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mmkin · 10 months ago

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Get You Some Arlong ch 8

I'm considering adding a subtitle to the title of this story. 'Get You Some Arlong' was meant to be a tongue in cheek title since I couldn't seem to think of a good one (they all sounded silly and cheesy) but now I would like to add a more serious one. Suggestions welcome

Ch 8 of the story is now up for those who enjoy my Smexy Fishmen stories. Chapter is NSFW/18+ but all consensual. TW mentions of biting/blood but consensual.

As a treat here is a new picture of Arlong and Squid I drew yesterday. I wanted Squid more feminine looking so I put her hair down, but now i can't help but think of the Rachel haircut and the outfit Luann wore for most of King of the Hill lmao. (these drawings I've been doing recently take about 15 min each in case anyone is wondering) Chapter is also included here under the cut.

VIII

When I first started planning this fic, it had been meant to be a fun one or maybe two-shot of smutty headcanons featuring that smexy sharkman, but after I watched the Sabaody and Fishman Island arcs, I wanted to do something more with Arlong, especially given the flashbacks we see of him in the Fishman Island episodes. I mean, how could I not?

Now we’re at 8 chapters and it feels like Arlong’s Reader has become more of an OC because of how much I have invested in this story and now I’m even wondering if I should write about Arlong having a child with his little squid. But hell, I had fun writing this, and falling down the delightful rabbit hole that is One Piece, and I’m happy for the new buddies I made in the fandom. If you enjoy this story, please check out the companion piece I am working on, ‘Get You Some Arlong Pirates’ which is a collection of stories featuring Arlong’s Big Three.

All reviews, feedbacks, recs and reblogs are sincerely welcome and very much appreciated by this author who works so hard to bring you smexy fishman stories.

o0o0o0o

Tempers were high. So was drunkenness. You were pretty buzzed, but unlike Toma, you weren’t the type of person to get volatile after a few drinks. Arlong, on the other hand… well, pissing off a drunk Arlong is never a good idea. No one needed to tell you that, but seeing a drunk, angry Arlong in action is not something you’ll forget. Especially when Arlong is angry because he’s defending you.

Toma's friends desert him, melting into the shadows or diving into the water as Arlong takes hold of his misbehaving subordinate. You see the panic in Toma's eyes, the realization that he absolutely, positively fucked up, and that he'll be lucky to get out of this alive. Part of you feels sorry for him because you remember how terrified you'd been after confessing to Arlong what you did for Nami. Arlong's maw is not something anyone wants to be looking at, especially if there's the chance they'll go down it.

Arlong doesn’t rip Toma apart, but the fishman got a bite from his captain that he’s not going to forget anytime soon, however superior fishmen may be to humans in terms of durability. It’ll be a while before he can do any work, and the ones who egged him on will be responsible for his care as well as the work he was supposed to do.

You sit in the corner of the foredeck, processing what just happened. You have to admit to yourself that it was nice having Arlong come in like he was your knight in shining armor. You might not be a captive princess, but all things considered, being a pirate is much more fun.

You nurse a bottle of rum, letting the buzz soothe your nerves.

“Do you really think we shouldn’t sell them?” you hear Chew ask. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you do not realize immediately the question was aimed at you. You turn to where Arlong and the Big Three sit, lounging in the chairs that would normally only be used by the top-ranking officers of the ship and their guests.

“There’s several reasons. I was serious when I said we shouldn’t bring ourselves down to their level. I have nothing but sympathy for those of us who spent time as slaves. There are plenty of things we do to retaliate against those who would harm us, and we are called many things. Let’s not add ‘slaver’ to that list, all right?” you ask, but before anyone can answer, you continue, “Sure, there would be a profit in Berries, but humans are generally the cheapest on the slave market, so in the long run, I do not believe it would be worth it, especially as the Marines are bound to notice when a number of their own turn up on the market. And last but not least, engaging in the slave trade would just bring us more attention. There’s already enough to deal with because of the new additions to your territory and the extra manpower needed to maintain these holdings. Plenty of people hate slavers – humans, too. You see how they enslave one another, not just other races.”

Arlong stares at you but says nothing. Chew gulps his drink. Kuroobi has his arms crossed, looking at you. Hatchan simply nods.

“With this many Marines in our custody, I am sure we can find at least a few that can be bought off. Nezumi can only oversee so much territory, after all. As for the rest, this is the biggest vessel we’ve captured, so I don’t doubt we have some skilled people down there. We can use them and have them teach what they know to fishmen.” Despite the World Government’s official stance on equal rights for various races, there is one glaring fact – there is not one single fishman in the Marines. Nor are you aware of any other race than humans or giants being enrolled in the Marines.

“They can still be a source of income… just a more steady and permanent one. With slaves, once they’re sold, they’re gone, and so are any useful skills they might possess. If we keep them, others can’t use them against us. We have Marines here, not just civilians. Let us use them for the glory of the Arlong Empire,” you add coldly. At that, you see a smile stretch Chew’s pert lips while Kuroobi looks at his captain.

“I do not disagree with the idea,” Kuroobi concedes. “We can always threaten or kill anyone who refuses to cooperate.”

“There we go," you say dryly, raising your bottle to him before taking a long swig. After they talk a bit more, Arlong's friends leave one by one, leaving the two of you alone, the sound of waves lapping against the hull and cries of seabirds fill the silence. The morning will come, with plenty of work to do, so you are happy for these quiet moments with him.

“Thank you for being a gentleman and so gallantly coming to my aid,” you tease him. Moonlight catches in his eyes as he looks at you, and the corners of his mouth pull his expression into an appreciative smirk.

“I can not have anyone disrespecting my mate,” he comments with a faint growl.

“When did that happen?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“This is not the first time you’ve called me that,” you say quietly. “But we never courted, or made an agreement…” You trail off, knowing that’s going to sound pretty weak to someone such as Arlong as soon as the words slip past your lips.

“So?’ His gaze is cool and predatory.

So… what? “I…” You pause, unsure of how to express your thoughts.

“You object?” He leans closer to you. You ponder your answer. You do not object to the position you are currently in. You just… sort of wish you had been asked. Maybe it’s the romantic side of you. You know that this man is a predator. He is selfish, possessive, easy to anger, and prideful. Still, you let him have you. You can’t say that he hasn’t treated you well.

“… No,” you reply quietly, but in a firm tone as you look at him. “I don’t know if I sound silly to you, but…” You look down.

“You do sound a bit silly. I will not hold it against you, little squid." You feel his hand under your chin. "Think about it. You have told me in no unclear terms, multiple times that you were mine. Whether in answer to my questions or making these declarations on your own."

You blush at that, and he grins, baring these sharp teeth that had just torn into someone to defend you. There is still a bit of blood just past his lower lip.

“You took a great risk with Nami, knowing my wrath. You did it because you cared for me.”

“I do.”

“That is when I knew you would be a worthy mate. And you did not object the first time I called you that, did you?”

“… No, Arlong,” you concede. “Though that’s not entirely fair… you had me in a position where I could not really think to object…”

He chuckles at that, taking pleasure in the fond memory. Fond, indeed, since you were right there with him, sharing and making these memories.

“After all the time we’ve spent, and what we shared, do you have doubts?” he asks.

“No, Arlong. That’s not it…”

You feel his other hand grasp your forearm, forcing you to scoot your chair closer to his.

“I just wish you had asked me. I know it’s a small thing considering what we’ve done, but it still startled me when you called me mate the first time,” you admit.

“Is that so?” You feel his fingers trail along the inside of your arm, and that sends pleasing shivers down your arm and spine. “What’s done is done, little squid.”

So it was done. Many times in the past, and the future holds the same. You do not pull away as he caresses your arm or other places.

o0o0o0o

You and Chew are sitting at the bar, going over the most recent messages. Arlong and Kuroobi are away with a troop of fishmen, leaving Chew in charge of Arlong Park. You’re not a leader in Arlong’s crew, but being his mate does place you firmly in a position of respect, especially among those who know about you.

And since Arlong’s friends are a big part of his life, it means they’re going to be part of yours, regardless of how you feel about them. It’s a good thing you’re already solid friends with Hatchan, and it seems that your relationship with the other two may become more than polite. Which would be nice, you have to admit. You normally didn’t stay long enough in one place to make more than acquaintances, but you know that you’re here for the long run, as a member of Arlong’s crew and as his mate. And Arlong’s friends were fiercely loyal to him and their shared goals, so you were going to be spending a fair amount of time around one another.

“I miss him.” you sigh almost without thinking as you flip through some papers to make sure you didn’t miss anything. You woke up this morning hot and irritable, and cursed the fact that Arlong had to be fucking gone when you were starting one of your heat cycles. You would find things to distract yourself with, and once you were done meeting with Chew, you were going for a long, cold swim.

You feel a little embarrassed once the words slip past your tongue. You don’t want to sound needy or whiny. After all, Arlong had to deal with the loneliness at home when you were out on a mission. You were a grown adult, and you’d deal with this.

“Hm.” Chew lets out a quiet hum as he glances over a page before he speaks. “You really care for him.”

You’re not sure if that’s a question or a statement. But a nod works either way. “So do you,” comes your soft reply. “As a longtime friend and nakama, I mean…”

He nods in affirmation. You make notations on a couple of the papers. So you both care about Arlong and share the same desire to see him home safe. How warm and cozy.

“I am happy for my brother.” He looks up from the paper to meet your gaze. You get the feeling that he has something he wants to say, but is not quite sure if you’re close enough to share his confidence. You give him an encouraging smile.

“But I do wonder if you have any lady friends who might want to come here…" He raises his eyebrow, and you let out a small, warm laugh. It's as you've noticed since you first arrived here, it's pretty much a sausage party even though now there are a few fishwomen in the village. There is quite a ways to go, but it's a start.

“I’m working on it.” You raise the tumbler of tangerine juice you were sipping. “To friendship… and happiness.” you offer. Chew raises his bottle and you clink the glass together.

After you’re done with Chew, you go for that swim, trying to tire yourself out with mad laps around the island.

But it seems like it’s going to be a restless night.

Arlong doesn't keep toys around, nor does he want you to keep any. After all, as Arlong reasons, whatever do you need such things for when you have him? His fishman pride disdains these toys that humans use for their pleasure, pointing this out as another example of their inferiority.

And yes, when he’s around, you don’t need any of these toys you’ve seen in advertisements in certain magazines. But when you’re alone, what the fuck are you supposed to do to satisfy that ache in your loins? Your fingers and tentacles just don’t cut it, however much you try to use your tentacles to fill your passage in an attempt to stimulate the fullness of Arlong’s cock(s), or when you use your fingers to try to stimulate what Arlong does to your clit.

Any pleasure you achieve is minimal. You would be lying if you said that propositioning a fishman didn’t pass through your mind.

“Fuck, Arlong!” you exclaim in an angry whine. Part of you wants to give up, knowing that you’re not going to get full satisfaction without Arlong’s help. The other part of you is stubborn, demanding at least some release from the heat that aches between your legs.

Fucking heat. It’s awesome when you have a mate to share it with, but absolute misery when you’re on your own. You’re curled up on your side, working at yourself frantically and commanding your body to release some of that pressure already so you can move the fuck on and hopefully get a few hours of sleep before the sun comes up.

“Fuck… come the fuck on…" you pant and gasp. You can feel how engorged your clit is against your fingers, and your insides respond to the friction against its surfaces, but your body also knows that it's not the real thing. You arch your back and curl your toes, increasing the intensity of your self-ministrations while imagining Arlong being the one to give you such attention. You're so lost in your work and muttering heatedly that you do not hear the door to the bedroom open and then close.

Arlong stands there for several moments, eyes adjusting to the semidarkness as he watches you try to bring yourself some measure of satisfaction. The scent of your heat is heavy in the air within the confines of the room, with the effect that one would expect. His shorts become too tight as he listens to your frustrated mewls, your hips rocking, your appendages making soft, wet sounds as they work at the most intimate part of you.

“Y/n,” you hear a growl, and you’re so feverish with pent-up energy that you think you’re hearing things.

“Arlong…” you breathe, trying to visualize him. It’s not as if you don’t have enough memories of his face, his voice, his touch, his smell, his taste… but what is an illusion compared to the real thing? It’s not until you hear cloth dropping to the floor that it dawns upon you that your desires are manifesting themselves into reality.

Your eyelids flutter open, and you gasp softly to see Arlong standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. It takes a couple of seconds – and the sound of his breathing – for you to realize that he really, truly is there, in the flesh, and from the looks of his cocks and hungry grin, ready to ravish you.

“Arlong…! How did you…” you manage to gasp out.

“The job was a success, and so I hastened back home. None too soon, from the looks of it…" he says in that lustful chortle that makes you feel so dirty but in such a good way…

“None too soon," you agree, withdrawing your appendages from yourself, and spreading out for him. He had better not tease you…

Fortunately, it seems like being apart from you has built up his need as well, for he climbs on top of you, giving you the attention you so crave. He pounds into you with a ferocity that pushes all non-sexual thoughts from your head. Your cries and shrieks fill the room, as do his roars and growls.

After several rounds, you indicate to him that you want him to clasp his cocks. This is a rare treat for him, and he is all too happy to oblige. The soreness that will come from this is well worth the abatement of that maddening heat, and you arch against him as he pushes the fullness of his manhood into you. It almost seems as if he might break the bed itself with the way he’s going at you, not that you’re doing anything to stop him.

Aren't you just so happy that he came home early? He only leaves your side to get drinks and towels to refresh or clean up. You cling to him and he keeps his arms around you as you lay there together, basking in the afterglow of a passionate session. You run your hand along his chest and arms, savoring the feel of his sharkskin. You rub your cheek against him and kiss his chest, feeling his heartbeat and breathing. He has a nose and fangs that can tear you apart and arms that can break you, but there's no safer place in the world for you than his embrace.

You love him.

Love. It’s not a word to use around Arlong, and you’re not sure if it will ever be. Love, in Arlong’s eyes, is a weakness, a human sentimentality, a silly dream fed by romance books and old tales of chivalry. So it’s a word that you do not allow yourself to voice.

It’s not that he’s not capable of caring. You know he cares about his crew, especially the Big Three. And there’s no doubt he cares about you. But Arlong is Arlong. The words he chooses to express his bonds with the people he cares about are more pragmatic. ‘Brother/sister’, ‘nakama’, or 'mate' are roles he assigns with respect.

You wonder if, in the future, Arlong will ever soften in his feelings towards this 'pathetic human sentimentality' because even though you accept that Arlong is the way he is, you'd be thrilled if one day he were to ever tell you that he loves you. Maybe you've spent too much time around humans and some of their notions have rubbed off on you...

“I’m happy to be your mate,” you say as you look up at him, placing kisses along his jaw as you hook an arm around his neck, your chest flush against his own as you drape a leg across his hip.

“Mmm. Good,” Arlong rumbles as he runs his hand through your hair. “You are a worthy mate, indeed. I could not ask for anyone more pleasing,” You feel his lips press against your forehead.

You did not realize it at this time, but that is one of his ways of telling you he loves you. You bask in his affection, studying how the moonlight drains nearly all the color from his skin to leave it a pale silver tinged with just a bare hint of color, the sun on his left chest standing out in a red so dark it's almost black.

‘I could hear you moaning outside the door before I came in,” Arlong comments. His fingers trail along your hairline. “And the scent of your heat… I’m almost surprised there wasn’t a pack of fishmen thronged outside,” he adds with a tone that is a mixture of lecherousness, smugness, and pride. You blow a raspberry at him, and he rumbles out a low laugh.

“You had best get some rest, Y/n. There’s plenty to do in the morning.”

“Only if you hold me,” comes your reply. He tightens his embrace, and you smile to yourself as you cuddle with him.

o0o0o0o

“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to that,” you comment as you see the headless body of Buggy the Clown struggle against his restraints for several seconds before going slack, a curious trophy among the prizes displayed in the games of Arlong Park. Arlong might have simply disposed of him as he has done to many others who challenge him, but in the clown's case, it was because he was trying to run his own operations in Arlong's territory.

However, this Devil Fruit user and his particular abilities have caught Arlong’s interest, so your captain has decided to make use of him as suits his skills. His head is safely secured within the building, on a level where just Arlong or his Big Three have access, at least when he’s not being used elsewhere. Chew has taken to taunting Buggy, keeping his head firmly tied in the sack while walking by the body several times, Buggy’s white glove-clad hands reaching uselessly for its head. The clown will protest, of course, but his head does not come out of the bag unless there is enough distance between the two parts of his body, or Arlong locks his body in a trunk as he’s done a few times. The clown was being especially mouthy this afternoon, so Buggy will be in solitary confinement for the rest of the night.

You have to admit, there's a certain charm about that human, at least when he's not being too annoying. You've kept mostly out of the way, simply listening as he goes back and forth with Arlong or Chew. It's a weird kind of dinner theater, and you have to admit it does make the park a bit livelier when Arlong puts Buggy's head on a table for show. On occasion, you feel bad for the clown, because hey, it has to be an absolutely weird experience being separated from your body and completely helpless to the whims of a pissed-off sharkman pirate captain.

The clown was quite resistant to his situation at first, but the need to be reunited with the rest of himself is wearing him down, and Arlong knows that. So the sharkman just shrugs and laughs at your comment while his crew sits around him, drinking, playing games, and gambling with their cut of this month’s tribute money while Buggy fumes and schemes and you have to admit to yourself that you wonder what the clown might do or say when Arlong brings out the head tomorrow morning. Buggy might not have intended it, but he’s now providing Arlong Park with entertainment, with Arlong as his defacto manager.

o0o0o0o

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” you whisper as you stroke the hair from Arlong’s face. The blue is cold and clear, terrifying when he is angry or predatory, and brings out the cool lavender tones in his skin.

But right now, you see his eyes gleam with warmth as he looks up at you. You press your lips to his temple as you caress his cheek. Several months have passed since that fateful night on the Marine ship. There is a definite shift in the way some of the fishmen regard you. Toma serves as a clear lesson – or two of them. First, do not assume that the mighty Captain Arlong will allow himself to be controlled by anyone. And secondly, don’t fuck with Arlong’s mate.

