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a-snow-decahedron · 3 years

Note

alphys and flowey, with 22!

I'm so sorry for taking so long. Here we go. 22: books (from this prompt list)

This is for Alphys week! -> Day 6: Flowers

(who said it had to be several flowers?)

Crumpled Paper

Words: 1300

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33809740

The first time he met the royal scientist, it had been during a visit she made to the castle, a day after he had emerged in his fath- Asgore's garden, crying out for help for the first time. She carried a bag, which she dropped the moment the king informed her of his finding. She examined him, checking on his magic levels, and as she worked, her face could barely hide her worries. Through stuttering words Dr. Alphys gave her report: she said he had no SOUL, but besides the fact, he seemed fine. She came by every few days to check his stats, apologizing profusely every time. What for? She couldn't explain herself without stumbling on her words, but he got something about an experiment. But it would be fine, she assured him!

He wasn't fine, he couldn't feel, no matter how much he tried. He was not the same and it wasn't worth it to keep trying.

But then he discovered the real power behind determination. Curiosity led him to various places, and soon he found himself outside of the scientist's laboratory. She hid something, and he was determined to find out.

* * *

"Howdy!"

Alphys was startled by the sudden voice. She was back from a trip to the dump, holding a bag full of cans and metallic wastes. At this time of the day, she didn't expect to find anyone outside the lab.

A flower stood by the door, giving her a toothy smile.

"Howdy, doctor! Have we met before?" The flower snickered and winked, as if there was an inside joke she didn't get.

She recognized the kind of flower on sight, after all, she had worked with them during the last weeks. But just like her other experiments, it seemed determination didn't have the expected effects. She rememebered taking the vessels back to the garden and...

Oh no.

Not THIS too.

She tried forming a sentence. But what could she say? She felt herself start sweating, her breathing getting faster. She swallowed and managed to say "We do not know each o- but you said that we do..." She decided to set for a question. "Do you want to... come in?"

The flower's expression was blank for a moment as if considering his options, then he smiled. "Sure! Get me inside!" Alphys sighed in relief. This shouldn't be difficult, right? They could just... take their time to talk.

After some arrangements, she managed to fit the flower in her bag to carry him and set him in her workbench. His small black eyes examined the room, eagerly looking for something. What it was, Alphys couldn't tell.

She was filled with questions of her own. Dozens of theories were running in her head, but she feared the flower wouldnt be able to answer them. She watched him as he tried to pick up one of the books resting on her desk. They were too heavy to lift.

"Do you... want my help?" She held the book for him, which had a winged hero on the cover. She opened it on a random page, so they could both look at the drawings.

"What does it say?" He pointed at one of the speech bubbles.

"What?" Alphys was distracted looking at the pose one of the main characters, a human with human ears, was making.

"On the book. The handwriting's weird."

"Oh that... I'm not sure. It seems it's a human language, but it's not like the one we speak. I think it's called Japanese. It comes from the land where they make cool things like anime and..." She started going through the list of every little fact she learnt about the land through her TV shows, but the flower interrupted her.

"Why do you have a book you can't read?"

"It's called manga." She was quick to correct. "I'm learning how to read and write! I've been looking for books in the dump that can teach you how."

"Is that what you do as a sicentist?" He raised an eyebrow, which was as white as the rest of his face.

"N-no, but it's something... I do sometimes, when I have the time."

"Cool! Can you teach me?"

"To read Japanese?"

"No, I'll pass, it sounds complicated. My sibling would have liked it. They are such a nerd, always saying weird words."

Would that mean...? Oh no, one animated flower is a thing but more? Alphys would be screwed.

The flower opened his eyes wide at his words and he stuck his tongue out in thoguht, as if he was solving a mental puzzle. Alphys waited, was it the right move to ask questions? Would it scare the flower?

"Ah, my tongue slipped. I guess I'll have to tell you. But later, OK?" A part of Alphys wanted to turn to dust right there, a different part wanted to spit out every question that crossed her mind, but the saner part of her decided it was best to play along. Anything to make this less awkward.

The flower found a solution sooner than her. "Why don't you... teach me how to write? I don't know if I can." He looked down at his vines.

"Yeah, sure. let me grab some paper and pencils." Alphys felt the tension dissipate as they changed topics.

"Do you have color pencils too?"

"Uhm, we'll see what I can get."

Alphys found a box of pencils next to her computer, on top of a pile of paper detailing her blueprint ideas, a few scratched projects and a personal story she was working on. Her handwriting made her the least suitable for the job, but the flower was content with her lessons. They chatted about mundane topics, forgetting their situation for a moment. He was reluctant to tell her his name, and never mentioned the "sibling" again, but both of them seemed at ease.

"Do you wanna... stay here tonight? Or do you need to go to the garden?" He considered his options, then shook his head. Alphys leaned to look at the paper, it seemed her friend grew tired of writing and made a drawing. "What's that?"

"It's me! Well, not me me, but my cooler form!" It showed a winged godlike creature, shooting stars out of his hands. He was surrounded by a rainbow cloud.

"Oh! You drew inspiration from the manga I showed you?"

"Maybe? But this is way better!" He was grinning, proud of his successful creation. It took him some time to get used to grabbing pencils with his vines. Even though he couldn't make small things, his grasp was good enough to make a rough sketch.

"I like it! Give it a name!"

"What would they name it... " He whispered, barely audible. "Ah! I know what."

He took a black marker, and with a strange kind of handwriting and in all uppercase he wrote:

"THE ABSOLUTE GOD OF HYPERDEATH"

For the rest of the timeline, the drawing was put on the fridge with a magnet. He didn't get much information about the scientist that night, and saw less of her with every passing day

When he found out why, he reset. Many timelines went by. The ghost of the drawing was forgotten, but his ability to grab things stayed.

* * *

Alphys walked into the lab, putting on her labcoat over her dress. Her day was eventful, and her confession marked the start of a new time. She was feeling... better? Sure, her confidence had a long way to go, but she could handle it one thing at a time. Her smile dropped when she found a crumpled piece of paper, with a message scribbled with a black marker. It was a strange kind of handwriting, in all uppercase.

It read: "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID"

#alphys #flowey #fic #undertale #safeutdr #alphysweek2021 #i hope you enjoyed

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canwriteitbetterthanueverfeltit · 3 years

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Hey I’m sorry if this is a weird question, but how does one start writing? I have things and tales I want to put to paper, but every time I open a word document I lose any and all inspiration to write.

Well for me if I want to write anything longer than a short story (by which I mean really short, since I write microfiction) jumping right in and starting is a near surefire way to make me lose all interest in the story. I have to start with planning sheets full of meta and plot planning

So my advice is when you get an idea you want to work on, open up that document, but don't try to write any of the story. Don't worry about writing well, don't worry about starting and ending points. Just DUMP any pieces you have of your idea into the same place. Write down the concept, write a rough sketch of the plot, if there's a scene in your head then describe it

Do that until you feel like you have a real, solid story idea that's box mix of a book, waiting for you to add the actual writing and whatever new ideas may come up as you go. And if you start and you feel lost, that's a good sign that you need to go back to that first document. Either because you don't know your story well enough, or because your brain isn't sure how to start. For the former, I like to write super detailed, super casual descriptions of scenes so I have a step by step blueprint to follow and it has been a genuine life saver. If I didn't do that there are plenty of projects I'd never have gotten past a few hundred words on

#couch-cat #personal #writing

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iceicewifey · 3 years

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Kaaat can I get some YOU AND VANILLA ICE LORE PLEASE?

1.) SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING THIS LONG I’M CRCYUFJF 2.) i've been sitting here thinking "how much lore is too much lore?" like i don’t just wanna drop EVERYTHING so i’ll try my best not to ramble 😳

also THANK YOU for asking i get so excited whenever someone gives me an excuse to talk about them

okokok so first off i have to mention my s/i, d. shay, because their references go together — she’s named after rapper vanilla ice’s dj in the 90s, dj deshay, and i don’t mean to brag but i think that’s a massive 200iq big brain idea okay carrying on hxjskd

adding a cut for length 👉👈

i’m condensing a lot but: shay is from miami and was in a ‘gang’ before she killed the leader, obviously panicked not wanting to go to jail so she decided that fleeing the damn country was the best plan and that’s why she’s in egypt ;w; …i haven’t exactly figured out a way for her to stay in the mansion without dio turning her into a capri sun but i’ll do that eventually hxjdndm

anyway finally getting to what you actually asked me orz

so she met vanilla by accident while terence was trying to show her around after meeting dio – she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and walked right into him, and because she was so on edge she straight up just threatened him to watch where he’s going (even tho it was her that wasn’t paying attention) and was like trying to fight him while terence is just there like GIRL NO

she didn’t come off as very threatening tho because she’s so tiny (height comparison below but i mean tiny), she was like an angry chihuahua if anything JCXJJX

she calmed down later obviously but she has a night terror that night about the gang, suffering from them frequently. after waking up from it, she attempts to sneak around to find a balcony or a window or somewhere that she can sit outside and smoke, but instead she runs into vanilla while he’s like,, stalking the halls or whatever tf he does there all day as soon as she opens her door, nearly having a heart attack when she peeked out into the hallway and saw him there. “oh god, you’re not here to fight are you..?”

they’re both like “what are you doing 🤨” and shay tries to explain but basically just word vomits and apologizes at least 7 times for being so unhinged earlier. she asks if she can tag along with him bc somebody to talk to is the next best thing but of course he just sighs, telling her he doesn’t have time for that. she’s basically like “well you do now :)))” and tags along after him anyway — eventually throughout the night they start chatting, she tells him why she’s on the run and he’s the first person to really listen to her ;; that happens a few times before eventually he starts waiting for her outside her door, opening up to her a little about himself, mentioning how most people in the mansion are afraid of him, he even shows her cream - she’s not scared of it. in fact shay was the first one to really treat him like an equal, not out of fear of him or his stand, but because she could, and she wanted to 🥺

there’s still some bits and pieces i need to fill in but i hc that they both suck with recognizing their feelings/emotions so everything kinda came to a head at once but that’s a lore dump for another day, i don’t wanna make this too long, so i’ll cut it off here but somebody remind me and i’ll post the rest someday 👉👈

there’s also,, the whole thing about vanilla’s enmeshment with dio that i’m,, not entirely sure how to work around yet? and i mean i hc him with like the worst past ever but that’s another bridge to cross later cjskkxkx

also i just wanted an excuse to post this gif that started as an extremely rough sketch that i colored for some reason and got stupidly attached to but this post seems like the best place to post it jfjxkdkd

like i said there’s SO much more but i’m not good with keeping track of lore and i don’t wanna spam everything rn but they love each other dearly 💜

#asks #kennabrando #i hope this is good ;w;#jjba self ship #oc x canon #jojo oc #oc d. shay #shaynilla #ship lore #i’ve been awake for a long time does this make sense?#sorry for the wall of text besties #wifey arts

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Sketch (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Anon requested: “Hi, I LOVE LOVE LOVE the way you write Bakugou. I always blush when reading one of your stories. Can you write one with Bakugou where they go to his room and they see like a journal of his or artwork of his that has poems or drawings of her? And he walks in and sees her reading/looking at what his work, and he gets embarrassed, but the reader absolutely loves it, and showers him with love? Pretty please with a cherry on top, and thank you!!”

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,643

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Anon, you’re so lovely, why would I say no to you? Thank you for requesting this! I had a lot of fun writing it! I have another Baku headcanon request coming tomorrow so look forward to that. I hope you all enjoy reading this, and thank you again for 900 followers~ I really need to think about a 1k special event hhh idk what I’m gonna do, does anyone have suggestions?

"You didn't make it too spicy, did you?" I tease, eyeing the plates Bakugou sets the table with.

My boyfriend smirks at me. "No, I know how much of a baby you are." He sets down a glass jar of orange-red paste at his place setting. "I'll just add my own spice on the side."

"Hey, I can take a little spice, I'm not totally hopeless!" I jut my lip out in a slight pout.

Another few small bowls of side dishes are placed in the middle of the table, one of them being kimchi. "If we're gonna be together for a while, you better get used to it."

The thought of dating Bakugou for a long time down the line warms me up, and I find myself smiling as he fetches the large serving bowl of our main course and sets it down in the middle of the table.

"And dinner is served!" A proud grin stretches across his face when he plops down in his seat. "Let's eat!"

Like the gentleman he is, the blond scoops out the spicy udon soup onto my bowl first before filling his own. The broth isn't too thick, but what slightly scares me is the orange color. I take a spoonful before Bakugou has the chance to poke fun at me being a coward. While the spice dances on my tongue, it mingles with the rich, slightly sweet flavor to provide a happy balance that makes the heat bearable.

"Mm, Bakugou this is amazing-"

I cut myself off when I spot the boy across from me dumping a heaping spoonful of his red paste into the broth, watching in horror as the orange color of the broth turns into an angry scarlet as he mixes the paste in. He glances up at my gawking and chuckles, "Yeah, this is how spicy I like my food, babe."

My eye twitches. "You're a monster."

He just winks in response. "I'm your monster."

I flop back into my seat with a groan. "I can't tell if I'm full or I'm overwhelmed."

Bakugou throws his head back and laughs at my running nose and flushed face. "You can't handle spiciness babe, I'm sorry. Just look at you!" He hands me another napkin.

"Hey, at least I'm not crying." I gladly take it from him and swipe under my nose. But my tongue might be burning for a while. I tried to pace myself on the water so it doesn't look like I'm struggling too much, but I ended up drinking at least 3 cups the entire meal, and this jerk across from me is relishing my pain.

"If you had another bowl, I'm sure you would have," he unsuccessfully chokes back his chuckles.

I'm aware of the swelling in my lips and the thin sheen of sweat on the back of my neck and my hairline. "It's not funny," I pant out a whine. But he might not be wrong. I gulp down the rest of my fourth cup of water and rise from my seat to help clean up.

I clear the dishes from the table and bring them to the sink, where my devilish boyfriend started soaking the dishes and the bowl. I wrap my arms around him from behind and lean my head on his shoulder. "Babe, do you mind if I spend the night? I didn't bring clothes though."

He shuts off the sink and turns around to hug me at the waist properly. "You can take one of my shirts and my shorts if you wanna spend the night." Calloused fingers stroke my cheek before cupping my chin and bringing his lips down to mine. Surprisingly, the few kisses he places there are quick, desperate, before he nips my bottom lip, earning a yelps out of me. He smirks at the sound. "Your lips are so swollen, it's like they're calling me to kiss them."

An intense blush coats my cheeks and I push away from him. "I-I'm going to look for your clothes," I stutter and scurry off to his bedroom.

"Second drawer from the bottom," he cackles after me.

I duck into his room, patting my cheeks to calm myself. I find his drawer and pick out an oversized black tee and red basketball shorts. When the shirt's on, it already goes down to my thigh. I hold the shorts in my hand, debating if I should even wear them, but I err on the side of modesty. Bakugou's already riled up seeing me eat spicy food, I don't want to push it.

"Silly, hormonal boy," I shake my head, slipping the shorts up my legs and tying off one side of the shirt to shorten it.

Somehow, my eyes meet directly with it, the sharp corner peeking out from a slightly lifted corner of his mattress. Being the curious - and slightly nosy - person I am, I pull the object out to find that it's a thin, paper notebook. The cover is void of any labels; I would think it was empty if there wasn't a pen hooked into it, the clip bookmarking a page in the middle. Without another thought, I open up to the page only to stare wide-eyed at it.

Inked onto the unlined page is a half body sketch of me smiling. The crinkles of my eyes, the out of place hairs, the smile lines, the contours of my face and neck; every detail I didn't know someone would recognize just by looking at me is inked before me in loving care. I flip to the previous page to see a full body drawing of me gazing absently out a nearby window, the same attention to detail paid. More flipping showed more candid moments of me drawn onto the page. Weightlessness blooms in my chest as I scan every inch of the notebook.

It dawned on me so suddenly that tears fill my eyes in a whiplash of emotion. Bakugou not only watches me from a distance when he thinks I'm not looking to paint this memory into his mind, but he takes the time to lovingly sketch it out into this notebook every night because he wants to look back on it.

"Babe, you-"

I snap my head towards the doorway, the ash blond frozen there as he glances at the object in my hand. His eyes widen into saucers. "Where did you find that?" His voice goes half an octave higher.

"Katsuki." That's all I can manage in my shaky voice. A million overwhelming thoughts and emotions tumble inside me that I don't know how to start.

"You weren't supposed to see that!" His cheeks turn scarlet as he stumbles towards me, hand outstretched to snatch the book out of my hand.

I shut it and hug it to my chest, protecting it as I examine the boy in front of me. It hasn't been terribly long since Bakugou and I started dating, we just crossed 6 months a few weeks ago. There are still times when I'm unsure of his feelings towards me, an insecure side of me that I can't help. But now that I've seen this silent gesture of his affection, I see our relationship in a new light.

Bakugou groans out. "Shit, I never wanted you to see it-!"

I throw my arms around him to shut him up. "You idiot, I love it. It's not creepy or weird or anything like that. I didn't even know you saw me like this, you big lovable dork."

"Wait wait," he pulls me away by my shoulders, "You're okay with it?"

"Katsuki, you're too sweet," I laugh wholeheartedly and start peppering kisses all over his face. "This is the most flattering thing someone's done for me, why would I hate it?"

His face turns a deeper shade of red. "I dunno... I don't do this for everyone, just you, I didn't know how you would react."

"Well now you know." I let go of him to stare at another page, my chest comfortably full. "Look how much love you put into this, I can't believe you hid this from me."

Bakugou scratches the back of his head. "You...wanna know which one's my favorite?"

My eyes widen as he takes the book out of my hands and flips through, landing on one page near the beginning and shows it to me. "It's rough, but it's one of my favorite memories of you."

I didn't think my heart could swell more than it already has, but it did with this one. My head rests facing up on Bakugou's lap, my eyes closed and a lazy smile gracing my features. One of his large hands rests on my cheek like it's softly caressing the skin.

"Say something at least," my boyfriend grumbles after a few moments of my awed silence.

I decide not to, opting to plant a kiss on his lips instead. "I don't know how you manage to make me look more attractive than I actually am, thank you."

