting arms of his team he couldn’t help but wonder at the amazing group of people that surrounded him. Keith was holding up one side of him and Allura had the other side.

"I love you guys." He smiled sleepily.

Keith leaned forward and brushed a kiss to his forehead. "We love you too."

"Yeah, expect the rest of us don't love you in a kissy face kind of way." Pidge snarked.

"Pidge, that was tame for you." Hunk smiled at the Green paladin.

"I didn't want to ruin the moment with a sex joke." she deadpanned.

"Okay, moment ruined," Keith blushed.

"Nothing could ruin this moment, Mullet," Lance laughed.

"Kiss him already,” Allura pushed Lance up into Keith's arms, luckily Keith was fast enough on his feet to react and keep him from falling.

"Sounded like an order from the Princess," Lance smiled.

"So, it did." Keith pressed his lips against Lance's warm lips. He smiled into the kiss and closed his eyes deepening the pressure and slightly parting his lips to slip his tongue against Lance's.

In the background Coran laughed, Pidge hooted, Hunk cheered, and Allura simply nodded. Never let it be said that they did not have the complete support of their team in everything that they did.

#monthlyklance #monthlyklance march 2019 #klance #voltron fanfic

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the-little-shoebox · 5 years ago

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Delivery Part 1 (Junktown Story)

Look! I got back into the writing mood! A rare thing! This is inspired and suggested by @kelly-clickspring in that good old Junktown setting. This is actually going to be a two-parter story for a lot of reasons. Mostly that I like to write things in more bite-sized chunks and want to control the focus a bit. So with all that said, I really hope you guys like it! Also sorry for any typos or mistakes. I did this all in one go and was too excited to edit. Rest of the story is under the break! ——— There were…. a lot more people than Wellwire remembered at the trading post. Even earlier in the morning, the place seemed bustling with life of all sorts. Humans and junk giants made their shadows dance along the dirt and their words of barter and trade sang in the wind. She could even see a couple of automatons in the mingle, some carrying what their traveling companion had to offer in exchange of that bag of grade A flour. Shoebot easily blended into this ground as she slithered along the ground, her pilot monitoring everything from the internal cockpit. They were here on business just like everyone else, a drop-off to the local tavern.

The draconic robot swiveled and watched the crowds go by, sensors firing on all cylinders as designed. There was just so many people around, so many things. Her sails rose and fell, ‘eyes’ bouncing in her head as she navigated the streets. “Ok, tavern. We have to get to the tavern.” Wellwire vocalized. It was the biggest building in the area, so locating it wasn’t a problem for the duo. Shoebot gave a whirl as she spotted the front door, gliding along and stopping right outside. The entrance was a large one, dwarfing the robot as she looked up the door. “Actually, probably better if we use the backdoor. More cover that way.” Shoebot whirled back some artificial chirping at the suggested order, pulling away and slinking around the corners of the massive building. Shadows coated the back of the bar in shade. The noises outside had quickly dulled in intensity over here, far enough from the excitement to revert into the background. Again Shoebot targeted the door, rearing herself upon it and pawing at the wood to be let inside. “Here with your orders,” Wellwire spoke through her radio, voice making the speaker on her vessel’s neck come alive with a transmission. “Anyone home?” At first, silence. Silence for honestly more than a minute. Strange. They should be open by now, right? Shoebot kept knocking at the door, even scratching a little trying to clamber up some noise. She pulled back after nothing, huffing some hot air out of her vented snout in frustration. Wellwire also gave a sigh of her own inside. Looks like they’d have to wait for a while. The dragon stood at the door, starting up it before her ears suddenly lifted at a growing noise. Footsteps? “Looks like I’ve been beaten to my own establishment.” A hearty laugh erupted from behind, more than enough to make Wellwire jump and Shoebot twirl around to face the owner of the pub. An absolute mountain of a Junk Giant stood in their way now. With a strong build and a yet a friendly face covered with a blonde beard, this fellow was quickly recognized as Roger and indeed the bartender/owner of this tavern. He smiled down at the little robot as she continued to stare at him, locked on before starting to ‘talk’ again. “Dammit Roger that scared me.” Wellwire brushed herself off out of sight. Shoebot added her own mix of complaining into the stir, which only made the big guy chuckle a bit more at the display.

“Sorry for the spook then sugar.” He teased as he walked past, Shoebot following at his heels as he went for the door. “Though it’s always a sights eeing people coming around before the door are even open.” As soon as the door open Shoebot rushed inside, skittering to the closest barrel as she started to climb up it towards higher ground. Green copper claws and that long slender segments hull made quick scaling work, keeping up with Roger as he made his way to the main counter of his area. As busy as it was outside, it was dead quiet inside. The stools and tables were still and untouched from the closing hours. It was uncanny for such a place, but comforting for business purposes. Shoebot slid her way across the counter, making more noises towards the giant to keep up. “Okay,” Wellwire piped up. “What did you order again and where do you want it placed? In the back? Around here on the counter?” Roger now sat cross-armed at his station, watching the dragon aspect of this hidden pair stare him down. “You know you can lighten up around here.” The big guy’s hand reached for the dragon’s back, patting at the metal and causing Shoebot to twirl around and try to twist playfully around his arm. “You know you can get out of that little automaton of yours while around here.” “Annnd you know that I’m not doing that until I have to unpack this stuff.” Yes, Roger was aware of Wellwire’ s little trick with getting around being seen, but that was a tale for another time. Shoebot growled a teeny bit too, protective about letting her creator go. Roger just rolled his eyes, using a finger to rub the end of the bot’s nose and making her cross her eyes. “I know I know. You can put leave the shot glasses here and the rest I’m sure Clover can come out here herself to get her share. Speaking of while…” Clover, the resident borrower of the scene, shook her head as her name was addressed. She has been watching the entire scene from the rafters as soon as she heard scratching on the backdoor. Why did Roger have to be so forward sometimes?! She really didn’t want to go down there, it wasn’t really that necessary. Before she could disappear back into her hiding ways, she felt those large green eyes lock onto her form. “Dammit Roger.” She scolded, even though she knew her voice didn’t carry to him. But it was enough to lock a certain robot’s attention. Shoebot sounded off towards them, an attempt to say hello that wasn’t returned. Clover cowered at those lavender eyes staring right through her, ducking behind a beam. Right, that thing could pick up her little sounds. Great. “Hey,” She could hear the borrower inside call up to her. “How about I drop Roger’s things off, then I’ll come out and meet you in the backroom?” There was no response from Clover, the redhead just sighing to herself as she started to move back. Back into the safety of the walls where few could follow. Wellwire sighed to herself, pressing a button or two to get signal Shoebot to get ready. The serpent slithered off of Roger’s arm and settling on the counter, still keeping an eye on the giant as she lowered her head to the ground. “Don’t try anything,” Wellwire warned the bartender as she made her way out. A latch was lifted as soon the top of Shoebot’s head opened with a pop, exposing the little borrower behind the controls crawling out. Roger felt a bit of a smile etching into his features as he watched the little one slide out onto the counter, noticing how she kept her eyes trained at her foot for a moment. “Oh come now. Ya know I don’t bite.” He teased, chuckling some as Wellwire only rolled her eyes. She still had to talk into her radio while she was out in the open, her voice still projecting from Shoe’s neck speaker. “Save the teasing for your clients ok?” The gal rubbed Shoe’s side as she traveled down, the robot staying still as the hatch to her main hull was finally slid open. “Shot glasses right?” Roger nodded as he just watched, knowing that if he couldn’t really do much as Shoebot stared him down like he was on fire. “Yep, can never have too many of these when rush hour rolls around. Got a fresh batch of bourbon yesterday and I know how people of ready to wet their gullets with a fresh batch of anything around here.” Wellwire listened to him talk as she stepped inside the hull, rolling out the glasses that were wrapped around with fabric to keep it somewhat safe. To everyone’s relief, nothing had scratched or broken from the trip here as the sheet was removed, clean shiny glass glinting in the light. Roger’s smile grew a bit more at the sight of them, slowly reaching out to ever so delicately collect one with his fingertips. It was so small in comparison. It was practically minuscule between the digits, just the slightest bit more pressure and it could shatter into dust. “Would you look at that.” He commented to himself, just admiring the scale for a moment. “Huh? Did something happen to it?” Roger glanced down at the borrower’s question, a quick little scheme popping into his head. He brought his hand back down to the counter, leaning the teeny cup towards them. “I can’t tell. Think you can give me a second opinion?” Wait, was something actually wrong with it? Wellwire lifted a brow as the shot was brought close. She leaned in close to investigate the shot that was about her size if not a little smaller. It looked fine to her. No cracks of scuffs, perfectly fine. Before she could open her mouth to report this, however, Roger made his move, scooping the too close borrower up into the glass. Instantly the little gal yelped as the movement, finding herself upside down inside the shot lifted upwards. As the colors outside mixed and she worked on getting herself right, the next clear thing she’d see would be a giant green eye filling her vision on the other side. Roger could be felt laughing again, rocking the glass Wellwire was now stuck in a bit as he held it. “Not funny!” She finally shouted, Shoebot now had prompted herself up, hissing with sails and wings flaring towards the teasing man. “Don’t worry don’t worry I’m just having a little fun is all.” He reassured the anger robotic reptile, carefully setting the little glass back down on the counter. “Sorry, couldn’t resist the opportunity.” He was still chuckling at Wellwire’s reaction, it was just priceless. The borrower poured herself out onto the floor, Shoe instantly slithering closer and looming over to make sure she was all there in one piece. She was shaken, but not stirred. She’d be okay. “It’s alright it’s alright.” She reassured, grabbing her hat from the bottom of the glass. “Just… don’t do it again.” “No promises kiddo.” He joked, giving that jolly smirk again before looking to the other glasses. “Alright, I’ll put these up while you finish up the rest of your order. She’s probably waiting for you two back there already.” Oh, right. Wellwire still had to meet Clover to take care of her half of the order. She nodded at that, closing the side hatch before slipping back into Shoe’s cockpit. “Will do, a pleasure doing business with you as always.” Roger reached back towards the robot, earning a tiny growl at first as his fingers closed her head hatch back up with a click. To ease the still salt serpent those fingers then went to scratch underneath her chin, the kind gesture helping her calm down a bit after his little prank. “Don’t be strangers now ya hear? See you both soon enough.” Shoebot nodded with a chirp while Wellwire reacted in a similar but hidden way, soon the duo dropping back to the floor to tackle the second half of this mission. Borrower to borrower.