What’s done is done.

“Oh, before we get too comfortable, I have something for you.” He rises, the back of him almost as impressive as the front. His dorsal fin juts out from the wild mane of black hair that’s spread between his wide shoulders, and you are also afforded a nice view of a glorious ass and legs that almost seem to go on forever. You wonder what this little interlude will bring and what could distract Arlong from getting ready to climb on top of you as you know he was about to.

He pulls a small velvet bag from a desk drawer before returning to the bed. Your curiosity is piqued and he knows it.

He pulls out a stacked gold chain bracelet, seven strands of golden chains almost as thick as your pinky, connected at both ends with matching gold bars that clasp together. It is an ideal piece of jewelry for someone who spends a lot of time swimming, with no jewels or embellishments that are vulnerable to salt water. The design is simple but elegant, and you imagine how it will look on your arm. You wonder if there is any special occasion for such a lavish gift, and try to remember if there's any significance to today's date…

“I know I told you before that what is done is done,” you hear him say as you stare at the bracelet draped across his palm, shining that deep, rich yellow under the lamplight. You blink and look up at him in surprise.

“But I am asking you now.” He lifts his hand. “Do you accept?”

“Yes,” you breathe You repeat the word more loudly, lifting your left arm so that he can put the bracelet around your wrist. His large fingers struggle for a moment with the toggle clasp, but the bar slides home and the cool metal rests comfortably against your skin. It’s an appropriate complement to the thick gold chains around his wrist and neck.

“Looks good on you,” he comments. You regard him with a happy smirk.

“I know that’s not the only thing you have to offer,” you reply. Not that you’re not grateful for the gorgeous – and quite valuable – gift he’s just given you, but Arlong is Arlong. You know him too well, and the gleam in his eye tells you that he knows exactly what you meant. You can’t deny that Arlong was – is – right about you being his mate.

One might even call you his Siren, even if you do not count singing among your abilities. He’s inexorably drawn to you as you are to him, since the first moment you laid eyes upon one another, before either of you quite understood what you were feeling.

He rises on his knees, leaning over you, and the familiar lust surges fresh in you as you respond to instinct, your loins pulling toward him. A downward gaze reveals both of his cocks on full display, and there is no denying the visual appeal of an attractive man displaying his arousal for you.

“Arlong,” you purr as he closes in on you.

o0o0o0o

(Arlong’s POV)

His mother is lost forever. His father abandoned him. Even his sister became distant from him. Fisher Tiger was dead, and Jinbe… hm.

He leans over his mate, looking down at her as he strokes her arm and back, careful around the area on her shoulder where he’d bitten her. Marks from his nose were visible on her neck and cheek. There was another bite on her hip. He was careful to not do these sorts of things to her too often, and the mark on her cheek was no accident – he was mindful about his nose in regards to that lovely face of hers.

He will mark her again and again. The tattoo is not going away. Cum can be cleaned off, but he can always produce more, and enjoy himself while doing so. The bites and sawnose cuts heal and he is sincerely glad for that, for his mate’s sake. But there is something about the act of biting or marking her in itself, committing the deed on her, the thrill of knowing she is his and that she accepts and even welcomes it, tasting her blood and the vitality she brings into his life.

He places kisses along the puncture marks on her shoulder, careful with his nose as he nuzzles her. She is his mate, and he knows he will never let her go.

It honestly surprised him, what she'd said that night after he'd disciplined the fishman who'd tried to bully her. At that time, he didn't see why a seemingly small matter should bother her so much when she'd come to him freely. He did not doubt her loyalty or care for him.

He told her that what was done was done, and why not? He asked her if she objected to being his mate, and she said no. The matter was settled, and she accepted his amorous advances, making fierce love with him in the captain's quarters, christening his newly-acquired Marine ship. Life was good.

But what she said nagged him. It was such a small and trifling thing, so why should it bother him? And why was she bothered about it in the first place? It wasn’t until a conversation with his officers about tributes and collections that he started to understand. When he came here, he’d taken the island. Then the others surrounding it. And so on. He wanted something, he took it. He did not ask these weak humans if they wanted to be part of the Arlong Empire, or if they wanted to pay him tribute for their pathetic lives.

She wasn’t simply something to be taken – however much their intimate activities might indicate otherwise – but something to be valued. Making this simple gesture would make her feel valued, and didn’t she deserve to feel valued by the mighty Arlong the Saw?

Arlong hated to admit that he felt a bit nervous when trying to decide what he would give her as a physical reminder of this gesture. Finally, he’d decided upon the gold bracelet, something practical but valuable and a status symbol that speaks well of both its giver and recipient. And it did look good on her, the polished metal setting off the cool tones of her skin.

“You do know that this means I am never, ever letting you go, mate?” he asks with a growl, his hand running along her arm, feeling the gold on her wrist. Although he’d already made that decision a long time ago, he thinks with satisfaction, he would enjoy reminding her now and then.

She is his mate, the velvet glove to his iron fist, the voice of reason to his power and rage. He curls up around her protectively and possessively.

“Is the big, bad sharkman threatening me with a good time?” she replies with a smirk.

“Shahahahaha!”

o0o0o0o

And that’s how you got you some Arlong. All the Arlong, in fact.

SHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

This picture is what I imagined for the gift that Arlong gave Y/n.

#writing #one piece #strawberrycatbeans #villain gets the girl #arlong #fanfiction #opla #arlong pirates #arlong x reader #fishmen are sexy #op x reader #one piece x reader #arlong/reader #x reader #fanart

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lets-zofifi-stuff · 2 years ago

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☕🍂Howdy!🍂☕

I'm Zofifi, your friendly neighbour fanfic writer.

DNI: 🚧🚧 Homophobes, trasphobes, other LGBTIA+phobes, rasists, ableists, queer gatekeepers (individuals that claim asexuals, aromantic, intersex, nonbinaries etc don't belong in the community), anti-proshiping activists (individuals harrasing people about so called problematic ships, l instead of just blocking/filtering tags. Not because im alright with all the ships out there but a lot of evil is made by people who think they fight for the rightious cause while all they do is hurting people for nothing.), people who say that Poland is an eastern european country (it's central Europe, google it before saying something stupid, also google the name of our timezone), AI artists and writers

The list will be extended as needed.

⚠️My AO3 works are going to be locked for not registered users to prevent them being used by AI or lore.fm without my permission.⚠️

Sorry guys. Please make accounts.

🌞The list of my fanfics (DCA)🌛

Death Games and Robots 🏛️⚔️- You are a regular citizen of the Roman Empire. You receive a horrible prophecy according to wich you are going to be loved by some mysterious and powerful creatures. Also you may or may not cause some unspecified cataclysm.

The Smallest Miracles 🦋✨- Two fairies, one witch, some gibli aestetic and no romance. Inspired by ayyy-imma-ninja's fairy AU and petrixmuserb's fairy friends AU.

Diving in stars, all alone 👽🪐 - You were a test pilot for prototype FTL space drive. Shockingly, it worked, sort of, and you got gliched outside of the solar system, and your ship systems get fried. You find a big alien spaceship with only two inhabbitants. They are as trapped as you are but maybe you can help each other out.

Siren's Kiss 🌊💕- Inspired by art by paper-lilly. Mermaids rescue a strange land animal from drowning. They have no idea it's actually the most dangerous creature on earth (a human). But it's cute. ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

The mask is becoming you 🎭👤- This doppelganger assassin is very bad at their job and the humans they were supposted to kill turned out to be far too cute. (Mashup of DCA and That's Not my Neighbour)

Friends Stick Together 🔥❤️- A short fic about the fire and the rescue. Co-created with gniteruirui and sinistersincerely.

Friends Stay Forever 🏠🌚- Sequel to ^Friends Stick Together^. Everyone need o calm down after the fire. Mostly comfort and domestic fluff.

Friends Keep Secrets 🤫💖 - Everybody in pizzaplex keep their secrets. You are the friend that can be trusted with them. Independent prequel to "Friends Stick Together"

Summoning Unearthly Forces (Responsibly) 😈❄ - a comedy OC & Demon!dca story made for oreoexe as a secret santa gift. - Alice got lost in the forest. In the old bandoned cabin she found something she would never expected.

Sinking hearts 🚢💞 - based off the movie of "Tytanic" (1997) It is dawn of the XX century and the develompment of automaton technology booms. Lately the press cannot stop talking about the unusual cooperative project between Afton's automations and White Star line to built the most luxurious transatlentic that ever sailed. You are but a poor rouge who just won a third class ticket to that ship and you are ready to start a new life somewhere far away.

My AU's that don't have a fic (yet):

Trick or treat AU 🎃🍬

Psychic AU - The reader posses psychic abilities. During the visit in the pizzaplex they immediately sense something that something supernatural is going on, and the anxious mess that is the daycare attendant is connected to it. Together they began investion.

Space Titan AU - You find an ancient war mashine, giant robot with two AI's, constructed centuries ago by advancent race of aliens. You accidentally wake them up.

I have a sideblog @automatonsintogas dedicated to "Death Games and Robots" fic. I post there any fanart I get of it, fun facts about the world, breadcrumbs and links to new chapters, and such.

MY CURRENT PROFILE PICTURE IS:

Me as a starry-night witch! Made by @helloruirui TY! 💙 (psst, you can commision them too!)

@ Links to my other socials @

You know, in case this site perishes one day

Bluesky🦋 Artfight⚔️ Twitch💬

#zofifi's post #zofifi's writing #ao3 link #pinned post #social media

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abysskeeper · 6 months ago

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Tagged by the lovely @keldae. Thanks friend! <3

3 ships

The ones always at the top of this list, my Trick and @gothamcityneedsme's Tavon. The ship that started as a high school joke of "what if we put the rebel and the loyalist together?" and has developed into 13 years (and counting) of the most wonderful stories of two, incredibly broken people slowly befriending each other and putting each other back together against all odds. Trick is the OC for me and these two own my heart. If I ever try to say otherwise, I'm lying.

As of late, coming up right behind the ship of ships for me, is--unsurprisingly--Gale/Nox. I'm just really excited to finally be writing my first DnD PC (ok...technically second, but not really. It's complicated) consistently, and I'm finding the outcast wizard/outcast wizard pairing is lending itself really well to my usual brand of drama, angst, and pretentiousness in writing. They should make each other worse, and the only reason they don't is because they're on opposite ends of the 'Do you want to become a god?' spectrum, where Gale is a resounding yes and Nox only moves slightly away from 'would kill a god if given the opportunity' because they do, actually, kill a god. In short, I'm having a blast writing them.

Not OCs, but third place gets to be Rosegarden, or Oscar/Ruby from RWBY. While we're waiting in v10 limbo, these two live in the back of my mind, and every so often come out to demand some attention. Without getting too much into it, something about destined, Chosen One kids and rhetorical/thematic parallels makes my brain go brrr.

First Ship

Hmmm. I think I usually answer Kataang for these but if I'm really thinking about it, I remember being super invested in Leo and Piper from Charmed, when my mom let me watch it. I couldn't really tell you what it was about them because I was about 6-8...but I was in it with them. They were the only ones I really cared about knowing what happened to them when the show ended.

Currently Reading

I currently have @/aevallare's Ao3 page up, and have for weeks because I'm notoriously awful with reading and then even worse about reading fanfic. I don't have the time and energy to start up Kindred right now (soon...vacation...hopefully), but I've been poking at Alex's one-shots. tailwind is delightful for those of you stuck in Gale/Tav hell like I am, and Wisp is jam-packed with character in such a succinct manner that I'm in love.

Last Song

I'm actively listening to Campus by Bastille right now. Great work-vent song for me. Immediately made its way onto Nox's playlist too.

Last Film

Also Argylle! I went in completely blind to it and then it gave me everything I didn't know I wanted. It was a fun romp, and the fact that it was incredibly Trick/Tav coded was an added benefit.

Currently Craving

Sleep, money, time. I'd like to say that once the paper crunch at work is over with the first submission it'll get better...buuuuut I know that's not true. I just want to have enough energy to write again. Also what I'm always craving, strawberry lemonade.

I'll actively tag @dr-demi-bee and...anyone who wants to do this lol (steal from me, please. I know not who wants these and who doesn't).

#don't mind me #long post #tag game

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simplegenius042 · 1 year ago

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Betrayal, Mistake and Monster for Silva 😊 Please !

Jumping straight to the angstiest of angsts I see. Into the devastating life of Silva we go!

Also this kind of becomes like rambling because I'm very invested in my stuff. Also it's long... so read if you want, take breaks if you must.

TW: Mentions of child abuse (in all forms), a really fascist and shitty society, massacre, death, grooming (in all forms) and cult stuff. Father Adam Omar is officially his own warning. It gets kind of dark sometimes but thankfully not in the FULLEST of details. Continue below:

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

On the receiving end of betrayal there's only been two major ones and two minor ones. It's not in entirely detail and is slightly a summary since there's a lot more to this.

I make no subtlety in the fact that Silva and Elsa's father, Adam Omar, is an abhorrent individual who deserves to die. He is a danger to his current children, the predecessors he sired before them, and literally everyone else. Anyone who was not under his cult and dictatorship could have looked at Adam and the society he lead and immediately notice the red flags surrounding him. With that said, Silva had been born in the Congregation of Adam's Guard, so what would be deplorable and unacceptable to us was the norm to Silva and Elsa growing up. Adam was Silva's primary caretaker and the one person (barely) keeping her alive and healthy, even if it was clear that he despised her and favored Elsa. The problem was, Adam's delusions and extreme control freak nature often lead him away from his intended purpose for Silva (his plan to groom her into the "Judas" who would be the embodiment of sin and activate the Collapse vs his sick desire to groom her into the role to be his "Eve" and/or kill her for existing... neither great options), so he gave very mixed signals on how much he "cared" for Silva. His constant swings from disdainful neglect and abuse to pride, compliments and reward caused Silva to both crave for his touch and love but also to fear it. But despite his malicious intentions, Silva was caught in his narrative that he did care for her but her "sins" made it difficult, and only he could "fix" her. Silva trusted her father... what child wouldn't? Even though Adam's betrayal had come years before (nearly killing her as an infant, nearly drowning her during her first (of many) baptisms, his neglect and abuse, his grooming, forcing her to witness graphic violence, etc), the most significant events that made Silva realise she had been betrayed by Adam came in three parts; first, at the age of ten, she noticing Adam's (age 52) attention shift from her to Elsa (age 9) and overhearing his plan to get rid of her, second discovering the pile of bodies of her half-siblings (or as he called them, Silva and Elsa's failed predecessors) upon been thrown down into the cellar to be killed later, and lastly, at the age of 18 during the Tumultite Massacre, confronting Adam (age 60) in his palace seeking answers for why she didn't love her as a parent should (as Paul had shown her a parent should), he made it clear that, in the grand scheme of the Lord's plan, while Elsa and her predecessors were merely a means to an end that he could tolerate, Silva herself meant absolutely nothing to him but a constant reminder of failure that fueled his justification to be a raging, bigoted and hate-filled asshole towards her all the while blaming her for not being what he wanted (both as his "Judas" and his "Eve")[<- NOTE: This entire sentence is merely an abridged summary of what he meant and had said to Silva, Adam himself would never admit any wrongdoing nor call himself anything insulting to his self-perceived character]. Then he proceeded to chase her down in an attempt to kill her once again. Thankfully Silva, Elsa (age 17) and Persephone (a week or two old) managed to get to a boat and got away from the Archipelagos and the Congregation.

That was one major betrayal Silva had to deal with and one that still haunts her. The second major betrayal was with her adoptive father, Paul Yellowjack. Five years after escaping the Tumultite Massacre and making residence in Hope County with her sister and daughter (though the former only gets to spend the first two years with them before dying in an accident at age 19 or 20 haven't decided), Paul (age 51) visits Silva (age 23) at her residence, five years after she thought he died during the massacre that pretty much wiped out their entire community (with the exception of Kamski and Ezekiel, who survived but Silva wouldn't know that until she encounters Kamski later that year and Ezekiel during the New Dawn Arc). Despite the warm reunion, he insists for her and Persephone (age 5) to join his cult (the Apostles of Zachariah) which she refutes, because the Congregation was traumatizing and Eden's Gate has been harassing her over her late-sister's floristry. Paul initially accepted this and swiftly left... then later the next day ambushed her with the rest of the Heralds of the Orchestrator, kidnapping Persephone, and forcing Silva to go on a six-month travel across the globe hunting down these heralds looking for her daughter. So for context... Paul went a little mad after the massacre and joined a cult whose whole premise was "the individual cannot grow nor live without suffering and must be traumatised to better adapt" (plus a whole bunch of other ideals). The ultimate betrayal comes when (eventually) Silva corners Paul with Kamski's (age 55) help, though Paul (out of a combination of feeling betrayed himself, a punishing retribution to avenge his fallen adopted children, pure spite for ruining his operations and slight envy towards his granddaughter) had murdered Persephone right in front of Silva (something that would shake and reshape Silva's character drastically and lead to Paul's own life-long self-loathing and regret for his selfish actions). Paul pays this betrayal with his life upon the final month (though as you will learn in the New Dawn arc, this only ends Paul on the material plane, and grants him a doorway to a supernatural state...)

The minor betrayals Silva experiences come from Eden's Gate (a hostile takeover is not taken well by Silva, especially if the one/s committing it are pretending they aren't in any wrong) and Denise Lapis (unfortunate forced wife to Captain of the Enforcers, Oscar Lapis, who had been taken in by the Tumultites after finding her near death, though she betrays them by tipping off the Enforcers to the planned rescue mission for Elsa. Though Silva was (justifiably) mad about this at the time, especially when it gave the Enforcers an opportunity to surprise her community with a massacre that killed her lover, Persephone's mother and Kamski's daughter, Irene Neon, five to eight years later after having to reflect upon her life, Silva understood Denise was as much as a victim as she was and only did what she did out of fear, rationalizing that, had she still been under Adam's thumb and in Denise's position, she would have probably done the same thing).