"Dumbass, of course you're actually this attractive."

I lean back against his chest, admiring his line work. It's not the most artistic, but it still manages to bring out the beauty and love in the image. "Maybe you should draw one of us together."

His eyebrows furrow together. "No way, I did this for you, not me."

"But it would make me really happy if you did one of us together. It makes your love look one sided when you know that's not true."

He wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. "Fine, I'll do it for you, babe." His calloused hand reaches up to brush my face. "But just so you know, I'm totally drawing you all flushed over spicy food because I really liked seeing you that way."

"Pervert!"

#Bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou scenario #gender neutral reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #request #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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frostsinth · 4 years

Text

The Secret We Keep - Pt. 6

Part 1|2|3|4|5 - MasterList -

Here’s part 6! Fresh off the press! And I just wanted to say that one of my followers commented on the last installment asking if maybe Hans’ had gotten Maddie a dog like she had mentioned. And I was just sadly thinking to myself “Oh, honey... no...” But don’t worry. Hans is a giver. Just... maybe not in the traditional sense. :D

Absolute love and overwhelming gratitude to everyone for your support and appreciation of my works! I’ve almost hit 400 followers! At 500, I’ll have to do some sort of special reward for you guys, though I haven’t decided what yet. Maybe a ficlet raffle/giveaway? A free sketch of whatever you want? Let me know if you guys have any ideas!

Check out my MasterList above for more stories, or to BuyMeACoffee! As always, feel free to shoot me a DM or ask if you have any questions or thoughts. I love hearing back from you guys!

He woke with the first light of the dawn, blinking sleep from his eyes and drawing in a slow, deep breath. The small room was washed in soft, faded greys as the light slipped in through the closed hole in the roof. Dark, slate blue eyes considered it critically, his lip curling into something that seemed almost like profound disapproval for the ramshackle skylight.

But then those eyes fell on her, sleeping beside him. Her arms curled up, her hands resting lightly next to her cheek. Instantly, he felt himself becoming mollified. She fit neatly against his torso; with her legs tucked up, he could curl his body almost completely around her. He found he liked that. Being able to cocoon her with his own flesh. Gods knew she needed all the shelter and protection he could offer. To him, it was a wonder she had survived this long on her own.

Slowly, and surprisingly quietly despite his huge frame, the big orc slid out of the bed. Though perhaps ‘bed’ was the wrong word now. A soft nest, made from the wreckage. He glanced about the mess guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck. She shifted in her sleep, and he froze, wondering if she was waking. But after a breath, she lay still again.

Good. Let her sleep. Just a little longer at least.

Hanste’kosh donned his stockings and boots quietly, then retrieved his discarded tunic and gathered his armor into a pile. Heat licked at the back of his neck as he moved, the disbursement of his gear reminding him vividly of the previous night. His eyes flicked back to the remnants of the bed, and its sole occupant. Part of him longed to rejoin her; to wake her with a warm kiss, to pull her into his arms and run his mouth across every inch of her. Until he had every curve, freckle, and scar committed to memory. He brushed the desire aside with a soft grunt, and silently slipped out the door. He had work to do.

In the yard, he dumped the armor on a stump, pulling his tunic over his head and adjusting it across his torso. It seemed like he was just in time as well, for there was a soft groan coming from the ruined stables at the opposite side of the yard.

Stretching his broad shoulders and square jaw with a pop to shake out the last of his sleep, Hanste’kosh stomped over. At the sound, a large green head popped up. At first, the big orc stiffened, but a moment later he recognized his second and relaxed his readied fists.

Bar’tok gave him a smirk, and the larger orc saw his eyes flicker over to the door of the house. But when his eyes returned and found the deep scowl waiting for him, Bar’tok wisely chose not to comment on his boss’s evening.

“Just got here, figured he’d be coming to soon.” He explained softly, then delivered a swift kick to the heap on the ground beside him. “Though you should really get some better security set up here, Boss.”

Hanste’kosh responded with a rumbling growl as the heap in question groaned, moaning and rolling onto his back. His hands were bound tightly in front of him with rough, fraying rope and large bruises and welts speckled his body like spots on a dalmatian. The man was large by human standards, with lean muscles and a chiseled jaw. But compared to the orcs? The tanned skinned human might as well have been a child.

The larger, darker skinned orc gave a grunt, grabbing the man’s binds and effortlessly dragging him across the ground. Over to the old metal hooks generally used to hoist beasts up to drain blood from their carcasses. With one flex of his arm, he lifted the man off the dirt, hooking him between the cords on his hands to leave his toes dangling uselessly just above the ground. The man looked around wildly, panicking and struggling against his binds briefly as he came fully into the conscious world once more. His eyes settled on the cooking spit nearby, then the various skewers and other sharp implements. His lips tightened nervously. Probably wondering if orcs really did enjoy munching on human flesh.

“Have a good night then, Bhalt? Did sleeping in the mug jog your memory?” Asked Bar’tok cheerily, coming over to lean on the old wooden post next to him. When the man turned his head to look at him, he grinned at him around his broken tusk. “Think you might have something to share now?”

The man rolled his bruised jaw, then spat at the ground in front of him. “Fuck off.”

Hanste’kosh’s fist cracked like stone against his cheek, and the man stifled his pained cry as he slowly pivoted in a circle. The orcs waited patiently for his momentum to slowly spin him back around, his feet still dangling. The human glared at each of them, but there was something different in his face than the night before. Hanste’kosh’s brow twitched. He recognized defeat when he saw it.

Bar’tok did as well, and grabbed the man’s shoulder, giving him a none-too-gentle shake. “Where is she?”

“... I don’t know.” The man mumbled. He visibly shook at Hanste’kosh answering growl, flinching deeper into his shoulders. “B-but I know where she’s going! I know where she’ll be!”

The younger orc grinned, smacking the man’s wounded shoulder with the back of his hand. Bhalt winced in pain, but it just made the orc’s grin wider.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Placing his hands on his knees, the orc leveled himself with the human. “You’re also going to tell us what she looks like, right? After all, we haven’t had the pleasure.” He winked. “Yet.”

The man snorted, but his gaze flicked fearfully to the larger of the two orcs. For his part, Hanste’kosh only had to scowl deeper to have the man rushing to spill his guts.

“She’s a half-elf!” He gasped, scrambling and struggling against his binds as if he could possibly maneuver himself further away. “Bright red hair. Scar over the left side of her nose. Can’t miss her.”

Hanste’kosh grunted, and the human winced. Uncertain if the behemoth of an orc was pleased, angry, or just some senseless beast making a random noise. The uncertainty left him quivering in his boots. But Bar’tok smacked him on the back, painfully spurning his injuries.

“Excellent!” He turned to his larger companion. “Whatcha think, Boss? I’ll get the boys ready. Should we take the lout with us?”

“N-no! No no no…I’m done, I’m out!” Stammered the human, his voice growing louder. “You said you’d let me go!” Bar’tok raised a hand as if to calm him, but the man’s voice only grew in volume. “If I told you what you wanted to know, you said-”

This time, Hanste’kosh’s fist connected squarely with the man’s temple. He spun like a top by his wrists and his head lolled back as he went limp again. Bar’tok sighed, considering the unconscious human, rubbing at his jaw with one large hand.

“Really Boss?” He grumbled softly, “Now we gotta wait for him to wake up again-”

The larger orc’s deep growl signaled him to silence as the soft creak of the front door filtered across the yard to them.

....

Having found myself alone when I woke, I followed the sound of the muffled voices toward the yard. A frown settled on my lips as I slowly pushed open the front door, nervously pulling my shawl tighter around my shoulders.

“Hans?” I called softly as I moved.

I saw Hans moving quickly, turning to face me directly and tucking one hand behind his back. There was another orc with him, and after a moment I recognized him from the previous evening. At the sound of my voice, they slammed their shoulders together. Effectively creating a strange wall of orc at the side of my yard. A huge barrier of green flesh and toned muscle, though I couldn’t imagine why.

The smaller orc grinned sheepishly at me as Hans gave a deep, rumbling grunt in his traditional reply. I felt my face flush slightly at the sight of the other orc, but brushed my hair back out of my face and tried to look as if he hadn’t just caught me rolling out of bed. Which of course, he had.

“Good morning, ma’am!” He called with an almost false cheeriness.

I gave him a shy smile, fiddling with the handle of the door. “Um,... Good morning,” I glanced over at Hans, “...Are you here for Hans?”

I hesitated when I looked at him, and my frown returned. He seemed… different. He shuffled his feet under my gaze, and his brow seemed more scrunched than usual. My head cocked to the side as I considered this.

“H-Hans?” Echoed the other orc, looking over at his companion in surprise at the name. Hans shot him a warning look that could have seared skin, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Oh. OH! You mean the Boss? Ah… No, I was.. .we were just…”

My mind raced at his response. If he wasn’t here for him, perhaps we could have more time then. A little hope tickled at my chest at the thought, and I stepped further out into the yard. Suddenly eager to extend the interaction, for any excuse to spend longer with Hans. Even with additional company.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I’m Madara; I never caught your name.”

His sheepish grin returned, and he started to move forward with his hand extended. “The name’s Bar’tok-”

His introduction ended in a grunt as Hans elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Quickly, he straightened, flattening his shoulder back against his larger companion’s. As if he had stupidly forgotten something important. I raised an eyebrow at this, even more curious. I wondered if it was perhaps some sort of orc custom, or sign of respect. Though I had never seen such a thing before. Not that I was any kind of expert on orcs. It briefly occurred to me that it might have something to do with my new budding relationship with the larger orc, and swallowed nervously at the thought.

“You work for Hans?” I gave him a polite smile, my gaze flickering over to Hans, who gave a deep grunt at my scrutiny.

Bar’tok reached up with his free hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I.. yeah.. I do.”

“Seems like he keeps you busy.” I offered conversationally in the face of the awkwardness that seemed to be stretching.

A soft laugh escaped the smaller orc’s mouth, but a look from Hans quickly had him clearing his throat again and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You could say that.”

Before I could press more questions to the talkative orc, I caught sight of the rusty chain of my butcher’s hook behind them, swaying slightly. As if it was currently burdened by a load. I frowned again, and I thought I saw them stiffen as my eyes moved to it. Though it could have been my imagination. They seemed to be making a point not to check where I was looking.

“Are you using my equipment?” I asked, my voice peppered with surprise. I hadn’t left a carcass there overnight, that much I knew.

Both orcs exchanged a look. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have said they looked panicked. Though I couldn’t place why. Suspicion began to creep into me at that point, and I placed my hands on my hips.

“What? Ah, no-”

“I can see it swinging. What’s going on?”

Bar’tok did glance over his shoulder then, and I saw Hans shoot him a dark, warning look. My frown deepened a little more. The larger orc rubbed at his beard with one big hand, grunting a deflection.

“It’s… We were just… ah, We just put...um..” Bar’tok looked desperately at his boss, wringing his big hands before him.

“Meat.” Growled Hans, speaking up for the first time, his deep voice heavy and booming in the quiet morning air.

I considered him again, my eyebrows raising slightly. He held my gaze, but I thought I saw his flat expression falter briefly.

“Meat?”

Bar’tok quickly latched on. “Yes! Yes, we, well, we had a good... hunt, and thought you wouldn’t mind us using your equipment to clean the kill-”

“Oh, well,... I would have preferred you ask first. But no harm done I guess,” I started to move across the yard to them, “Would you like some help?” I chuckled lightly. “I do have some skill-”

“NO!” Bar’tok practically shouted.

I jerked to a halt at that. The pair had pressed even tighter together, almost staggering from the pressure passed between their shoulders. My eyes widened slightly, and my mouth must have dropped open in surprise. Hans’ scowl deepened, and he shoved Bar’tok so forcefully the orc struggled to keep his feet. There was obvious discomfort between them. It almost looked like Hans was displeased to have to share shoulder space with the smaller orc. But then, why touch him at all if that was the case?

“That is, I mean… We’ve... finished.” The younger orc explained. One of my eyebrows raised again. “But my apologies!” He added quickly as I opened my mouth to inquire into exactly what he meant, “I am keeping the Boss from you too long and I am certain he’d much prefer your company to mine!”

The larger orc jerked as if he had been slapped. I felt my face flush bright red at the implication, sending all other thoughts flying from my head instantly. Hans shot the orc a look that had him shrinking back a step and holding up his hands as if ready to block any blows that might be thrown his way. With his thick lip twitching, Hans looked like he was considering doing just that.

I gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “So I suppose that means he can stay for breakfast?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. Hoping that Hans’ reaction was more out of embarrassment than distaste for the idea of spending more time with me.

His slate blue eyes flashed over to me, and I thought I saw his face darken a few shades. His lip seemed to quiver, and the huge orc seemed more at a loss for words than normal. I smiled shyly, dropping my eyes and wrapping my arms about myself. I saw them glancing at each other out of the corner of my eye. His affirmative grunt a few moments later had my little smile growing.

I glanced over at Bar’tok. “Would you like some breakfast as well?” I offered sincerely.

Part of me hoped he would agree. I certainly had a fair number of questions, and the smaller orc seemed to have a hard time keeping secrets. Or at least was more talkative than Hans. A big grin split his face, and he opened his mouth. But then he caught sight of the dark look settling on the thunderstruck brow of his boss. Instead, he cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ah, no, thank you for the offer ma’am,” He replied sheepishly, “But I’m afraid I have… prior engagements.”

I nodded forgivingly. “Of course. Next time, then.”

I waited, but neither moved an inch. I blinked a few times, surprised. The pair exchanged a look, shoulders still locked together. Bar’tok shuffled his feet awkwardly and Hans glanced down at the ground.

“I’ll… I’ll go get it started then?” I posed the statement as a question, and left it hanging in the air between us.

A slightly relieved look seemed to settle over Hans’ large features. He nodded, giving one his deep, affirmative growls. I hesitated, but turned back to return to my kitchen. I paused with one hand on the doorframe, glancing over my shoulder at them. Still joined together, bodies tense.

“... It was nice to formally meet you, Bar’tok.” I told him, giving him a smile.

He grinned back, dipping his head politely. “Absolute pleasure, ma’am. Until next time.”

I nodded back, then turned, dipping into the house. I grabbed a log and went over to the stove, stoking up the fire and grabbing my little tin pot. At the larder I found plenty of eggs, strips of raw bacon, and some butter, which I quickly put into the pan. A few moments later, the butter was sizzling and I laid the strips of bacon across the metal.

In the yard, I could almost make out the soft murmurs of conversation through the opened doorway behind me. I thought about moving closer to try to better hear what the two were saying (or more, what Bar’tok was saying, as I couldn’t imagine Hans was much of a talker in any sense). But I decided after a moment I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. A rock of unease settled in the pit of my stomach, and my frown creased at the corners of my eyes. Shortly after, I heard the chain distinctly rattling, and it sent a chill down my spine.

I started at the soft sound of boots approaching, but let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding at the familiar scrape of Hans’ broad shoulders against the doorframe. I forced myself to relax, and took a deep, steadying breath.

When I glanced over my shoulder, the big orc seemed to be watching me. I felt my cheeks flush again, and turned back to what I was doing. Honestly, I was beginning to think my face would become permanently stained red if I kept blushing so much. I swallowed nervously, using a long two pronged fork to poke at the bacon.

I heard his boots moving across the dirt floor again, and the hairs at the back of my neck rose as his heat filled the air behind me. The bacon spat grease about, and I carefully flipped the pieces over. I could almost taste his own hesitation, and my tongue felt dry in my mouth as I tried to sort through my racing thoughts.

“... You slept well?” Came his deep, booming voice by my ear.

I jumped a little, then smiled at my own foolishness. I turned, looking at him over my shoulder again. His brow was a little furrowed, and his thick lower lip seemed a bit more turned out than normal. When I turned, his slate blue eyes anxiously studied my face. They lit on my lips, taking in my small smile, and his whole face softened again.

I gave him a shy nod, dropping my eyes but looking up at him through my lashes. “Yeah.. I did actually.”

His rumbling approval vibrated in the air between us. Bashful, I turned back to the bacon, pulling it off the heat and adding a few more strips to the hot grease in the pan. He was so close, I could hear his lips move as he opened, then closed his mouth. The orc softly cleared his throat, and I heard the scratch of his hand through his beard as he rubbed at his face.

I noticed his movement out of the corner of my eye, and so didn’t jump as he brushed his fingertips over my hip. My blood rushed in my ears, and I suddenly found myself unable to think straight. I snuck a peek down at his hand, saw it hesitantly line up with my hip. Slowly, haltingly, he rested his big palm on top.

I let out a fluttering breath, feeling his other hand slowly snake onto my opposite side. My hand shook as I flipped the new strips of bacon, but as he eased himself a little closer, I couldn’t help leaning back against his firm chest. His next rumbling chuff felt nice against my shoulders, and I felt him slowly bend closer, curling his frame around me.

The heat of his body against mine had my legs weak, and I completely lost all semblance of coherent thought. Especially as I felt his breath next to my ear, and the soft huff as he drew in air through his nose. I could almost picture his nostrils flaring, and it brought to mind the image of him laying across from me in the bed. Breathing in my scent. Chest bare, lips close enough to kiss…

“... It’s burning.” He muttered, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I blinked stupidly. “Wh-what?” A bit of grease splattered out of the pan, hissing loudly, and I jumped. “Oh, crap!”

I quickly fished the last of the bacon strips out of the pan, setting them on a waiting plate. I thought I heard something like a soft, rolling chuckle from behind me. My face burned hotter than the grease, and I fumbled a bit of butter into the pan trying to distract myself. I put it to the side of the heat, reaching for the eggs. I had to bend to scoop up a few from where I had left them, and felt my bottom press into his hips as I did. His hands tightened on my hips, and I nearly dropped the eggs as I heard him growl softly.

As I straightened, he slid his huge arm around my waist. Pulling me a little tighter against his body. It took all my willpower not to become distracted as I moved to crack the eggs against the pot and whisk them together. Especially as he shifted, burning his big face into the side of my neck. My pulse ricocheted, and I felt a bit dizzy. I had to lean heavily against him to keep my balance, and my breath came in shallow little spells as he ran his lips along my skin. I felt his tusks at my throat, and nearly dropped the fork. My eyes fluttered as I felt his hot tongue roll out, tasting the flesh of my neck, tracing down to my collarbone.