#welcome to junktown #junktown story #junktown #writing #GT #Wellwire #Roger #Clover #Guys this is some of the most writing I've ever done for a thing.#I am very proud and also very afraid.

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kvyvs · 6 years ago

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blood moon | a kaya event self para

What had started as an entertaining evening was quickly winding its way toward becoming one of the biggest wastes of time Kaya had ever subjected herself to. The ceremony binding her king to the waifish courtesan had been a little dull, but it had served a purpose and Kaya was happy to sit through it without complaint. It had also given her ample time to antagonize Raharuhi from a distance, which more than made up for the droning of the officiant. Then came the reception, where she’d expected things to liven up significantly. Dancing, food, music, and plenty of drinks to go around? How could it not?

And yet here she was a few hours later, prowling the edges of the room in a discontented sulk. It was formal and stuffy, too rich for her base-born blood. Getting a rise out of the pirate faerie had been the highlight of the evening so far. Mingling with a few of the mortal seadogs and their guests had been diverting for a moment, particularly to see the reactions of those humans unaccustomed to the presence of vampires. So twitchy, these fragile little things, and so skittish. She’d even gotten to take a turn around the dance floor with an absolutely stunning woman, so the night wasn’t a complete loss. Then there was that mysterious man who’d smelled faintly of blood—another brief distraction. But he’d set off something in the back of her mind which was now starting to bother her more as her brain sought desperately for something else to latch onto. Something about him had felt... off. Not the blood, not the way he spoke, but something else, something illusive about him. She felt that undefinable something when she’d approached others throughout the night. Some eyed her nervously (and rightly so), others hid their tension passably well. But all of them had felt off.

And it was driving her insane trying to reason out what had made them feel that way. Every single one had been just another boring, blood-filled human she wasn’t allowed to touch. She hadn’t even been allowed to punish the boy-king who had dared to show his face at a celebration he had specifically been excluded from. Perhaps that was it, just her frustration at not being permitted to dine on these free-range meatsacks. She had to pin her frustration on something. And between them and all the fae and merfolk wandering around, she was fast getting tired of seeing other people. None of them were vampires, her people, and she wanted them gone. It wasn’t her house or her event, though, so she couldn’t tell everyone to fuck off, only lurk against the wall and scowl from under her brows at everyone who waltzed by her.

Kaya heaved a sigh and crossed her arms, fingers finding their way yet again to the edge of the wing she wore as a cape, fondling the delicate membrane and fine hairs that remained perfectly preserved thanks to Orpheus’s intervention. She might just call it a wash and leave soon. None of the other Children would be home, so she’d have time to herself to wander about her estate like a perfect stereotype of her species, listless and brooding. She inhaled for another sigh as she pushed off from the wall, intending to make her way to Gabriel and pay her final respects before departing.

That sigh never made it out. Kaya froze, stiff as a marble statue, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating.

Wolf.

Not fur and fangs and forest like the common animal that roamed the land. But a distinctive musk, heated and sickening in her sinuses. It reeked of both human flesh and fur, of paw pads melting into the soles of feet. It was an indescribable scent to anyone who had never smelled it before, but like all vampires, Kaya was intimately aware of its meaning.

There was a werewolf here.

She didn’t move an inch as her eyes raked the crowds before her, looking for anything and everything that might give the beast away. The scent was faint, but she’d find it in a dunghill, that’s how distinct it was. It was a full moon, the lot of them should be out fucking each other raw in the Wilde Wood like the filthy animals they were. How one had managed to find its way in here without turning and revealing itself... how it had even gotten past the guards, she couldn’t fathom. Unless they had a glamour of some kind?

Kaya began moving again, careful, languid motions which took her once again on a circular path round the edge of the room. But this time, there was no sulking or brooding. The look in her eyes was predatory, like a tiger stalking a herd of deer, and anyone who met her gaze instantly tensed up, fear rolling off of them in delicious waves. It took a paltry effort and a few muttered words to compel them back into complacency, but she didn’t linger to watch their expressions slide back into placid disinterest. She’d caught the scent again, and every ounce of her attention was focused on tracking it through the throngs of guests.

After a few minutes, her eyes alighted on a young man several yards ahead of her. He was fiddling nervously with a ring on his right hand, eyes twitching around to everyone in his vicinity with the air of someone in pain and looking for help. As she observed him, he was joined by a taller man with dark blonde hair and a beard. They spoke in hushed tones, and at this distance Kaya couldn’t make out what they were saying. But she saw how the younger man calmed slightly, how the blonde man patted his shoulder, they way they both eyed the ring which the boy seemed to have difficulty not playing with.

