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velvetcoves · 4 years

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some V3 relationship HCs :) (boys)

(f/n)= first name <3

-mod velv

K1-B0 (KIIBO)

★ I LOVE HIM-

★ anyway

★ Kiibo has a basic understanding of human nature, but there are things that he just.. doesn’t get

★ like.. why do you have so many cups?? don’t you need only a couple?

★ and yes, he supposes that rock shines, but why do you need it?

★ you’ll have to explain to him some of your nature, and most humans as well. he’s very interested in learning as much as he can :)

★ after he gets some of it, (which took a while), he’ll start collecting little things that remind him of you. like a crow

★ your reactions mean everything to him

★ if you have any games that require timing, i have one word for you.

★ Kiibo.

★ he can literally pass any levels you’re stuck on

★ did i mention he heats up?

★ even though he’s.. made of metal, he’s surprisingly very comfortable! however, there are times where some parts of him dig into you uncomfortably, but there are solutions :)

★ like sweaters!! and blankets

★ speaking of, i feel like Kiibo would have a love-hate relationship with winter

★ on one hand, he gets to see you in the snow, help you make a snowman, and keep you warm during the cold nights

★ but.. his body gets stuck more often.

★ and the metal gets cold quickly, and he doesn’t want you cold :(

★ but you just remind him of the sweaters and you’ve got a happy robot :)

KOREKIYO SHINGUJI

★ whenever you two go out, he always has to be touching you in someway

★ it’s never something big, and most times you don’t even notice him until later

★ more often than not, his hand finds its way to your back

★ it’s now a habit of his, to kind of lead you with that

★ if his hand isn’t at your back, i feel like it would be somewhere on your arm. like a linked arm, or he’s holding your hand so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd.

★ ok but his h a i r?

★ can i be a simp for hair

★ he definitely would let you, and only you play with his hair. like braiding it, brushing, etc.

★ i feel like he would rarely call you by your actual name, because he uses so. many. pet names.

★ “angel, could you grab that for me?”

★ “dearest, come here for a second.”

★ stuff like that smh oh to be called dearest by Kiyo

★ he’d tease you sometimes as well

★ if you’re shorter than him, he’d definitely hold things above his head so you couldn’t grab them. and if you’re taller than him, then oh boy. he’d hide stuff from you. not important things, but stuff you’d need only in that specific moment.

★ he also really likes to play with your fingers lol it helps him concentrate

★ ok but just imagine.. Kiyo in the middle of a conversation, you’re not really paying attention as you’re screwing around on your phone. suddenly, Kiyo’s soft fingers interlace between yours, giving your hand a squeeze before he begins to play with your index finger as he continues to talk. tracing the shape of it into his mind. almost like he wanted to make a copy of you.

★ he could never try to replicate you, though. you’re so perfect to him.

RANTARO AMAMI

★ TEASE KING. STEP ASIDE KOKICHI

★ Rantaro is definitely that dude that if you’re wearing a hat, he’ll pull it down over your eyes or he’ll just straight up steal it.

★ play with his hair plEASE-

★ his hair is soft, threads through your fingers rather easily, and smells like lime

★ y’all are that couple that has one’s head in their lap as they read or somethin, playing with the other’s hair.

★ he is also that dude that comes up behind you, covering your eyes with his hands as he whispers, “guess who?~”

★ Rantaro actually has pretty small hands, and they’re actually cold most of the time.

★ beware of him and his goddamn hands smh

★ he will definitely stick his hands under your shirt for “warmth” as he so says. you know that he just wants to see your reactions

★ he’s actually god at eyeliner, so if you need to wear some, he’s your guy. hey, the dude has sisters.

★ speaking of, his sisters absolutely ADORE you. usually when you go over to his house they just.. immediately snatch you for 99% of the time and Rantaro is just “😀”

★ he leaves you little doodles everywhere. like he’ll bring you a book you asked for, and like on the 120th page there’s a crow with heels and it's the funniest thing you’ve seen all day

★ he starts laughing when you bring it up, and eventually you both are just laughing so hard at it you can't breathe

★ he has so much fun when he’s with you. he can never repay you

SHUICHI SAIHARA

★ steal his hat steal his hat steal his-

★ Shuichi is flustered rather easily when it comes to you, so use that information to your advantage hehe

★ expect lots of cuddles from him, especially those back hugs. like the ones where he’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, leaning his head on top of yours if you're shorter, or against your back if you’re taller.