I placed my free hand on top of his huge arm about my waist, trying to ground myself. The smell of the eggs filled my nose, bringing me back to the present. I stirred them into fluffy chunks slowly as I enjoyed the feeling of his lips running over my skin.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” I told him distractedly, my voice breathy, “...But it seems you’ve found a taste for something else.”

My words made him jerk in surprise, straightening quite suddenly. I heard a loud THUD and spun, eyes wide. I found Hans rubbing his head, face a few shades darker once more, and a small scowl forming on his lips. He shot an accusatory look at the low beam over the stove top.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, moving the pot off the flame and turning back to him. “I.. I keep doing that, I’m sorry,” I reached up, cupping my palms against his bearded jaw, “I-I didn’t mean to… ah,” I laughed haltingly, blushing fiercely, “Next time I’ll.. I’ll just let you… you know, do whatever you want to me... Oh-” His eyes widened slightly and his complexion seemed to be darkening by the minute “-Oh that’s not… Um…”

I groaned, dropping my face into my hands in embarrassment. I had ruined it. Again. He had been so bold, so forward. Had taken such initiative and I was enjoying it and then I had to open my big mouth. Just when he had started to get comfortable with touching me. How could I be so-

I jumped a little as his fingers slid over my shoulder, his big palm completely engulfing it. I spread my own fingers, sneaking a peek at him between them. His face was still flushed, but his features were soft. His other hand came up, tucking beneath my chin. Thumb resting on my lip. Tilting my head up to face him. I let my hands drop, wrapping them hesitantly around his wrist at my chin. I thought I saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward, and my attention darted down to his thick lips quickly before returning to meet his dark, slate blue eyes.

“...Whatever I want?” He echoed in a murmur, and my knees quivered at the husky baritone of his voice.

I smiled, blushing again, starting to look away shyly. I saw his tongue trace over his lip, and he cleared his throat lightly, stepping back in. Closing the gap between us once more. He kept me from turning away completely, steering me by my chin, maneuvering me back into place.

I closed my eyes as he bent down to kiss me. As our lips folded together, I felt the tension in my muscles ease, and I melted into him. Tender, delicate, careful. All words I would use to describe the way he moved his mouth against mine. How could I ever believe this man was capable of anything but the abject gentleness with how he treated me? I felt my worries slip away, knowing that whatever I didn’t know about him… it couldn’t be that bad. Not with the way he kissed me.

He didn’t rush the kiss, nor seem to have any other thoughts on his mind. I lingered in the moment, letting myself float away, lost in his scent and taste. The sensation of his warm lips running against mine. The feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath my hand. The way his tusks scraped ever so slightly against my cheekbones.

Eventually, I pulled back, sighing against his mouth as I did. He ran his big thumb along the edge of my jaw, looking down at me through hooded eyes.

“Good?” He asked softly, and I was still too far gone to have the ability to form words. So I just smiled.

“Are you still hungry?” I murmured back finally, smoothing my palm over his neck muscles, running my hand up the back. His eyes grey hot, and I bit my cheek to hide my smile. “... I meant for breakfast.”

He responded with a low growl, curling down as if to kiss me again. He stopped short, letting the tip of his nose brush mine instead. My smile grew, and I drew a circle with my fingertips on the back of his neck. He nodded slowly, then straightened, dropping his hands from my body with a reluctant huff.

I brought the plates and food over to the table, supplementing the eggs and bacon with some bread as well as cheese from the larder. As I set the last of it at the table, I rested my hands on my hips, considering the big orc sitting at the bench opposite.

“Gods, I never noticed how small this place was before,” I told him apologetically when he looked up at me with a quizzical look, “I suppose it was always big enough for just me, but now, it seems tiny.”

Hans gave a grunt that sounded almost amused, and I smiled as he picked up some bacon. Sitting on the opposite bench, I plucked the piece of bacon from his fingers and took a bite of it myself. He raised one brow, and his lips twitched as I smirked at him. But otherwise he did nothing at my teasing, picking up another as well as a piece of cheese.

I scraped some eggs onto a piece of bread, thinking quietly to myself as I chewed. “You know, I heard from the villagers the day before yesterday that old man Hinson is thinking about selling the tavern.” I jerked my head at the back wall, indicating the adjoining building.

The big orc’s chewing slowed, and he seemed to be considering me carefully with his slate blue eyes. Swallowing, he reached for another piece of bacon.

“You want it?”

I shrugged, turning the idea over in my head. “It might be nice to have a bigger place… especially if… you know… you wanted to come around more often…” I dropped off, quickly stuffing some egg into my mouth to avoid having to say anymore words.

I felt his rumble of approval, and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He watched me, his eyes warm, and I almost shook beneath his gaze.

I waved my hand in the air, swallowing the mouthful I had been chewing. “But it hardly matters. Hinson would never sell to me. Some old family grudge, I guess.” I picked up a piece of cheese, popping it into my mouth. “And if he found out I was interested, he’d be sure to make it cost more than I could ever hope to afford.”

Hans’ growl shook the table, and when I looked back over at him, he was scowling. His brow dark, his lips pursed. I smiled, picking up a strip of bacon and holding it out to him. His big eyes glanced at it, then back at me. His lips twitched into that softer shape I liked, and he leaned forward, taking the offered piece with his teeth. It made me laugh, and my smile nearly split my face as he worked the piece of bacon to the inside of his cheek, chewing slowly. He caught my hand in his as I started to retract. His lips found my fingertips, and he licked the bacon grease of the ends. My breath hitched in my throat.

“... I don’t suppose you can stay?” I asked softly, running my thumb over his lips.

He gave a great, heavy sigh, pulling my hand closer to his face across the table. Rubbing my knuckles against his cheek, then along his tusk. I could see the regretfulness in his face, and didn’t need an answer further than that. I felt disappointment curl in my gut, but swallowed it with another bite of egg and bread. Letting him play with my hand in his. If this was the time I had with him, then I would enjoy it. Rather than waste it wishing I had more.

We finished the food hand in hand, and he brushed his booted foot against my ankle under the table as well. I made some light conversation, but mostly we just relished the companionable silence. Weighted by the fact that we both knew it would end sooner than either of us wanted.

As the plates emptied, I glanced over to the heap of furs and straw in the corner that had once been a bed.

“So, should I be hiring a carpenter today?” I teased, nodding to the pile.

He didn’t look over, grunting. I thought I saw a flush wash across his face, but it was quickly dispelled. Thumbing my wrist, he smacked his lips in pleasure as he swallowed his last bite.

“I’ll build you a new one.” He assured me.

“If you’re busy, I don’t mind-” He growled deeply, and my lips twitched in my effort to keep from smiling. When he glanced over at me through his dark lashes, my control slipped. “Save me from the stubbornness of orcs.” I breathed, grinning. Without any real weight behind the words, it sounded more tender than scolding.

His responding rumble vibrated against his lips as he skimmed them over my wrist. I felt like I was floating, sitting on a cloud and looking at the world far below. But the lingering look of remorse at the corners of his eyes reminded me that he would be leaving soon. I tried to remind myself of all the things I had to do that day. I would be too busy myself to spend all day in bed with a big, gentle orc. Even if that’s all I really wanted to do.

Finally, the plates were empty, and there wasn’t much else to keep us lingering at the table as we were. But neither of us quite wanted to admit it. As it would mean parting ways for the day. He rubbed his big thumb back and forth over my knuckles, his brow scrunched. The sun had fully risen by now, and neither of us could completely deny its existence anymore.

He rose, slowly, reluctantly letting my hand slip from his. I followed after him, out the door into the yard. I leaned against the house with my arms crossed as he slowly began to strap on his armor.

“... Will I see you again later?” I asked quietly, glancing down at my bare feet in the dirt.

He gave a deep grunt, but I wasn’t sure if it sounded affirmative or negative. Perhaps because he wasn’t sure. I lifted my gaze as he came over, armor buckled up. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned one arm against the side of the house, bending closer to me. Surrounding me with his bulk. His eyes ran over my face, as if committing it to memory. I did the same, studying the way the morning light shone off his dark green skin, the way his tusks moved as he shifted his jaw, the shape of his hair as it fell in thick locks around his square face.

He moved in for a kiss, and I stretched up on my tiptoes to meet him. It was slow; lingering and tender. I missed it the instant it ended, and he hesitated with his mouth just a hair’s width away from mine. Then he kissed me again, and I reached up to wrap my arms around his thick neck. He gave a rolling sigh, feeding it between our mouths, lamenting the need to part once more and putting it off as long as he could.

Finally, he did lean back. As he straightened to his full height, my hands naturally slid down, unable to reach around him anymore. I let my palms linger on his armored chest, looking up at him forlornly.

“...Sunset.” He promised me, his rich voice soft as a whisper but no less powerful.

I nodded my understanding, and he cupped my cheek in his huge palm. I pressed into it, closing my eyes. I heard him sigh again, then give a determined grunt. Pulling his hand back slowly, he reluctantly turned and headed out the gate. I watched until he closed it behind him, leaning back against the wall with a heavy sigh of my own.

...

Bar’tok was around the outside wall, and straightened up as his boss approached. His greeting shrank quickly at the dark, angry look shot his way. He knew better than to try and skirt the pending conversation, but still winced visibly. He could only hope the little butcher girl had left him in a good mood. That way his retribution for Bar’tok’s earlier disrespect might not be quite so hefty.

Hanste’kosh considered his second, scowl deepening. Then turned, leading the way around to the other side of the building. The smaller orc started in surprise, then raced to follow after.

“Everything alright, Boss?” He dared ask.

He was answered by a deep, rumbling growl that rippled through the early morning air like thunder.

“We’ve got a quick stop to make.” He snarled, stopping briefly outside the tavern door before shoving it open.

...

UPDATE : Part seven HERE

#orc #orc boyfriend #orc lover #monster romance #monster lover #monster boyfriend #the secret we keep #oc #update #terato #exophilia #awkward lovers #secondhand embarrassment #slow burn #like seriously slow burn

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thewildomega · 4 years

Text

Star in the Sand Ch.9

THUMP!

Snapping your eyes open you looked in front of you and saw the wood siding of the boat. Blinking a few times you forced your tired body up into a sitting position, wincing a little at the soreness of your body. It was still dark out but you could make out the light from the coming sunrise. Looking around you saw nothing but the endless sea until you looked behind you and saw what your little boat had bumped into. Swallowing even though there was little to no moisture in your mouth you looked at the lone man with yellow eyes. "Hello." you said in a soft voice, hoarse from having nothing to drink for the past day and a half. When he said nothing you looked down to see your boat still touching his slightly bigger one. "I'm sorry." you mumbled. Grabbing the little oar you went to row away from him.

"Not very wise for you to be out here on your own with no provisions." Mihawk said in a plain voice. When her eyes stayed down he looked her over. She was already showing signs of dehydration, she wouldn't last another day out here. "Where are you headed?" he asked the woman.

Looking back up at the warlord you took a small breath. "Anywhere I suppose."

Humming he reached beside him and grabbed one of his many flasks of water before holding it out for her.

Looking down at the flask you furrowed your brows and looked back up at him. "I don't have anything to give you in return." you said, shaking your head.

"Your name will do."

Seeing he was serious you licked your lips, "Y/n."

"Well then Miss y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Dracula Mihawk." he said with a bow of his head.

Forcing yourself to grin you bowed your head back and took the water when he pushed it towards you, "Thank you." you said before taking a long sip, feeling it burn your dry throat slightly. Sighing you looked down at your lap, taking another sip before putting the cork back in the top and handing it back to him.

"No you keep it, you will need it. he told her.

"Thank you."

Humming he nodded and then looked to the left. "If you keep heading that way you will reach an island by the end of the day. It isn't the best place but it's somewhere." he told her.

Nodding you looked to where he was looking and then back to him just in time to see him toss you an apple. Catching it you looked back up to him and saw him give you a blank look. "Thank you." With a nod the man was gone. Biting down on the apple you chewed it slowly, you should be relishing the first food you had had in days but it was tasteless in your mouth. Letting out a sigh you looked towards the direction Mihawk had told you an island was in. You knew from the manga that Grand line formidable place, in actuality you were lucky to still be alive right as it is. Last night had been a rough night, a thunderstorm had struck suddenly and you had curled up in the bottom of the boat to shield yourself from the needle like rain and the sharp lightning. At one point you had been sure your small boat would flip over and dump you to the sea kings but you had managed to stay afloat. Finishing you apple you bit your lip and unzipped your bag to pull out your sketchbook. Ripping a page out you placed the seeds in the middle before folding it up and pouring a small amount of water on it to dampen it. Placing it one of the smaller pockets in your bag you put your sketch book back up and grabbed the oar. You didn't really know what you were going to do but you knew you needed to get to land soon.

................................

It was late when you got to the island and the sun was going down. Your arms were sore and you were extremely tired. Forcing yourself to pull the boat onto the sandy shore you breathed heavily and finally dropped back to sit in the sand. Leaning against the boat you stayed there for a moment and let your eyes slip closed. You were close to drifting off when you felt the patter of rain start hitting your back and shoulders. Blinking your eyes open you looked up at the sky and saw a flash of lightning. Standing up and grabbing the boat again you tugged it further up onto shore almost to the rocks and then struggled to flip it over. Dropping to your knees you started digging away the sand and dirt to make a tunnel big enough for you to crawl under it. Wiggling your way under the boat you felt around for a few big rocks and placed them over the 'door' till only a small air hole was left. Grabbing your bag you moved it to the front and laid down, placing your head on it and curling up on the cold ground. The rain was now beating against the boat so loud it sounded like hail and you bit your lip as the lightning and thunder boomed outside. A rumble of the earth and a close strike made you whimper and tense more if it were possible. Feeling a tear roll over the bridge of your nose you closed your eyes and tried to imagine you were at home, in your own bed. Not even that seemed comforting anymore through. You didn't want to go back to your empty house with only memories to keep you company. You knew what you wanted but it would never be a reality. With a broken heart you finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

.................................

Waking up the next day you stared at the tiny bit of sunlight coming in from the little hole you had left. You were still tired, your body running on fumes. The clenching of your empty stomach told you you needed food even though you didn't particularly care to eat. Sighing you dug the hole back out and pushed out your bag before crawling out yourself. Blinking as your eyes adjusted to the light you looked around at the island you had washed up on and saw it was a very rocky landscape. There were trees and grass as well but a lot of rocks. Glancing back down to your boat you decided to leave it there, might need to use it as shelter again tonight. Attempting to stretch out the stiffness in your body you let out a heavy breath and grabbed your bag. Unzipping it you took the water out and finished the last sip off. That was definitely your first thing to do. Tossing the empty flask back in your bag you zipped it up and put it on your back.

Exploring the island you were able to find a source of freshwater and drunk a fair amount before filling up your flask and putting it in your bag for later. Unfortunately you weren't able to find any food, not even any berries or fruit but lucky for you you had watched tons of survival documentaries. Grabbing stuff to make a fire you took it back to where your boat was, dragging the boat all the way up to the rocks to set up your camp. Sitting down on the ground you grabbed your pocket knife and the long stick you had found to make a spear out of. Sharpening the tip and cutting small notches in the first foot of it you nodded, "Thank you Les Stroud." you mumbled before taking off your jacket, shirt, shoes and socks. Rolling up your pants legs you grabbed your stick and walked out to the water. Jumping across the rocks you looked down and saw a few fish swimming around in the water below. Taking a deep breath you aimed the spear before stabbing it into the water.

So catching a fish is a whole lot harder than it looks. After three hours you hand managed to catch one lousy fish that was only the size of your hand, but it was something. Cooking it over the small fire you made you looked out over the sea and felt a clenching in your heart. You wondered if he missed you. No he didn't want you there to begin with. Swallowing hard you dropped your eyes down, taking the last bite of the fish. Looking down your shirt you saw your locket laying over top of your birthmark and lifted it in your hand before opening it. Looking over the picture of the man and woman you felt tears brim your eyes. Reading the words you licked your lips, "My heart will guide me huh? To what?" you asked the air. Watching the arrow spin around before finally pointing out in front of you you huffed and snapped it shut. "Yeah that's what I thought."

By the end of the day you had a nice fire going and had bathed to the best of your ability. You had seen a small village on the other side of the island but it looked very rundown and sketchy so you decided to possibly check it out tomorrow when there was more light. Yawning you crawled under the boat to sleep, having dug a nice tunnel earlier. Curling up you breathed out deeply and closed your eyes.

................................

People were starring at you. This place didn't feel safe. You didn't see any children running around, there was no laughter or smiles. Glancing up out of the corner of your eye you saw as a group of people looked at you with knitted brows, they were whispering. Swallowing you dipped your head and adjusted your bag before going up to the only stand. "Um excuse me..."

"What is it?" the woman snapped.

Flinching a bit you furrowed your brows and licked your lips, "Well I was wondering if there was anything I coudl do to possibly pay for some food..."

"Unless you have money or something valuable to trade get lost. I don't give hand outs."

Looking down you nodded and mumbled a thank you before walking away. Making your way through the forest and rocks you again tried looking for some sort of food. Looking up to one of the tree tops you tilted your head. Were those coconuts? Dropping your bag you removed your shoes and socks. Grabbing hold of the tree you started to climb. Gritting yoru teeth as you slipped back down again you dug your foot into the bark, holding onto the tree as tight as you could. Slowly but surly you managed to climb your way up to the top of the tree. Hugging it with your legs and one arm you reached out with the other to try and knock down one of the coconuts. Swatting a few times, your fingers just did brush it. Wiggling up more you hit the fruit one last time and let out a small cheer as it fell to the ground. Slidding back down carefully you walked over to lift the fruit when a boot clad foot smacked down on top of it. Looking up the brown pants leg and then torso you saw one of the men from the village standing there looking down at you with a grin. "Excuse me..." you said, trying to pull the coconut out from under his shoe.

"Now what you doing stealing our coconuts girly?"

Furrowing your brows you shook your head. "I.. I'm not stealing... I dind't know the trees belonged to anyone.."

"Well they do. This here is our island which makes the trees and all else here ours as well." he told the woman, bending down to pick up the coconut and toss it behind him.