She waited until the tall blonde had left before moving closer. The young man still smelled vaguely of anxiety, but it was muted. Blocked somehow. Like the man she’d spoken to who’d faintly smelled of fresh blood. He clenched and unclenched his hands, as though trying not to scratch an itch, before seemingly giving in and once again twisting the ring on his hand. As the metal slid slightly forward on his finger, Kaya caught another whiff of the telltale heated musk and fur. Ohh, yes, this little pup was far, far from home. And Kaya would have bet her priceless faerie-wing cape that that ring was a glamour of some kind.

Her steps were silent under the string music and the babble as she closed the gap between them. He didn’t even notice her slide up behind him until she laid a hand on his shoulder, at which he jumped like she’d yelled in his ear. “Hi there, kid,” she said with a grin. Mere inches from him, the scent of werewolf was stronger than ever, and as she met his eyes, there was a silent moment of understanding between them. The boy’s eyes widened in fear, sickening realization glistening out of the baby blues as he saw her blown out pupils boring into him with feral glee. She needed no further prompting.

Lightning fast, the hand on the young man’s shoulder was at his throat, his fear making her head nearly spin as it wafted around them like a sweet cologne. He yelped, drawing the eyes of a few bystanders, but Kaya didn’t care. She was already pulling him by the neck through the crowds towards the dais where the thrones of her king and new queen sat. Murmurs rose up around her, fighting against the music. She noticed none of it. Her blood might run cold in her eternal life, but it rushed through her body to deafen her, singing with the thrill of the hunt and anticipation of the prize she now dragged across the marble floor.

“Your Majesty!” Kaya’s voice rang out over the low thunder of curious chatter. The musicians finally stopped their bows, and all eyes turned to her as she hauled the young man up to her liege. Kaya’s mouth split in a cheshire-like beam as she looked up at Gabriel lounged in his throne, and lifted the mutt in her hand up for him to see. “I thought you might like to know we have a gatecrasher here tonight.” She sneered at the boy, who struggled in her grip, whimpering. She knew little of werewolves beyond the best ways to kill them, but this whelp was so clearly an omega she had to laugh. “A werewolf. And not alone, either. I saw him with another one of his filthy brethren. They’re glamoured, only thing that explains how they weaseled their way in,” she added, reaching for the ring on his hand.

The boy jerked in her grip, so sudden that she nearly lost her hold on him. He stumbled, failing to keep his feet, and as he slipped Kaya snatched his hand, brought it to her mouth, and snapped her teeth down on his fingers.

A scream ripped from his throat as his middle and ring fingers were severed and left to fill Kaya’s mouth. Blood splattered across the floor, drawing shocked gasps and screams from the crowd. Kaya spat, sending the fingers skittering, and held up the ring her tongue had slipped from them. The burnished copper wolf head gleamed dully in the light, rivulets of red running from the crevasses down Kaya’s hand. The boy began to shake violently in her grip, his whimpers of pain turning into snarls as his bestial side began to break through the hold the glamour had placed on it. She released him and watched him writhe on the floor. Human skin vanished under fur, claws sprang from his fingertips, bones cracked and his suit was shredded as his skeleton reformed itself. In a matter of seconds, he was was snarling up at her from four legs, his right front paw bloody and tucked up to protect the remaining toes.

The wolf snapped, more defensive than antagonizing, but Kaya dodged it easily. The pup was young and inexperienced, and the glamour of the ring he’d worn was likely not as strong as it should have been to get him through the whole evening. Drawing a curved blade from its hiding place in her boot, she seized the beast by his scruff, yanked his head back, and drew the blade across his throat in one fluid motion. His gurgling howl was cut short as she exerted her vampiric strength to tear his head fully from his shoulders.

By this point, the gasps and screams had died down into a horrified, tense silence. The assassin held the werewolf’s head aloft, looking out over the crowd, a vision of carnage with blood dripping from her chin and eyes burning like coals.

“Any other mongrels want to pay their respects to the bride and groom?”

#tfk: event #tfkevent01 #self para #blood tw #gore tw #death tw #mutilation tw #maiming tw #torture tw

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autumnfanfiction · 6 years ago

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They stayed at Chris' art studio inside his penthouse, for a few more hours kissing––– long kisses; kisses that left them both catching their breaths. Kisses that left them both wanting more. Kisses that left a throb between her legs, and a deep ache in his loins. Touching and pushing each other towards the edge wanting to see who would cave in first. It brought out another side of Chris; a carnal being that Robyn knew existed, but couldn't fathom without actions speaking for themselves. Driving him to say sexual remarks like, "If I can make you smile every morning, imagine what I can do to you at night." Passion is a key component to a relationship, and with how obviously smitten they both were with each other, it wasn't a problem for them. Although they wanted to take that step, they decided to wait and when it was the time it'd be a night to remember.

Like usual, Chris was on the lookout making sure the coast was clear for them to sneak back in. Although everyone knew they were together, nobody knew they left the hospital at night because they weren't supposed to. It was assumed they just spent time in each other's room, so there was no need to check on either of them. When Chris felt like the coast was clear, he grabbed Robyn's hand to lead her to her room. It seemed like it would be another night successful until they heard a voice.

"Hold it right there you two."

They froze and turned around slowly to see the hospital security guard smirking at them shaking his head. "You two think you're so slick, huh?"

"We just went out for some fresh air." Chris said

"Yeah, right. Tell that to somebody that doesn't know you, Chris. Come on head back to your rooms you two you'll see each other later after I tell your doctor."

Chris groaned and gave Robyn a hug before dragging himself back to his room. Robyn giggled at his reaction before going inside her room.

They didn't get in trouble just made aware they had to be more careful because Mesothelioma was fatal so whatever activity they partook in, they would have to be cautious. Their doctor understood how stressful being cooped up in a hospital 24/7 could be so he let them off the hook. He did, however, provide them with some good news. Seeing how inseparable they were, he decided that Chris could move into Robyn's room in the morning so they could be closer. Robyn and Chris both shared their gratitude before he left for the night.

Robyn sat back and thought that it was odd their doctor was concerned about the cancer being fatal seeming as though their diagnosis showed it was light. It was true that they had it, but if it was light, and they were receiving treatment daily why was there concern? She couldn't wrap her around it and felt there was more to it than what was being told. Shrugging, she decided to leave it alone and not worry so much about it. Everything was stable so in her mind, there was nothing to overthink.

Robyn felt her phone vibrate and saw Chris sent her a message, which had her doubled over in laughter.

Pooh Bear 🧸😍: Dear Robyn, I am writing this after our date, and I am very sad. I found out you snitched on me when it was you who convinced me into sneaking out. I will assume that this was a mistake.

She decided to respond in kind, playing his little game.

Baby Girl 💋❤️: Dear Chris, I'm sorry you're disappointed, however, it was you that actually persuaded me to sneak out and stay out longer. Fondling me in public, or did you forget? Never trust a crooked tooth and a smile

Pooh Bear 🧸😍: DEAR FOREHEAD, your jokes aren't funny. I played your game, and you set me up. This is not ok. P.S. I'm the naughty one, but you're the one that couldn't stop reaching for my dick and sucking my tongue at every corner, or did you forget?

Robyn raised an eyebrow before typing.

Baby Girl 💋❤️: Dear Chris, I see you want to start. See I wasn't gonna say anything about your tooth, but you need to take Terror Squad's advice and have it lean back... into place

Pooh Bear 🧸😍: :( I don't wanna go there, we should never go there. Damn, why you wanna go there? You ain't have to go there

Baby Girl 💋❤️: Aww, I'm sorry. If you want I'll ride it back into place for you 😭 Straighten it right out and make it fall in line with your other teeth

Pooh Bear 🧸😍: Dear Robyn, you are now on my naughty list. Be afraid. You look slow and easy to fuck

Baby Girl 💋❤️: Don't text me with that tone of voice

She clutched her stomach laughing as Chris walked into what would be their room smirking.