Now, Silva herself betraying is only very minor, and from the (questionable) perspective of others and herself. Adam would obviously think Silva to have done this to him, even when he tried to set her up as this to the Tumultites (which failed), but from Paul's perspective, this may be the case, especially during the six-months she hunted down Paul and the Apostles, but eventually years later he realises this to be false and that he was definitely at fault for his own actions. But for Silva herself, thanks to her survivor's guilt and self-blame, she believes that if she is unable to help another community overcome an oppressive force who is way too similar to the Congregation for her to even be able to disassociate the two, if she fails in saving more lives than she could in the massacre, or worse, gives in and joins Eden's Gate (which to her, regardless if they're morally better than Adam's Guard will ever be, will never provide a safety and belonging that she wants to have with the residents of Hope County), she feels then that she would be betraying the values of Jannah's Principles, tarnished the memory of the community who gave her freedom and an opportunity to live a normal life (at the cost of their own) and breaking another promise to her loved ones, leaving their sacrifices in vain. There's also the part in which in Silva's Hope, she has a moral crisis over whether or not to keep John, who she had spared and kept as a prisoner in her bunker, alive as an opportunity to end the Reaping at the potential cost of her friends and new community's trust in her for withholding the fact she didn't kill John despite all he had done, or to kill him to legitimize the lie as truthful and keep her friends at the cost of her own morals of killing a defenseless and imprisoned enemy who she actually started to view more positively and with more sympathy and friendliness (especially after Joseph's broadcasted eulogy, something that both reaffirms her belief that Joseph is a fraudulent prophet and the Collapse truly did happen in the Archipelagos in the form of the Tumultite Massacre, and also something that sours her view on Joseph even more and actually allows her to humanize John by recognizing herself in him). There's her eventual reoccurring meetings with Faith, which is a whole other can of worms that has some people (like Tracey, Jess and Virgil) pissed at her (in Silva's defense... she tried to be manipulative to give the Resistance an advantage... but it somehow turned from vibing-tolerance trying to get the other to crack a mask and gain any information that contributes to their respective factions into bickering enemy-friends who might sabotage their factions behind their leaders back just to help the other out once or twice into some kind of amalgamation of a messy friendship that leans on borderline romantic situationship but both parties don't know how to admit they like each other nor do they think they can so they just suffer in yearning thinking if they make the first move they'll ruin whatever comfortable relationship this is... among other things).

...Moving on.

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

I'd say there is two major mistakes Silva makes in her life.

First and foremost is not killing Adam Omar when she had the chance. She had him at gunpoint and he may be a 7'1 sixty-year-old giant built like brick empire states building, but he was still a man who could die from a gunshot (when the Voice's charm wasn't protecting him that is). It's the facts that Silva was a) hesitant to kill her father, even when he should be on an offender watchlist (preferably past tense) and b) she's eighteen and wanted answers to just why he is the way he is/did what he did/hated her from the very beginning despite being faithful and subservient (not a good thing). Unfortunately Adam is a self-righteous and victim-blaming dick so he said a breaking speech (that I will not post here) which was complete BS and gaslighted Silva into losing confidence enough to give him an opening but with still enough determined will to have the rationality to get away from him. She managed to fix that mistake with the Apostles and Paul (but is unsuccessful due to unforeseen events out of her control) and is trying to do the same with Joseph and Eden's Gate. Though, spoilers, she might be able to confront Adam once more in the main story... a day Adam will be determined to ruin. Her entire story is trying to move on but being unable to.

Second major mistake, in her POV, was not joining Paul and the Apostles, especially if it meant Persephone got to live. She knew the cult was wrong (slavery, torture, organized crime, chemical warfare, not really good things) but they managed to ingrain rules to follow in the Apostles that Adam's Guard just didn't care about. Like no sexual violation to the body or mind, everyone is equal and valuable, and kids are off limits (the last one Silva finds is being bent by the heralds Gaius and Zhan Tiri, the former finding a loophole of what ages define a child and adult in certain countries to put them through death playgrounds that end with a sacrifice and the latter isn't discriminate on who ends up on the receiving end of her poisons) [NOTE: While Paul does kill Persephone, unlike Adam, he feels immense guilt about it and doubles-down on the rule later]. They're evil, but there is standards and a certain nobleness to them (for lack of a better phrase). The only reason she didn't was because it went against her morals to let innocent people be taken from their lives to live one that was miserable and just plain suffering (is it likely Paul would have changed the cult up a bit if it made Silva more open to joining? Zachariah be damned? Perhaps. Though whether or not Silva would have still joined him then is another question with an unknown answer).

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

I suppose desensitization to violence and death and the lack of empathy towards her enemies may count, considering she has a very high kill count and over the course of the stories she feels very justified in those deaths. She doesn't actually like it but no one has ever told her (in her very black and white view of the world) that its wrong so she's very aware its apart of her in some way, shape or form. Though this line of thought is muddied by her fight against the Seeds and Eden's Gate (including Nadi and Alexander) which introduces her to the gray in morality, something I'll explain another time. She accepts it at first but ultimately decides to reject it to not be like Paul and the Apostles or her father's Enforcers in the end.

Sorry this was long and not as refined as I would have wanted it to be, but I hope it gave enough insight. I do hope it is as understandable as I could make my ramblings be. Chow!

#far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #oc: silva omar #oc ask game #whump asks #trigger warnings for a lot of stuff

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alexitheslayer02 · 24 days ago

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RP Rules

Aleli Note

YES, I will RP. Do I do it often? Yes and no. I mostly RP with my gf nowadays, but I will RP with other people, just expect me to be a tad awkward 😅

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Rules

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Give me a fandom/original story, genre, and your OC and I will see if I'm interested. If I'm not interested, don't get all butthurt about it.

I WILL NOT DO A RP THAT IS PURELY SMUT!! I am not opposed to smut occurring naturally in the RP during a romance, but I need to be invested in the romance, or else I lose interest. Besides, the thought of writing smut with people other than my gf makes me awkward and nervous anyhow.

If I don't know the fandom, it is an automatic "no". I write what I know/researched guys. 😒

Yes, I will do canon, oc x canon, oc x oc ships (m x m, f x f, m x f)👍

NO TOXIC SHIPS for the love of all that is good and holy, please 😭(i.e. do not send me pedo, abuser x victim, grape, incest, etc. Present any of these to me and I will block you. Plain and simple. Nothing more and nothing less. Example would be Ramsay Bolton x Theon Greyjoy, that makes me so uncomfortable T^T)

If you want an oc x oc ship with one of my OCs, please look through my list and tell me which one you are interested in. If they don't have a Bio, ask me about them and I will explain them to you. (probably make a Bio then and there).

Do not ask me to change anything about my OCs to fit your idea of what they should be. They are their own people after all and that will make me mad REAL fast.

Writing suggestions and constructive criticism are accepted and even encouraged. I want to become a better writer and write unique characters, so I will take suggestions. Outright telling to change something about my characters though, just because you just don't like it, will not be accepted as kindly as a suggestion from a writing perspective.

Please, please, PLEASE do not take control of my characters. That is infuriating as all hell to me.

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Extra

Please note that most of my OCs are men TvT I do have some female characters, but my mind generally leans toward male characters. (I was raised around men for most of my life, so I think that is the reason for this, even though I am a girl XD)

I can write RP replies that can be real long, to real short depending on my mood or if I am feeling real creative or not. I have a tendency to overthink responses, so that may shorten my reply significantly or make me take a while whilst writing a response. Please be patient with me, as we continue the RP and I get a feel of your style and what you are comfortable with, I will naturally get in a groove.

If I don't respond right away, please don't immediately assume that I am ignoring you. I may be drawing, helping with my baby brother, or working. It honestly depends. I am chronically online, but I also have IRL things to handle, and I get distracted easily.

If I suddenly disappear, I may have crashed XD No seriously. At night, I will suddenly fall asleep without warning. But it could also be one of the things I mentioned in number 3.

Things I am not comfortable RPing; Grape, SA, bdsm, abvse, beastiality/zoophilia (these things can be implied or purely in OC backstories. But I do NOT want to actively write in a RP. The kinks in that little list are also just... uncomfortable to me so just please no-)

Dark things I will RP; violence, gore*, horror, yandere** (*I watched half of the Saw series, watched Terrifier one and two, the Thing, and most of the classic slashers 🙂 Bring on the gore lets go, I won't shy from it.) (**Tread carefully with Yandere please. There is a fine line between that and just being toxic. If in a horror element, then I will accept it as part of the RP if there is another, non-toxic love interest, or if there is a way to defuse the situation and bring it into a non-toxic territory. Just keep that in mind.)

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Please go to my Fandoms, Worlds, and OC lists after reading this. If you are interested in a RP, go to my asks box and I will respond to you there and then we can DM. Don't just jump me in DMs please. [Note: I put links to the lists in question in the mentions of them there.]

#my life #my tumblr #rp rules

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sparklingchim · 3 years ago

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Hopping onto the lwh-baby-discourse, what was oc’s reaction to the first times jk called her baby

maybe like this? :

You scrunch your nose, puffing annoyed.

"What's the matter?" Jungkook asks, immediately picking up on your frustration.

"What do you have for number four?"

Jungkook scans his sheet, which is completely inscribed with numbers and his handwriting. He flips back a few pages when he doesn't find what he's looking for.

"You're that far already?" you say, eyes wide.

"Yeah, well, I'm not highlighting and underlining every single thing with some pastel marker," he answers.

"But see how manageable my homework looks now? Definitely better than your illegible scribbles." You steal a sheet from him and scribble a little heart with your rose coloured marker on the corner. He's so to this by now. Every time Jungkook and you do your homework together, there are little doodles of you on almost every one of his sheets. "Looks cute, right?"

He hums mindlessly, sparing your little drawing only a brief look. "Here," Jungkook says, holding a paper in front of you. "For number four I've got eight."

You take his paper to examine how he solved the problem and Jungkook continues doing the math homework.

Your brows furrow when you're done comparing his way of solving the problem to yours. You don't understand what he has calculated to get that result.

You huff, eyes aimlessly wandering over the few people that are sitting in the library, doing either homework or studying for a test.

Somehow your gaze stops at Jungkook and you watch him from the side, his brows drawn together in deep concentration as he moves his wrist swiftly to fill the blank space with letters and numbers.

He looks so pretty, you think, when he has his attention completely focused on one thing. Even if it's as boring as math homework, Jungkook is able to become fully invested in it.

"What's wrong?" he asks without looking at you.

"I don't understand how you solved this," you talk in a a pout, voice quiet.

Once Jungkook puts his pen down and looks up from his homework, his knitted eyebrows ease and a tender expression fills his face.

"Baby," he says ever so gently. A little smile forms on his lips as he takes in your sulkiness.

Your soft features that were twisted into frustration changes into perplexity. Your eyes widen the slightest bit and Jungkook thinks you've never looked this adorable before.

"W-what?" you ask hesitantly, unsure of how to react to the new pet name. Though you can't deny the rush of excitement running through you.

"You look like a baby. Helpless and vulnerable." He chuckles lightly when he sees stubbornness settling on your face, you're pout only growing bigger.

"I don't look like a baby," you sulk. "Just, help me...please?" You push your sheet to him, sliding it over the paper he was just doing his homework on.

"Sure." He picks up the pen again and pulls your chair closer to his.

Before he starts explaining, he turns to you and squishes your mouth with his fingers digging into your cheeks.

You utter a sound of complaint, pushing his arm away.

"You're so cute," Jungkook smiles, scrunching his nose at you.

"And you're fucking annoying."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Want to try to solve this problem without my help?" He places his fingers on the paper, pretending to push it back in front of you.

You grab his wrist. "No, please." With pleading eyes you're looking up at him. "Explain it to me please?"

He grins smugly at your obedience. "I guess I have to since you're such a dummy for not being able to solve this easy problem."

The yelp that bubbles from Jungkook's lips after you smack him on the back of the head earns you both a stern look from the librarian.

#this has been in my drafts for SO long #im so sorry omg #darly asks #anon #fic: long way home #totally forgot that i wrote this until i went through my drafts #long way home drabble

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sitp-recs · 2 years ago

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A Case of You by @epitomereally

Harry/Draco (2022, Explicit, 97k)

Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down. Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

Potter grinned up at him, a flash of quicksilver. This wasn’t at all like Draco ever thought this would be like: Potter thinking he was good, Potter smiling at him, Potter laying his hand gently on him, Potter wanting him. It made him feel frantic and out of control. He didn’t know how to act at all; with Smith, it had been awful and desperate and mean. He suddenly felt, after Potter’s breakdown, that he couldn’t be awful or mean, not right now.

All hail the long fic king!!!! This 100k fic caught me completely off guard by how invested I felt in something this long (sadly not my usual these days) as Wireless got closed to wrapping up. It deserves a spotlight in my single recs for that feat alone but I also really really wanted to celebrate epitome’s first fic back in the fandom after 15 years (starting with a bang!!!) especially because I’ve seen her reccing many wonderful fics lately and it’s a thrill to have someone this talented around again! Before getting into it I also wanna link the amazing rec @romaine2424 did for this fic earlier this week, check it here!

Now, how could I resist this fic looking at those tags - case fic, break up/make up, Unspeakable Draco? Non-linear narrative? Blood magic? Joni Mitchell? Sign me up, please! I’m so so happy that I jumped right in because oh my goodness, what a delightful and thrilling ride this was! The way the author combines excellent plot with the slow unravel of Draco and Harry’s relationship is addictive and will keep you hooked from start to end, which is why I gotta say 97k felt shorter as I was devouring this. The tension building in both main plot and UST (hello casual sparring, this is every Drarry reader’s wet dream 🔥) is superb and a masterclass in anticipation while filling out the blanks about their complicated past with a dual narrative strategy.

I couldn’t decide which timeline I was more invested in, I just wanted to learn everything about this competent, bossy and mysterious Harry, so edgy 🤤 and this lovely redeemed Draco, fierce, stubborn, earnest, a great friend who’s learned how to own his life and decisions. Their voices are excellent, the chemistry is off the charts and absolutely scorching, I love how they work together on the case while dancing around their feelings, trying not to let it affect the investigation and team dynamics. Beyond the side relationships - in my opinion one of the major highlights in this fic, kudos to all those charming, nuanced and flawed characters - the Paris landscape and general descriptions make the fic so much more immersive! Draco’s life abroad jumps to life in the tiniest aesthetic details and I immediately fell in love with the OCs, not to mention Lucius’ plot line and house elves supremacy as a bonus! They’re so creative and charming, I had a lot of fun with these side stories.

On a separate note, I really really loved this take on break up/make up Drarry. Not only we got to see their Auror training and how their tentative friendship started fresh out of school, I think the author gave their relationship a very much appreciated depth and nuance throughout the years, showing why being pulled apart helped them grow more confident and allowed them to establish healthier relationships, and to learn how to trust each other in order to be properly together. No one’s at fault here, it just wasn’t the right time as both characters had to mature and become the men they are right now. It was an engaging and really refreshing approach to the whole enemies to lovers dynamic while keeping the tension very much alive and firing sparks, and I loved every minute of it!

Exciting plot, ultimate UST, masterful character building, delicious smut, and a heartwarming and earned happy ending. This is everything Drarry fans are looking for and some, a really well-crafted long fic that deserves all the love and appreciation for all it has accomplished. What are you waiting for? Happy readings!

Read on AO3

#drarry fic rec

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Lost & Found - 12

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment, oc feels like she’s gonna puke which, honestly, same

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: holy. crap.

anyways, enjoy!

just remember that if it’s not ok then it’s not the end

Chapter 12. Bittersweet

series masterlist

“You wanna grab some lunch?” I ask as soon as I get into the car after my appointment with Dr. Mo. She seemed pleased with my progress, and reassured me that I did the right thing in writing Jimin’s letter.

The only thing left to do is wait.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Sunmi begins to drive. “How’d your session go?”

“Good, I think. I couldn’t stop fidgeting the entire time.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face. “Mind if I invite a friend to lunch?”

Sunmi glances at me sidelong, arching a brow. “Does this friend know about your thread and that you’re currently being chauffeured by a Bighit employee?”

I chew on my lip. “Well, yes to the first question and no to the second. But she knows everything else.” I bring my phone up to my ear, listening to it ring. “She actually helped me cut the thread...but she’s a really cool person. I swear.”

Sunmi just waves me off, appearing to be indifferent to adding another person to our lunch party. At this rate, I’ll have to invite Chung-hei as well.

“I was just going to call you! What happened last night? You left in a rush.”

“Wanna come to lunch? I think we’ll just grab something and eat it back at my apartment.” I look at Sunmi, who gives me a thumbs-up.

“And then you’ll explain what happened last night?”

I laugh at her persistence. “Yeah, sure.”

We discuss her order before she promises to meet me at the apartment. “I feel like I should invite my other friend as well,” I admit, looking at Chung-hei’s contact on my phone. “She’s Namjoon’s soulmate.”

Shrugging, Sunmi pulls into a drive through. “Don’t ask me, I’m just the driver.” She pauses. “Oooh, should I get a milkshake?”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Get me one too-”

Chung-hei picks up on the third ring.

“I was just thinking about you!” She chirps. I can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice.

“How adorable,” I drawl. “Wanna meet up at my apartment for lunch? I’ve got a couple of friends coming over that I want you to meet.”

“Sure! I was just planning on taking a break, anyways.”

“Great. You want the usual from the diner on 6th?”

“Ooh, how sexy, you even remember my order.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “Whatever. See you soon.”

✂

“How far are we going to run today?” Namjoon asks, not sounding entirely thrilled at the prospect of cardio at this hour. It’s an odd hour to be going out for a run, but the weather is warm enough for a jog around their closed off neighborhood.

“I have no idea,” Jimin admits, looking excited to just get to go outside. “Just...a ways?”

Namjoon snorts. “A ways?”

“You know what I mean.” Swinging the door opens, Jimin pauses before stepping out. “Oh, mail’s here.”

Namjoon doesn’t think much of the statement, the mail is always here around this time of day. That is, not until he looks down at the pile of mail and sees a familiar looking envelope poking out from behind another letter.

“Ah!” He shouts, crouching down and scooping up the mess. “Ah!” He shouts again for emphasis.