Following the coconut as he threw it back to one of his three friends to catch you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Straightening back up you looked back to what you guessed was the leader. "I'm sorry for taking the coconut, I was just looking for some food but I am just going to go now." you said, turning around to grab your bag and shoes.

Smiling he grabbed the woman's bag before she could. "Now sweetheart if you got something to trade then maybe we'll just let you have that coconut."

Shaking your head you reached for your bag and tried pulling it out of hsi grasp. "I don't so you can just keep it." you told him.

Humming he held tight to the bag and grinned at her, "Well maybe there is something else you can give me."

Understanding what he meant you grit your teeth, "Not a chance in hell." Snatching your bag back you put it on your back and turned to walk away again.

Growling he grabbed her wrist to stop her, pinning her to a tree. "Now don't be so rude girl. You see I was just trying to be a gentleman and ask is all. Don't have to though, I meant what I said, everything on this island is ours... that means you as well."

Gasping a bit you felt fear fill you and quickly brought up knee. As soon as he was doubled over in pain you ran for it. You could hear him cursing and yelling behind you but you didn't stop. You had to get off this island. Running towards your boat you were suddenly knocked backwards as something hit your chest. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry and you gasped for air. It felt like you couldn't breath. Rolling to your side you managed to suck in some air and opened your eyes when you heard the sound of sticks breaking. Looking up you saw a man standing there with a club looking thing, smiling.

"Got er' boss." he said.

Blinking you heard boots on the rocks and turned your head a small amount to see the man from earlier standing over you.

"You are going to regret not taking my offer girl." he huffed.

Seeing his foot come towards your face you felt a pain on your cheek before everything went fuzzy.

"Grab her."

You could feel rough hands lifting you up from the ground and huffed out as you were flung over someone's shoulder. Not being able to fight back you felt your bag get ripped from your arms. Blinking slowly you watched the trees and rocks move by in a blur. It felt like you couldn't get enough air still and your head was throbbing. They were saying something but you didn't catch any of it. When you were finally tossed down you whimpered and looked around to see you were in some sort of room. There was a fire going and you could hear muffled voices. Seeing a window on the far wall you tried to plan out your escape.

"Now let's see what we have here."

Seeing them unzip your bag and dump out your few things you knit your brows.

Looking down at the hygiene products, flask and sketchbook he felt his lip lift into a snarl.

"That's it?"

"Where's the money?"

"Where's the treasure?"

"I told you I didn't have anything!" you scoffed, trying to sit up.

Picking up the sketchpad he flipped through it, hoping some hidden money would fall out but there was nothing. Growling he stomped over to the woman and grabbed a fistful of her hair. "That can't be all you got? Where's the money?"

Wincing as his hand in your hair tightened you looked up into his brown eyes. "I don't have any you piece of shit!"

Clenching his teeth he slapped her before he moved to start patting her down. Tossing down the knife in her back pocket.

When his hand felt around your chest and over your locket you tensed."NO! Let me go!" you yelled, wiggling about. Punching at him you managed to get one good hit in before he slammed you back down on the ground and straddled your middle.

"Give me some rope!" Being handed the thin rope he held her hands in one of his while he wrapped it tightly around her thin wrists, pulling it tight and tying it off. Holding her hands down above her head he grinned down at her as she still fought against him. "You sure are a feisty one ain't you." he chuckled.

Glaring up at him you spit in his face. Seeing him still and watching the smirk fall from his face you knew you had made a horrible mistake.

Standing above her he wiped the spit from his eye and glared down at her. "I am going to enjoy breaking you in." he snarled, snatching his belt from the loops and folding it in half.

Seeing the man grab the leather belt in one hand and raise it over his head you started to tremble, your past coming back to haunt you, a cry leaving your lips as it stung your side and back.

.......................

Flinching as a glass bottle was thrown into the wall beside you you opened your eyes and looked to the group of people currently drinking and talking away by the fire. Blinking your eyes you looked back to the window and saw the sky was now dark, the moon and stars out. How long had you been here? Feeling eyes on you you looked back to the leader to see him looking towards you with a smirk, your locket hanging around his neck.

"Ya'll go get us some more booze, I'ma go tend to our pet." he said.

Stiffening you watched them all glance to you as they stood, some of them laughing as they walked out, smacking the leader on the back.

"Don't ruin her boss."

Swallowing hard you watched them all leave you alone with the man and saw him continue looking at you for a time, the both of you just sitting in silence as he drank his bottle of rum. When he stood and started walking over to you you tensed up and again tried pulling at the ropes around your wrist, feeling them rub your skin raw even more.

Sitting down beside her he let his eyes rake over her body. Looking to her lips he rose his brow and moved the bottle to them. "Drink."

Keeping your lips pinched together you tried turning your face away from him but he quickly grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your mouth open enough to pour in the strong alcohol. Coughing you felt it spill down the side of your face, burning the cuts and scrapes that were there.

Chuckling he sat the bottle down to move his hands down her neck. Gripping the neckline of her shirt he tugged hard, ripping the material almost in half.

You wanted to cry. Trying to curl up he held you down and you felt his hand move to your breast, groping your mound painfully.

"Huh...interesting soulmate mark you got there? Is he some kind of clock maker?" he chuckled.

Not understanding what he was talking about you tried pushing his hand away with your bound ones. When he took out a knife and started running it along your chest and over the mark between your breasts you felt the tears roll down your temples and closed your eyes tight.

"Aww don't cry yet beautiful, we're just getting started." he chuckled, dragging the blade over her skin to leave a trail of blood.

When he leaned down to pushing his lips to yours you felt something wet proud at your lips your eyes went wide as it pushed it's way inside, his hand attempting to push into your pants. This was your chance. Biting down on his tongue you heard him scream but you only bit harder. A sharp pain to your chest made you release him.

Falling to his back he covered his mouth with his hand, blood pouring down his chin. "YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he yelled.

Pushing your self up you stumbled on your feet, running towards the window and feeling the broken glass get embedded in your feet. Jumping through the window you rolled to the ground, your adrenaline making you able to forget about the pain radiating through your body. Running towards the trees you heard him yelling behind you and then the sound of a gun filled the air and you fell to the ground. Screaming at the burning pain in your shoulder you panted and rolled down the rocks. Once you stopped you looked up at the sky for a few seconds. You could hear yelling, they were coming. Shaking you stood and pushed yourself forward, knowing you wouldn't get another chance if they found you. You fell and tripped on the rocks and roots, your battered body feeling like it was ready to give out any second. As the voices drew closer you looked around frantically. Seeing a dark hole in the rocks you moved towards it and dropped to your knees before squeezing inside. Going in as deep as you could you curled up and held your breath when the voices and heavy footfalls ran by. Watching their shadows run by you felt tears roll down your cheeks.

Sliding down the wall of your little crave you curled up and started to shake as your adrenaline started to fade. Laying your head down on the ground you bit your lip to muffle your sobs. Everything hurt, your whole body was throbbing and you could feel blood soaking into your clothes. What were you going to do now? Were you going to die? Wouldn't surprise you if this was how it ended. Your life had been nothing but shit up to this point anyway. The only good thing you had happen to you was Crocodile and even that had ended in heartbreak. In all honesty if this was it you wouldn't really care. There was nothing else for you to live for. You had no home, no family, no friends. None would miss you, no one would even notice you were gone. Hell if word somehow got to Crocodile he would probably be happy, he'd probably laugh. Feeling a clenching in your heart you closed your eyes and brought your bound hands to your chest. "p..please just l..let it be quick.."you whispered as you started to loose consciousness, hoping whatever higher power there was would have mercy on you, just this once.

..................................

He had already searched two islands now and she wasn't on either. The dark thought that she had fallen victim to the sea crossed his mind occasionally but he quickly tossed it out. No she was not dead, she was alive, he could feel it. He refused to believe she was gone. But there was something in his chest, some heavy pressure making him feel like something was wrong. Arriving on the run down island he stepped off the boat and looked down the rocky shore. It was just past dusk and he could see lights from the small run down village. Narrowing his eyes he looked to his men and nodded. They knew the drill, search for any signs of his missing soulmate. Puffing on his cigar he started walking towards the village, looking over the people he saw them all looking at him warily. Going up to a woman at the only stall he could see he took out y/n's phone and showed her the picture of the two of them she had taken, ignoring the woman's confused look at the device. "Have you seen this woman?" he asked.

"No." the woman said, barely glancing at the picture.

She was lying. Narrowing his eyes he went to go say something when Dori came hurrying over to him.

"We found the boat Captain." the young man said.

Looking down at him he raised his brow, "Where?"

"South side of the island sir, looks lik..."

"What exactly you lot here for?"

Turning at the sound of another man he looked to see a brown haired man looking up at him with his arms crossed over his chest. Opening his mouth to speak his eyes caught sought of something gold around the man's neck and felt his temper flare, his teeth biting down on his cigar. In an instant he had his hand wrapped around the man's throat.

"What the fuck man!"

Ignoring him he lifted the necklace with the curve of his hook, not caring when it cut open the his chest. Lifting it up he saw it was y/n's locket and felt his lip lift into a snarl, his brows dropping to glare at the man. Now looking him over he saw blood on his shirt collar and bruises along his jaw. "Where is she?" he growled.

"I don't know who the hell you are..."

"I am not a man you want to test. Now where is she?!" Seeing the man stay silent he dug the tip of his hook into the man's shoulder, watching him scream.

"CAPTAIN!"

Snapping his eyes up he saw Hex standing in the doorway of a run down looking barn. Tossing the man to Bonez he walked towards the doorway and looked inside. Not much filled the space, a few chairs around a fire pit and old, broken bottle of what looked like sake. None of that caught his attention, his eyes fell to the black bag laying on the floor and it's contents stowed about. A small pocket knife he knew was hers, the one Vick had given her. Her sketchbook was laying on the dirty floor, some of the pages torn out. Walking over to one he bent down and lifted it up to see a drawing of him. He was lounged back in the small canoe of hers, a butterfly on his hook. He had knew she was drawing when they had went out that day but he didn't know she had drawn him. He looked relaxed with the cigar in his mouth and his eyes closed. There was even the small amount of scruff on his jaw from where he hadn't shaved. Swallowing hard at the amount of detail she had put int he picture he then felt his blood boil. Turning back he held out the drawing to Maverick as the man went about picking up her things, placing them back in her bag. Walking over to the man he looked him in the eye. "Where. Is. She?"

"The bitch ain't here! She took off!" he said defensively before he let out a choked gasp, looking down to see the man's hook disappear into his gut.

Pulling his hook up slowly he heard the man scream and narrowed his eyes before he pulled it out. Looking to Bonez he took a breath, "Keep him alive. Take whatever you find." was all he said and saw his second nod. Glancing to the broken glass on the floor he noticed small bloody footprints leading to a broken window and pushed his way past to the door. Walking around to the side of the barn he looked down and broken glass in the grass. Looking up to the forest and rocks he felt his heart beat rise and his feet move for him. He could hear the sounds of his crew pillaging the village but it was simply music to his ears. Walking through the trees and tall grass he noticed blood along the rocks. A small stream ran along the rocky ground and on the other side the blood trail disappeared. Snapping his eyes around he looked down a small cliff hill and saw a little hole of sorts. It was small but so was she. Climbing down he got down on his knees and looked into the cave. It was dark so he couldn't see much and grit his teeth before he remembered the flashlight y/n had shown him her phone had. Fishing the thing out of his pocket he turned the light on and then bent over to shine it into the hole and what he saw made his blood run cold.

His cigar fell from his mouth in a gasp. "Y/n." he called but she didn't move. Se was facing away from him, her small body curled up in the back of the cave with her blood puddled on the rocky floor. "Y/n!" He called again, his voice coming out louder and deeper. Attempting to reach her his fingers just barely brushed her back. Growling out in frustration he used his devil powers to push sand under her slowly and then move her towards him enough so he could reach in and pull her out. When he finally had her out he looked down at her and felt a knot form in his throat. Brushing her blood matted hair our of her face he saw the dark bruises and gash on her cheek. They had beat her, badly. His breathing was erratic as he gently moved the curve of his hook to her chest, flipping back her ripped shirt and looking down at her blood spattered skin and seeing the dark soulmate mark directly over her breastbone just like the witch had said. Although it looked like someone had cut her over it he saw it looked like a sand glass. Licking his lips he lifted his eyes up her body, looking over her collarbone and then throat. Bending down over her he listened to her shallow breathing and felt a flood of relief wash over him, she was alive...for now. That could easily change though, she had lost a lot of blood. She need held and she need it now. Laying her over his lap long enough for him to shrug his coat from his shoulders he wrapped her in it to the best of his ability and then carefully moved his hook under her upper back and his hand under her knees. Lifting her easily into his arms he stood and held her tightly to his chest before walking to the village.

Getting on board his ship he carried her straight to his room, laying her on his bed and not caring at all for the blood seeping into his bedding, he could feel it on his clothes. He wanted to massacre the whole village, he wanted to make that piece of shit pay for what he had done to her but he couldn't bare to leave her side again. Ripping her mother's locket from his neck he looked him dead in the eyes as he told Bonez to take care of it, walking away and adding the command for him to drag it out. He had yet to acquire a doctor on his crew and he was quickly regretting that decision. He knew a basic amount of medical skills but nothing compared to what she needed. Having the lights from his oil lamps and candles he could see just how bad her injuries were, not even mentioning what her bloody clothes were hiding. She hadn't made a sound the whole time and the feel of her clammy skin made him uneasy. As soon as the crew was back and had loaded all they had acquired he left Daz in charge of commanding the deck. Hearing a knock at the door he growled. "WHAT?!" Looking up he saw Maverick there and knit his brows.

"I ain't no doctor but my father was, I may be able ta elp' the lass." he said.

Nodding stiffly he saw the man walk in, towels and a few bottles of alcohol in his hands. Looking back down to her he felt a painful clenching in his heart, "Don't give up on me darling." he said in his head.

#Sir Crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #one piece crocodile #crocodile fanfiction #crocodile x reader #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #soulmate #soulmarks #soulmate au #angst

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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

Old Fashion Way Pt. 7

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None this chapter

When you finally unlocked your apartment door and kicked it closed behind you, you could barely stay on your feet. The entire SHIELD complex went through extreme screenings before being allowed to leave the building. You were starving. Because of the bullshit, you never got dinner.

Kicking off your shoes, you dropped your purse on the hall table on the way to kitchen. That’s when you noticed. The scarf covering the table was wrong side up. You flipped up the silky fabric and opened the little drawer in the front of the table. The few mementos you kept there had been moved.

A movie ticket stub. A dried rose. A sketch on a napkin. Someone went through your things. Thankfully, nothing in your apartment could be directly tied to Steve. Unless, they could recognize his sketch of a fox.

You looked around, feeling uneasy. SHIELD went through your home. What did they leave behind?

In the kitchen you ate leftovers, leaning against the kitchen counter. Your brain was moving too fast to even register what you ate. There was no way Steve would ever move against SHIELD without reason. You trusted him, more than any organization. Now your work, your organization, was after him.

You had to find a way to stay safe.

If anyone out for Steve knew about the two of you, well, you didn’t want to think about that. Grabbing your nightshirt, you shut off the lights and changed in the dark. Laying there, your mind wouldn’t shut down enough for sleep. However, by the time the sun was coming up, you had a plan.

Getting up and dressing for work as usual, you left a few minutes early. Stepping into your favorite coffee shop, you let the one other person go ahead of you. So you would be alone in the shop. “Hey, Mandy.” You smiled at your favorite barista.

“Morning.” She smiled. “Want your usual?”

“Yeah, please.” You stepped up to the counter. “Hey, could I ask you for a favor? Could I use your phone real quick? I pulled a bone-head move on my way here.” You showed her your old phone with a broken face.

“Sure,” Mandy unlocked her phone and handed it over. You stepped away and quickly dialed your sister’s number. She answered with a sleep fuzzy voice.

“I need you listen and do exactly as I say. This morning call my cell and my work leave priority messages. I need to come home. Dad’s in a bad way.”

There was a momentary silence. Then she responded, clear and clipped. “Got it. Talk to you soon.”

You hung up. Her husband spent eight years working for the DOD. The whole family knew how to respond to an emergency and get the details later.

Handing the phone back to Mandy, you also gave her your coffee money and a generous tip. “Thanks for the help.”

“No worries. Have a great day!”

The morning went as planned. You received phone calls from your sister and then you put in for three weeks of emergency leave. Almost immediately, Angela arrived at your office door demanding you follow her. She led you to a small conference room, where you were left alone for more than three hours.

One of the agents finally came in, a folder in hand. He sat across from you. You leaned forward, spinning your empty coffee cup slowly in your hands. “Going to tell me why I’ve wasted half a morning here when I’ve got so much to do?”

“It’s a rather suspect time to put in for an emergency leave of absence." He replied.

You sighed. “It’s not, really. Dad’s been going downhill for some time.” You frowned. “You ever taken care of someone with Alzheimer’s? It’s awful. It’s exhausting, and it can go to shit at a moment’s notice.” You frowned hard at the agent. “I’ve got tons of leave on the books. Time that the agency owes me. This is my family. Are you going to make me chose between my family and my job, agent?”

“The timing is...inconvenient.”

“I’ll be sure to let my dad’s doctors know.” You swallowed, not having to fake your nervousness. “Don’t make me quit over this. Please. I don’t want to leave SHIELD and I sure as hell don’t want to sue because I was forced to quit under duress despite policy.”

“When were you planning to travel?” The agent opened the folder and clicked his pen.

“Nothing’s booked yet. Tomorrow sometime, next morning at the latest. There are several flights from DC to Seattle.”

“You’ll be gone how long?”

“I don’t know. I put in for three weeks. May be more, or less.”

“Where will you be staying?”

“Not sure yet.”

At that the agent gave you a suspicious look.

“My sister’s place is small. Emotions are running high. I may be there. I may get a hotel. I won’t know until I’m there. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of time to plan this.”

“Very well.” He closed the file, never writing a word. “Take your work phone in case any current activities require your input. Your leave is granted.” He stood up and walked to the door. “You’re free to go back to work now, and...” He paused in the door, glancing back. “I remember how rough my grandmother’s dementia was. I’m sorry.”