"Slow and easy to fuck? Really?"

"Yes, really. Talking about my crooked tooth. I should crack you in your forehead."

Robyn stifled her laughter. "Are you just going to annoy me more now that we're sharing this room?"

"Duh."

Robyn rolled her eyes. "See this is why I ratted you out. You need to be stopped."

"Snitches get stitches, Robyn."

"You ain't gonna do shit, Chris."

"You're right but our kids will when you give birth to them. You will have to get stitches. You will learn then I am not the one."

"And just how many kids do you think I'm birthing?"

Chris licked his lips then bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. "Five."

"FIVE?! With that bowling ball, you call a head?"

"How else am I gonna pin you down?" He winked.

Robyn rolled her eyes despite the grin on her face. "That was so bad. I object."

"Overruled."

"You can't overrule me you're not a judge."

"Talking about my head, our daughter is gonna take after you. Sadly. With that forehead, my poor baby gonna tip over when she tries to take her first steps."

She scoffed. "What about you? You know our son gonna take after you. Megamind head ass. Head look swollen. I can hear your thoughts from here. My poor baby gonna be just as hyper as you wanting to get under anything but his head gonna slow him down."

"Whatever Robyn."

She chuckled. "Come here you're so far away."

He got in the bed with her and carefully placed her on top of him. She snuggled up to him and instantly felt his warmth flood her body. They joked a lot, but it was moments like these that were the best to them. It was peaceful, and nothing could penetrate that peace once it was set. Chris watched as she soon began to fall asleep and it made him happy that she needed him to sleep just as much as he needed her. At that moment he had three words resting on his heart that he wanted to say. He wanted to say it, but he just got her to be comfortable so he wouldn't say it now, but it was only a matter of time.

Once Robyn was knocked out he placed her on the bed, careful not to disturb her sleep. He tucked her in and kissed her lips before leaving with another room in mind. He asked a nurse for the room of the person he wanted to see. They gave him the room number after questioning him as a precaution.

He knocked on the door softly before waiting for the person to grant him entry. "Come in."

He came in and closed the door behind him. When he turned he looked back at the woman and being in her presence made him feel comfortable. She was certainly Robyn's grandmother with eyes just like hers with the gleam of life in them.

"Mi been waitin' fa yuh Chrez. Yuh can call mi Gran Gran since yuh already family."

He smiled warmly at her and felt his heart swell at her immediate acceptance. She beckoned him over, and he went over immediately accepting her gesture for a hug. She laughed softly. "Mi see why Anna luv bein' unda yuh. Yuh give di best hugs." He didn't know why but he didn't want to let go. Even though she was frail, her hug was just as comforting to him. She gave him the vibe a grandmother would, and it was obvious she had no problem being that for him.

After a few moments, they finally separated, and Chris grabbed a seat close to her side holding her hand. "Mi heard so much bout yuh from Anna. But mi know mo from de visions mi ave. So much mi ave to tell yuh befo mi pass awey. Mi know it's comin' soon." Chris remained still listening to her speak. He knew she knew things he needed to know that Robyn didn't need to know. Once Gran Gran Dolly passed he would be Robyn's protector and provider and he was ready to take that role. He was filling it now. Robyn was his responsibility, and he knew Gran Gran would be counting on him to keep her safe.

She told him what she saw in her visions, and he was thrilled to hear it all. He knew there was a reason he was so attracted to Robyn and everything Dolly was telling him was confirming why. It seemed like she was familiar to him; not her per se, but her heart. The way in which they connected made it as if their hearts were old friends reuniting after being separated for so long. That connection didn't happen often so he knew with something so valuable, no matter how priceless love was, this came with a price. He just didn't know what it would cost them and how much.

"How yuh feel bout mi, Anna?" Dolly knew he loved her even if he was telling himself now wasn't the time to make that known. His demeanor gave him away every time she mentioned her and told him stories from her childhood. He was radiating love, and it was all for her granddaughter that she knew when she died she would do so happily knowing she had a man worthy of her love and more than capable of handling her.

"I'm sure you know, but I'm in love with her." He said genuinely. If he had it his way, he'd shout it to everyone who would and even wouldn't listen.

Dolly smiled. "In love, but how so?"

He matched her smile. "Completely, utterly, and ever so madly. She's amazingly beautiful and has the spirit of God in her. When she speaks, it's of wisdom with words of kindness resting on her tongue. Her beauty comes from inside her––– she has a gentle and quiet spirit, but as calm as it is it rocks me to my core. All of that and her mindset will raise my children, so I know God chose wisely and I was wise enough to hold onto her since we first met. I will never know a love like this again. This love is one of a kind. It's special, she's special, and nothing is special without her."

"Yuh feel she can be yuh soulmate?"

"Yeah, of course. She was placed in my life for a reason. It was instantaneous, our connection and you just don't click like that with anyone."

Dolly used her other hand to cover his and smiled once again. "May yuh luv be modern enouf ta survive de times, but old fashioned enouf ta last foreva."

"What do you mean by that Gran Gran?"

She rubbed his hand and gave him an empathetic smile. "Dat is somethin' yuh gon ave ta find out yuhself, Chrez."

Robyn woke up and saw that Chris wasn't with her. She blinked a few times to adjust to the light before looking to the other side to see if his bed was here, and it wasn't. Not thinking much of his absence she thought he was in the process of moving in since it was now morning. She stretched and sat up propping her pillow so she could rest against it. She decided to watch TV while she waited for her boyfriend to return. Right on cue, the door opened, and when she was about to greet him, confusion etched all over features seeing who was at the door.

#chrianna #chrianna ff #chrianna fanfic #chrianna fanfiction #chris brown #rihanna #chris brown fanfic #rihanna fanfic

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 6 years ago

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Ghost of you, 18/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 18/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "All she could see through her teary eyes was the body of the man who once was her friend laying on the ground surrounded by bloody pieces of gauzes. It made her heart more painful and her guilt crushed her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see this anymore. She couldn’t handle it any longer."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” - Norman Cousins.

CHAPTER 18:

Liv was devastated and no one could blame her for this. They could blame her for everything else but not for being devastated. It was all her fault. She had been the first one in the cage and she had thought she could do it. She had thought she could do the impossible. She had thought that she could actually save the man who saved her years ago… She had miserably failed. Maxence Spitz had died while she was trying to save him. His brain and body hadn’t been able to handle the struggle anymore. Piercing holes in his skull had been the last straw. Now, Liv had her hands covered with his blood, blood that she was spreading on her suit as she rocked herself. Tears were clouding her sight and sobs were making it hard for her to breathe. She couldn’t care less. She didn’t deserve to live when she had killed her friend. “Liv?” All she could see through her teary eyes was the body of the man who once was her friend laying on the ground surrounded by bloody pieces of gauzes. It made her heart more painful and her guilt crushed her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see this anymore. She couldn’t handle it any longer. “Liv!” She could hear his voice now but she didn’t react to it. It was her grief speaking. Just a memory in a spectral form. It was no way to remember this fantastic man. She preferred keeping the precious memories of him smiling and laughing, the priceless image of the man who took her out of the orphanage when she was sixteen, the picture of him bruised after he got involved in a fight with his biological father who was responsible for her rape, for her miscarriage and her now inability to carry children. She remembered the many nights spent on the phone with him because she couldn’t sleep without nightmares, the many times he came over so she wouldn’t be alone and do something she would regret later. “Olivia!” She ignored the sound of his voice, ignored her full name – he was the only one allowed to use it but usually never did – ignored his hands on her shoulders shaking her. It was all part of an hallucination. A metaphor of her devastation. She wished it could be a nightmare she would wake up from. It would be easier to handle the death of the man who had saved her, to handle the fact that when she was given the chance to, she couldn’t save his life. She was a failure and he was gone forever. How could she ever cope with this? “Liv, please!” He was begging her now. What was she supposed to do? Ignore him, replied her reason. And she did. She shut her eyes even tighter and rocked herself faster as he was shaking her to make her leave her autistic condition. “Don’t give up on me now.” The voice was different. It should be more like an echo but it was somehow normal. The accent wasn’t the right one either. Londoner accent with a bit of Scottishness behind. It wasn’t Maxence but Tegan. She wasn’t having hallucinations. It was her new boss shaking her and calling her. And she still wasn’t reacting. “Olivia, please, look at me.” The hands moved from her shoulders to her protected face. They were cold, imprisoned into covers of latex gloves. Sterilised. Everything here was too sterilised. Even death was too clean in this place. It was oppressing and she already couldn’t breathe. Her green eyes met worried crinkled brown ones. Tegan. He was forcing her to connect back to reality but she didn’t want to. “You did everything right, Liv.” He was trying to reassure her but it was useless. She knew well that what she had done wasn’t right. It hadn’t saved Maxence. How could it be right when he was dead? She could never believe it. She could never forgive herself. “His brain was suffering from that pressure. You had no other choice.” She had had the choice. She had had the choice of doing things right for once and not screwing everything up as usual. What would Rose think of her now? She was the one who murdered her husband. “You saved his life, Olivia. You saved him.” Liv blinked at those words and she looked at Tegan for the very first time since he had been trying to reach her. How could she have saved him? Tegan was explaining her that drilling holes on his skull relieved the brain from the pressure killing him. Those holes hadn’t had any consequence. Tegan had cleaned the area and finished the improvised surgery. Maxence now had a bandage around his head and his chest was slowly rising and falling. On top of it, he had his eyes open and his hand was trying to reach hers. He was thankful that she had been there to save him. Finally, she reacted. She caught his hand, she squeezed it tight and cried harder. He was alive. She hadn’t failed. Relief filled her and this time, the tears that flowed on her cheeks were tears of happiness. But he wasn’t in the clear yet. “Mickey and Zach are installing a full medical unit in here. We’ll keep an eye on him at all time. We are very close, Liv.” Close. But close to what? Find a cure? She was losing all hope about this. Maxence wasn’t gonna hold on for too long. After his heart, it had been his brain. If it happened again, he would die. She wouldn’t be able to save him once again. “I need to run new scans on him. Can you help me?” Liv acquiesced slowly as her mind was restarting. She was trying to recover her calm but the strong emotions had her drained physically and emotionally. She would need a topper. She didn’t even know if they had any in this building. She would have to ask Rory. But first, she needed to get off this suit. The visor of her helmet was steamy and she felt claustrophobic. She needed to breathe fresh air. “Dear God, Liv! Are you alright?” Clara. Clara had run to her and Liv felt guilty for forgetting her in the numerous reasons why she had to keep on fighting, why she had to stay alive. Clara Oswald, her girlfriend, the woman she loved deeply. The brunette fell to her knees and checked for any sign of physical wounds before hugging her so tight against her that the doctor felt her lungs be purged of all their air. Tegan cleared his throat. “Clara.” “Oh. Yes. Sure. Of course. The crate’s there. We can go.” Tegan got up, leaving the two women to pull themselves back together. He unlocked the crate and opened it. Maxence was still conscious but he clearly was groggy. He wasn’t aware of what was going on and he wouldn’t like it when he would realise where they were taking him. He hadn’t liked it the first time. There was no reason for him to like it now. Tegan transferred his mentor’s body in the crate. Maxence didn’t protest or fight him. The crate was locked again with him inside and Liv and Clara helped Tegan to carry it to the scanner zone. Maxence didn’t react either when they pulled him out of the crate and lay him down on the table for the scanner. They tied him down, just in case, but he was so calm it was scary. The scan was specially to check the damages his brain might be suffering from with this attack. Liv was hiccuping when they settled down in the monitors’ room. While Tegan was busy with the machine, Clara pulled off the top of her hazmat suit and did the same for Liv. Her poor girlfriend was shaking like a leaf. She was holding on to the nerves but the latest blow in her shield had seriously rattled her. Clara was afraid she might not hold on anymore. She cupped her cheek tenderly but the doctor got no reaction. “Talk to me, Livie. Please.” Liv blinked at the sound of her girlfriend’s voice and looked up at her. She realised that she was holding back her breath when she started seeing black dots. She released it. She hadn’t noticed what she was doing, hadn’t noticed that Clara was there by her side and talking to her and touching her. She opened her mouth but no word came out. Her mind was as empty as a blank sheet. “You’ve done what you had to do. He’s okay.” “No visible damages on the scans. No more pressure on the brain. He’s in the clear for now.” It should have been relieving to Liv but she couldn’t find it in herself. For now. They were all aware that the next fit would be the last. His strengths were lessening. Their hope too. He was being obedient, wasn’t moving in the scanner but he was suffering. Tegan could see it on the scans. The pain was overwhelming him. He didn’t say it to the women. No need to add more on Liv’s shoulders. He sent the results to his computer and erased them from this monitor. “Help me bring him back and settling him down in the cage. After that, Liv, you’re off duty.” “But…” she began. “There’s no buts. I want you to rest and to have a chat with the doctor Burnley. You’ll get back to work only if she says you’re able to.” Liv wasn’t happy with that decision. She hated therapists like everyone did. Tegan couldn’t know about the past ones she had seen though. None of them had helped her like Maxence. She doubted Amy Burnley would be of any help to her but it was an order and she had to do it, even if she didn’t want to.