Jimin looks at him with a half-smirk. “Is there a reason that we’re shouting?”

Unfortunately, Namjoon is unable to do much else besides shout. He backtracks into the house, tossing aside the undesirable letters in an effort to get to the one that really matters. In his excitement, it slips to the ground.

Jimin leans down, grabbing the letter that Namjoon points at with yet another shout. “What?” His stomach drops. “Did we forget to pay this month?”

“No!” Namjoon exclaims. When Jimin shrugs and attempts to hand it over to him, he thrusts it back at him. “That’s yours!”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s mine’?” Jimin asks, frowning. “We split the cost-”

“Jolie. It’s from Jolie,” he pants, finally catching his breath and calming down. “Read it.”

Now, Jimin realizes, would be the perfect time to panic.

Reading the expression of confusion on his face, Namjoon takes a deep breath before leading Jimin to the couches in the living room. “Remember when I told you about going to visit Jolie right after she cut the thread and how I gave her-”

“You gave her this?” Jimin asks, looking down at the electric bill envelope with no shortage of disbelief. “Joon, this is probably just a bill-”

“No, we just got the electric bill three days ago!” Namjoon explains excitedly. “Just, read it.”

Jimin comes to stand before the couch, but he doesn’t sit down. Not yet. He’s too busy fighting the nerves that have manifested, the envelope shaking in his hands as he stares down at it.

“O-ok.”

He perches down on the edge of the coffee table, not even thinking to sit on the couch. Not as he tears the envelope open and slides out a piece of paper that looks suspiciously like notebook paper.

Namjoon is attempting to back out of the room to allow his friend a private moment, but stays just long enough to confirm that this is indeed the long-awaited letter.

When Jimin unfolds the paper enough to see the first line, addressed to him, he begins to greedily gulp down air.

She has beautiful handwriting.

Finding Namjoon’s eyes from across the room, Jimin wears his emotions on his sleeve. The hesitant hope and utter fear of what he’s about to read is apparent, and it’s with a quivering lip that he calls out for his friend.

“Can you stay with me?” He quietly requests. Namjoon nods, hastily coming to sit across from his friend on the couch.

In the silence, Jimin reads through the letter. Namjoon watches as his brows furrow. A hint of a smile touches his cheeks at the very beginning, and he mumbles something about Elle. Then his lips part in a pained, silent gasp.

He’s silent throughout, however as he gets to the final few sentences, he finds himself reading through them again and again. It’s almost as though his eyes deceive him, like something isn’t quite connecting.

I still want you.

I still-

His thoughts are interrupted when Joon reaches out to lightly nudge his knee. “You ok?”

Ok?

“Yes?” It’s a question more for himself than anything. His eyes drift back to the page, to Jolie’s swirling handwriting and the promising statement within.

It terrifies him to the bone, which only makes him frustrated. In his utter confusion, he reads through the letter again, assessing every word.

It’s a question that Jimin hadn’t thought to ask himself before. Now that his soulmate seems within reach, he hesitates. Why?

She still wants him. And while her reasoning is sound, albeit leading to rash and hurtful choices, Jimin finds himself feeling like he’s missing something as those four words echo through his mind.

When the answer comes to him, he gasps it out as though he’d been holding his breath.

“I want to believe her,” he says, looking like he’s just about ready to cry from the frustration. “But I- I-”

Namjoon just nods, an understanding look in his eyes. It’s that look that helps to calm Jimin down, his racing heart finding solace in the fact that it might be normal to find it difficult to trust so readily.

“I can’t,” he quietly confesses. “Not yet.”

“You don’t have to,” Namjoon reassures. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Finally setting the letter down, Jimin rubs at his face. “What step are we even on?”

Namjoon chuckles quietly at his question. “Who knows. This is uncharted territory. But the way I see it, you’re in control now. You decide if you want to move forward with her in whatever way you see fit, or if you’re ready to just leave it behind. Have a fresh start.”

While both thoughts seem to have their own terrifying aspects, Jimin knows that leaving Jolie in the past simply isn’t an option.

“She said she had an aunt here, but Joon, that’s it. I’m all she’s got left.” He doesn’t know why he brings that up now, but his heart aches to think of it. For nearly a year now, she’s been so alone. Going through her grief, hardly coping. “Which may sound a little pretentious, but...I don’t want her to be alone.”

Namjoon leans back against the cushions, and Jimin seems to realize for the first time that he’s sitting on a table. He makes no move to get off of it, simply leaning forward on his elbows with a creased brow.

“Then maybe that’s where you two start,” Namjoon muses. “Neither one of you is ready to just dive into a relationship - that should be the last thing on your mind. But for now...just don’t let her be alone. I mean, the best you can while keeping your distance until, you know, you’re ready.”

Namjoon’s advice soothes the gaping hole in Jimin’s chest, letting him breathe freely for a moment. Just one step at a time.

He realizes, for perhaps the first time in his life, that just because she’s his soulmate, Jimin doesn’t have to immediately hand over his heart. It’s in pieces at the moment as is, partly due to the severed thread hanging from his left hand and partly due to the tangible heartbreak in Jolie’s letter.

No, Jimin can first let it mend. Take his time to heal.

Perhaps they can heal together.

✂

“Ah, I’ve seen you in the news!” Christina snaps her finger as she makes the connection, grinning at Chung-hei who chuckles.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she sheepishly admits. “Please tell me I look even better in person.”

“Oh,” I chime in, “loads better. You looked hideous in those pictures they used.”

Taking a huge bite, Chung-hei vigorously nods. “I know, right?! I seriously almost called them up to ask them where I could send some better photos. If they’re going to be talking about me, they might as well have some good pictures to use.”

Sunmi nearly chokes on her milkshake, fanning her cheeks as she stifles a laugh. Christina smiles fondly at Chung-hei and I.

“Why didn’t you?” She asks, clearly invested in the story now.

Chung-hei takes her question in stride, setting her chopsticks down. It’s a clear sign that she’s going to become fully immersed in the storytelling now. I lean back, ready to watch the show.

“Namjoon’s a protective idiot, that’s why.”

Now I’m the one choking, Sunmi hitting my back even as she grins devilishly. “What?! Did I just hear you say something other than praise about Namjoon?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Chung-hei levels me with a glare, scooting her chair back to get up. I immediately throw my hands up in surrender. “Ok! Ok! Just keep telling your story!”

The first few minutes between all of my friends had felt like seeing three different worlds collide. Of course, Christina was the odd one out among the other two: her profession made her a bit of an odd candidate. A part of me was dying to tell her story, to help Chung-hei and Sunmi see just how amazing she was. However, all it took were a few jokes at my expense (something that Hei and Christina both have an uncanny ability to do) before the three of them were picking at their food and chatting like the neighborhood gossips that they surely are.

“What was it like?” Sunmi asks, and suddenly I’m thrown back into reality and realizing that I just missed the entire story.

“It was…” judging from the faraway look in Chung-hei’s eyes, she’s talking about when she first met Namjoon. “I don’t know. I always expected sparks to fly or the world to stop spinning, but it wasn’t like that at all.”

I glance over at Christina, gauging to see if we’re veering into something that might make her uncomfortable. She catches my gaze, giving me a little nod that tells me she’s alright. Interested in the conversation, even.

“It just felt like coming home after a long day,” Chung-hei continues. “Like kicking off tight shoes and scrunching up your toes in the warm grass. Like the most common, simple things that life has to offer, that somehow make you believe that everything really will be alright in the end.”

My emotions get caught in my throat as I think about those little things and realize that it’s been far too long since I last drank in the beautiful normal.

“Wow.” I’m not sure who whispers it, but I grunt in agreement.

“That sounds so nice,” Sunmi says with wide eyes. Chung-hei smiles a radiant smile, one that isn’t too wide but reaches her eyes anyways.

“Yeah. It really is.”

The four of us get a little lost in our own thoughts, but eventually Christina clears her throat and shoots me a pointed look.

“So...what happened last night?”

Ah. Right.

Just like that, the reminder that my letter may very well be in Jimin’s hands right now has me fidgeting in my seat, just like I did all throughout my session with Dr. Mo.

With a tight smile, I explain the events of last night. How I essentially poured out my heart in the letter (this earns me a proud smile from Chung-hei), and how I confessed that he was all I wanted still.

The memory of him under those dazzling lights at the concert rush back to me. His white shirt loose on his body, hair swept back mainly because he kept running his hands through it. Full lips parting into a smile just as quickly as they would melt into a teasing pout. The crowd was wrapped around his finger, nearly as tightly as the bright red thread dangling from his left hand.

The thread that I stared and stared at while Chung-hei and I slipped backstage, growing ever nearer. Getting close enough that I swore I could hear his voice, his laugh like a waterfall.

I was drowning in that laugh, unable to come up for air until I found myself practically begging on my knees outside of Christina’s apartment.

“Hey,” Christina gently pulls me from my tormented state. “Are you nervous?”

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly before answering. “Yes.”

Sunmi, who sits beside me on the couch, wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a tight squeeze. Chung-hei abandons her food, leaving it on the coffee table and coming to sit on the other side of me.

“You told the truth,” she quietly comforts. “And that’s all you could do.”

I clench my jaw, staring at a wooden knot in the coffee table before me. “I told him that I forgave myself. But I feel like there’s so much I’ve done wrong, I hurt him too much-”

It’s Christina that rises from her chair and pushes everyone’s food aside until she can sit on the edge of the coffee table and reach out to cup my chin. Once I raise my eyes to hers, I see a raging fire in them.

“You don’t look back.” Her voice is made of steel straight out of the fire. “You cannot punish yourself for what’s already happened any more than you already have. Move forward. The only way to heal is to move forward and be better.”

I wonder for a moment how many times she’s repeated that to herself on the days when the shadows seemed a little darker and her past loomed a little larger.

“What do you think he’ll do?” I ask, my voice small.

Chung-hei sighs softly. “He still wants you...but I don’t know. He might need some time, Jolie.”

It stings, but I force myself to nod. My only hope is that he’ll allow me to somehow be a part of the time he needs to take for himself.

Eventually I ease into a semi-comfortable state, my friends chatting it up while I try to focus. Try as I might, my mind wanders back again and again to the letter. Maybe it got lost in the mail. Or maybe it won’t be delivered until tomorrow.

Maybe they really thought it was a bill and won’t open it for days, forgetting about it. It’s probably laying on that stupid kitchen island that Taehyung wants me to use for rolling dough out, collecting dust-

When my phone vibrates, I nearly jump out of my skin. My jolt makes Sunmi and Chung-hei jump as well, giggling lightly.

“Sorry,” I mumble, fishing my phone out of my back pocket. “My phone just-”

Elle’s bf 🙀: Hey...can we talk? Like, call?

I’ve rarely been able to curse fluently, but today appears to be the exception as a string of curses flow under my breath. The sentiment is mirrored as Sunmi and Chung-hei peer over my shoulder.

Christina doesn’t need to see the text to know what just happened. “He texted?”

“I’m gonna die,” I breathe out in response, heart rate ratcheting up at an alarming rate. “Dead, I’m dead-”

“Ok, look at me,” Chung-hei grabs my shoulders and forces a warm smile onto her face. “This is good-”

“Good?!” I shriek, looking down at my phone and back up at her. “How is this good? I feel like I’m gonna puke-”

“Great, but save the puking for after the phone call,” Chung-hei butts back in, taking charge of the moment. “Because right now there’s a boy on the other side of that message trying to be brave, and he needs you. He’s probably freaking out, and he needs some answers and reassurance that his soulmate really actually meant every word she wrote in that letter. And you meant it, didn’t you?”

I find myself nodding along, wishing that I hadn’t just eaten a ridiculous amount of food. Not as my stomach churns at the thought of talking in real time with Jimin.

“Go ahead and text him back,” Sunmi coos, the calm to Hei’s invincible will. “And...you know what, nevermind. I’ll ask about the way you have him saved under your phone later.”

It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to formulate a response, and even longer to type it out without making any typos. Staring at the send button, I groan, unable to press it just yet.

“I really might throw up.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” Christina springs up from the couch as Chung-hei begins to rub soothing lines up and down my arms. Despite the warm temperature in the room, I can’t stop shivering.

“If you want us here, that’s fine...but I also think it might be good for it to just be the two of you. So you can talk freely” Hei gently advises, so different from the little pep talk mere moments before.

I stare at the wall, chewing ferociously on the inside of my lip. The thought of my friends not being here makes me feel even more vulnerable, but at the same time I know this is something I have to do alone.

“Will you come back after?”

“Of course,” Sunmi reassures. “We’ll just go on a ride or something while you two talk. Text us when you’re done, and we’ll be back before you know it.”

Christina sets the glass of water in my hand, urging me to drink. With a few swigs that help to clear my head and temporarily calm my stomach, I press send.

Me: Of course. I’m free right now, go ahead and call if you can.

I’m not sure if I want to cry or squeal.

Both. I want to do both.

My three friends get up (Christina taking her food with her, a detail I hardly notice) and file through the door, offering me warm smiles and words of encouragement. Try and I might, I can hardly register them amidst the swirling feelings of panic and doubt crawling through my veins.

The sound of the door closing is what makes the first tear slip out.

Grabbing my phone and staring at the couch before deciding that I’d rather the comfort of my blankets and pillows, I jump and stub my toe against the coffee table when Elle jumps through the kitchen window. She appears to be unbothered, but follows me into my room and leaps onto the bed. She circles my feet before brushing up against my calves, laying between my legs. Resting her chin on my shin, she looks up at me with those big eyes of hers.

Waiting, just like I am.

I’m not sure how long it takes, but it feels like an agonizing eternity before the phone finally rings.

When it does, I scoop it up and stare at if for a moment. I pinch myself for good measure, giving myself one last chance to wake up.

Of course, I don’t wake up. This isn’t a dream. I realize that when my shaky thumb swipes to accept the call and I bring the phone to my ear.

It’s quiet, but I can hear the soft, shaky breath on the other side of the phone. Almost like Jimin was holding his breath but couldn’t quite hold it any longer.

It takes me approximately four seconds to remember that I’m supposed to say hello.

Of course, I fail even at that. “Jimin?”

It’s not the most eloquent way to answer the phone, but I need to know.

“Jolie.”

✂

“Jimin?”

Jimin stands outside on the balcony, facing the large pines that obscure his view of the rest of the neighborhood. When he hears the breathy, slightly panicked voice on the other end of the phone, he realizes that he should definitely be sitting down for this conversation.

“Jolie.” It’s a statement that should have been a question, but he knows - knew, from the single syllable his soulmate had utter, his name, no less, that it had been her.

It had to be her. His name had never sounded so beautiful coming from any other mouth.

When the silence stretches on, Jimin sinks to the ground and sits facing those great pines. The railing obstructs his view a bit, but it isn’t like he’s actually watching them. No, his gaze is a little dazed as he scrambles for something to say.

“I- I got your letter.”

There’s a pause in which Jimin is absolutely positive he hears a sniffle - the pitiful sound making him reach out to grab the metal bars of the balcony railing for support.

“Oh.” And then, “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess right now-”

“No, I am too,” Jimin rushes to reassure her. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re both a bit of a mess.”

He hears a wry chuckle and suddenly he can’t help but smile slightly, basking in the short-lived sound. “Jimin, I…”

“What?” Eager to hear what comes next, Jimin can’t help but widen his eyes as if that will urge Jolie to continue.

“I...t-thank you for the flowers.”

Someone might as well have brought him back to life. Shoulders relaxing and lungs expanding, Jimin blinks and finally sees the trees.

“Thank you for the letter.”

✂

Jimin’s voice is deeper than I thought it would be. His soft, angelic singing voice acts as a good cover for the delicious timbre coming through the phone.

Of course, I may be biased.

“You’re welcome,” I manage to squeak out. “You deserved an explanation. I hope it didn’t leave you more confused than before.”

“No,” he responds, dragging the word out in a way that makes me feel warm. “It was beautiful. I’m so sorry, Jolie, about your parents. I wish I could do something- change it.”

The familiar pang of pain strikes true, but it fails to linger like it normally does. “It’s nobody’s fault, Jimin.” His name is delicious on my tongue, and I fight the urge to say it again. “But I really, just...I know saying I’m sorry doesn’t cut it, but for what it’s worth...I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

It’s quiet except for the sound of a breeze and distant chirping, leading me to believe that he’s outside. If I close my eyes, I’m right there with him.

“Thank you. I...that means a lot. Thank you.” He takes a deep breath, and I can tell that he’s getting to the reason he called in the first place. “This might sound a little strange, but I need to say it.”

“Go on,” I urge.

“You mentioned - don’t hate me, because you said it was the cheesy part,” I can’t help but snort at his playful manner that peeks through. “But you sounded like you were willing to give this a try…? Give us a try?”

Blinking rapidly to dispel any lingering tears, I nod even though he can’t see me. “Yes. But only if you want to. I completely understand if you feel like you can’t after everything that’s happened-”

“I want to. I- I want you.”

My heart pounding in my ears, I bite down a gasp. “You do?”

“But just...can we take this slowly?”

Letting out a sigh of relief, a tentative smile makes its way to my lips. “Yes, please.”

Judging from Jimin’s little laugh, he’s more than happy with my response. “Good. I just don’t want to be alone anymore, you know? And hey, if I remember correctly, you thought I was funny-

“Woah, I thought Jaemin was funny, not you. You’re gonna have to start all over now.”

Jimin makes a sound of protest that I hope masks the schoolgirl-like giggle I let out at the sound. “Really? You’re ridiculous. Hey! Is Elle there?”

“Oh, she is! She’s sitting here eavesdropping, wanna say hello?”

“Yes, put me on speaker. I’ve missed my cat.”

“Your cat? Really?”

“Yah, put me on speaker already-”

His voice cuts off, and I strain to hear another person that speaks in the background. It’s muffled, but despite the poor quality I can hear the panic in their voice. A moment later Jimin returns, however his joking banter is gone. Indeed, he sounds deadly serious as he tries to calmly speak.

“Jolie,” he begins, and suddenly it’s cold. “You’re at home, right?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “What happened?”

“Stay inside,” Jimin instructs, not answering my question. “Do not leave, you understand me? And don’t let anyone inside. I don’t care who it is, do not let anyone in.”