You were home packing after finding the latest flight you could justify taking. By nine o’clock tomorrow morning you would be on a plane to the Northwest. The scuttlebutt at work only got worse. No one at SHIELD seemed willing to outwardly say anything, but you gathered enough bits and pieces yesterday to hear Steve supposedly went rouge, Director Fury might be dead, there was a terrorist attack on one of the major roadways in Bethesda that wasn’t really a terrorist, and Agent Romanoff was missing.

Getting the hell out of Dodge was looking better all the time.

Your personal phone rang. Unidentified number. “Hello?”

“Sweetheart, don’t say anything but yes or no. Just listen.” Steve’s clipped voice came quietly over the phone. “You know I didn’t do what they say I did.”

“Yeah.” Your heart was in your throat. You had so many questions, wanted to say so many things.

“Things are bad, really bad. You need to get away from there. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” You answered, more determined.

Steve paused. “You already have, huh?”

“Yep”

“Good girl. Thank God.” He breathed. “Can you lay low someplace? Not at home?”

“Yeah.”

“Nearby?”

“No.”

He knew about your family. “West coast?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Really good.”

You could hear Steve breathing as you waited for him to continue. His voice dropped down to a whisper. “I don’t know how this is all going to turn out, but just in case, I need to let you know how much I... You brought part of me back to life that I thought died with that plane crash... thank you, Sweetheart, just thank you.”

You swallowed back tears, biting your lip to keep from saying all the things you desperately wanted to. The realization that this might be the last time you spoke with him, just hit you so hard that it stole every bit of breath from your lungs.

He heard your light gasp, a small sniffle. “It’s okay. Alright? You’ll be okay. I have to go. I’m sorry.”

The phone went dead.

You hung up and tried to swallow down your tears, you still didn’t know if your apartment was bugged our not. Instead, you finished packing, moving on autopilot. The band of pain wrapped around your chest made breathing difficult. You schooled your face to an impassive calm, much like you did when you dealt with your father. No outward pain to see.

Finally, the suitcase zipped up, you moved to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. Scalding hot water beat down over your head, poured over your face, as the pain unwound. Tears mingled with the water. You silently cried, wept for what you could be losing, released the tears from the tension and fear, until the water ran cold. Once dry and ready for bed, exhaustion pulled you into a deep sleep.

You’d gotten to the airport with plenty of time only to find out your flight had a two hour mechanical delay. So, you waited, and waited. Sitting at the lounge, drinking coffee and watching the morning show on the television, you debated on ordering lunch. It looked like two hours was an optimistic estimate.

The local news cut in to the show with an emergency. Three enormous heli-carriers were battling each other over the city, over SHIELD. You called out. “Hey! Turn that up!”

The bartender turned up the volume.

“...also getting reports of a massive data dump from somewhere within SHIELD. All initial indications seem to show that the Hydra infiltration included key positions, including the top director.”

Another news anchor cut in. “They’re going down! The carriers are indeed crashing. I sincerely hope anyone in the vicinity have been evacuated. We can see debris falling in all directions. The reports that Captain America led the team to stand against whatever the Hydra action may have been are yet to be substantiated. There are no official communications coming from any of our sources.”

You watched in horror as the heli-carrier busted apart and exploded, falling from the sky. One of the television anchor’s word rang in your ear. “Let hope he wasn’t aboard, because I don’t know how anyone could survive that.”

The phone in your pocket vibrated, making you jump. You looked at the number. Your sister’s. “Hey.”

“On the news. That’s why you’re coming home, isn’t it? You knew something was going to happen.” She sounded frantic.

“I knew something, but not this. I had no idea it was this bad.” You stared at the screen, unable to look away. Please, you silently prayed, let Steve survive.

“You didn’t know? Had no idea?”

“Of course not!” You snapped.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Your sister huffed. “You got a heads up, though. You were running.”

“Yeah.” You looked around, seeing you were alone and figuring there was no point in secrecy any more you answered. “I saw them, from my office, try to gun down Steve. He’s my friend and I know him well enough that he would never move against his superiors unless they deserved it.”

“Wait,” She paused. “Steve? Steve Rogers. You’re friends with...”

“Yes. Good friends. I trust him and I really hope he’s okay.” You curled into your seat, watching the footage on the screen.

“Are you still coming?”

The question took you by surprise. You really didn’t have to, not yet. Of course, you didn’t know if you even had a job now. “I think I need to figure a few things out first.”

“Okay, let me know. And sis, stay in touch. I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t worry me.”

“Promise.” You hung up, paid your bill and went to the counter to change your ticket.

It was late evening before you gave up and checked into a ridiculously expensive hotel room. Traffic was impossible. The city was on lock down. Every hotel room was taken. No one was moving. Still, it was relatively safe, food was available, and your credit card could handle the expense.

Flopping on the bed, you contemplated pulling out your computer to find more information while you ate room service. The news had been non-stop speculation. The details being pulled from the data dump were becoming more salacious. Still, none of it gave you what you wanted.

Close to midnight your phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, uh, is this Y/N?” A deep male voice asked.

“Who is this?” You knew that voice but couldn’t place it.

“Yeah that’s you. This is Sam.”

“Sam.” You breathed. You’d only met him the one time, when Steve brought him over to help you move.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that our, uh, mutual friend is alive and healing up.”

A whoosh of air left your body. “Thank god.”

“Don’t know how long it will be. Don’t know how messy the red tape is going to get either. Still, I thought you should know.”

“Thank you.” Tears, not so painful now, ran down your face. You could wait. Steve was alive.

TAGS

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers angst

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sunflower-swan · 4 years

Text

Wolfstar chapter 6

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 6 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 6 Prompt: Ocean

Rating: General

Word Count: 1992

Tags: original character, pining

Chapter 6

Remus

Monica, “For You I Will”

I will cross the ocean for you

I will go and bring you the moon

I will be your hero, your strength, anything you need

Remus and Sirius sat at their favorite corner booth at the Potter’s Wheel Cafe for their morning coffee ritual. Sirius was having his usual black coffee with cream and no sugar. While Remus preferred a sweeter mocha cappuccino.

“So Silas is in America then?” Remus asked. While waiting for Sirius, James and Lily had filled him in on the finer points of what transpired after the ‘You’re a wizard?!’ incident.

Sirius nodded with a small frown. “Took a long-distance portkey to New York early this morning.” He exhaled a sigh so heavy it flipped the hair that had fallen into his face. “Six...bloody...months.” He punctuated each word with a knock of his knuckles on the tabletop.

Remus felt bad for his friend. It was obvious he hadn’t gotten much sleep since they had last seen each other. His charcoal eyes usually glowed with a fire that burned through Remus' soul. Today they were a shadowy reflection rimmed in red, all spark gone out. And that was when they were open long enough for Remus to see them. Throughout most of their brief rendezvous this morning, his eyelids became heavier and heavier over his sunken eyes.

“Maybe you should take the day off. Catch up on some sleep?” Remus suggested after Sirius’ head nodded forward for the third time.

“Hmm?”

Remus threw a couple Muggle bills down on the table. “Come on, Sirius.” He went around to the opposite side of the table and helped Sirius to his feet. “We’re going to get you home.”

Sirius acquiesced to Remus' touch, and the latter led them to the alley apparition point. Once there, Sirius attempted to shake loose of the grasp Remus had around his waist.

“I can manage, Remus,” he mumbled.

“No! No, no. You are in no state to apparate anywhere on your own. I’m impressed you didn’t splinch yourself getting here.” Remus tucked his arm into Sirius’. “Hold on to me.”

“Mmm, ok.” Sirius relaxed into his body.

Remus’ spine straightened and his breath caught at the warmth of Sirius’ body perfectly fitted against his. Restraining all his instincts, he pushed aside the inconvenient feelings, and turned with a POP.

They landed in a secluded area outside Sirius’ flat, and Remus helped him inside. He half-carried Sirius into the bedroom, walking past a faded leather jacket thrown over a chair in the corner, and unceremoniously dumped him into bed.

As he turned to leave, a photo on the nightstand caught his eye. He picked it up. It was a picture of himself with Sirius, James, Lily, and Harry, standing outside the Tattoo Lounge, about a month after he had opened.

James was holding little Harry in one arm and holding Lily’s hand with the other. Remus had his hands tucked into his pockets, and Sirius had an arm around his shoulders. Photo Remus was grinning broadly and kept casting covert looks at Sirius, whose hair was blowing around in his face.

The four of them almost immediately accepted him into their circle. Which, looking back, was a little funny considering they had thought Remus was a Muggle.

He chuckled softly to himself and set the picture back down. He had reached the doorway when he heard Sirius rustle behind him.

“Remus?”

He paused, placed a hand on the door jam and turned his head. “Yes?”

“Did you know you smell like old books and chocolate?”