“Rose, you can’t keep that to yourself. You need to speak with someone.” Rose sighed but didn’t stop what she was doing. The moment they had been told that Maxence was in the clear, she had run back to her office and taken the piles of paper waiting for her. It was all the formulas Maxence and her had found so far. She had to compare them, found their flaws and sent them to Tegan for approval. It had to be done before the next day ended. Her heart was telling her that Maxence wouldn’t have the strength to fight the noctiagus any longer. “I don’t have time to speak. I have to study all of this.” “We can do both.” “No. I have to focus entirely on these papers.” “Your husband just died in this cage.” “And the fact it happened means we have less time than expected.” “I’ve seen him too.” Rose grabbed a red pen, trying to ignore Amy’s voice. She needed to work on this formula and find the reason why none of them was right. They were in something but there was that mistake somewhere that was slowing down their progress. She wouldn’t sleep or eat until she found this stupid mistake and made everything clearer. However, the therapist’s words stopped her hand before it started writing on the blank sheet of paper she had pulled out of a drawer. Sometimes writing by hand was better than any computer. “What?” Rose turned around to face Amy. Was she mocking her? It would be very unfair of her especially after what they spoke about earlier. She was in no mood for this shit. “After you ran out of the room, I saw him. His ghost. He wanted me…” Her voice trailed off. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell that to Rose after all. Maybe she should just shut the hell up. But now that she had started her sentence, Rose wanted to know. She was waiting for the end of that sentence and Amy was so thankful for this unexpected friendship Rose had offered her that she couldn’t ruin it all now. She bit her bottom lip nervously before she spoke again. “After my son died, I’ve prayed for him to be back in one way or another but it never happened. I kept seeing his shadow or hear echoes of his voice but that was just the manifestation of my grief.” “He died happy, knowing you loved him.” “Maybe that’s why. I’ve never found the reason but I keep looking for him everyday.” Rose dropped the pen on her desk and walked closer to Amy. She took her hand and squeezed it gently. She wanted to know what was the link with Maxence but she knew better than to bring the talk back to her. Amy really needed to let those feelings and thoughts out and speak to someone. “Before I even saw him, I knew you were speaking with him, that he was saying goodbye.” It had shattered her heart to see this and be unable of even helping. She had wished to have had this chance with her son and husband but she never had. And then, Maxence came and told her that her William was watching over her all the time. Now everything felt different and upsetting to her. She didn’t know how to deal with that. “He wanted me to take care of you, to stop you from doing something stupid. He made me promise.” “He didn’t even know you. How could he?” Rose’s voice was soft. She wasn’t judging. She was quietly listening to Amy and trying to understand the situation. She wasn’t mad at her either. She did believe her actually. “He’s met my William:” The sob in her voice was clear and Rose felt her own tears come back to her eyes. She hugged Amy and rubbed her back. The therapist was stiff in her arms but she would relax eventually. She just wasn’t used to hugs, nor was she used to have a friend. “He said my boy was watching over me, that he was happy that I was making friends.” Maxence barely knew Amy. He had never met her boy either. William never came here, in London so… it meant that Maxence really had crossed the line for a moment. That simple idea was terrifying for Rose and she had to master the overwhelming fear sneaking under her skin. Amy needed comfort as much as she did. They were all emotionally exhausted and soon enough, something tragic would happen. She could feel it in her core. If it wasn’t Maxence, then who? “Your son can be proud of you, doctor. You’re helping us all to make progress and you make some yourself. Help me find this cure and save the world, Amy, and we’ll sit down around a drink to speak about him all you want to.” Amy could have taken it wrong. The turn of Rose’s sentence could have made her think that she only wanted to get rid of her moment of sadness to work on the cure quicker. Maybe it was, but her words meant a lot to Amy. No one ever offered her to speak about her little boy. So much time had passed and she was starting to forget the features of his face despite the pictures, the sound of his voice and of his laugh despite the videos, his smell, the feeling of his skin against hers, the feeling of his arms hugging her. She swallowed her sobs. She desperately needed to speak about her little boy but he was gone. He didn’t need any saving anymore. Maxence did. The world did. So she broke the hug and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. “Where do we start?” Rose gave her a smile but there was so much sadness in it that Amy knew she felt bad for pushing that talk to later. If Maxence’s life hadn’t been in the scales, she would have sat down and listened to her without any delay. That simple fact warmed her heart and she was even more willing to work on that cure. She didn’t have much acknowledge in the field of molecular biology but she doubted Rose would give her something that complex to her. “I’ve been such a mess lately that my notes are in disorder. Thankfully, I’ve numerated them all. Can you help me classify them?” That definitely was something she could do. Rose separated the notes in two piles and gave her one. They were halfway through their classification when they heard a knock on the door. Rose turned around and frowned when she saw Liv and Clara waiting behind the glass door. Liv still looked completely devastated and Clara was holding her lovingly against her, supporting her so she wouldn’t collapse. By the looks on their faces, Rose just knew that Liv would collapse if Clara wasn’t holding her. She saved her husband, but she also was the one who had his life between her hands. She was convinced that she had killed him when they had all seen her save him. A blow like this one had hit her right in the core and it was as hard to handle as the rape she had been a victim of fifteen years ago. “I think this is for you, doctor Burnley.” Rose unlocked the door as Amy raised her head from the notes she was reading to look at the newcomers. No explanation was necessary. She was here when the doctor Olivia Baxter confessed all her feelings while she was trying to save Maxence. She was there when she had broken down. And yet, she hadn’t thought one second that she would come to her. Liv, just like many other persons, didn’t trust therapists and preferred dealing with things by herself. But today, it was impossible. After a quick glance to Rose that silently told her that she would be fine, Amy stood up and faced Liv and Clara who had come in the office. Liv was staring at her feet. She was here against her will. It was Clara who expressed the demand for a session. “We should go to my office if you don’t mind.” Amy led the way. It was weird to go back to her office. All her sessions were in her patients’ offices lately. But they would be better in her own. She didn’t ignore the heart-breaking look on Liv’s face when they passed by the cages where Maxence had been brought back. He was now lying in his new bed, connected to many machines that were keeping him alive and giving them a better idea of his condition. And it wasn’t brilliant.

Tegan only wanted one thing at the moment: have a closer look to Maxence’s scans. He had seen and noted the most important details but he couldn’t do a proper study of those scans because he was the substitute leader of this place, of the team working on the noctiagus and he had other things to do. As bad as they were, Maxence’s scans could wait. The creation of the cure couldn’t, and that was why he was now walking to the sterile room where Myrtle Appleton was currently detained. She was the key to the whole epidemic, he was certain of that. He would make her speak and give him the results of her own researches. They would complete their researches and they would reach the goal they had all been aiming at for years. He just hoped that she wouldn’t be as unbearable as her brother. However, fate was playing that game he hated, the game where a simple task was becoming a real ordeal because of the obstacles thrown on his way. The very first of those obstacles were the couple of detectives. He had completely forgotten about them and yet, they had been the key that led him to the creator of the noctiagus. That wasn’t nothing. “I usually don’t go to people because I can’t bear their presence but you have forgotten about us and that’s quite annoying.” “You were right,” sighed Tegan. “Myrtle Appleton, that was the right name. Now I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later:” He tried to leave but Camden McCarson blocked him. He wouldn’t let him go before he had what he wanted: Tegan wasn’t in the mood for that. He had more important things to do than satisfy the ego of this detective. Donna was just observing. She wanted to know more about the situation but she also could tell it wasn’t the right moment. “Listen. I’m very thankful for the work you’re doing but we’re about to lose our patient and we have a cure to make. If you don’t mind, I have work to do.” “We found patient zero,” declared Donna as Tegan walked away. This information obviously caught his attention. Having Myrtle Appleton by close by was excellent but having the patient zero was even better. He turned around. The detectives hadn’t moved but their expression was clear: they were exulting because of his reaction to their admission. “Eugène McCoy,” added McCarson. “He was Myrtle’s husband back then. They had a kid together. A daughter. She was born with the Xeroderma Pigmentosum and died before she reached her tenth anniversary.” “Myrtle Appleton was dearly attached to her daughter. The grief drove her crazy.” “Yeah, and she started her researches.” “Where is that Eugene McCoy?” “Dead. He was one of the very first victims.” Tegan swore and walked back to Myrtle Appleton’s cell, leaving the two detectives there without a thank you. He would hear about it later but his anger was only increasing with every minute passing by. This woman was gonna hear about him and he would perhaps give her name to Rose. The woman needed to unleash her rage, to get her revenge for her sick husband. That would only be fair. He was almost there when his phone rang. With another sigh, he picked up the phone. His headache was there but forgotten, the pain in his jaw was still there too but he was ignoring it, focusing everything on his anger and distress. “Tegan Smith. Neurology.” “Doctor Smith, we have a problem.” Rory’s voice. If a member of the security was calling him on this line, it meant that it was important. There wasn’t any alarm so it surely wasn’t a major problem. The trouble with hope in those times was that it was easy to shatter, and Rory’s voice was enough for Tegan to understand that it wasn’t a minor problem. “Can’t it wait?” “I don’t think so.” “What’s going on?” “We found a dead body in one of the labs.” “Who it is?” Tegan’s chest tightened. A bad feeling was overwhelming him now. A death. In the labs. Who could it be? Was it the virus? Had it spread to the whole building? The frightening list of responsibilities that would come after that was giving him anxiety. “Adam Mitchell, sir. It’s a suicide.” “Are you sure about this?” “Yes, sir. What do we do?” Tegan honestly didn’t know. He had never been in this situation. Now, he could add the guilt to the long list of his emotions. What if Adam had made it because of his decision? He was so young… What would he tell his parents if they were still alive? How would he deal with this death in the building?