My blood runs cold at that. “Jimin, you’re scaring me, what’s going-”

“Promise me.”

The pure desperation in his voice leaves me paralyzed, but I manage to speak. “I promise. But Jimin, what’s happening? Is everything ok?”

“I’ll call you tonight, ok? Just- don’t leave.”

With that, he bids me goodbye and the line clicks off. Scrambling to pull up the numer, I immediately call Chung-hei.

It rings and rings, eventually going to her voicemail. I end the call only to begin a new one to Christina.

Again, no answer.

Sunmi’s number is the last one I try, holding the phone up to my ear. “C’mon, pick up, pick up,” I chant, pulling my knees up to my chest.

But it just rings, over and over again.

“Hello, this is Kang Sunmi. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take your call, please leave a message-”

Ending the call with a violent jab, I start the calls again from the top.

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professorsnape394 · 4 years ago

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The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Fifteen: Three Professors

A/N: This is the fifteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2001

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

Within the week the gossiping from the weekend's events had almost completely died down. However, with Severus and Aria acting civil towards one another during lessons, and almost completely back to their old habits of spending the evening together a whole new set of rumours were threatening to begin.

Karkaroff had mostly backed off Aria's case on the Severus front. However, this did not mean he had any intention of stopping socialising with her any chance he got. Igor had become invested in the relationship of the two potions professors' and he would not stop until he had the answers he was looking for. He took to visiting her during the majority of her free periods, as well as some evenings after class, often convincing her to join him for a stroll around the castle grounds, where he sought to pry into her personal life, especially her relationship with the potions master. It didn't bother Aria too much to begin with, in fact, she liked the company, but as the week grew to an end, she had become suspicious of his true intentions.

Almost immediately as lessons came to an end on Friday evening, right on cue, came a knock at the door. Before the potions apprentice had a second to open her mouth, the door was already pushed ajar, revealing the sunken features of Igor Karkaroff.

"Hello Igor." Aria sighed, barely sparing him a second glance.

"Good afternoon, beautiful lady" Igor chirped, his accent almost thicker than usual. Aria rolled her eyes at the headmaster, but chuckled lightly to herself in amusement. "Are you free to join me on a leisurely stroll around the castle?" He queried, striding into the center of the room, taking a seat behind one of the student's desks.

"Are you mad, Igor? The rain hasn't stopped all day! Besides, Professor Snape set a load of essays last week, that I have the pleasure to mark. I don't think I would be much in the way of conversation today, I have too much to do." She confessed, attempted to dissuade him.

"Nevertheless, I shall keep you company. I do not have anywhere to be."

"Thank you." Aria grimaced, really just wanting to focus on getting her marking done.

"Speaking of Severus..." Karkaroff begun, once again distracting Miss Dumbledore from her work. "There have been rumours of the two of you circling the school." He stated, leaving the intention of his sentence free for Aria to interpret.

"I am very well aware, Igor." She huffed. "Though they have begun to fizzle out in the last few days, I am pleased to say." The witch continued scribbling.

"That is not what I am talking about." The man shook his head, though kept his gaze firmly on the professor in an interrogative manner.

Aria raised an eyebrow, but did not stop reading the length of parchment.

"It has been said in this past week that you have entered into a relationship with the potions master, is this true?"

"God Igor, I never thought you so naïve that you would believe that sort of rubbish." She sniggered, allowing him a smidge more of her attention. "Like I would ever go out with a man like that, you surely heard what he said to me last week, it is unforgivable." Aria scoffed. "Besides, you should know just as well as I that people love to talk, students especially. Haven't you heard the one about us? It's all a load of nonsense, don't listen to any of it."

"I was simply... curious." He shrugged. "I would not like to think a beautiful woman such as yourself had gone to waste, like you say Severus Snape is simply not worth your time. You deserve much more."

"Thank you, Igor, however I do not think this is an appropriate conversation to have between colleagues, let's keep it professional." Aria suggested, noticing that the headmaster had a tendency to sidetrack the conversation to her love life.

A minute or more passed while the pair sat in silence before another knock interrupted.

Assuming it to be a student, Aria rose from her desk and made her way to the door. "Severus." She gasped, not expecting him to respect her privacy, just as Karkaroff had not. "You knocked?... again." Aria's eyes widened, taking a step back as she came face to face with the potions master.

"Yes, well, while I am not overjoyed with the current arrangements, I at least respect your need for some privacy." Severus wavered at the door, his eyes flickering towards the young woman, before taking it upon himself to enter the room, stopping almost immediately upon spotting Igor.

"I see I was right to to announce myself." The two men shared a short but intense glare. "Igor. I see you've made yourself quite at home."

"Oh... umm, Professor Karkaroff had just stopped by for a chat while I finish up on some marking." Aria rushed to explain, knowing exactly where Snape's mind was heading. "What can I do for you, Severus?"

"I came to collect the essays I assigned last week, I did not think it fair to leave them all to you while I sat in my room twiddling my thumbs."

"That's very kind of you Severus. Would you care to join us, you look like you could use the company." Aria practically begged.

Severus considered her offer for a second, knowing that what he wanted least of all was to spend time with Igor Karkaroff. However, on the other hand, he also wasn't too keen on leaving the pair alone, unsure of what he might spill to his apprentice. In the end Snape's better judgment overcame his pride and so he proceeded to pull up a chair, separating the two already seated professors.

Severus set to aggressively scribbling notes in the margins of the students essays, the scratching of his quill on parchment dominating the room. A long while past with only this and the sounds of bubbling cauldrons occupying the professors' ears. The tension between the three thickened as time went on. All scared to speak in fear of the other's response.

Finally Igor chose to break the silence, bored of staring at the potion's professors quietly marking away in unison.

"It must be hard for you Severus." Igor tested the waters, waiting on a response.

"What are you hinting at, Igor? What exactly is hard for me?" Snape replied cautiously after a moment of deliberation.

"Well, a man like you; settled in his position, proud of his job, it must be hard knowing you'll be replaced by a must younger, much more attractive model." Karkaroff shifted position in his chair, becoming more comfortable, confident in his ability to undermine the Potions master once again.

"Despite what you may have hoped Igor, you are sorely mistaken. My job is under no threat. I was simply asked to take a short week's sabbatical, in light of the recent events, until all the commotion has died down. And that week is coming to an end." Snape turned his attention from the essays, lifting his quill from the paper, and placing it to the side.

"Yes, yes of course." Igor humoured him. His body language radiating arrogance. "But it must be worrying, knowing that your job is potentially threatened by Miss Dumbledore here. She has the same skills as you, the same knowledge, and what she doesn't know now she soon will once you've been foolish enough to teach it to her. It cannot be easy, being forced to train the woman who will inevitability replace you."

"I do not know what your game is Igor, but I assure you, Miss Dumbledore is no threat to me."

Aria's ears pricked up at the second mention of her name, her gaze shooting between the two men.

"I really don't think this is relevant boys, can't we talk about something else?" Aria nervously nibbled on the edge of her lower lip. She knew where this was going and she didn't have an answer for what was coming. She also knew how vicious these men could be when they really wanted to, and she did not want to be in the room when they both pushed the other too far.

"Oh come on, Aria, darling. It must have crossed your mind. You are younger after all, the students relate to you more, god knows it wouldn't be hard to like you more. Not to mention your lineage, it cannot be more clear who Albus would prefer to employ. His own flesh and blood? Or someone with Severus'... background?"

"Watch your mouth, Igor." Snape droned through gritted teeth and flared nostrils.

"My grandfather didn't bring me here to replace Severus. He's a great professor, and a fantastic friend to him. I would even go as far to say that he trusts Severus' with his life. I am simply an apprentice. A year's training, that's what we agreed." Aria beamed, convinced she had put out the fire, unaware to the fact Igor had just lit another spark right under Severus' feet.

"With his life, eh?" Igor chuckled to himself. "How very clever you have been, Severus."

Confused Aria simply took a step back in the conversation, finally coming to the understanding that none of this was really about her.

Aria could sense Snape was uncomfortable, his body tensed and he straightened his posture, gripping his quill for comfort.

"I think it is time for you to leave, Headmaster Karkaroff. Miss Dumbledore and I are working, and prefer not to be disturbed."

"I see your game, Severus. I always knew you were a smart man, but you have played this very well indeed. But I know you, and I might just be able to beat you at your own game, if you are not careful."

"What is he talking about Snape?" The young woman whispered, turning her full attention to her colleague.

"Goodbye, Igor." Karkaroff gladly took a stand, knowing, despite Snape's commanding tone, he had won this round.

Igor Karkaroff rounded the desk, gently lifting Aria Dumbledore's hand to his lips.

"Until, next time." He breathed, bowing his head to kiss her gently, before showing himself out. "Your past is calling you Severus, and Dumbledore is ready to replace you when you go running right back."

Snape immediately rose from his chair, Aria suspecting that he was ready to storm from the room.

"Fuck." Aria breathed, joining Snape in standing. "What the hell was all that about?"

"That is none of your concern." Snape snapped, beginning to pile his papers.

"Of course... of course, it isn't." Aria shook her head knowing it was a stupid thing to say. "I only meant... well, are you okay?" She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"While I appreciate your concern, Miss Dumbledore. I am not a child who needs consoling, nor do I need your pity. I am perfectly capable of handling the likes of Igor Karkaroff."

"Yes, of course, you are. I...I just-"

"Miss Dumbledore." Severus interjected, huffing though he didn't seem nearly as angry as Aria expected. He saw the woman quickly becoming flustered trying to think of the right thing to say so as not to displease him, this was not a rare occurrence. For once Severus' actually felt sorry for her and decided to cut her some slack. They had, after all, promised to become friends.

"I need you to calm down." Snape softly commanded, though quickly moved on. "While that encounter with Professor Karkaroff was less than pleasant, it is far from unfamiliar to me. Igor and I have a past. A past I would rather forget about, him, on the other hand, not so much. My advise to you is stay out of his way. I am under the impression he has his eye set on you."

"Why would he-"

"Goodnight, Miss Dumbledore." And with that Snape returned to his quarters for the evening, Aria's questions remaining unanswered.

What was Karkaroff up to that concerned her of all people?

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

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jeonsblackgf-writes · 4 years ago

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BULLSHIT || 2 ||

summary: marco and lani had been friends since the womb but when occurring lies happen from one best friend to another, things are bound to fall apart.

pairing: marco peña x black!OC

genre: angst

word count: 1.7k

_____________________________________________🖊

If someone told Lani that she and Marco would have had the worst fall out of their lives she would have laughed in their face. She would have told them that'll never happen because what she and Marco had was something worth keeping...now she's starting to wonder if that's true or not.

Lani stopped counting the days they were apart because there was no use anymore after she literally watched Elle and Marco kiss on national television just few days after finding out that she was being blown off because of some dancing game competition since Lee couldn't do it. She had managed to become a pro at dodging Marco. She knew his schedule just like he knew hers, so she left class a few minutes early or left class later than usual just to avoid him. She kept her guard up for the entire time, and it hadn't failed her once. She just couldn't bear to see his face... not now. She knew what she was doing probably wasn't rational, but it was time for her to start thinking about her own feelings and not others, especially Marco's. She had spent the past few years standing by his side, taking the racist bullcrap from his previous girlfriends without a word because she never wanted Marco's judgement about them to change. Now her judgement about him was changing. She never knew him as the type to fall for someone who was already taken, but what does she know...he stopped telling her things.

The worst slap in the face for her was two weeks after her outburst on him, she saw him with another female having the time of his life. Her heart dropped because he used to smile at her the same way he's smiling at her. So much for being remorseful.

"You can't avoid him forever Lani." Kammy sighed as she watched her friend survey the halls for the certain dark haired boy. Lani huffed, and slumped her shoulders.

"I know, but I don't want to see him right now. Not after he lied to me, kissed Elle, and got cozy with another female." She mumbled, going to her locker, but stopping once she saw him standing right there, searching the crowd of students for her. She widened her eyes and immediately grabbed Kammy's hand and went in the other direction hoping he didn't see them.

"Why did you do that? That was your chance to speak with him." Kammy hissed, watching Marco's frantic figure behind her.

"Well I don't fucking want to!" Lani hissed, sharply turning away from kammy to get to class, leaving her in the hall.

Kammy sighed and pull out her phone to send a quick message.

To Marco: Just go, she won't come.

She placed her phone back in her pocket and followed her friend down the long hall, finally catching up to her right before she got in the elevator.

"Look," Kammy sighed, "I love you, and I didn't mean to make you upset back there, but I just don't want 18 years of friendship to go down the drain. You guys have literally been attached at the hip since birth. You're gonna let that go because of some girl?"

"When me and him started high school, we made a pact to always tell each other everything and to never lie because we know how much high school can change a person. We grabbed a piece of glass and cut the palm of our hands and made a blood pact to make it official." Lani explained quietly, showing her friend the long scar on her hand. Kammy gasped and rubbed the rough feeling of it. She didn't have anything to say so she just let Lani speak.

"I never wanted to let us go...but he gave me no choice when he lied and put his feelings over mine." Lani whispered, right before the elevator chimed. She walked out and ran right into the person that caused all this mess in the first place....Elle.

"Lani...would it be okay if we spoke for a minute?" She asked, redness showing up on her cheeks. Lani scrunched her face up and pushed Elle out of her way so she could get to class but the brunette was persistent, she grabbed Lani's arm and gave her pleading eyes.

"What could we possibly talk about? You got Marco what else do you want? My soul?" She spoke sarcastically, snatching her arm away. Elle sighed.

"I know you guys have been best friends for a really long time, longer than Lee and I. He isn't the same without you and he won't stop talking about you, he regrets everything." Elle explained, almost desperately, but Lani didn't know if she wanted to hear it or not.

"I bet he didn't regret kissing your ass that night. Everyone in this school knew about my feelings for him, even you, yet you still kissed him on tv for millions to see while your boyfriend was sitting in the crowd. I'd be surprised if he still wanted you after that shit." Lani hissed, with no ounce of sarcasm. She watched as Elle stood staring at her awkwardly with wide eyes.

It wasn't just the situation with elle, it was the situation with every female, whether or not they were Marco's girlfriends. It was just a constant shit show when it came to her, and she never had time fir herself because she was so invested in being his bestfriend...the guy she made a blood pact with, the guy she promised to go to the same college with. She had always wanted more but he had always kept her around as some sort of unofficial wing woman and she had always wanted to be something else.

"Lani please...talk to him." Kammy pleaded.

"I need more time, I really don't know what to tell you." She sighed, about to turn around but the sound of Marco's voice made her freeze in her tracks. She snapped her neck towards Kammy and rapidly took her hand, "We have to go! NOW!"

Kammy shook her head disapprovingly, and stood her ground. "You have to stop running! It hasn't done you any good but make you even more depressed."

Lani sighed and glared at Elle as she turned to see the frantic eyes of her almost ex best friend. Giving the two time along, Elle and Kammy went their separate ways on opposite ends of the hall, meanwhile Lani fully turned to Marco to see nothing but desperate and pleading eyes.

"You aren't gonna say anything? You just gone stare?" Lani asked, wanting the conversation to be over with already. She was already late for class, she didn't want another reason to be upset today.

Marco sighed, realizing how hard this was now that she was willing to speak with him, "I-I'm sorry, and yes I know it's been long overdue, but I've had time to reflect--"

"Well I'm gonna need more time." Lani spat at him, weariness in her voice. Marco visibly frowned at the sight of her trying not to cry.

"Please, I'm walking out on a limb here talking to you. We've been best friends since forever, please don't throw it all down the drain because of a small mistake I did. I miss you, I swear it and I know when you see me when the hall, you think I don't miss you but I do and I think about you every single day. That day when you told me you were in love with me, it made me realize something much more bigger than us being best friends." He damn near cried, but she still wasn't convinced. Lani needed actions not words.

"A small mistake? You still don't get it..so let me break it down to you...yes I am still in love with you, I don't think I'll ever stop but I won't be a fool to your games ANYMORE. You knew I had a soft spot for you and you always took advantage of that! I was there for you through so much and was always there when one of your little racist ass girlfriends left when shit got tough. I invested my life into making sure you were happy and you never did the same for me! I sacrificed myself SO DAMN MUCH, and for what? Just to be shit on in the end! This one situation with Elle isn't the first one but it's sure as hell the last one...y-you kissed her...you kissed her just a week after you knew my feelings for you and I don't think I'll ever forget that. I gave you up on purpose, not because I don't care but because you didn't." She cried, trying not to raise her voice since she was in the hall and later as hell for class.

"What can I do? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it." He pleaded, grabbing both her hands within his, tears streaming down his face but Lani pulled away from him and stepped back a few steps. He knew her next words, but he was praying to god she didn't say it.

"I want you go give me time to myself and stay the hell away from me! That's all I ask." She mumbled as she looked at the ground, wiping her tears from her face.

"You know me well enough to know that I'm not gonna leave you alone. You're crazy to even think that!" He protested, almost bellowing in the hallway. Lani sighed and shook her head.

"Why? Why won't you leave me the FUCK alone?" She croaked, her voice cracking.

"Because I'm in love with you too, and I need to fix this!"

Lani gasped. Hearing his next several words made her heart jump but this isn't the way she wanted to hear a confession. Marco searched for something within her eyes but the only thing he was getting was pure shock and disbelief.

"I'm gonna go home. Lose my number Marco seriously. " She spoke barely above a whisper before waking away from him and going down the opposite end of the hallway. Marco watched as she continued to walk until she hit the corner. He sighed, as he knew she was going to skip the rest of her class for the day and go home to sleep.

"What the fuck am I gonna do now?" He whispered to himself, his breathe becoming heavier as he tried not to cry. Suddenly, an idea sprang in his head, making him smile. He ran to class with the thought on his mind.