This declaration startled him. He swung around to question about this revelation, but found Sirius had started to snore.

~~~~~

Remus stopped by the Loft before returning to the Lounge to inform Sirius’ employees that he wouldn’t be in today. They seemed unaffected by the news that Sirius was ‘ill’. He didn’t see that they needed to know any details further than that.

Once he returned to the secluded solitude of his own shop, he attempted to look over his appointment schedule for the day. Despite his best efforts to focus on the task at hand, he found his mind was in another place. A very Sirius-centric place.

Old books and chocolate? Sirius said Remus smelled like old books...and chocolate. What did that mean? He had been almost asleep when he had made the statement. Did that matter?

Sirius smelled like fresh coffee and leather. Remus would be lying to himself if he said it hadn’t percolated into his subconscious over the last year and a half. Being in Sirius’ bedroom where his scent was everywhere had caused Remus’ insides to squirm.

Not that any of that mattered. Not really. Sirius was with Silas, and Sirius was his friend...nothing more.

Around mid-day, a middle-aged man wandered into the shop. The bell over the door dinged, and Remus glanced up from the magazine article he was reading.

Remus studied the man with interest. He was wearing black converse, cuffed light wash slim fit jeans, and a black tee. Remus couldn’t help but notice how well his toned body filled out the tee. The man looked around the place like he was surprised to find himself there.

“Can I help you?” Remus offered.

The man jumped. “Whoa! Didn’t see you there! Sorry!” He chuckled, placing one hand to his chest while the other ran through his salt and pepper crew cut. “Whew! Old ticker’s still working,” he added with a jovial smile, and a pat to his chest.

Remus grinned in spite of himself, and stood. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He apologized and held out his right hand. “I’m Remus, and I don’t usually make a habit of scaring my customers to death.”

The stranger’s whiskey colored eyes sparkled. He grasped Remus’ hand in his rough and calloused one. “I’m Logan.”

A bolt of electricity shot through Remus at the handshake, and he cleared his throat. “Ahem. So, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“This is a tattoo parlor, right? I thought the answer to that question would be self-explanatory.” Logan ran a hand across his five o’clock shadow with a mischievous grin.

Oh, brother. Someone thinks they’re a comedian. He forgot to roll his eyes because he was lost in Logan’ sparkling, sepia-flecked ones. “Did you have anything in mind?” You tall drink of probably straight water, he added in his head.

“No,” Logan said with a shrug and a smile that showcased his gleaming straight white teeth.

Right… “Ok. Well, I have a book here of some of the pieces I’ve done.” Remus pulled the book out and laid it open on the table. “You can look through here and tell me if anything jumps out at you.”

Logan leaned over and pulled the book toward him. “You did all these?” he asked in an impressed tone. He eyed Remus up and down before turning back to flip through the pictures.

Remus felt his face flush. He felt very exposed after the ‘check-out’ Logan just gave him. Maybe not so straight after all. He attempted an air of coolness and leaned one hand on the desk to peer through the pictures with Logan. “Yep. All me.”

“Very impressive.” Logan nodded his head.

Remus grabbed his sketch book and a pencil, and hopped up to sit on the desk. “Tell me about yourself,” he said, flipping to a blank page.

Logan's eyes widened only for a moment before he straightened up and leaned his hip against the desk. “Buy a man a drink first,” he said with a sly smile.

Godric, give me strength, said one part of his brain. While the other said, A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone! Instead, he waved the sketch book and said, “I’m going to sketch you a design.”

“Buy me a drink anyway,” Logan said, and took a step closer to Remus.

His sandalwood musk, which Remus had noticed the moment he stepped through the door, was now in sharp relief and threatening to overpower his other senses. At that exact moment, someone else, who smelled like fresh coffee and leather, burst through the door.

“Remus!” yelled the new man.

Logan jumped back the distance from which he had traveled moments before. Eyes and mouth wide in shock at the interruption.

“Remus?”

Remus looked between the confused look on Sirius’ face and the startled one on Logan’s, knowing exactly what this looked like.

“Sirius.” Remus attempted nonchalance. As if a ridiculously good-looking and age-appropriate man, practically breathing down his neck, was an everyday occurrence.

Logan sighed in defeat and stole the sketchbook and pencil out of Remus’ hands. Before Remus could protest the theft, he wrote something in it, closed it, and handed it back to him. “Call me,” he said with a wink and strode out of the tattoo shop, giving Sirius a curt nod.

Remus clasped his hands together in his lap, and lifted a questioning eyebrow at Sirius.

“Is that your attempt to look innocent?” Sirius asked, joining Remus sitting on the desk.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Remus replied.

“Huh, right.” Sirius picked up the sketchbook and flipped through the pages. “And ‘no idea what I’m talking about’ just happened to leave you his number?”

Remus ripped the sketchbook out of his grasp and stood up. Sirius was grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“Quit grinning like that,” he said. “What did you want anyway before you disrupted...nothing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sirius fluttered the paper he was clutching in his hand. “Got a letter from Silas!” He looked down at the letter. “He says he made it to America fine. And he said he gets a personal day tomorrow, and he had a really cool idea.” Sirius' eyes sparkled. “At noon tomorrow, I go to Land’s End in Sennen, Penzance. At the same time, he goes to Montauk Lighthouse in New York. Then we can wave at each other across the ocean. Isn’t that sweet?”

As Sirius finished explaining The Plan, Remus could only nod in disbelief. “If it’s noon here, isn’t that like, 7:00 A.M. in New York?”

“Well, yeah. Anyway, want to come with me?”

“Come with you?”

“Yeah. To Land’s End tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Sirius' face split in a grin from ear to ear. He rushed forward and clutched Remus in a rib-splitting hug. “Thank you so much! I couldn’t stand to go alone. I have to go arrange a portkey.” He released Remus and started for the door. “See you around eleven o’clock tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” Remus waved as Sirius ran out the door.

Why… Remus sat back down in his office chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He put his elbows on the desk. Closing his eyes, he rested his chin in his palms while his fingertips massaged his temples. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Remus contemplated why Sirius had asked him. Why not James? Why did Remus agree so quickly and easily to accompany him?

After some time had passed, Remus stood to look for something constructive to do. The scent of coffee and leather lingered long after Sirius had left, and it made his stomach ache as he paced around the shop. He picked up items only to deposit them somewhere else a moment later. Eventually, he picked up the sketchpad. He looked down on it a long time, before slowly flipping open to the page where Logan had left his number.

Remus hadn’t noticed at the time, but the smell of sandalwood that Logan brought into the shop had disappeared the moment Sirius had appeared. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Logan was really cute. Impossibly really cute. And age appropriate. Maybe he should call him. Maybe...

Remus slammed the book shut and threw it on the desk. Then he sank to the floor and rested his head on his arms between his bent knees. Who was he kidding? He doesn’t date. He can’t date. Not in his condition. And not handsome Muggles.

Next Chapter: Chapter 7

#writersmonth2020 #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #slow burn #alternate universe #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 6 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hey there darlings! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Fame’s email about a collection reconceptualization had everyone in a panic.

This Chapter: Pearl does her boss a solid, and then the dreaded meeting occurs...

***

Pearl Liaison wasn’t a genius, but it didn’t take one to figure out that today would be a rough one.

The company was in quiet chaos, everyone trying their absolute best not to alert their superiors that they were freaking out, her own staff included, but Pearl could see it on them easily.

Pearl had spent the morning putting together a deck of research based on current trends, her and Trixie emailing back and forth as her best friend tried to keep his department under control. By the time she handed the flash drive to one of the marketing interns to print out, it was almost 1.

Pearl could have gone to the cafeteria, but instead, she skipped out and took a trip to Max’s studio. The Brit wasn’t in, but Pearl unlocked the door, walking past all the equipment and out onto the small rooftop terrace that was connected to Max’s workspace for the instances when he needed natural light.

Pearl dumped down, lighting a cigarette, and closed her eyes, the late summer sun shining down on her.

She felt her phone buzz, messages ticking in one after the other.

My office now

Please

Hello?

Pearl why are you not answering your messages?

Pearl smiled and rolled her eyes. She texted a quick ‘on my way’ as well as a winky face as she got up, popping a piece of gum before she made her way back into the building.

Violet was gone from her desk when Pearl got back to Fame’s office—the woman no doubt setting up the same meticulous way she normally did. Pearl sauntered into Fame’s office, a smirk on her face as she closed the door behind her.

“Finally,” Fame said, a bit of a testy edge to her voice. She was sitting behind her desk, and Pearl could see from the pink of her lip that she had been chewing it. “I’ve been calling Patrick, but his assistant says he’s unavailable because they’re going over the settlements for the month, can you believe-”

“A pleasure to see you too.” Pearl locked the door. “So, I assume this isn’t another official meeting?”

Fame sighed, a little crease appearing between her eyes.

“Fame? Pearl asked, a bit more gently. “Are you okay?”

“No, of course I’m not okay.” Fame leaned back in her chair, groaning. “We’re about to re-do the whole collection, start from scratch, and what if it’s a disaster?”

“No one is forcing you to change anything-”

Pearl was cut off as Fame raised a perfect brow.

“All I’m saying is that we could just use the collection that you approved last week.”

“I know we could, but it’s not good enough. It needs to be transcendent.”

Pearl gazed intently at her, blue eyes taking in her beloved boss—unable to understand why she always put such tremendous pressure on herself, but admiring her all the same.

“Anything I can do for you, Miss?” Pearl asked, adding the sleepy drawl to her voice that she knew Fame adored.

“Please,” Fame pushed away from her desk with her bare foot, and she realized that she hadn’t even seen when she had slipped out of her shoes.

Pearl’s mouth turned up in a lopsided grin, walking forward and sinking to the floor.

“Hello.” She dropped a light kiss inside Fame’s knee. Fame’s skin was always perfectly smooth, always a little cold to the touch, and her smell was intoxicating.

Fame lifted her hips slightly, allowing Pearl to reach under her skirt and pull her panties off, spread her thighs. She ran her hands through Pearl’s hair, tangling her fingers into the unruly blonde tresses and then pulling her forward.

Pearl pushed her skirt up, letting her fingers graze over Fame’s pussy until her breath hitched. Her mouth moved to Fame’s inner thigh, placing a soft butterfly kiss against her, feeling fists tighten in her hair.

“Will you hurry up? The meeting is in fifteen minutes.” Fame punctuated her statement with a sharp tug on Pearl’s hair, causing her to giggle.

“Yes, Miss.”

Pearl suppressed her urge to torment her with soft, gentle kitten licks until she squirmed in pain, and got down to business. Her tongue swirled around Fame’s swollen clit, humming lightly, enjoying the dizzying pressure of Fame’s thighs against her ears. She reached up, hands slipping under Fame’s blouse to find the soft lace of her bra, pinching her nipples, making her gasp with pleasure.

It took a shockingly short amount of time before Fame was on the edge, biting on her fist to keep quiet as Pearl’s tongue worked its magic. She clasped Pearl’s hands to her chest, aching with need as she tried to push the girl’s hand down.

“Fingers, please,” Fame choked out, and Pearl complied immediately, sliding two fingers easily inside her, curling forward just so, pausing for a moment to look up at her, gray eyes dark and liquid, before stroking her from the inside.

Fame fucked down against her fingers, heart racing, body tight like a coiled spring. And when Pearl began to suck on her clit, the vice grip she had on her hair tightened even more, her other hand covering her mouth as she did her best to stifle her moans.

She came hard against Pearl’s face, giving her a surge of pride, tongue continuing to swirl until she whimpered in pain.

Collapsing back against her chair with a deep sigh, Fame took Pearl’s face into her hands, tilting her chin up, admiring her own glistening mess for a few moments before handing her a tissue.

“You should go clean up. The meeting’s starting in five minutes,” she told her affectionately.

“Maybe it’ll even start a few minutes late?” Pearl asked, laying a cheek against her thigh. “Give me a chance to grab the decks from my office?”

“Are you asking me for special favors?” Fame said, feigning shock with a hand pressed to her chest.

“Sorry, Miss. It won’t happen again, Miss,” Pearl said with a sparkle in her eye, rising to her feet.

“Although, you know, it’s possible for me to be slightly delayed, I suppose.”

Pearl laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead, giving her a cheeky wink as she left the office.

***

Luckily, Fame wasn’t the first one to arrive in the boardroom, Trixie was.

Violet hated meetings where Fame didn’t follow her schedule because Fame was always on time, everyone else was simply too late or too early.

Trixie had brought two stuffed rolling racks filled with sample pieces from the design department, and armfuls of sample cards with different fabrics.

He had smiled gratefully when Violet had come to help him, the two of them quickly spreading out the best of their current collection so everyone would have a chance to share their input.

What little hair Trixie had was sticking out in all directions, his hand running through it again and again in what Violet could only assume was frustration.

“Are you okay?” Violet wasn’t generally one to ask how others were doing, but Trixie was a kind man, and it seemed like he needed the support.

“My entire department is in a panic.” Trixie groaned, “but it could have been a lot worse. Without you, and without your warning, we would have been seriously screwed.”

He sat down, crossing his arms.

“Who gives a six hour deadline for an alleged complete collection change, anyway?”

Violet bit her lip. She didn’t like going behind Fame’s back, but the look of extreme gratitude in Trixie’s eyes had convinced Violet she had done the right thing for the company, even if she had betrayed Fame’s trust.

The next one to come in was Alaska, who waved at Violet with a smile on her face, followed by Raja and Alyssa who were deep in conversation, while Pearl strolled in as the last one in an entirely new outfit from when Violet had seen her earlier that same day.

Violet quickly took her spot in the corner, the role of an assistant to disappear whenever she was not spoken to.

Fame would be there any minute, and Violet was fiddling with the bottom of her dress, absent-mindedly tugging on a small piece of thread.

It was one of her worst habits, nervous energy always settling over her like a suffocating blanket, and Violet couldn’t help but do something, anything, with herself to distract from the feelings she had inside.

At last, Fame arrived, closing the door behind her. “Where are my sketches, Violet?”

Everyone turned to Violet, and she wished the earth would swallow her up. “Right here Miss!”

Violet grabbed the big folder she had forgotten on the drinks table, taking two long steps to give it to her boss.

Fame had given Violet a stack of sketches after her meeting with Raja, the stroke of the pencil absolutely Fame’s, and Violet couldn’t believe that she had been lucky enough to see an original sketch for her bosses hand, Fame barely ever drawing anymore.

“Did you copy these?”

“Yes Miss.”

“Divide them.” Fame snapped the folder closed. “That’s all.”

Violet nodded, quickly doing as she was asked. She stood for a moment, her eyes meeting Raja’s, and with a short nod from her.

Violet had never been so happy to be sent on a coffee run, but as the editors buckled down, she couldn’t wait to escape the room.

***

“And see this color?” Fame held up a shirt, showing it off to the boardroom. “In the sketches, it was youthful and an interesting statement, but with this lace it looks like we’re catering to age fetishes. The Galactica customer is an adult woman who has her life together.”

Pearl sighed. They’d been at it for hours. Going through the collection piece by piece, Fame happily tearing most of it to shreds, only a dress made by April and two jackets from Betty surviving into the “maybe” pile.

“I don’t hate this skirt...“

Pearl drummed her pencil against the table. It wasn’t that she disliked these meetings, wasn’t that she didn’t like watching a good panic, but she was both frustrated and bored, and Violet wasn’t even there for her to look at or flirt with.

“But the print just isn’t right,” Fame sighed, “This isn’t it.”

“One of our vendors in Italy sent us this floral fabric-” Trixie reached over the table, grabbing one of the sample cards that Gia had come up with.

“Florals,” Fame raised a brow. “For spring? Groundbreaking.”

Pearl bit her lip. She could see the genuine hurt on Trixie’s face, could see how he got burned by Fame’s quick and harsh dismissal of his idea.

“Anyone have a different suggestion?”

No one said anything, and Pearl couldn’t blame them—after all, most of the suggestions anyone had made so far had been immediately shot down. And Fame’s catlike eyes scanned the room, poised to pounce on anyone who dared to open their mouths.

“Did anybody come to work today? All I ask for is staff who know how to deliver, and so far all I see is unwearable prints and tired, reductive suggestions.”

Raja coughed, stopping Fame from going off completely.

“All I ask for is a little bit of some extraordinary brilliance.”

Pearl sighed. She loved Fame, she did, but it was borderline psychotic to ask for brilliance.

“I want something fresh, something different, something—” Fame waved her hand. “We’re not being innovative enough.”

Pearl picked up Fame’s sketches, leafing through them slowly as Raja started speaking, everyone else immediately listening to the authority in her voice.

“Maybe we should go the Victorian route,” Pearl suggested, looking up at Fame questioningly.

“Did you hit your pretty head? I asked for innovation.”

“Wait a second,” Trixie said, jumping up and pawing through the rolling rack of new, proposed looks. He began to pull out a few pieces, tossing them onto the table.

“The aesthetic is coming back, I swear,” Pearl said. “At least among the fashion students.”

“So what do you suggest? Long sleeves and sexy ankles?” Raja asked.

“Long sleeves, high necks, knee length skirts. If we focus on materials like chiffon, silk and lace we could meet the aesthetic.” Pearl knew that this idea might very well get shot down, like all the others, but she was determined to at least give it a fair shake.

“Look,” Trixie said, holding up the pieces he’d found. “Imagine this skirt, but with the hem dropped 4 inches? Or this jacket, but over a high-necked chiffon blouse. Or this pant...it seems like the Victorian idea is already on the designers’ minds. Pearl is definitely onto something.”

He’d seemed to perk up considerably at the idea, grabbing a pencil to make a few quick sketches.

“It wouldn’t be the same old Victorian stuff we always see. It would just be like, using the Victorian lines and detailing in a modern way.”

“Let our customers look and feel the part of prudish power,” Pearl enthused, wiggling her brow.

“I don’t hate it,” Raja said, and everyone at the table looked at Fame, waiting with baited breath to see what their CEO would say.

After an excruciating pause, she finally said, “I don’t either.”

A huge sigh of relief rippled through the boardroom, but it was short lived, Fame making sure they knew that they weren’t done.

“But we need a new color story,” she said. “Something that sets it apart.”

“We have this pink fabric on—” Trixie picked up one of the sample cards, only to have Fame immediately shake her head.

“We used that same pink two years ago, Trixie,” she sighed. “Just when I started to think that maybe your brain had finally joined us, there it went. Out the window.”

Trixie closed his mouth, dejection written all over his face.

Raja sorted through the sample cards, pulling one out and drawing on it.

“If we go to the jungle, use some gold, I think we could be onto something with this palette.” Raja held up the card, mostly rich greens with pops of gold and a smattering of other colors.

“What’s that?” Fame asked, looking at her sketch.

“A Melati Putih. Indonesia’s national flower. It’s cream-colored with vibrant green leaves.”

“It’s beautiful,” Fame stated, looking almost disappointed at her inability to find anything wrong with the suggestion.

“Trixie, can you do something with this?” Raja asked, a note of uncharacteristic kindness in her voice.

Trixie nodded, taking Raja’s sketch, already searching on his tablet for pictures of the flower.

“Alright…” Fame said slowly. “I suppose that’s an interesting direction...”

“Thank fucking Christ,” Pearl muttered, biting her lip when she realized that she’d accidentally said it out loud.

Fame looked at her sharply. “Really, Pearl.”

“I mean...it’s just so great that you’re happy, Miss,” Pearl said with a flutter of lashes.

“I don’t want anyone to think that this is the end of the discussion. Trixie, I’m giving your team two days to work with this new concept and then we’ll have a presentation on Thursday morning. Think big, bold, exciting. Alaska, work closely with Trixie’s team and make sure we’re coming up with at least 3 new eyeshadow palettes that compliment the color story. Alyssa and Pearl, pull together as many Victorian-styled campaigns as you possibly can. I expect comprehensive pitches for the new campaign from you both on Monday next week, including labeling and artwork for the makeup line, once we have a clearer idea of how the clothes look. And all of you will be expected to give a full report of your new budgetary needs to Jaida by Friday, including where you can cut to make up for the expedited timeline.”

Everyone nodded, noting down their individual instructions.

“...But for now,” Fame continued, “I guess you’re dismissed.”

***

“Violet girl, you don’t know how much I love you right now.”

Violet laughed. She had returned right after the meeting had ended to clean everything up and collect what Fame had approved and would need.

“It couldn’t have been that bad. Fame was smiling when she came into her office.”

“Oh, it was that bad, I swear I nearly shat my pants several times over. Who does that to people on a Monday?”

Violet giggled. Trixie was being dramatic, but Violet knew how much Fame valued him.

“You definitely saved my life, but most importantly my sanity. If she wasn’t so brilliant, I’d hate it when she changed her mind, but because of the results, it’s almost worth the shitstains.”

***

“Cheers!” Violet yelled, lifting her glass and gesturing to the people who were sitting around the table. Alaska, Max, Kim, Shangela, Jaida, Katya, Trixie and Pearl were all there, and Violet was on her third gin and tonic, feeling amazing.

Pearl had insisted that everyone had to go out and celebrate the fact that they were still alive.

Violet had wanted to go home, but Pearl had touched her arm and asked her to come, and she couldn’t say no.

The rumor that the design department was going out for drinks had spread throughout Galactica and the bar was filled with their coworkers. Violet had never expected that a bar could be this full on a Monday night, but the rumor of a Galactica party had traveled through the city, and now everyone who tried to be anything was there.

“To Violet!” Trixie said, a smile on his face.

“To Violet!” Everyone else agreed, glasses clicking as all of them drank.

“I-” Violet could feel herself blush. “Thank you-”

“Come dance with me!” Katya smiled, and Violet couldn’t resist as the blonde Russian dragged her towards the dance floor.