To be continued...

×××

In the next chapter:

The neurologist left the office, his guts completely knotted and his headache definitely worse than earlier. He was dreaming of a good night of sleep but that wouldn’t be before a while. He rushed to the sterile room that was keeping Myrtle Appleton prisoner. His mental image of the scientist was shattered by the actual being. He had never met her before, nor had he read her works. He knew the name but not the face but he had expected her to kinda look like Colin, almost like evil twins. But Myrtle didn’t look anything like him. Less serious, more eccentric, but she had that spark of cold intelligence in her eyes. But she looked more “human”, more manipulable than her brother.

×××

|| Next >

English version:

AO3 || FF || TS || Wattpad.

#doctor who #ninth doctor #rose tyler #tenth doctor #jack harkness #doctor x rose #ghost of you #dwfic #dwau

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thephdproofreaders-blog · 6 years ago

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Ten Reasons Why You Need Your PhD Proofread

Deciding whether or not to hire a proofreader for your PhD is a big commitment. Whichever way you look at it, it’s expensive.

Plus, you may think that your English language skills are good enough.

So why bother?

In this post we list ten reasons why you need a proofreader for your PhD.

By the end, you Will see that it’s about more than typos. It’s about the value of having a professional and independent writing expert comb your thesis to make sure you have presented your research in the most compelling manner possible.

The peace of mind that brings is priceless.

1 : It’s a cost effective solution to a critical requirement

Let’s be frank. By the time you’ve finished a PhD you’ve likely spent (or borrowed) thousands and dedicated years of your life. You need to hire a proofreader to make sure you don’t undermine that investment by submitting something that contains errors or that is badly written.

Not everyone is good at writing complex texts. That's fine and nothing to be ashamed about. You know from your literature review that most academics struggle to write in a compelling manner. We see it all the time; fantastic PhD research gets undermined by poor quality writing. In any other industry, if there is a skill you aren't fantastic at, you can get outside assistance. Your PhD is no different.

A proofreader will work with you to give your research the love it deserves.

2 : You will maximise your chances of passing first time

One of the things that PhD examiners are looking for is your ability to write clearly and coherently and that your writing is error-free. If your thesis contains grammatical or punctuation mistakes, or if it is poorly written in general, they’ll likely send it back to you for further work.

Sure, a proofreader may be expensive, but so will months of extra corrections.

3 : You will present your research in the best possible light

A proofreader will correct your grammatical and punctuation mistakes and suggest edits that will mean your arguments are as clear and well developed as possible. Their job is to present your research in the most compelling manner possible.

This means the examiner can focus on what you’ve written, not how you’ve written it. You’ll be surprised what a difference that makes.

4 : You will reach the required level of English

You may struggle to write to the required level of English, perhaps because you’re an international student. A proofreader will make sure your thesis reads fluently. When they’re finished, it’ll read as if a native speaker wrote it, because it would have been checked by one.

5 : You are paying for the expertise of a professional

You wouldn’t trust the health of your pet to someone who wasn’t a vet. So why trust your PhD to someone who hasn’t been down that road before you?

Proofreading your thesis is about more than just correcting typos; it’s about making sure that your writing is fluent and consistent and that you’re developing and presenting your arguments in the best possible way.

There’s an art to writing a PhD that you would only know if you have written one yourself. Make sure that your proofreader has a PhD themselves, so they know what's expected.

6 : You can delegate the workload

In the run up to submission - or indeed at any other time of the writing process - you’re going to be busy. Really busy.

Don’t underestimate how much there is to do. At The PhD Proofreaders we do things other proofreading companies don’t do (such as formatting your thesis, dealing with all the necessary paperwork, checking your references, and more). This frees you up to focus on other things.

7 : You need a fresh set of eyes

By the time you’ve finished your chapter or thesis, you are so familiar with it you are unable to spot your own mistakes.

There’s a scientific reason for this. As you write, your brain starts to generalise simple, component parts (such as the links between individual letters and words) so that it can focus on the more complicated tasks (such as linking entire sentences and paragraphs).

That means that, because our brain knows what we are trying to say in our own writing (we wrote it, after all), we expect the meaning to be there. What we see when we read our own work is competing with the version that already exists in our heads.

The means you need a fresh set of eyes to look over your work. A proofreader can provide them and easily spot mistakes that you would otherwise miss.

8: You'll get independent advice

A lot of people ask their friends of family to proofread their work. This presents two problems.

They’re not experts, either in proofreading or your discipline. They can’t be honest in their feedback because they aren’t independent.

A proofreader isn’t just a professional, but they’re independent and impartial. That means that they can be honest in their appraisal and assessment of your work, just like your examiner will.

9 : You will get a human, not an algorithms

There are a number of free, online tools that claim to correct your language. These are fine for emails to your supervisor, but they’re useless as correcting complex texts like PhD theses or chapters. You need a professional, not a Silicon Valley algorithm.

10 : Proofreading is supported by universities across the world

Universities have recently begun publishing guidelines on proofreading. Almost all allow proofreading and many actively encourage it, particularly for international students and those for whom English is a second language. If in doubt, check with your supervisor.

Note though that there is a difference between proofreading and copy editing that you should be aware of, as it has implications for whether or not your work can be considered your own. Proofreading is about making sure your language is appropriate and clear, whereas copy editing is about restructuring or rewriting your text in substantial ways. A good proofreader will only focus on language, a bad one will copy edit. Read this post for more details on the difference between the two.

#PhD Proofreader #PhD Proofreaders #phd proofreading #thesis proofreading #phd proofreader uk #phd editor #phd editing #thesis editing #proofreading #proofreader #dissertation editing

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ainitsuite-agape · 7 years ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY OTABEK and happy Halloween!! <3 <3

I wanted to draw so much more for my best boy’s birthday but alas, life had other plans for me this week! At least I managed to draw just this, combining @yoi-halloween-week day 6: Costumes (kudos if you get the references for Otabek and Leo’s ones!) and @otabek-altin-week last day: Birthday! <3

And THERE IS MORE!! This scene comes from a fanfic that I’m writing with my dear @yakoucchu! <3 you can read it under the cut! <3 we’re planning to dig more into Otabek’s past, back in the days when he was training with JJ and Leo in the US and we want to explore his relationship with them, especially with JJ...*wink* let us know what you think! <3

The locker room is filled with chatters, laughs, and stomping feet covered in ice skates, but all Otabek can hear, while furiously searching inside his bag for his headphones, is an ever changing monologue that by now feels like a white noise.

"I don't think Mr. Cialdini understands my JJ Style. I'm trying to show him but he doesn't leave me any chance! I mean…"

"SOO GUYS YOU GOT ANY PLANS FOR HALLOWEEN??" blurts Leo poking his head in between the two undercuts boys and saving the day. He doesn't wait for a reply "Jason's parents won’t be home so we will have the spookiest and coolest party ever! You need to come!"

"An house party! JJ used to organize Halloween parties at his place!" boast the Canadian “and of course they were the best in the neighborhood!”

“Yeah, I bet they were” smiles Leo “but this one will be much better, you’ll see! Nothing to do with the sweet and polite Canadian Halloween!”

Otabek fiddles with the earphones’ cable. “I think I'll pass."

"WHAAT? NO WAY!” utter the two guys in unison. “You have to come and experience a proper Halloween party! Next year we will debut as Senior and then forget to have time for anything between Skate America and Skate Canada! Besides, do you have something better to do?"

"Not really but.."

“You celebrate Halloween in Kazakhstan right?” asks JJ.

“Well yes but it’s more an imported thing than a real tradition..” memories of his past birthday parties crosses his mind, when he was still a child and his mother used to dress him in Kazakh traditional prince-like clothing, missing the point of Halloween all together...