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tag list: @mansaaay

#black reader #black!reader #interracial #x black reader #marco peña #angst #the kissing booth #high school #bwwm couples #bwwm love #bwwm relationships

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puphoods · 3 years ago

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i need u all to become very intensely invested in my ocs immediately so i can talk abt them all the time and draw them more so my art gets better really fast. please and thank you

#chirps

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interplanaranathema · 3 years ago

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Mtg Fantober 1W Intros- OC Bio Condensed

Hello! I'll be doing Fantober as much as I can! Kicking it off on week 1 I plan to just do two condensed posts about my more lesser ocs I have other. Cutting it short and sweet and focusing overall backstory and giving some ideas about what they are currently doing within the multiverse

Archangel Avalon-

---Avalon is an archangel from one of my three fanplanes. He's UWR planeswalker with a interest in technology and magic. Due to the interplanar nature of most angels, Avalon wasn't able to form his own spark. However, before the mending, a near cataclysmic event took place on his plane and a dying oldwalker willingly gave their spark away to the closest being in hopes to able help this plane live. Thus with this new power, Avalon with his people and other angels successfully save the plane and rebuild it. ---Originally being UW, he is very dedicated to gathering knowledge to help his worshippers and fellow allies. Rarely that he would planeswalk away from his world and with a responsibilities that was given to him as an archangel, it came important that he stays. This was roughly the time when more known threats such as the Eldrazi and Nicol Bolas were apparent. A fellow planeswalker and him devised a machine that would use the blind eternities to shield and hide away his plane from those threats. Only way to get to the plane is either that now-deceased friend or him. ---After Sparks, Avalon with the help from Vodania, a dragon planeswalker, is attempting to undo that affect. His new found knowledge of the changed multiverse and now having his plane be relatively safe, made him more anxious to get out of there and spread his multiple wings.

Eriame Mel- ---Eriame Mel is a WUB Elf planeswalker. She focuses on dreams, fears and healing. When she was a young girl, she had a fascination in studying and she went off on her own quest. On this quest, she spoke with many different people and civilization realizing this world was darker and a lot more daunting to the other folk. Thus, going to the nearest church she was able to meet with one of the many angels of the plane and agreed to help the people and creatures of her own plane. With this, she spent a few years fighting and hearing the pleas of the townsfolk near her. Realizing it won't gonna end. Eriame kept pressuring herself to get better and to do what she could. She would get fits of sickness ending up in prolonged dreams and nightmares before they started to become lucid and she could peer into others' dreams as well. ---This was when her powers were coming and with that, she saw that with power she could help everyone! Thus, she took to studying and attempting to learn different forms of magic, most of it being telepathy. An accident happened during a battle at a fort and Eriame accidentally took control of multiple of her friends. After the battle was over and done all who she accidentally controlled, immediately turned on her and put her into exile. Due to feeling like an absolute failiure, her spark ignited. ---Now, Eriame traverses the planes, sticking to a few for at most for a year or two, helping people she comes to out and due to this multiple planes have started religions because of her. This caused her to start having a messiah complex and start to develop a spreading cult throughout the multiverse. Her identifiable symbol is of an angel.

Irula-

---From another fanplane, Irula is a UGR gorgon planeswalker. She's severely invested in the creature and has a pension of petrifying any new creatures she comes across for an examination. Her race lived on a moving continent mostly comprising of thick jungle. She was an explorer of her land and wanted to explore the other parts of her planes. Due to want of knowledge, she was not selected to become the next sage of her kind. Disheartened just a bit, Irula kept on her studying and trading of knowledge. Until one exploration, she was not careful enough and her group was mauled by a hydra. She was the only one to survive due to her igniting her spark. Arriving on unknown plane, Naya, she was taken in by the local leonin tribe as she recuperated. ---Irula soon planeswalked to multiple planes after getting adjusted to it. One of them happening to be Ravnica before the war, this was when she fell in love the Simic combine and the fun that it gave her. After experiencing a demo brought on the yearly Guildpact Celebration, she signed up and pledge her allegiance to the Combine.

Javatti Broens-

---Javatti broens is the planes-bound elementalist child of Detlev Broens, a dullahan with elven and dryad heritage, and Volan, a kaladeshi vedalken. They are a young adult dullahan who studies at the Prismari College on Arcavios majoring in Acting and minoring in Music preformance as a graduate. --- Born as the duo's third child, Javatti grew up as a single child, taking and learning about Detlev's and Volan's lives and eventually picking up the interest of acting from watching their mom's preformances as she was a Prismari professor. They only heard about their older sisters from the older artworks Volan and Detlev had long before they even settled on Arcavios. With this interest in their lost family, Javatti picked up books relating to the homeplanes of their parents, taking real big interest in Kaladesh. --- On their secondary school graduation, Detlev and Volan gifted Javatti a small life-craft peafowl they got from Kaladesh. Even with Javatti's prismari uniform and elementals have kaladeshi elements.

Nabu- ---Originally, Nabu was a original fiction oc, but my brain went BRRR and now he's a mtg oc. He's a RWG Snake-Human hybrid from a plane. Raised as a Priest from a young age, Nabu became a high priest of an ancient civilization at the age of 13 even if he wanted to a warrior like his older brother. With this title came his hybridization: he was forcibly turned into a naga-like creature. Wanting to please, Nabu didn't complain and was horribly manipulated for years, growing exponentially fast but oh so young still, causing him starve due to the unsustainable growth. Nabu didn't realize that centuries had passed when a rebel leader came into his temple at 15, and a priest as well as the leader saw how starved, tired and young Nabu was as well found out for centuries, Nabu was lied to as he worked. --- This event caused Nabu to run away to the nearest Jungle. Where he spent years isolated, hunting and resting. Until one day, a few people spotted him and called in one of the global organizations to come and check. Nabu was captured and was rehabilitated into a world thousands of years later than his previous life. ---After being fully rehabilitated, he vowed to protect the kids who went through the same hell he went through. Once he got an artifact to help reduce and keep him from starving to death, Nabu saw his own legs again instead of a long serpentine body and the pure Euphoria ignited his spark. --- Now as a planeswalker, Nabu sticks to his own world however, he does dabble in other planes, his preferred work is as a Boros Soldier on the plane of Ravnica.

#mtg fantober #SDFGH #i have so much ocs and i love em all #Irula #Nabu #Eriame Mel #Archangel Avalon #Javatti Broens #important #THIS IS ONLY 1/2 OF THE CONDENSED #fanwalker friday #long post

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter six

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I haven’t been back to the Music Store since Monday. Too scared Emily might actually kick me out because she doesn’t want to see me. Too scared if I don’t practice enough, I might totally flop on Saturday and risk a contract or Emily not joining our band. It does make me wonder if she ever missed me. If she’s been searching for me. If she’s listening to other music while cleaning instead of listening to me play the guitar. If she’s been thinking about me as much as I have been thinking about her. Whether it’s been her tiny little smile betraying her tough façade or her voice blending in with mine or belting out the lyrics, she’s been on my mind non-stop. “Another practice after school, boys?” Owen suggests when we’re at Jeremy’s locker, waiting for him to be ready to get to our first class. Jeremy and I both nod in agreement. We all need as much practice as we can get. Owen watches me tentatively, then says, “I went to the Music Store again last night, to make sure they got our name written down.” I don’t notice my eyes widening at this. “How was she?” I blurt out without thinking. “She seemed a bit off, actually. Easily startled, that one,” Owen chuckles, and I do too but I don’t know why. “I found her at the guitars, she was tuning one of the acoustic guitars when I walked up to her and tapped her shoulder. She jumped about five feet high before registering who I was,” Owen keeps his eyes on me tentatively, making sure he’s not overstepping because he knows how I’ve been feeling in the past week. “And when I asked her about the Open Mic Night, she had no clue what I was talking about at first, but then she checked the documents and she had us written down.” I can’t help but smile a little at his story. Sounds about right. That’s the Emily I’ve been keeping my eye on for the past two weeks. “She had us written down as Sunset Cure, but I made sure to change it.” “Sounds like her,” I mutter. Jeremy and Owen both chuckle and then the silence falls over us like a soft blanket until the bell rings and we all split up to get to class. I’m nervous with everything I do. Paying attention in class is hard because I can hear her voice singing that song she sang to the girl in the Music Store mixed in with the song we sang together. Then it makes me wonder if she’s been working on that and if she’s finished it. I left the piece of paper with the bridge on the piano, I hope she’s seen that and hasn’t thrown it out. Then my mind jumps to the question whether she was off yesterday when Owen saw her because she hadn’t seen me, but then again, that would be ridiculous. She’s pushed me away. Why would she think of me when she doesn’t even like me? “Charlie?” A voice shakes me awake from all my daydreams about Emily. When I look up, I find out every student in my class is staring at me, including the teacher. “Can you tell me the answer to the question I just asked the class?” I rack my brain trying to figure out what we were talking about. What class am I even in? “Pay attention, please, Charlie.” I simply nod my head in response but sulk back into Emily-thoughts the second the teacher turns away from me. This day is going to be hard. Tomorrow is going to be even harder.

“You’re still here?” Owen asks on Saturday morning when he finds me still in Jeremy’s garage. We’d been rehearsing until late last night, writing some more songs until we find the perfect one to perform tomorrow night at the Open Mic Night. We’d promised to pick it back up in the morning, but I never left. I’m not even sure if I slept at all. I kept singing Emily’s song. “Did you even sleep at all, bro?” Jeremy questions as he picks up his bass. His eyes are still squinty, meaning he hadn’t slept too much either. “I’m not sure,” I shrug. Owen sits down next to me on the sofa and I’m sure I’m getting the infamous Owen-pep-talk. Even though he’s solely interested in men, he does give some killer advice on women too. “I’m not telling you to forget about her, Char, but maybe don’t get your hopes up too in case she really, really doesn’t want to be a part of Sunset Curve.” He gives me a sharp look. “Then again, judging from how out of it she was Thursday, I think she kind of missed her favorite returning customer.” My heart swells up at the thoughts of her missing me. I push the feeling down because Owen is right. I can’t get my hopes up too high. “Can we rehearse Now or Never?” I ask, getting up from the sofa to pick up my electric guitar, “I think that one gives us the most chances.” Jeremy and Owen both hum in agreement and get to their instruments. While Jeremy grabs his bass, Owen settles behind his drums. “1-2-3!” Owen counts us in, clapping his sticks together in the air and off we go. Even though we’ve practiced this song the most out of repertoire, it’s still a bit rough and not good enough for any music execs. Or Emily.

We spend a good portion of the day rehearsing the song, having minimal breaks for food and toilet visits. I think my bandmates might already be sick of me saying “it’s not good enough, it needs to be perfect!”. I’m not sure if I care about what they think. “We’re doing it one last time, Charlie. If it’s not perfect after that, I think you might just have to take the odds and hope it’s good enough for the music execs,” Owen says an hour before the Open Mic Night. He’s a great friend, but he can’t hide his annoyance from me. “Or Emily!” Jeremy adds, a bit too excitedly, pointing to me for emphasis. “Yeah, sure, or Emily,” Owen agrees with an eyeroll. “Fine, one more time.” I grumble and put all I have into the song. We’re definitely going to need a shower after we’ve packed everything up to get to the Music Store. If I say the nerves are really kicking in, I mean my heart is nearly thumping out of my chest and I’m very near death. I don’t get this nervous for any other gig we’ve ever had.

“Alright, let’s pack up!” Jeremy claps his hands when we’re finally done and lifts his bass over his head to put the instrument in its case. Even though I think we could do with one more try, I follow his example and place my electric guitar into its case. “Oh, no! Emily actually told me we could use the equipment they have there,” Owen informs us right on time. “Let’s just all go home, take a shower, get dressed and meet each other there, okay?” Jeremy and I glance at each other, place our instruments in their cases anyway, and then leave the garage. Once I’m showered and dressed for tonight; my grey ‘RUSH’ muscle tank and black skinny jeans will do. Or should I make a proper effort since I’m seeing Emily again? Then again, I’m going to sweat my balls off during the song, so it’s not like I’m actually going to look hot. No. This will do. In attempts to boost my confidence a little bit, I comb my fingers through my hair and mess it up a little bit, looking up into the mirror. I never wanted to be that person that gives myself pep-talks in a mirror, but here we are. “You can do this. Whatever happens, it’s good exposure for the band.” After taking another deep breath, I grab the stuff I need and leave the house. Once I get to the Music Store, something inside me stops me from going in. Something is holding me back. I’m not sure if it’s the nerves of the gig or the nerves of seeing Emily again. All I know is that I can’t go inside. “What are you waiting for, Char?” The familiar voice of Jeremy’s relaxes me a bit. I look through the window of the shop, immediately spotting the girl I’m afraid of seeing again. She has a smile on her face as she sweeps up the shop, getting it ready for the Open Mic Night. I think she’s talking to her co-worker. “Ah! That girl! I’ve given her a three cent tip the other day. I think she appreciated me.” I turn my head to look at Jeremy for a moment, wondering what’s going on in that head of his. That’s when I notice someone else has joined us too. “Do you want us to go in first?” Owen asks. He’s halted behind me and Jeremy, looking at what we’re looking at. “Yes, please,” I squeak out, then cough, “Yes, please,” I repeat in my normal voice. Owen and Jeremy head inside while I trail behind them. I’m not sure if I’m hiding or just don’t want her to see me straight away. “Oh, hey! You’re the Three Cents tipper!” Her happy voice sounds so much prettier than the one she uses on me when she puts up that tough façade. Not prettier than her singing voice though. “I didn’t know you guys were in a band together.” “I’m Jeremy, I play bass.” It’s silent for a moment, probably as she’s figuring out how a bass player and a drummer would form a band by themselves. “Where are we playing?” he doesn’t leave her the time to think about who’s missing. He knows that if she thinks about it long enough, she’ll know I’m the third member of the band. “In the back,” she points to an open double door at the back, “Ash will show you. I’ll be in in a minute.” How is she so abrasive whenever she’s with me but a completely different, sweet person when talking to them? What did I do wrong? I follow Owen and Jeremy, who are following after Ash. In my mind, I’m praying Emily wouldn’t recognize me from the back, but as soon as I take a step, I hear the voice she’s reserved just for me. “Thought it would be you.” I turn to face her with my best apologetic smile plastered on my face. “You were hiding from me, Charles?” She points to my bandmates, who’ve left me to my devices. “Uhm… Not technically… I just stood behind them and they’re taller than me, so…” I hope my excuse is plausible enough for her to believe. Then again, she’s not stupid. “Haven’t seen you stalking my store too much this past week.” Her voice is somehow softer. Somewhere between how she sounds when talking to Owen and Jeremy, and how she sounds when talking to me. “Yeah, no… Uhm, I’ve been busy… You know, writing songs by myself and stuff.” I don’t mean for it to come out so passive-aggressive, but I can’t help it either. “I mean—” I want to correct myself, but Emily interrupts me. “It’s fine, Charles. I don’t care,” that stings, “Don’t you have a soundcheck to get to?” “Uhm, yeah… I guess…” I look at her one last time for just a second before trailing behind my bandmates who are already settled behind their instruments. At least we had that.