Katya was a fabulous dancer, completely unashamed of herself even as she made moves that had Violet doubling over in laughter. Violet and Katya had attempted vogue-ing, which had released one of the hyena laughs from the blonde that Violet was becoming addicted to, making the night even more perfect. Trixie came out, joining Katya in what could only be described as a dance-off between idiots. Violet retreated a little, letting the music decide how she danced, sipping her drink and swaying to the beat by herself.

It still felt strange to dance, still felt weird to let the music guide her without any rules, without someone looking at her, but she was getting better, less and less alcohol needed every time she gave herself over.

Pearl came over, her arms sneaking around Violet’s middle, and they had danced together, the music deciding the rhythm of their hips.

She knew she was into Pearl, had been since the first time they met, but lately she had felt something shift between them, Pearl paying her more attention than she ever had before.

“You’re beautiful, Violet.” Pearl smiled, and Violet could smell the rum on her breath, their faces so close together, their dancing making her wetter than she had been in years.

“Thank you.”

Pearl laughed, pulling Violet even closer, a hand on her hip. She could feel her breath against her face, the two of them so closely together.

Pearl reached up, pushing a bit of Violet’s hair behind her ear, and then, they were kissing.

Violet felt her stomach burst with fireworks, her fingers twitching. Pearl was an amazing kisser, her lipstick sticky in the sexiest way, her grip on Violet’s hip tightening.

Pearl had complete control of the kiss, and Violet wanted to disappear into her forever.

They pulled apart, Pearl’s blue eyes filled with mischief, and Violet felt a rush of heat at the sight of her lipstick smeared all over Pearl’s face.

“Hey-” Pearl smirked, clearly leaning in for another kiss, and Violet wanted to lean in, she did, she really did, but then, Violet felt her hand move on its own, pushing on Pearl’s shoulder, her mouth opening without her consent.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #smut #fame x pearl #violet chachki #miss fame #pearl liaison #trixie mattel #raja gemini #katya zamolodchikova

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thewritewolf · 5 years

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Rekindle Chapter 5 - Baking

While getting settled in to watch some movies, Marinette and Chat Noir bake some cookies for snacking.

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@marichatmay

Enjoy!

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“Really? That’s why your coworkers are mad at you? Seems like a really stupid thing to keep a grudge over.” Chat Noir sipped at the tea Marinette had made for him, holding the mug very carefully to avoid scratching it was his clawed gloves.

“I know, right?! So I had one bad day two years ago and they will still barely talk to me.” She sighed. “I’ve already started looking around for other internships. Even if I don’t get better pay, it’ll at least be nice not to be a social outcast.”

It had been sweet of Chat Noir to listen to her vent for the last… three hours, she realized with a wince as she glanced at her clock. When had Chat Noir become so patient? Her experience with him from Ladybug’s perspective was a hothead who rushed into things without thinking. There had been times where she had to worry more about reining in his more moody episodes than fighting the akuma of the day. Yet here he was, letting her get all her frustrations off her chest while being as supportive as ever.

“It definitely isn’t fair, purrincess. But I think I know what will cheer you up…” She tilted her head to the side as he stretched for the gift box he’d brought. Holding up the dvds, he grinned at her, “...movie night!”

“Hm… sounds good, but missing something.” She tapped her chin for added effect.

“And what’s that?”

“We’ll need snacks. Lots of them.” She caught him glancing towards the last remnants of their dinner. “Pasta is not movie food, chaton, not even delicious pasta.” He puffed his chest out at her off-handed compliment. “How does sugar cookies sound to you?”

“I’ll defer to your superior movie day expertise.” They stood at the same time, but Chat Noir hesitated. “It’s, uh… been awhile since I’ve made cookies. Like, years. So I’ll follow your lead on this one.”

“Well, it’s good for you that I practically grew up baking delicious treats.” She started pulling out all the ingredients she’d need. “Sugar cookies really aren’t that hard, so I’ll just whip up the batter myself. You can help roll them out into balls before we put them in the oven.”

Chat Noir sighed dramatically, holding aloft his chef’s hat. Even after three hours of talking, she didn’t know why he’d brought it besides being a dork. “Ah, from head chef to mere bystander. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Well since you seem so familiar with my kitchen, you can get the pan out and greased while I’m going this.”

“Yes, chef!” Despite the crisp salute, he moved leisurely and hummed a song that Marinette couldn’t quite place while he worked. She was still stirring when he was finished and watching her expectantly.

She stared pointedly at his hands. “Those gauntlets come off, Chat?”

“Yes…? Oh, right. Probably don’t want me rolling cookies in these, do you?” He chuckled to himself as he undid some latch underneath the bulky gloves and Marinette blinked as she realized that this was the first time she’d ever seen her partners bare hands.

They weren’t what she had expected, although she wasn’t aware she even had expectations of what he looked like outside the suit. Since Chat was always a wild child and full of life, she had expected maybe some scars or calluses. Maybe a tan from long days outside. Instead, they looked… soft and well manicured. No sign of rough usage or long healed injuries. The hands of someone who took their looks seriously, and stayed out of trouble. She realized she was staring and quickly looked down at what she was stirring as Chat Noir went to wash his hands.

The rest of the process was spent in companionable quiet and between the two of them all the dough was rolled and flattened in no time at all. Even with her distracted by his bare hands - she’d already been proven wrong twice about her long standing assumptions about him. What else could she have incorrectly assumed?

Once she set the pan in the oven, she asked, “So… want to play a game to pass the time?”

As expected, that got his interest. Though he tried to hide the excitement in his voice, she could see it in his eyes and by the swishing of his tail. “Sure! What did you have in mind?”

“Well, some sweetheart just got me some new sketchbooks, so I was thinking we could do kind of like a drawing charades? We draw something and the other person has to guess what it is. Every three correct answers and we’ll swap positions. Sound good?”

“Sounds purr-fect.” When she pushed the book over to him, he shook his head and pushed it back. “Host gets first turn. Even I know that rule.”

WIth the help of a random word generator, she began sketching the first object. She didn’t make it far from the symmetrical design before Chat Noir made his guess.

“Butterfly?” He grinned. “I’d rather leave work at work, if you don’t mind, Marinette.”

“Okay, fair enough. Butterfly was probably too easy a start. What about this…” She quickly jotted out an outline with four legs, whiskers, and a tail.

He snickered. “Really? Its a cat. No? What else could it - oh, a kitten.”

“Almost got you there, Chat. Can’t get too cocky. Last one before we switch.”

“Uhh, a circle. A pancake? No. Soup with sprinkles?” She looked at where he was hovering over her shoulder and raised her eyebrow. “What? It could happen. Cake with candles.” She gestured for him to continue. “...Oh! Birthday cake.”

“Good job. Now,” she passed the sketchbook and phone with the word generator to him, only now noticing how close he’d gotten, “Your turn.”

He took the offered pencil sheepishly. “Okay, just keep in mind I’m not as good at drawing as you.”

“And that’s part of the challenge for me.” She glanced at the clock. Still a while to go until the cookies were done. “Start when you’re ready.”

His first drawing was a crowd of people just barely above stick figure quality, but what tipped her off was how there was two bigger ones and a smaller one - which lead her to the correct guess of family. Next he made a long-sleeved shirt with surprisingly good detail. The two of them had gone through her fall clothing sketchbooks before. Was that where he learned to draw sweaters? The last one had been more abstract, but his little forest scene made more sense when he doodled wind and falling leaves. In hindsight, autumn should have been obvious.

“Alright, my turn again.” She hesitated for a moment before turning the page, savoring the little drawings Chat had made before starting her turn.

With only a single rectangle to go off of Chat Noir began guessing. “Box!” She added z’s coming off of it. “Tired box. Sleeping box. Bed!”

She took quick break to laugh before turning to him incredulously. “Sleeping box?!”

“I remembered the word eventually,” he grumbled. “Did I at least get it right?”

“No, but you’re close. Let’s see if this helps…” She drew another rectangle around the box and he finally got it.

“Oh! Pillow!”

She nodded and started work on her next drawing. It didn’t take long for him to figure out ‘gloves’, especially since she just copied his suit’s. Just as she reached for her phone to go for another round, she saw the time.

“Cookies should be done now, so that’s the end of the game.” She saw a brief look of disappointment on Chat Noir’s face. “Don’t worry, we can always play again some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to that. At least sugar cookies are a good reason to stop.” He took a deep breath as she took them out of the oven. “Ahhhh… delicious.”

She giggled, “You haven’t even had any!”

“Well, it’s a dupain-cheng baked good, so it goes without saying.”

“Such a flatterer.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“And that’s because it’s true. Doesn’t make you any less of a flatterer for bringing it up.” She set the platter of cookies on the table. “Don’t eat all those while I’m gone. I’m going to scrounge up a bunch of pillows and blankets. Can you get ready to start the movies while I’m looking?”

“Sure.”

It took awhile for her to find where she’d stashed all of it. After all, it had been months, if not a full year since she’d needed to pull out extra pillows and blankets. Which made her stop and really think. Had it been so long since she’d had anyone stay over? She’d gotten into such an exhausting routine at work, she hadn’t even realized. By the time she came back, Chat Noir was lounging on her couch, eyes closed and hands behind his head. The television wasn’t even on, much less set up. She narrowed her eyes at him and walked towards him.

He cracked open one eye and grinned at her. “Hey, purrincess. Find everything- ack!” His sentence was cut off when she dumped everything onto him and jumped on top of it. “Hey! I was laying here!”

She coyly looked down at him, being sure to open her eyes in mock surprise. “Oh! Sorry. I must not have noticed you there.” She smiled sweetly at him. “I’m comfortable. Are you ready to watch some movies.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Get off and I’ll start them.”

She jumped off of him and while he was busy with the dvd player, Marinette unfolded the blankets and strategically placed some pillows while pulling up the table to put the cookies on. By the time he was done, she was under the blankets and holding them up for him. He slipped in after turning off the lights and their marathon began.

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

The light of the credits provided scant illumination for the room. Despite eating all the sugar cookies, the two of them were feeling drained after the long day and relaxing in front of the television. Marinette was barely able to keep her eyes open. She’d long since given up the struggle to sitting up straight and she was leaning against Chat Noir, her head was resting on his shoulder. As sleepy as she felt that she was, she knew that Chat was doing even worse, since he’d already nodded off a couple times during the last movie. She pulled herself away from Chat, only now noticing that his arm had snaked around her at some point during the last few hours. Stretching, she stood and gently nudged him.

“Chat? It’s pretty late and it doesn’t feel right to send you out when you’re this tired. You want to crash here?”

Yawning, he replied, “If that’s alright with you, yeah.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you to the guest room. Grab some of those pillows and blankets and make yourself comfortable.”

He shambled after her, only reluctantly still awake before collapsing onto the guest bed. No sooner had she closed the door than a flash of green light appeared under the door. Her heart fluttered for a moment - on the other side of the door was whoever Chat Noir actually was. She stood still for a few long heartbeats before his snoring broke her out of it.

“Goodnight, kitty,” she whispered before heading to bed herself.

#MarichatMay2019 #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Marichat #ml fanfiction #my writing #Rekindle

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woo-san-shine · 5 years

Text

Our Way

ateez college au

Premise: You and your best friend from high school move away to a university 3 hours away from your small hometown. You find yourself meeting a strange cast of characters along the way that will help you find your way throughout your freshman year.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Slight swearing

Author’s Note: A work in progress!!! Mostly just for fun. Kind of a filler chapter, sorry if it’s boring

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Chapter 7

A dull buzzing sound awakens me from my deep sleep. I feel around for my phone in the darkness. The clock reads 7:30 am. I wanted to make sure to give myself plenty of time to shower and get ready due to the fact that I was way too tired to do anything last night after we had gotten back from 'the cleanse'. I see that I have some new messages.

As we were walking back from the fountain last night Hongjoong had noticed me yawning and insisted on making sure I was awake in time for our first class by giving me his number.

I pull up a picture of my class schedule and glance through it for probably the hundredth time.

Intro to Drawing- Monday Wednesday Friday 9 am - 10:30 am

Freshman English- Monday Wednesday Friday 12 pm - 1:30 pm

Art History- Tuesday Thursday 10 am - 12 pm

Foundations in 2D and 3D Design- Tuesday Thursday 12:30 - 2:30

Computer Graphic Applications- Wednesday 6 pm - 9 pm

I was pretty pleased with how my schedule had turned out, except for that one night class on Wednesdays that I was already dreading.

I quietly climb down from my bed, grab all of my shower supplies, and head to the bathroom. Sooyoung classes all started after mine did, so I would have to get used to either getting ready in the bathroom or in the total darkness of our room.

After a nice hot shower, I get dressed and apply some light makeup. I am wearing one of my favorite oversized vintage band t-shirts that I tie in a knot at the hem, another pair of high-waisted shorts, and some worn-out converse. If I was a character in a video game, this would be the outfit that my character would always be wearing. I pack everything I need for the day in my backpack, grab my travel mug full of coffee I had just made, and make my way down to the lobby to meet Hongjoong.

When the elevator door opens I see him sitting on one of the couches looking at his phone. When he sees me coming, he immediately starts waving eagerly.

"How do you already have this much energy?" I ask as I walk over to him.

"Ah, I'm the type of person who doesn't need a lot of sleep to function," he replies, getting up from the couch.

"I brought you this," I say to him, pulling my hand from behind my back to reveal an extra muffin that I had grabbed from my stash in my dorm.

He places a hand to his heart. "Really? For me?"

"Yeah, as a thanks for making sure I was awake," I say.

Hongjoong smiles and takes the muffin as we exit the dorm and start walking towards the College of Arts building. He starts telling me about how he has three other classes today, not including the one we're heading to now.

"Damn, you're going to be busy," I say, impressed at his schedule load.

"I like being busy! Keeps my mind occupied."

There are already a lot of students walking around campus even though it's still pretty early. There's a buzz of excited chatter in the air.

"Are you nervous?" He asks me.

"Honestly, a little bit," I say after a sip of coffee. "I just don't know what to expect, ya know?"

"Yeah, I just wonder what that class will be like."

The Arts building is very distinguishable amongst other others due to it being the only building on campus that had a full mural painted on the front. We walk in and after consulting some signs, we walk in the direction of the classroom. There is artwork everywhere; paintings on the wall, statues, displays, visual screens, anything that you could think of. Even the students looked like works of art.

Once we arrive at the designated room, Hongjoong pokes his head in through the doorway and then motions for me to follow him inside. The room itself has a very sleek, industrial look to it with high ceilings and exposed brick. There are long tables with four chairs at each scattered around the room. At one of the tables towards the middle of the room sits Yeosang.

"Mind if we join you?" Hongjoong teases as he makes his way over to Yeosang.

"Hey Joong, Jaemin," he nods to both of us.

We join him at the table, Hongjoong next to him and me next to Hongjoong. The room starts to fill up with more and more students, some looking nervous, others looking downright terrified.

"You would think everyone just walked into the gallows or something," I say to the pair as I glance around the room.

"Apparently this professor is pretty tough," Yeosang says to me.

"Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?" A voice says from behind me.

I turn to see a small girl with short hair and glasses nervously standing next to the open seat next to me.

"No, please, have a seat," I say nodding to the chair.

She looks grateful and she sets her bag down and takes a seat.

"I'm Jaemin, and this is Hongjoong and Yeosang," I say to the girl while I point to each of the boys. Hongjoong excitedly waves and Yeosang nods.

She smiles. "Chaewon, nice to meet you."

"What are you studying?" I ask her, trying to make polite conversation.

"Fine Arts, for now. I'm hoping to find my specialty soon and then focus on that."

Before we can talk further, a tall woman wearing long, billowing clothes enters the room and strides toward the front of the class. Her jet black hair is pulled up into a tight bun and she is wearing a lot of ornate jewelry. She stops at the front of the class and surveys the room.

"Class, my name is Ms. Lee, and I will be your Intro to Drawing professor this semester." She says all this with a very low, stern tone. "I only have a few rules in this classroom. One, you must arrive for class on time and bring all of your supplies every day. Two, no loud voices. And three,” she pauses, survey the room. “No food or drink on the drawing tables."

It's a few seconds before I realize that Ms. Lee is staring directly at our table. I glance at Hongjoong's half-eaten muffin that I had given him sitting in front of him and then at my coffee mug in front of me.

"Oh I'm so sorry," Hongjoong says hurriedly as he grabs the muffin off the table.

I quickly grab my mug and try and stuff it into the side pocket of my bookbag. At a surprising speed, Ms. Lee grabs the trash can that was sitting next to her desk, walks over to our table, and hold it in front of Hongjoong. He tosses the half-eaten muffin inside. Then she holds it in front of me.

I stare up her, a little dumbstruck. I start to unscrew the lid of my mug to dump out my coffee into the trash can.

"Nope, the whole thing," she says, nodding toward my mug. She pushes the trash can closer to me.

"What?" I can hear Hongjoong whisper.

I can feel the entire classroom looking at me. Hongjoong looks like he's going to start yelling and Chaewon looks like she could start crying. I sadly drop my mug into the trash can and stare down at the table. She turns away and heads back up to the front of the room, setting the trash can next to her desk.

"For your first assignment, you will be drawing portraits of the person sitting next to you. Realistic, pencil only, to be turned in on Wednesday." With this, she takes a seat at her desk, pulls out a book, and starts reading.

The class stares around aimlessly for a few minutes. Ms. Lee looks up from her book.

"Well, you better get working," she says with her eyebrows raised.

The class immediately starts pulling out sketchbooks and pencils.

"What the hell just happened?" Hongjoong whispers to the table.

"I'm kinda scared," Chaewon said nervously.

"We can talk after class," Yeosang whispered to us. "We should probably get working." He swivels in his seat to intently stare at Hongjoong and begins sketching.

"Are you okay, Jaemin?" Hongjoong asks me.

I was silently fiddling with my pencils. "Yeah, I'm fine." I turn to Chaewon. "Do you mind if I draw you?"

"Oh, of course not!" she says eagerly.

We spend the remainder of the class doing rough sketches of each other's faces. The second the clock strikes 10:30, Ms. Lee gets up from her desk. She glances around the classroom one more time, pausing at our table. Leaning over she grabs the trash bag containing my mug and Hongjoon's half-eaten muffing and strides out of the room.

“Well, there goes my mug,” I say while staring at the doorway Ms. Lee had just walked out of.

"I guess that means the class is over," Chaewon says looking around the room.

"Class, right." Hongjoong huffs. "She didn't even teach anything! No guidelines on how she wants these portraits done? She sat up there on her ass the whole time reading that goddamn book. And then that whole stunt with your mug, Jae! What was that about?"

"I did some research on some of the professor here," Yeosang says, interrupting Hongjoong's ranting. "Apparently she pulls stuff like this every year to try and intimidate students. No one knows why."

"I guess I just happened to be the unlucky target this year," I say.

"I didn't even get to finish my muffin!" Hongjoong is basically yelling at this point.

"If you're so hungry, let's go get some lunch," Yeosang says, pulling Hongjoong towards the door.

"Do you want to come with us?" I ask Chaewon.

"Really?" she says.

"Yeah," Hongjoong adds. "We're table friends now."

She giggles, and the four of us leave the classroom and head towards the nearest dining hall.

...

After lunch, I bid Hongjoong, Chaewon, and Yeosang goodbye and walk in the direction of my next class. I secretly pray that it goes better than the trainwreck that was this morning.

Campus is much busier now that it is almost noon. Students are everywhere, and I fall into the natural flow of traffic as we all make our way to our various destinations. My English class is located in one of the oldest buildings on campus. The inside looks like something straight out of a classic 80s college movie. It was a drastic change from the modern feeling the Arts building had. I walk into the classroom and am pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face.

"Fancy seeing you here," I say to Mingi, who immediately looks up from his phone as I approach his desk.

"Jaemin?! What are you doing here?" He looks happy to see me.

"I'm in this class," I say a little jokingly

"Oh, yeah I guess that would make sense," He says while running his hand through his hair. "Here, take a seat," he says while patting the desk next to him.

"What are the odds that would actually have a class together?" I ask him as a set down my bag and take a seat.

"Honestly, way too large to calculate right now. My brain is already fried from my class this morning," he says, rubbing his temples.

"Oh, how was it?"

"It was alright, I'm already just a little overwhelmed."

"Tell me about it, at least one of your professors isn't out to get you."

"Seriously?"

I tell him the whole story about Ms. Lee and the coffee mug.

"You're kidding," he says after I finish.

"Nope. RIP to one of my favorite mugs."

"That really sucks though, like she was way out of line as a professor."

"I guess.." I pause. "Did you have a class with Sooyoung already? She was still asleep when I left this morning."

"Oh yeah," Mingi says, fidgeting in his seat a little. I could tell even just the mention of Sooyoung's name made him blush. It was really cute. "This is the only class I actually don't have with her."

"Well, I guess you have to settle for me then," I joke.

He laughs a little. "Oh psssh I like you too, Jae."

This class did go much smoother than Intro to Drawing had. The professor seemed nice and normal, the workload seemed manageable, and I had Mingi there to keep me entertained me the whole time. Even though I had basically spent the last two days with him, I hadn't really talked to him personally since he was preoccupied with Sooyoung most of the time. He's actually a really goofy guy. He kept imitating the professor in different accents under his breath while I had to stifle my laughter multiple times.