“And what you usually do?” Leo press him.

“I just celebrate my birth..I mean..” SHIT.

“YOUR BIRTHDAY?!?”

Of course they don’t miss a beat. Otabek didn’t want to make a fuss about it, but he has to admit that the surprised expressions on their faces are priceless.

“Why didn’t you tell us?! Then you need even more to come!” laughs Leo “It will be glorious!!”

“Y-your birthday is on the 31st of October..” whispers Jean, smiling awkwardly and scratching his head “that explains why you’re so odd then..”

“What are you talking about?” questions Leo furrowing his brows.

“Well, my Grandma always said that Halloween it’s the devil’s birthday and..”

“THAT’S SO COOL! So your costume is sorted!” sentences the American. “I dare you to find something cooler JJ!”

Otabek watches them planning and arguing with unimpressed eyes and the hint of a smile on his face. He knows it’s no use to complain and no matter what he can say or do, they will drag him to this party.

“I will dress as King JJ of course!”

“That’s so boring..”

“But JJ is the king!”

“Come on, can’t you think about something more creepy?”

“What about a beheaded king?” casually burst out Otabek, one of his headphones already on his ear. Jean’s eyes widens and he looks like a lost puppy, utterly betrayed by his roommate, on the verge of tears.

“You want JJ dead Otabro?”

“Don’t Otabro me.”

“Relax JJ! The King is dead! Long life to the King!” laughs Leo “I bet Samantha and the other girls will be more than happy to help you with the beheaded neck make-up!” grins the guy, reaching the lockers room’s exit. “Oh, my costume will be a surprise and a huge 90’s reference! Catch you later guys!”

----

From the moment they return in their room, Otabek’s bored eyes observe JJ collecting from his closet what seems to be a tower of fresh-ironed shirts, so high that he can’t even see the way-too-much-enthusiastic expression on the Canadian’s face anymore.

"Ah-ha! Found them. Look here Otabro! Between all those there will definitely be the right shirt for my king costume!"

"You mean the beheaded king?" mutters Otabek while rising his eyes from the comic that he’s pretending to read, secretly enjoying the protesting whines that come from his roommate at the mention of that gory detail.

"Of course I'm well organized, since I play the king every year." says JJ faintly, dropping a single bright red shirt near the pile on the bed. It lands with a soft plop, making Otabek shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It’s slightly smaller than the others and styled with an high and straight collar. A black tuxedo jacket in the same size follows next to the shirt. "And that's what Leo asked me to pick for you...I'm sure that this could help you figure out your, um...your costume. Thank God mama doesn't throw out my old shirts, eh? She packed, I mean JJ packed way too many things for coming here...these are a little too small for me now, but they should fit you perfectly!”

Well, he isn’t wrong. That gives Otabek a clear picture on how much screwed he is, but before he can make any protest, he sees that JJ isn’t happy and excited as before, when he rushed in the room looking for all the things he needed for his costume. He seems troubled now, his eyes fixed on the bright red shirt.

"Is there something wrong, Jean?" says the Kazakh, suddenly feeling a hint of regret for his skeptical behaviour...perhaps he was a bit too rude with the Canadian before, perhaps Jean just wanted to help him find a nice Halloween costume for the party. "You don't need to lend me your clothes if you don't want to. I'm okay wearing just my regular clothes."

"It's not that," he replies quietly "I was thinking about what I said in the locker room."

"You mean the thing about the devil's birthday?"

JJ nods. "I'm Christian, but it's not like I'm that extreme to believe in such things. You're a good person, Otabek. If I'm still here and I didn't dropped the training in America already, it's all thank to you. But it seems that all I can do for you is doing or saying stupid things."

Otabek blinks wordlessly at his last words, but while JJ's sorry eyes points to the floor, the Kazakh gets up from his bed, comes close to him and picks up the shirt and the jacket carefully, as if they’re something precious. JJ tries to say something that seem a protest, but Otabek places a finger over his lips softly, shaking a "no" with his own head. "You're right. Thank God your mom packed you too many clothes."

"You mean... You're not angry with me?"

"Not at all. You guys are just trying to celebrate my birthday in a...picturesque way."

"So you're gonna wear this outfit, the one I picked up for you?"

Otabek gives him a smirk that makes JJ’s cheeks feel all warm and his stomach flutters in that strange but all too familiar way.

"Only if you're gonna wear your beheaded king one, Jean." The Kazakh tone is low and almost suggestive into JJ's ears, there is no doubt about that...it almost felt like those fiery words were coming out straight from the seductive devil's lips.

"O-of course I'm going to be King JJ for one night so you better be ready to do whatever I’ll say!" blurs out the Canadian taking a step back, half panicked and half already taken from the Kazakh's suggestion, who seems to be pretty aware of the effect that he has on him. After uttering cocky words JJ turns on his heels and tries to run away, as he always does, but Otabek takes a step forward and embraces him from behind, bending almost completely on his shoulders and making him squeal a panicked sound.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you tell me all about those orders, then?"

"I don't really know what you're talking about..!"

"Aaah, I get it. Since it's Halloween night, you're gonna be a beheaded king who bore people to death with all your stories about yourself."

"They're not boring at ALL!"

JJ tries weakly to squirm out of his embrace but Otabek presses himself on his back more tightly. "I'm sure that I saw Mr. Cialdini doing something like mimicking shooting himself into his crotch with a gun while you were talking about the quad Salchow that he didn't allow you to do during training."

"He did WHAT?! ... Lemme go! I'm going back to Montreal now!"

"It's called spararsi nei coglioni in Italian, he told me that. Too bad for you my living-dead king, because that isn’t going to work for me."

The Canadian stops pushing Otabek away, turning his reddened face to meet the Kazakh mischievous smirk. "...Are you saying that you'll never be bored by JJ, Otabae?"

"It's because I'm an immortal devil, жаным." and with this Otabek pushes his lips to the corner of JJ's mouth, placing a soft kiss that makes the Canadian boy jump away from him, tripping over his own feet and hitting the parquet on the floor. The sudden vibration makes the pile of shirts crumble on one side and they fall all over him.

"Woah, look what you’ve done here." Otabek says, unimpressed.

"What I’ve done? WHAT YOU’VE DONE! The hell was THAT!? DON'T do it again!! It's an ORDER!"

"You're just jealous because I'm immortal and you're not." Otabek stick his tongue out.

"I WILL LIVE FOREVER IN EVERYONE'S HEART!"

"Okay. Listen.." Otabek squats down near JJ, who's still surrounded by all his shirt, making him slide his ass away from him "...I will make an Halloween discount just for you. Your crown in exchange for the immortality. How does it sound?"

"W-where's the discount in this deal!? A king is NOTHING without his crown!" whines JJ.

"You prefer to give me your soul? Not like I'm gonna complain about that."

"No way!"

"How about your body, then?"

"NO WAY IN HELL!"

Otabek huffs out a laugh. "You're so boring... all I asked was a crown."

"...Wait a minute. A crown you said, right?"

Giving the Kazakh a sudden dork smile, JJ rises from the floor and gets to his closet again, trying not to stomp on any of his shirts. After digging in the drawers for a while he finally picks up something round and sparkly, made of a light material that seems to be plastic. He gets close to Otabek and present it to him, who inspect the object with furrowed eyebrows.

That cheap, glittery and sparkly material, the plastic gems, that freaking fake gold color...

"No way...this isn't a birthday boy crown, right?"

"It sure is! It's from my latest birthday! You can have it, Otabro!"

No way in hell.

#yoihalloweenweek #otabekaltinweek #otabek altin #jean jacques leroy #jjbek #leo de la iglesia #yoihalloweenweek2017 #agape

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