By the time soundcheck is over, the room has filled up to the brim with people. Some of them look very professional, others are really here for just the music. My lungs clasp together due to the nerves now even more kicking in. “Ready, Char?” Owen claps his hand on my back. “Nope, I think I might die,” I would never be able to hide these nerves from the boys. “Let’s hope you come back as a ghost then,” Jeremy jokes – I think, “Ooh! Maybe we could start a ghost band!” I can’t help but chuckle at that, and neither can Owen. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our monthly Open Mic Night!” Ash says into the microphone, her voice booming off the walls and filling the entire space. The crowd claps and cheers, but I doubt it’s because they know who’s coming. This is all Ash’s applause or maybe just excitement for some music. “First up, we have an up-and-coming band from our very own Los Feliz. Give it up for Sunset Cure!” I slowly turn my head to Owen, who’d told us he had made sure he changed the name. “I swear, I told her to correct it!” he says, holding up his hands in defense. When I look into the crowd and spot Emily in the back with the most mischievous grin on her face, I’m sure she did it on purpose to mess with me. As the three of us make our way onto the stage, surrounded by the excited cheers of the crowd, I glare at Emily at the back, but I can’t help but let a smile shine through. If this was her attempt to get rid of my nerves, it’s working because I’m distracted by all the questions about why she’d do this. “It’s actually Sunset Curve,” I say into the mic, not taking my eyes off of Emily. The mischievous grin isn’t going away anytime soon, I think. And for some reason, it makes her even more sexy. I strum my guitar a little, and so does Jeremy with his bass until Owen counts us in and we start rocking out. All of the nerves that had built up inside of me have subdued. Mainly because I don’t take my eyes off of the girl standing at the back, looking at us with her arms crossed and the mischief still persistent on her face. “Take off, last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge Electric hammer to the heart” Jeremy and Owen join in for backing vocals on the next part of the verse. “Clocks move forward But we don't get older, no Kept on climbing Till our stars collided” Jeremy and Owen now stop, leaving me to sing the next few lines by myself. “And all the times we fell behind Were just the keys to paradise” The chorus is for all three of us, our voices blending together nicely. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” While singing, I don’t tear my eyes off of Emily. I think I even caught a smile during that chorus. “Hear the noise, in my head It's calling out like a voice I can't forget One life, no regrets Catch up, got no time to catch my breath” I throw her a wink when Jeremy walks up to me to sing the pre-chorus with me into the same mic, as we do pretty much every show. It gets the most cheers, most of the time. “Clocks move faster Cause it's all we're after now, oh Won't stop climbing Cause this is our time, yeah” I push him away from me, focusing on Emily again. “When all the days felt black and white Those were the best shades of my life” We lapse into the chorus again and the crowd gets up from their chairs to dance along with us. Emily, however, stays put in the position I saw her in when the song started. Besides the occasional head-bop, she just stares with that mischievous grin and her arms crossed. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” As Owen takes the bridge, I walk to the edge of the stage to interact with the crowd. “We ain't searching for tomorrow” “Tomorrow,” Jeremy echoes. “'Cause we got all we need today” “Today” goes Jeremy again as I walk back to my microphone. “Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins,” I sing. “We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain,” Jeremy’s high note sends shivers down my spine, and I almost forget to move away from the microphone to do my favorite part. Owen and Jeremy move from their mics too, and all of us stop playing the instruments, shouting the first part of the chorus into the crowd whilst clapping our hands. Thankfully, the crowd obeys and claps along with us. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now” We pick up our instruments and move behind our microphones again, finishing up the song. “And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never It's now or never.” The crowd erupts into explosive applause and cheers. But all I see is Emily, slow-clapping her way towards us, but stops when she reaches the last row of the crowd. I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips as Owen and Jeremy join me for a bow. “That was explosive, you guys!” Ash says into the mic as she runs up the stage again. “Sunset Curve, everybody!” The applause doesn’t die down yet, instead, it just grows louder. “Tell your friends!” Jeremy yells, earning even more cheers from the ladies on the first row. The three of us walk off stage as Ash announces the next artist. The second I walk into the crowd; my eyes are scanning ferociously for any sign of Emily. “Sunset Curve,” a stranger approaches us, “My name’s Bob, I’m looking for hot new talent such as yourself,” he shakes hands with all of us, but I’m only half there. Emily is in the store again, cleaning up and sorting through stuff. It’s when I realize I don’t care what Bob over here thought. I need to know what Emily thought. “Yeah, yeah, just a second, Bob,” I say, not even looking at him and making my way to the store without saying another word or waiting for a response from Bob or any of the guys. “Hey,” I greet once I’ve approached the girl in the Music Store. It feels exactly the same as it did when I first met her, and she just sang that beautiful song. The nerves kicking in again, my hands getting clammy and my throat closing up. Exactly like that first day. “Ah, Rockstar,” she mumbles, not even awarding me with a glance. She does recognize my voice, though. That’s a plus. “That wasn’t half bad out there.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Half bad?” I ask, “Ems, me and my band rocked it out there.” If she’s surprised by the nickname, she doesn’t show it. I’m surprised myself that I used it. “Eh.” There’s that mischievous grin of hers again. Something tells me that means she doesn’t mean a word she says. I follow after her like an obedient puppy as she walks towards the piano again to sort through her sheet music. From over her shoulder, I can see my crumbled up paper sticking out of the bundle. “I think you liked our song, but you’re just too shy to tell me,” my mouth says without permission of my brain. She turns her head to me, giving me a sharp glare. “Sure, you tell yourself that, Charles.” I shake my head at her while she walks away from me again. “Can I help you with anything else? I still got work to do.” I bite my lip to make sure my mouth doesn’t go off without permission of my brain again. Because there are so many things I want to tell her. “Hey Emily!” Owen’s voice sounds from behind me, and when I turn my head, I find both bandmates standing beside me. Emily turns her head at the sound of Owen’s voice, a smile immediately turning her scowl reserved for me upside down. “Oh hey boys! You killed it out there!” My mouth drops open as I glance from my bandmates to Emily and back. “But—you,” I point to Emily, “W—me, Huh? What?!” All I get from her is that mischievous grin again. I knew she liked the song. Why can’t she just tell me the truth? She’s messing with me. “Thanks, girl!” Jeremy says with the widest grin on his face. “She’s nice, isn’t she, Char?” He pats me on the back, pointing to Emily for emphasis. “Yeah, very nice,” now it’s my time to scowl at her. “We just wanted to thank you for giving us a head’s up about this Open Mic thing,” Owen chimes in to simmer things down a little. “We had a very important guy talking to us just now.” I know the snarky emphasis on his words are directed at me, but I can’t be bothered to care. I just want to know what Emily’s deal is. Why can’t she warm up to me like she did to Owen and Jeremy? “Oh, that’s so good! But if it’s Bob, don’t believe him.” The boys and I glance at each other with wide eyes. “It was Bob, wasn’t it?” All three of us nod our heads in response. “Yeah, he’s a scammer. We try to keep him out, but he always manages to weasel his way back in.” “That’s why Ash came between us,” Owen now realizes. “Yeah…” Emily trails off, “Sorry, guys.” “Oh, it’s fine! At least you liked our song!” Jeremy says excitedly, “So much so you might join our band? Charlie over here tells us you’re an amazing singer-songwriter.” He pats my shoulder again. Emily’s smile falters, her eyes growing sadder with the second. She glances up at me. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do that. I – uhm… If I told you I had a really decent reason that I can’t talk about, would you believe me?” At least this answer is a bit less harsh than what she’s given me the other day. “So she is a witch!” Jeremy whispers with wide eyes. “What?” Emily’s sad face makes room for a confused face. Exactly the face Owen and I pull every day at least fifty times. “She’s not a witch, Jere!” I tell him off with an eyeroll. “We believe you have a good reason not to join our band,” Owen replies to Emily, “If you change your mind, we’ll welcome you with open arms.” His words seem to put that gorgeous smile of hers back on her pretty face. I sometimes forget how beautiful she really is until she smiles like that. With her long, dark hair pulled up into a ponytail that cascades alongside her neck, and her magical dark eyes with a fleck of green. I think she might just be the most beautiful girl I ever did see. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.” She glances at me and for once, her smile doesn’t turn back into a scowl. There’s a fuzzy, warm feeling in my chest. One that calms my heart down. One that seems to solve all of my problems at once. “See you around, Emily,” Owen taps the counter and turns around to make his way to the door. Jeremy throws up a peace sign whilst muttering a “Bye” and following behind Owen, leaving me with her. “Thanks for telling us about the Open Mic,” I tell her, pointing to the now closed double door with the music streaming out of it. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I raise my hand in a wave and turn around to go and find my bandmates again. “Hey,” her voice stops me halfway there, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” I turn my face and get rewarded with an actual, genuine smile from Emily. It even turns the corners of my mouth upwards. “See you, Charles.” Still calling me Charles. “Right, yeah,” I wave again, “See you, Ems.” I still catch a glimpse of a blush before I head out the door to find my bandmates waiting for me. “She liked our music?” Owen tries to cheer me up, even though that’s not necessary. I’ve been rewarded with the most beautiful, genuine smile from the most beautiful woman on this planet. I don’t need cheering up. “I’m sure she’ll join our band in no time,” says Jeremy with a reassuring smile. Even if she does, she’s not that abrasive towards me anymore. She even gave me a smile. A smile. From Emily.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92

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#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #charlie x oc #oc emily fox #jeremy shada #owen joyner #madison reyes #luke patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #julie molina

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years ago

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter XI]

Word count: 5,131

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

Author’s note: My beta reader gave me a few suggestions and it's truly something that's been bugging me, so I decided it would be better to check with you guys, my readers. I'm writing this story purely for fun so I don't mind changing things. I'm not well versed in writing Character x reader stories and I'll admit the whole concept sometimes escapes me (ahem, fully does) and my beta pointed out that it's become an OC x Dracula fic. This chapter in particular touches into something that may upset some people if they're really invested into the reader POV, which is religion. You may not agree with the reader's thoughts regarding christianity, and I don't want to needle anyone's beliefs because this is a reader insert. My question is: would you guys prefer if I gave the reader a name, in which case she becomes a fully realised character? I'll still avoid describing her because then you can picture her however you like. Longwinded question, I know, but I thought it deserved some explanation. On a more positive note, I made two spotify playlists; one is oriented towards alternative songs (mostly) and the other one is purely made up of classical pieces.

Regardless, ENJOYYY

________________________________________________________

The rest of the trip would have been completely silent if it wasn’t for Portishead’s music.

I barely looked at Dracula as he dropped me off at the Airbnb I had rented. He parted with a promise to meet me at the wedding tomorrow and an indifferent goodbye, although when I made it all the way to the flat’s second floor, his car was still parked at the front door. When I turned around to throw my backpack on the bed and looked out the window again, the black BMW was gone.

Not even the wide array of DVD stacks inside the Airbnb managed to keep my mind off of Dracula.

After settling in and having a shower, I occupied myself with sitting in front of the TV in the living room and analysing the owner’s collection – an impressive one at that – however, when I picked up a copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show I could almost hear Count Dracula laughing as I sang along to Frank N Furter and immediately put the disc back to where it belonged. So I chose something harmless to watch.

As Mulder and Scully bickered about aliens on the television in another episode of The X-Files – really, props to the Airbnb owner for supplying his entire collection to guests – I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time.

Would Count Dracula be a Scully or a Mulder? Such a silly thing to wonder about, nevertheless I was curious about it. Perhaps if he was here with me, watching TV and making his remarks about what was going on, I would manage to concentrate on the episode playing.

It had worked out fine last time. Well, for the most part. As long as we didn’t watch anything with sexual undertones such as Interview with the Vampire, I would be fine. For how long, was the question.

I frowned as I rewinded the last 10 minutes on the DVD player. Scully was lying in a hospital bed while Mulder screamed at a doctor when just two minutes ago Mulder had been talking to their boss. Obviously, I had missed more than two minutes, too stuck in my thoughts about the Count.

I glanced at my phone again.

He’d be gone tomorrow. And I needed to know if he would like Scully or Mulder better.

I took my phone between shaky fingers.

A small part of me, one that was still thinking straight, suggested that maybe I shouldn’t do this on account of that kiss earlier. But nothing of what had happened during that trip mattered anymore, not when I would never see him again. Whatever I did today would have no consequences.

Are you there?

Count Dracula replied just as Mulder screamed at the doctor, and I still had no idea why.

Yes.

I typed a message as quickly as I could before I regretted this.

I can’t sleep.

I chewed on my lip as I waited for a response but when none came, I started typing another text and then erased it. Inviting him over might develop into less innocent things than simply watching TV.

I curled my toes. I came this far. I resisted him this long. There was no reason to jump ship at the last second.

Tomorrow he’d be carted away by the Foundation and while I would very much like to do more than kiss Count Dracula, the idea of giving myself to him and then never feeling his touch again seemed unbearable.

Do you want to take a stroll through Gloucester?

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

His reply came so quick that he must have been staring at his phone, waiting for me to send another text.

I rushed to change from pyjamas into jeans, jacket and boots. I had just finished fixing up how I looked when my phone buzzed. Without bothering to read the text, I left the flat, heart beating like a hummingbird’s as I went down the stairs to the building’s front door.

Count Dracula wore the same leather jacket as earlier, waiting for me just as he had waited hours ago in London.

“Did you walk all the way here?” I asked as soon as I noticed the BMW’s absence.

“I was in the neighbourhood.” He smiled.

“Exploring?”

He smirked but said nothing.

“Eating, then,” I concluded. “Drinking, sorry. I forgot you get stuck in the technicalities.”

“You get used to it,” he said, extending a hand for me.

I gasped when I placed my hand on his. Someone else’s blood had made his temperature rise from cadaveric cold to match my own but I was too fascinated by how plump his flesh felt to care about an unknown person’s death.

“You don’t feel like a statue,” I said, squeezing his hand to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

“You get used to it,” he repeated. “Come. I found a lovely place to break into.”

He pulled me to him so fast that my stomach lurched. I almost lost balance but he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to steady me.

“May I remind you that I’m human and next time you do this I might throw up in your shoes?”

My vision was still swimming and I had to lean my body on his until I could see properly.

“I’ll warn you next time.”

I craned my neck to look up at him, noticing absently that I had my arms around him in a hug. Light coming from a neighbouring house glowed behind his head likening a saint’s halo. Horns would be more suitable, and more alluring.

“Will I like this place you intend to take me?”

“More than I will,” he said, securing me in an inescapable hold, one I had no desire to fight. “It’s a cathedral.”

“Gloucester Cathedral?” I loosened my arms around him. “It’s a holy place,” I said and he cocked an eyebrow. “Can you even set foot in there?”

He snorted.

“I can waltz with you in there while reciting biblical verses as long as I don’t look upon the cross.”

“I’d like to see that. A healthy dose of blasphemy is always fun.”

A slow smile spread on his lips.

“Then you’ll love it.”

To my dismay, he untangled himself from me but still kept an arm around my shoulders in a half embrace. Instead of avoiding him, I circled his waist with my arm, basking on how uncharacteristically warm he felt in comparison to the chilly night.

Dracula looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, though a grin creeped on his mouth. For the first time, we had exchanged roles – he, doubtful that I was so willing to touch him, and I, sure of what I was doing ever since I struck that deal.

Pity it wouldn’t last long.

“Lead the way,” I told him.

_______________________________________________________

Except for a couple of stray cats and a dog, Count Dracula and I were the only ones wandering through Gloucester’s narrow streets and quaint façades. The moon was hidden but with how bright it glowed, even beneath a swath of cotton clouds, I would guess it was full.

I relied more on Count Dracula’s eyes than on the unsteady old street lights that seemed to hail from the 18th century, but I didn’t need his vampire eyes to catch a glimpse of a towering Gothic building, concealed behind a row of modern restaurants and stores, all closed now that it was closer to dawn than to dusk, wedged inside small houses stylised in Tudor architecture.

“Here we are,” said Dracula just as we rounded the corner and faced Gloucester Cathedral.

It was an enormous and monstrous thing yet beautiful all the same in all its complicated detail of spiking roofs and pointed narrow glass that composed huge windows amongst blocks of stone. Sculptures of saints and kings stood watch at the front, arching above the intricately woven entrance.

“Is there an alarm this time?” I asked as we approached the door.

“What for? Christians trust their god to keep it safe. There is someone sleeping inside, though. A priest if I had to guess, so we’ll have to be very quiet.”

“There goes my plan,” I said, although I had none. No space for calculated words and carefully measured tone there. All I had left was impulsivity, and saying things without really meaning them provided me with a rush unlike any other.

“What plan is that?” Dracula questioned, side-eyeing me.

I shrugged.

“What does it matter if I can’t be noisy now?” I snickered. I would have tried being reckless more often if I’d known I would earn so many bewildered looks from Count Dracula. “Open the door.” I bidded, staring at him. “Please?”

Something crossed his gaze, something that made me wish that he would press me against a wall and demand that I tell him about my sordid plan. But he did no such thing.

“Since you asked nicely,” he said, just as he had done earlier during our trip.

Dracula forced the door open with the same ease I would have opened an unlocked door.

My mouth was a little dry but the thrill of doing something forbidden still made my heart thud, despite the fear of being caught. Perhaps I’d been developing a new habit of doing dangerous things such as making deals with vampires, and getting excited at the prospect of desecrating a church with one. I would have to find a substitute to that after he was gone but I couldn’t think of anything that could compare.

I followed Count Dracula into the cathedral’s nave.

The massive round pillars surrounding the aisle took away some of the simplicity of the ribbed vaulting, which derived from early Gothic architecture if I remembered my art classes correctly. There weren’t any pews positioned in usual rows as most churches did, and from where I stood I couldn’t spot an altar. The place seemed bare without them but it was still imposing, as most religious things were, I supposed.

The ground's yellowed stone, that one day may have been white, was dappled with a luminescence of blue, red and purple. I whirled around, looking up to find out where that variety of colours came from, and grinned upon finding a stained glass window that extended all the way up to the ceiling.

“I never liked churches as a child,” I whispered to Dracula, ignoring that he probably knew it. “They creeped me out. I couldn’t understand how some people felt love inside them, when all I felt was judgement. And like I was being watched by saints, angels and Jesus.” I grimaced as I admired the pictures on the glass. Saints looked back at me with their saintly stare. Jesus Christ was pictured at the centre pane. “My parents weren’t very religious but my grandmother was one of those fervent catholics, full of guilt and fear. She used to take me to mass every other Sunday at Westminster Abbey until one time when I started arguing with the priest during his sermon about how illogical the bible is at some points.” I glanced at Dracula and saw him chuckling soundlessly. “I was 13. My grandmother was so humiliated and angry at me that she never took me to mass again.”

“And you were relieved to never have to go back again,” Dracula supplied. “How do you like churches now?”

“I like them as long as I’m just visiting. And I’m not scared of them anymore, not since I won that argument with the priest.” I looked at him. He was making a point of observing the rest of the church instead of gazing at the stained glass as I was. “You were raised christian, too. And if Wikipedia is right, you fought in the name of God.”

“In another life.” He bobbed his head, lacing his hands behind his back as he wandered down the aisle. “Not the foolish, gullible and fearful catholic as Justina was.” Dracula cast a brief glance at me. “My late wife.” He explained but I had already surmised as much.

Since he had mentioned her without my needing to ask, I felt the urge to goad him with more questions. The urge to see that odd semblance of grief in his face as I had seen weeks ago. The reminder that he was capable of emotion, still. But I left it alone. It was possible he would shut down and assume that distant and impenetrable façade, and then our last date would be over much faster than I was ready for it to be.

“No, you were more the type to rip people to shreds when they didn’t condone your faith.” I lowered my voice mid sentence when my words echoed.

Following him down the aisle, I noticed that a big apparatus was raised up in a wooden structure ahead of us and it looked like an organ. Had we been alone at the church, I would have climbed up the stairs to knead a few keys just to hear the resounding, spine-chilling noise it would make.

“Precisely.” Dracula laughed.

“Did you ever do it for fun?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

He turned around, stopping at the centre of the aisle a few metres away from me.

“For fun, for boredom, but most of all to instill fear into my enemies’ hearts. Does it still bother you?”

I stopped.

It had when I first found out about it. And although he had just admitted torturing people simply for the fun of it, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as before. I ought to have been disgusted or disapproving, at the very least. It was a little worrying that I didn’t feel any of those things, like I had just discovered a part of me that was capable of terrible cruelty.

“No,” I said. “Not anymore.”

Dracula’s grin was all teeth as if that answer was everything he had been longing to hear.

“You’re not nervous tonight.” He was still grinning. “You’re usually nervous around me.”

“Usually,” I agreed, smirking.

Was this how it felt? Not having to worry, not caring about what could happen, not being cautious about every little thing, not minding that he had done horrible deeds and I still wanted his lips on mine?

This foreign feeling swelled inside my chest and my smirk became a grin.

“Let’s see the rest of the place,” I said, beckoning him with my hand. “There is a door back there and I think I saw something interesting.”

I didn’t wait to see if he would follow and simply turned around, heading to my right where I had seen a long corridor dappled with more colourful light from stained glass. Through an arched portal, I could see the extent of the corridor but it still didn’t prepare me when I crossed the threshold.