As Mingi and I exit the building and walk towards our dorm, I can't help but be thankful that he was there to cheer me up.

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a-arcane-author-blog · 6 years

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Sometimes Ingrid can see the house on the lake.

Usually the swamp mist sweeps over the murky lake water and nothing is visible through the opaque, purple-grey fog but on certain days, the outline of a rickety old house can be seen.

Ingrid squints as she toes the edge of the water, her thick, black boots squelching in the mud.

Today, she can just barely make out its shape through the heavy mist; the slanted roof, the old pier and the faded lines of the walls.

The house has always fascinated her. It’s a ghost that only appears in specific hours, in the waning, gloomy sunlight that filters through the mist. There’s no actual way to reach the house for it’s too far from the shore and on some days, Ingrid convinces herself that the house is a figment of her imagination, a conjuring of her own mind from her love of mysteries.

But today the outline is visible, though barely, and that’s enough evidence to reassure her that the swamp house is real.

Satisfied, Ingrid backs away from the water, almost tripping over an overturned, half-rotted desk in her retreat. She weaves her way around the old, forgotten wreckages that people have dumped here and hauls herself onto the bonnet of a badly rusted sedan that’s missing its two front wheels.

The car was once yellow but the rust and peeling paint has turned it into something between burgundy and brown. One of its backdoors is missing and the leather seats have been eaten away by hungry bugs. Wry, yellow grasses have twisted themselves around the exterior of the car, poking through holes made by weathering and corrosion.

Ingrid spills the contents of her rucksack beside her and tears open a packet of honey biscuits. The crunch of her teeth echoes loudly in the eerie silence that blankets the marsh.

From where she sits, the lake water looks bottomless, it’s slick, dark surface peppered with glancing rays of sunlight that have escaped the mist’s gloom.

There’s something inexpiably magical about this place. Perhaps it’s because the swamp is an old dumping ground where people leave things they no longer want or things they wish to forget. It is a collection of relics, a necropolis with echoes of people’s lives all buried in thick mud.

Ingrid sees dozens of old, broken down cars, some in wreckages, some completely intact. There is an assortment of household furniture from wardrobes without doors to creaky, metal bedframes. A black upright piano, heavily chipped at the top and missing the lid, is sinking into the peat a few feet from Ingrid. It’s missing most of its keys and exposed piano wires stare up from the gaps between its teeth.

Ingrid loves this place more than anywhere else in the world.

Magic is not the bursts of fire and shivers of ice you see in books, she thinks. Magic sits in little things. In forgotten things. In peeling paint and rusted metal.

But all good things must come to an end and Ingrid packs up her impromptu picnic so she can head home before her father returns from work. He’ll kick up such a big fuss if she isn’t home, the poor, paranoid soul. He’s been like ever since her mother left.

Ingrid looks back one last time, taking in the magic she’s leaving behind, and follows her footsteps back to the small country town of Orene.

Mister Russel Mallory is a hulking giant of a man but Ingrid knows her father has a soft heart.

He bumps his head against the roof of their tiny kitchen as he bustles around, trying to make dinner.

“Will pasta do?” he asks, holding a dented tin of premade pasta sauce.

“Anything will do,” Ingrid singsongs, setting two ceramic dishes on granite kitchen counter because they don’t have a dining table.

Their house is small with three rooms in all. The kitchen and lounge are half-melded into each other, leaving two small rooms; one for Ingrid and one for her dad. There’s no bathroom so they use the well outside and the outhouse is a few feet further. Ingrid learnt not to be afraid of the dark at a young age. There aren’t any lights outside so toilet breaks in the night are done with oil lamps and brave hearts.

Her dad cuts up onions while trying not to cry and Ingrid takes a turn stirring the bubbling sauce over the stove. They coordinate well, always have, and cooking is something Ingrid enjoys to do with him. It keeps him focused and away from the self-deprecating thoughts her mother had left him with.

The pasta is a little on the gooey side because, despite Ingrid’s love for it, neither her nor her father can actually cook. But they make do. Sodden pasta isn’t too bad when eaten by the warmth of the lounge fireplace. The nice thing about having a small house is that it’s cosy and snug, cocooned in familiar warmth.

“How was school today?” her father asks over a mouthful of pasta.

Russel Mallory looks a lot like Ingrid, though she doesn’t have his square jaw or dusty blonde hair. But Ingrid does have his bronze skin, his thin nose, his curved lips that naturally tilt upward in a little smile and his dark, dark blue eyes. She’s a skinnier, lankier version of him with bobbed chestnut hair that tickles her chin and a twinkling curiosity that isn’t easily sated.

“Boring,” Ingrid says because it really is. There’s no magic in textbooks and equations even if Mister Sheffield argues otherwise. There’s no magic quite like the misty swamp. “How was work?”

Her dad groans loudly. “Sometimes I really wonder why I let McGrath walk all over me. He’s a hard bastard.”

“It’s because you’re soft-hearted,” Ingrid replies, a hint of chiding in her voice. “You need to tell me what you’re thinking.”

Her father sighs dejectedly and Ingrid knows he won’t stand up to his employer even if hell freezes over or her classmates start casting spells.

“I’m sorry I come home so late. I hate to leave you by yourself for so long.”

Ingrid is more worried about leaving him by himself. Ingrid can take care of herself.

She hums in reply, half-acknowledgement of his statement and half-apology for her secret sneaking escapades. She used to feel guilty but guilty gets boring after so many years.

There’s something cathartic about drawing with charcoal. Perhaps it’s the rough friction of moving the stub along paper or the starkness of black against an otherwise white sheet.

Ingrid spends most of her evenings holed up in her little room, leaning over her wooden desk which is scattered with pages and pages of loose sketch papers. Her chair has one uneven leg so she’s stuck a wedge underneath it.

Most of the time, Ingrid draws the swamp. It’s always the same things drawn in different angles. There’s the piano, the rusty cars and of course, the swamp house. Ingrid draws the swamp house most. She has hundreds of its charcoal structure pinned up on her walls.

Her fingers are smudged as she outlines what she saw today. She presses lightly to create that ghostly effect of something sort of there but also sort of not. The main problem she has when she’s drawing is that she’s trying to capture magic on paper when magic isn’t supposed to be on paper.

When the swamp house takes form on the page, it doesn’t have the magic it has when it’s sitting on the dark water amongst lost remnants.

Ingrid sighs and pins the drawing onto her wall, pushing papers aside to make room on her desk. She needs to study if she wants to get into a university in the city. All the good jobs are there and Ingrid dreams of making enough money that her dad won’t have to work.

McGrath’s mechanic shop overworks and underpays their employees but Russel Mallory is poor and desperate and Ingrid’s school doesn’t allow her to take up a part-time job. So until the day she graduates, Ingrid is stuck dreaming.

#writing #anju's writing #short text #fiction #creative writing #story ideas #writerblr #prose #swamp #atmosperic #writers on tumblr #original #i might add more later

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toukens · 7 years

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Chapter Rating: Mature Pairing: Touka Kirishima x Haise Sasaki (Tousaki) Genre: AU (Godless/Western) | Word Count: 3117 Chapter Warnings: Swearing and alcohol usage AU: Heavily influenced by the Netflix series Godless. This world of the wild west is new to everyone and everyone sure as hell wants to make this place their paradise. But how can a paradise be full of bandits, murderers and people who claim to be the law? Chapter: 1/? Chapter Note: $1,500 in 1860s is worth roughly $20k today. ________________________________________

With a heart beating wildly out of control, the woman awoke with a start. Not only had her dreams been filled with terrors of the past, but… there was water on her face? Before she had time to actually process why there were little droplets littered over her features, there was suddenly a heavy stream poured on her face.

Sitting up, sputtering for air, Touka’s wild eyes looked around only to land on a smug face. Fucking Ayato.

“Oi. Shitty sister. Wake up. We’re hungry.” The man spoke, his fingers still wrapped around the handle of the bucket. Without thinking twice about the consequences of her actions, Touka swiped the bucket from her younger brother’s fingers and swung it at him. Narrowly missing his head and hearing a hollow thud sound from behind him, both siblings froze. Ayato was the first to slowly turn around to see Yomo’s usually stoic features twitching with pain. Direct hit.

A sharp hiss escaped from between Touka’s teeth as she abruptly stood, but not without swinging her pillow at her brother. This… was unfortunately not the first time. “Touka…” The voice growled, his usually calm voice raising.

“Hey! It’s not my fault, he dumped water on me ag-”

“Just. Don’t do it again.”

“If Ayato doesn’t do it again, I won’t.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“...Fine.” Touka grumbled as she shot a glare at her brother who still held a nervous look on his features. He wouldn’t forget about that easily. But that tense look only lasted a moment as Ayato then turned to his sister. “Well?”

“Don’t ‘well’ me, you asshole. You can cook for yourself- unless you want to finally admit that you can’t cook for shit.”

“I’ll make it myself then. Don’t blame me if there’s a fire again.”

“I will blame you.”

With that, the two siblings parted as their bickering ceased at last. While Ayato tried his hand in the kitchen, Touka walked over to the foot of her bed and opened the old chest that lay there. Pushing past the dresses that she was expected to wear, the violet haired woman brought out a pair of breeches and a fitted flannel. The flannel had been her brother’s until he had grown out of it and the same went for the breeches. However, the trousers were just a bit too large for her. This was an easy fix thanks to the worn suspenders she easily buttoned to the pants.

Returning to the head of her bed, Touka withdrew a knife from the post of her bed and gave it a twirl before finding it’s sheath and wrapped it around her left thigh. If she was somehow forced to wear a dress, this was usually her go to weapon. But she wasn’t forced to do anything on her ranch, so the woman reached for her holster, the gun still embedded in the conditioned leather. It was a Colt 1871-72 Open Top- her father had given it to her at a young age. He wanted her to be a strong woman and always joked that men would bow before her with both this gun and her attitude. It might sound strange, but she felt like she was always closer to him when she held this gun.

Straightening her shoulders, Touka pushed open her door and walked out to join the two men, struggling in the kitchen. Ayato gave a glance before letting out a small snort. “Why won’t you ever dress like a proper woman?”

“‘Cause we need a man in this house.” Touka shot back, sitting down at the table and kicking up her feet as she watched Ayato look cluelessly at the eggs he had brought in from the coop this morning. It was always fun to watch him try to cook when it was painfully obvious that he didn’t learn a single thing from her. Unfortunately, she wasn't the best cook either, but at least her food was edible.

With a disappointed huff, Touka dropped her feet and walked over to the rough stove they had managed to buy with their already sorry funds. Pushing Ayato aside, the woman raised an eyebrow as she looked down at the egg whites and yolks burned beyond salvaging. “You suck at this.” She quipped.

“It doesn’t help that I have a shit teacher.” He scoffed as he watched Touka scrape the burnt eggs away and break a couple new ones over the soot covered pan. The woman then poked at their breakfast with an old but clean wooden spatula. Everything they had here was inherited from their parents.

Motioning at Yomo to give her the cup of water he was drinking out of, the man gave a small sigh but obliged. Taking the cup, the woman dumped what she assumed was two or three tablespoons of water onto the hot pan and eggs before grabbing a pan lit and putting it atop of the frying pan.

“Why’d ya do that? I dun want any soggy eggs.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Touka taunted as she reached out to smack Ayato with with spatula. “It helps so you don’t burn the eggs, and they also come out fluffy. How’re you gonna get a wife if you can’t cook?”

“Because the woman should be cooking”

Smack.

“You’ll never impress Hina with that attitude.”

Those words seemed to fluster Ayato as he crossed his arms in a defensive position. “Yeah? And what about that sheriff that stops by? Don’t tell me you don’t see the look on his face when he sees you?”

“What? Arima? Horse shit.”

Hearing Ayato mutter a few choice words at her, Touka only rolled her eyes in response and she returned the cup to Yomo. Waiting a minute or so, the Kirishima picked up the lid and watched as steam rose and quickly fanned it away. Putting the lid away, Touka grabbed a plate and dumped the half dozen eggs onto the plate before splitting them up onto other plates with bread.

“Eat while I make coffee.” Touka ordered as she began to pull out the beans and went to work. While they were helpless without her, she didn’t know what she would do without them. This thought only brought a small smile to her lips.

Returning to the table with three cups of coffee, Touka sat down and began to pick at her food. It didn’t take long to finish because it wasn’t much of a meal, but at least it was something. When they had silently concluded their breakfast, Yomo gathered the plates. “Why can’t you be more like him?” Touka directed at her brother.

“Fuck off.”

And that was the last words she heard from Ayato before he slipped on his boots, grabbed the Henry 1860 and walked out the door. Looks like he was going to be useful today and hunt them some game. Meanwhile, the small herd of horses in the round pen out front needed some looking after while Yomo took care of just about everything else.

Putting on her own boots, Touka opened the door and was hit was a strong gust of dust. Slamming the door behind her to avoid getting any more particulates into the house than necessary, the woman couldn’t help but wish for some rain. Until then, she had a job to do. Squinting out towards the herd, the woman noticed the mares fighting over their position again and the stallions eyeing each other as though waiting for one of them to make the first move. She really needed to fix the fence so they had some more space to run.

Grabbing a bale of overly dried hay, the woman hauled it over the fence before repeating the process three more times for the thirty or so horses. They really needed more space. After that job was completed, Touka trudged over towards the well and began to fetch some water for the horses, so she could fill the trough as much as she could. Then it was time to work on the fences once more. The day was filled with these long, enervating tasks, and each time hardly varied from the other. But it kept them all busy.

In the midst of the tasks today while Touka decided to take a break to quench her thirst, the Kirishima saw a horse coming their way on the horizon. It wasn’t the plain bay that Ayato rode, but instead a grey. Whoever it was, they weren’t welcome on this property. Backtracking towards the house, Touka let out a curse as she recalled that Ayato had the rifle. Guess her revolver would have to do.

Retrieving the slick gun from her holster, the woman held her ground as she watched the stranger approach, the barrel of the gun trained at her target. It was a minute or so until she realized who exactly was approaching, an agrivated huff escaping her lips as she dropped the gun to her side. Waiting for his approach, Touka kept shaking her head.

“Miss Kirishima.” The white haired man greeted with a small tip of his hat.

“Arima.” Touka responded shortly to let him know that she wasn’t fond of his visit. Luckily, he easily read her reaction and decided to keep their conversation short- like they always were.

“Gotta a new warrant out. Thought I would inform you of this man.” Arima spoke as he reached back into his saddle back and grabbed a flimsy piece of paper with a rough sketch on it.

Narrowing her eyes at the paper, Touka rested her hands on her hips. “Okay. You can go now.” She spoke, annoyed by his presence.

“Ken Kaneki. Please, at least, remember the name. The man is up to no good and has many dogs on his trail.” Arima spoke, dropping the paper to the ground before backing his horse up to be on his way. Thank god. But if the man had dogs on him, that meant he probably betrayed his own group of bandits. Interesting.

Watching as the sheriff finally let her be, Touka glanced down at the paper in the dirt. Ken Kaneki, huh? What kind of reward were they looking at? Pacing up to the paper, Touka brushed off the dust with her foot and a look of surprise rose to her features. One thousand five hundred dollars. While it may not sound like much, it was enough to fix up the property nicely.

Regardless, Touka couldn’t help but feel confused as to why Arima insisted on checking on her family. They were a good few miles away from the small town, yet he stopped by. Was he waiting for the day he would stumble across their corpses? If that was the case, he better wait a lifetime because the woman wouldn’t die easily. She may be a woman in a man’s world, but she held her ground.

By the time Ayato finally returned home, the cool dark blanket of the night began to settle down on the ranch. Touka was the first to greet him, examining his catch. He had managed to kill a couple rabbits. For some reason, Touka was fond of these small creatures and everytime time Ayato returned with their carcasses, it pained her. But they needed them to survive and she had no right to be picky.

“Why can’t you ever catch a deer?” She teased as she examined the rabbits. Frowning as she noticed one of the rabbits had a large hole in it’s hide from the bullet of the rifle. It would be difficult to salvage this one, but again, they had to.

The frown Ayato gave her told her that there weren’t any deer. The more skillful hunters severely depleted out the population. Without another word, her brother took his catch to the back and began to process of skinning and drying the meat. Meanwhile, it was time for Touka to make a final sweep of the property.

Arming herself with the rifle that Ayato had left with her, Touka kept one gloved hand on the barrel and the other bare, tracing the cool metal of the trigger. It wouldn't be the first time if she found a stray coyote lurking or a man with ill intentions. With both those incidents, her rifle was her only ally.

Following her usual path, Touka made sure to poke at some of the posts to make sure they were able to stand if they happened to be pushed by a strong gust. Frowning as a small post toppled over with the pressure of her hand, the woman let out a small sigh as she kneeled and placed her gun on the ground. Digging at the base of the post with her hands, Touka pulled the post up and tried to steady it in it’s makeshift hole. Letting out a grunt of effort as it tried to fall once more, she froze as she heard something out of the ordinary. The sound of hooves thundering towards her. A lone horse- either it was a large creature or it held a rider.

Eyes rising Touka let out a surprised shout as a large shadow of a horse was nearly upon her even though the sound of the hooves seemed farther off than they actually were. Crawling back a meter or two as the horse charged in her direction, the impact was imminent. The velvet body of the horse was easily split by the barbed wire as it charged through, snapping the old and rusted cables, but also earning itself some serious injuries.

She hadn’t noticed the man on the horse’s back until the horse had fallen, the body of a lean man tumbling to the ground as the horse forced itself to its feet and began to run once more, spooked by something. Naturally, it noticed the herd in the round pen and charged towards her horses. But she wasn’t worried about the large horse now, she was worried about the man on the ground not too far from her.

Ignoring the ruined fence, Touka quickly got to her feet and grabbed the rifle before closing the distance between the two of them. The long barrel was pointed at the man as she was now hovering over him. There was blood soaking through a wound on his arm and another on his thigh. She didn’t know or care at this point about how he was. She needed to know who he was and why he was here.

“Who the fuck are you?” The woman growled as she glared down at the man with narrowed eyes. The man’s hat had fallen beside him to reveal a mess of black and white hair and fairly glazed eyes. Whoever he was, he probably didn’t know who he even was after that fall or even because of his inflicted.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself again. Who are you?”

In response to her demands, the man seemed awfully confused and only tried to block the view of the rifle with his dirty hands. He was only able to keep his tried arms up for bit before they fell at his sides, obviously exhausted.

Eyeing his body, Touka noted that there were no obvious weapons on his body and ultimately decided to take her aim from the stranger. He wasn’t fit to fight back and like hell she would just let this man go now. He damn well owed her a new fence.

Dropping the gun, Touka didn’t say a word as she hooked her arm around the man and began to drag him towards the barn. He needed to get out of the cold but she wouldn't bring this man in her house.

After hauling his body towards the barn, Touka pushed open the door and brought him inside. Looking around for an appropriate place to put him, the woman dropped his limp body against a pile of hay before leaving for a second to light the lanterns around her so she would be able to see and to inform Ayato and Yomo of this man.

Dropping a nail over one of the small flames, the woman didn’t hesitate to unbutton the stranger’s shirt and take it off to get a better look at the wound. Hearing small whines of protest from the man as each time she moved his body seemed to hurt him, Touka lifted his chest forward to see if the wound still had a bullet lodged in it. To his luck, the wound was clean of metal. But he wouldn’t like what was to come.

Rising, Touka found the nail she had left on the flame and handled it with her gloved hand before turning towards the man, the glow of the hot nail reflected in his eyes.

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch.” Touka spoke before placing the hot nail over the wound. The sickly smell of burning flesh arose between the two as the man suddenly let out a loud cry of pain. Before he could do anything, Touka was able to move him forward to place the hot nail over the other end of the bullet wound. At this point, the man didn’t make another sound. Placing the nail back over the flame, the woman moved her hand under his nose to see if he was still breathing. To her surprise, he was. Guess that was supposed to be a good thing.

With her features unchanged throughout this process, Touka withdrew her knife and cut the fabric around the wound on his thigh. This one didn’t seem to be as life threatening and didn’t require to be cauterized as it looked like it had clotted. Luckily, Ayato came just in time with a shot of whisky in his grasp. He knew what she needed.

Taking the shot and dumping it on the thigh wound, Touka began to tear the man’s shirt into strips of cloth to cover the wound with a bit of pressure. Tying off the ends, Touka stopped her job and finally rose to her feet to look at what she had done. To be honest, she didn’t realize how well built his body was until her eyes gazed over him now. She had to guess he was in his mid to early twenties- but neither of those things mattered. For now, he just needed to wake up in the morning.

Tossing a saddle blanket over his body, Touka blew out the candles before vanishing into the dark. This wasn’t the first time she had to treat an injured person who stumbled on to her ranch, but she had a feeling that this time would be very, very different.

#guys this is my first fic in forever #it sucks ass #touka x kaneki #touka x haise #kaneki x touka #haise x touka #touken #tousaki #pls be nice xD

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