What I thought was only one corridor, was actually two positioned in an L-shape and I stood at the cusp of both. Elaborate lines composed patterns on the vaulted ceiling and walls, fanning into long and curved designs etched in stone and ending in what resembled flowers. Light poured from a collection of stained glass windows and with the way each corridor bent at their ends, I supposed the structure continued until it formed a rectangular. I squinted past a clear glass on a windowpane, and smiled. I could make out shapes of trees and what looked to be a fountain outside. These weren’t corridors but covered walks surrounding a square. Westminster Abbey had something similar.

“Gorgeous,” whispered Dracula.

I turned around to see what he was admiring. His stare was fixed on me, and I had a feeling it had been the same way when he spoke. He moved towards me and the stained glass bathed his face in red. Dracula placed one of my hands on his shoulder and took the other one into his own, extending our joined hands up in a dancing stance.

“I’ll step on your feet,” I warned as he splayed a hand on my back. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“I’ll teach you. Waltzing is easy, and I told you we would waltz.”

In a hushed voice as to not wake whoever slept inside the cathedral, Count Dracula instructed me how, his knees touching mine ever so slightly to point me in the correct direction as I stared down at our feet rasping on the floor, his hands pushing and tugging gently as we swayed to silence.

After a little while, I felt confident enough not to step on his feet, although I had done it a few times during his lesson, and looked up at his face. We were both a mess of colours and blurry features clouded in darkness as we danced out and into the stained glass light. The air was so chilly that my lungs burned with the effort of dancing, his hand so unrealistically warm on mine as we danced pointlessly – it was surreal, and filled me with an unusual melancholy that I wouldn’t experience something like that again and happiness because I had let myself experience it.

“I dare not ask for love–” Dracula’s words cut through the silence and I drew a sharp intake of breath for what he was about to say. His next words were accompanied by the cadence people used to recite something, which removed some of the impact of what he had first said and I relaxed.

“ I dare not ask for love – with all

My many sins, both great and small,

I am perhaps of love unworthy!

But if feigned love, if you would

Pretend, you’d easily deceive me,

For happily would I, believe me,

Deceive myself if but I could. ”

I held my breath halfway throughout but continued to dance. The mention of love completely escaped me when he spoke of deceit and I could not help but wonder if he suspected me of it. Did he know I was leading him on and did not care? Or did he know about me and Zoe and this was just a fancy way of telling me so? My heart raced. I hoped he took it not as panic but exhilaration instead.

“Is that in the bible?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“It’s Pushkin. I’ve been reading Russian literature again, old and new and it’s stuck in my head. Pushkin remains a favourite of mine and Anna Akhmatova is a close second from the new generation. Well, old generation, for you.” He chuckled. “The Pushkin stanza sounds better in Russian. Most things sound better in Russian,” he said in an even voice. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he recited the verses in Russian, and although I understood none of it, it did sound better. “This, however, is from the bible. I don’t remember from which book but I remember that I liked it when I was human. I’m translating directly from Latin, though, because that’s how I studied the bible, so I’m taking a few liberties here to make it sound better, and less ridiculously holy. It goes like this: Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.”

“It could very well be Pushkin,” I offered.

“It could. Ironically, I prefer these verses more than Pushkin’s.” He laughed lightly and I fully relaxed. He sounded like himself, not at all as if he knew something he wasn’t supposed to.

I did wonder, though, why he chose those verses out of anything else to declaim. Pushkin was a hopeless romantic through and through from what I had read of him. Of Anna I knew little but what I did know spoke of bitterness, death and failed, tragic love. Why suddenly speak of love? He could’ve quoted something else from the bible. Perhaps something to do with Samson and Delilah, since we had joked about it in the past. Anything else would have made more sense, even the parts that made no sense at all and had driven me to argue with a priest years ago.

Was Count Dracula attempting to tell me something? No. Couldn’t be. He was as forward as one could be. And the idea of him feeling anything remotely close to love seemed a little silly.

He had loved Justina; more than he thought he was capable of, he’d said. But that had been centuries ago in another life.

For a moment my determination in being reckless faltered and I felt at loss for what to say.

Dracula let go of me briefly to spin me around in a move I wasn’t as deftly trained in as he was, causing me to squeal at the velocity and trip over my feet. I thought I would fall but he caught me and started moving again in the waltz pattern he had taught me. Laughter bubbled up to my throat in my hurry to catch up with him and the sound of it was amplified by the long walls. Dracula’s laughter joined mine until it became a song for which we danced.

It doesn’t matter, nothing matters. I thought as I gazed up at him. He’ll be gone and whatever I say doesn’t matter anymore. I can entertain even the wildest of things because they’ll never happen. Nothing will happen, for the rest of time.

“I’ve got one for you,” I breathed as we spun in a dizzying pace. “The Devil’s hands directs our every move; the things we loathed become the things we love.” It didn’t come out nearly as expertly as his declamation but I was out of breath, spinning and spinning as he commanded. Like a ballerina in a music box. Dracula simply stared at me, the corners of his lips in their own fight of tugging upwards or downwards. “It’s Baudelaire. Have you read it?” I wasn’t sure if I saw him shake his head. Suddenly, we were dancing so fast that I could barely see my surroundings, much less his face. “I know Baudelaire as you know the bible, only the parts that matter, but I know them from heart. There’s one phrase that I particularly relate to, especially now.” I gulped as if I was looking down a cliff. “What can an eternity –”

Dracula stopped abruptly and I gasped, strands of my hair landing on my face as my head reeled at suddenly being motionless. The world still whirled around and I swayed on my feet as if I had forgotten how to keep myself standing up still, but the Count’s grasp kept me in place.

Interrupting our dance, I realised not a second later, was for the best. I’d been about to quote something very dangerous, something that could land me with both feet on a grave for all eternity with Count Dracula. And I would’ve said it out of sheer wickedness, just because I was tempted about what could happen if I broke a few rules.

I looked up at his face, heart teetering on the verge of stopping in fear of what I would find in his expression. But Dracula wasn’t paying attention to me. His eyes were focusing past my head. And then I heard it. Footsteps.

Our laughter must have woken up whoever had been sleeping inside the cathedral.

“What -?” A male voice drifted from behind me, sounding panicked and angry. “You can’t be here at this hour!”

“Shit,” I whispered to Dracula. “What now?”

He gave me a lopsided grin.

“This is your warning,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice now that we had been caught. I had time to frown at his reply before both of Dracula’s arms pulled me into an embrace, my feet swinging beneath me. I emitted a sound of surprise but didn’t struggle. “Hold on and please try not to throw up on my shoes, they’re rather expensive.”

I had one valuable second to wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest before we moved faster than I thought was possible. My insides tossed inside of me, suddenly demanding for a way out of my body’s cage. I kept my eyes closed the entire time, too frightened of opening them. I had never gone on a roller coaster ride but I supposed the feeling was similar.

Gusts of wind assailed my hair and threatened to steal the breath out of my lungs. I was afraid the feeling would last forever until we finally stopped and I landed on safe ground.

“You can let go now, Y/N.”

“Can you give me a second?” I mumbled, eyes still shut. “I think my soul is still trying to find a way back into my body.”

Dracula’s laughter tickled my ear and I tightened my hold on him. He did, too, his fingers pressing gently on the flesh of my back. Slowly, as if in a limp, my senses caught up with me and my stomach settled on what felt like an appropriate position.

I opened my eyes tentatively and turned my head to the side. Startled, I realised he had brought me all the way from Gloucester Cathedral to the street where my Airbnb rental was located. And he’d done it in a span of two minutes, if not less.

I tipped my head to look at him, resting my cheek on the cold of his leather jacket. Dracula’s eyes were closed, sets of black eyelashes casting soft shadows on his face, and he was breathing steadily. Not because he needed to, I presumed, but because he was taking in my scent. My lips tugged up automatically; it was odd perceiving that as something sweet but I did.

His throat moved, drawing my attention. A most devilish thought occurred to me and before I gave myself too much time to dwell on it, I stretched up and nibbled at the skin of his neck. It lasted no more than five seconds but the sound that came out of Dracula would be seared into my memory forever. Raw, rapturous, and chilling at the same time. Satisfied, I let go of him, but he didn’t let go of me. Too fast for me to react, he took my hands and placed them where they had been, and then trapped me into his embrace again.

I had just blurred some very important lines with what I had just done, and yet part of me only cared about the thrill of it.

“Your scar has faded,” he said, and my heart hammered madly. A hand delved into my hair, grabbing a mass of it to expose my neck. “You didn’t really think you could get away with what you just did, did you?”

“Not really. But if you bite me without my consent, then the deal is off.”

“And I have no intention of breaking my word. Don’t think of this as reprisal. It’s more of a gift, such as you’ve just given me.”

Dracula bent his head slowly towards my bare neck, like he was giving me time to protest. I remained silent. It was imprudent, this need to know what he would do, but I wanted to garner every possibility of my time with him to cherish in my heart, forever. And the uncertainty of it made me all the more excited. I stared up at the sky and then his lips touched my throat where he had bitten me, softly, so very softly. And then again, not softly at all. Riveting pleasure sparked to life as if the scar was still fresh and I choked on my breath. Dull teeth nibbled the skin there and a flash of pulsating warmth coursed down my chest and back, spreading gradually in the same way spilled blood spread on the ground: trying to encompass everything in its wake, tainting it with inevitable appeal and fear of what it meant. I held on to Dracula forcefully, more forcefully than one would judge to be adequate, and he laughed against my skin before giving it a long lick.

“Careful,” he whispered in my ear. “I may interpret your willingness as consent. And I know you well enough to know you won’t give it to me easily. Will you?”

“No.” The word was automatic and I thanked the part of me that still harboured a sense of self-preservation above my heedless desire for him. However, I still leaned all of my weight on him and made no attempt to put distance between us, as I should’ve. “Not easily at all.”

Dracula, showing way more restraint than I had all night, disentangled my hair from his fingers and stepped back. It took everything in me not to launch myself into his arms again but I let my hands drop to my sides.

“You’re dangerous,” he accused.

“Not as much as you are.”

“A different kind of dangerous.” He licked his lips. Could he taste my skin in his mouth?

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one.”

I smiled. Being called dangerous filled me with power. Power over him. I was delighted for only a second before wondering if he would think the same thing tomorrow when I stuck a needle with sickly blood in him.

“The cathedral was a good idea,” I said. “Defiling a church has always been in my to-do list, plus I learned how to waltz. So thank you for that.” I sighed. “I should really go to bed now, and so should you. Isn’t the sun almost coming up?”

He nodded.

“Before you go–” he looked behind me with obvious disdain at the building I was staying at and then back at me “–what were you quoting before the priest came upon us?”

I gulped.

“I don’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes, shifting closer.

“You’re lying. I thought we had established that you don’t lie to me.”

“You established that.” I stepped back, conjuring a cheeky smile. “I didn’t.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll regret it,” I admitted. “And I prize my sleep. I prefer not to go to bed with a heavy heart.”

He stared at me for a long moment and I waited under his scrutiny, doing my very best to keep it together.

“Tomorrow, then,” he finally said. “Tell me tomorrow.”

But I wouldn’t tell him tomorrow. I would tell him nothing at all.

“Okay. Goodnight, Dracula.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

As I laid my head on the pillow that night, I realised I still didn’t know if Dracula would like Scully or Mulder better. And would never know.

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scienceoftheidiot · 3 years ago

Text

In my move, I’m also moving all my drabbles, prompt answers and short stories with my OCs. Here’s an old one.

In case you don’t want to click on the link, the short story itself is right here under the cut.

No prompt for this one, I just wanted to write about friends being friends. Fluff time :)

Desden sat on his sofa with a contented sigh. He’d just come back from various errands after work, and was looking forward to a nice, relaxed evening. He was considering opening a bottle of fresh beer when his phone started ringing.

He’d swapped the automated voice for music for his closest friends and family, and Master of Puppets started playing instead – Farid. He had chosen his song himself – a privilege granted only to… well, only to him.

“Yeah? “Hey! You home?” Farid sounded very excited, which was surprising, coming from him. “Yeah. “Brilliant. Come down here, bro. I have something to show you!” This made Desden curious – but he wouldn’t admit it. Farid was usually a very laid back man, rarely prone to gushing. In fact, it was Desden who was known to be the most effusive of the two. Yet this sounded like Farid was very eager to share something.

Down would mean the basement, as Farid spent most of the time he had free from work or his children in there, repairing old toys or various appliances for the whole neighbourhood. This part of the basement was a common room for the people who lived in the building, but he had somehow made it his den, and people respected it, since he was doing all the reparations for free.

“Since when do you call me bro?” Desden frowned with a chuckle. “Since I hear it’s cool. “You spend too much time with children, you know that? “Maybe. Are you coming or do I have to come fetch you? “I just got home,” Desden whined. “Come ooooon! I really want to show you!”

Farid, his friend Farid, the one who was always so calm and contained… who was that? He sounded like his daughters. Desden smiled. But it was too funny not to play with it a little more. “Well, send me a pic. “That’s horrendously funny. One day I’ll do it and you’ll feel sorry for yourself. “I don’t do this, others do it for me quite well. “Are you coming? Please? Desden had an exaggerated sigh, cut by a brief chuckle at his friend’s tone. “Yeah, alright. Coming. “Good.” Farid hung up.

Desden groaned. He decided he didn’t need Kalinka to get down a few set of stairs, and left her in the flat. He still took his foldaway cane, more by reflex than anything else, put it in his jeans back pocket, locked the door and got down.

The door to the basement was immediately to the left at the bottom of the stairs, and he pushed it, welcomed by a sharp “STOP!” from Farid.

“What?” Desden just stood there, in the half opened door. “There’s a toy just there. One of the girls left it, I didn’t notice. Here,” Farid handed him a light object, “Hold it for me, please. Curiously feeling the object, Desden discovered a small plastic horse, its mane and tail irremediably tangled in a coarse mess. “And now? “Just stay there, let me push a few things away. Where’s your dog? “I told you I just came home. Couldn’t be arsed. I don’t need her just to go to the basement.

“Fair enough”, Farid let out between two grunts. “Here we go !” There was a broad smile in Farid’s voice.

“Can I come in now, then? “Yeah.” Farid losely rubbed his hands to get rid of dust, and walked up to his friend to pat his shoulder as a greeting. He then stayed close, guiding him without much contact needed, in this small place. It was something that had become natural between the two. And there wasn’t much to guide him towards – the thing he wanted to show him was just there, he just had to extend his arm. “How much of a mess can this place be, that you’re all over me like that? “It’s not that messy. “Yeah, sure.” Desden let the last word drag. Laurence probably never set a foot in that place, lest she had a heart attack. “So,” Desden asked, fiddling with the toy horse in his hands, “Where’s your awesome thing? “Gimme back that horse before you break it. It’s not ready yet.” Farid talked, fast, excitation palpable in his voice yet again. He took the toy from Desden’s hands. “We won’t be able to use it until I fix it for good, but once it is, I think we’ll have a blast. “What the hell is this?

“Feel for yourself, it’s on your left. Arm’s lenght.”

Farid watched as Desden extended his arm, a quizzical frown on his face, and as he found the thing. “This? “Yup. “I have no idea what that would be, and I’m afraid, now.” Desden let out with a laugh. “You’re just no fun. “Okay, okay, I’ll look better, wait.”

Desden had touched a metallic thing, like a horizontal pipe. He moved his hands along it, towards the left, and realized he was also following thin cables, that lead to… “Handlebars.” Desden sighed. “That’s a bike. You want me to bike? “Look better. “What, is it a self driving bike?” He muttered, puzzled. What about a bike would be interesting for him? Not much. But he trusted Farid, who was definitely not the kind to make bad jokes at his expense, so he dutifully continued, and turned to the right.

He moved quicker now and felt the seat, and then… another set of handlebars. The bike then continued to another seat.

“Oh, shit!” He let his hands fall to his sides and took a step away, a smile on his face. He knew what this was, but wouldn’t have expected it. Not after all this time.

“Told you it was cool! “You just bought a fucking tandem!” Desden couldn’t help but grin. In fact, he felt like jumping around. “When was the last time we talked about this? Years ago?” Desden now was as excited as Farid. He moved a lot while talking, and when one of his hands accidentally bumped into Farid’s shoulder, he quickly pulled him into a short hug. “This is bloody fantastic.” Farid laughed, giving into the hug and patting his friend’s shoulder again. “I can’t wait to try it. How come you found one? “Well, I’ve been looking for a cheap one for years… you’re not exactly helping, being that tall.” Farid gave a mock tap on Desden’s head. “Oddly enough most of the ones I found were… “women” sized. “Women” in brackets. Small ones. “Yeah, I got that. Not that it meant it was pink or else. “Would it bother you? “If it was? Nah, your daughters would love it. In fact we should paint it pink. “Sold. I can do a quick paint job – it’s a pretty ugly, fading blue for now. I need to change the tyres, the brakes… but it cost me ten euros, so…” Desden clapped his hands. “I don’t know what to say. This is great. Except, you know it’s been nearly ten years I haven’t been on a bike, right? “Well, we’ll finally be able to test that thing that says you never forget it, I guess. “And balance wise…” Desden walked to the bike again, placing his hand on the seat, thinking. Farid clicked his tongue, then replied: “We should try, don’t you think? And if it doesn’t work, once it’s repaired I’ll be able to sell it for a lot more than ten euros. I don’t think it’s a bad investment, do you? “Nah, I’m just… I hope it works, is all. “It will, I’m sure. We need to find a place where we’ll be left alone to train, that’s it. I’ll look around, see if I can find something. “I’ll buy a good helmet, too.” Desden ran one of his hands through his hair, stopping and resting a short moment at the back of his head.“Maybe I’ll get two. My present for you in exchange. “Not too fond of head traumas, are you? “Eeeeh, strangely, not. I know, I’m full of surprises.” They both had a short laugh. Then Desden turned away from the bike.

“Thank you. It’s really a great idea, and I can’t wait to try.” Desden nodded to himself, then added: “You’re alone tonight? “At least until the girls come back, so probably until dinner. “Good. Come have a beer, my bro .”

#writing #original fiction #original story #desden #original characters #blind character #fluff #friendship #writeblr

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