★ he’ll let out a small sigh of content as he nuzzles into your form, trying to keep his face hidden.

★ he finds your voice so soothing, especially when you read to him? like watch this:

★ you two are working on one of his cases together. your job is reading out his notes from the scene, your voice a low murmur as he works away. you haven’t noticed that he’s just.. stopped writing, staring at his pen as he begins to play with it. scratchy handwriting is what his eyes rake over, an adoring smile plastered to his face as he just listens. eventually you notice he’s stopped. “..Shuichi?” your soft voice asks, and he jolts a bit, grasped from his daydream. “a-ah.. sorry (f/n).. continue?”

★ more often than not it's your murmurs that causes the sleep deprivation to slap him in the face and just be knocked tf out.

★ helping him with cases is one of your favorite things?? like Shuichi you’re so smart give yourself some credit?????

★ every morning he greets you with a small smile. even though he’s still really tired, he makes an effort for you :)

★ i love funky detective man smh

GONTA GOKUHARA

★ b,, baby man,,

★ if you’re terrified of bugs, he’ll try to keep his little friends away from you, he doesn’t want to scare you at all :(

★ if you don’t mind bugs/you like them, he’ll be overjoyed!!

★ he probably has a bug named after you

★ more often than not, you’ll find them in your room or on your things. usually they’re really gorgeous, he says they remind you of him that day :)

★ he tries to switch up the bugs you find each day, so it’s always a little surprise when you enter your own room

★ ask him to carry you

★ he wants to carry you.

★ pl e a se

★ Gonta is also really warm, and his hands are HUGE

★ expect so many head pats from him. he loves how small you are compared to him

★ boops from Gonta? boops from Gonta.

★ this man straight up craves your cuddles.

★ because of his body temperature and scent of pine, it’s not hard at all to fall asleep in his embrace

★ i feel like he wakes up rather early, so he gets the pleasure of watching you sleep

★ not in a creepy way! he thinks you look so.. peaceful. angelic, is more of the word.

★ he absolutely LOVES seeing you in his clothes. just the way the cloth envelopes your tiny frame, you with your adorable smile and sweater paws?

★ god he loves you sm

RYOMA HOSHI

★ when you two first got into a relationship, he rarely touched you.

★ he literally had no idea what to do

★ he lived all of his life on eggshells, scared of every coming day

★ and then you, his ray of sunshine, just came to him?

★ he’s just so lost

★ however, you knew what to do.

★ you basically taught him that no, you’re not going to disappear from his life at any given moment. you promise.

★ it took some convincing, but you got there.

★ anyway, he doesn’t show too much PDA, but he’s taken up the habit of grasping your sleeve when you two walk together

★ given the fact that you’re likely taller than him, this boy l o v e s your hugs.

★ the way you just envelope him in your loving embrace.. he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

★ he might tell you so, but you quickly shut him up with a kiss or something :)

★ spooning spooning spooning-

★ he’s usually little spoon, but he’ll be big spoon if you want :)

★ Ryoma really likes being held by you. he feels like time stops, like all that matters is you in that moment.

★ he just feels so safe when he’s around you. he’s gotta get used to it

★ one time when you both went on a date, you accidentally found the main base of the stray cats in your town

★ they LOVED him and now you go there frequently to visit the cats

★ ya’ll definitely have a cat from there too smh you’re so cute

KOKICHI OUMA

★ at the earliest stages of your relationship, i have two words for you.

★ good luck.

★ you are not safe from Kokichi.

★ you are targeted by him.

★ anyway, i definitely feel like he would be so clingy with you.

★ he doesn’t care that you’re in public, he will latch onto you and be a nuisance.

★ holding onto your sleeve, holding your hand, latching onto your leg so you have to drag him around, full on trying to tackle you, etc.

★ p i g g y b a c k r i d e s

★ if you don’t want him to completely annoy you, just hoist him up onto your back for a ride

★ he LOVES it

★ i also feel like he wouldn’t really know what he’s doing at first.. you make him feel so many things, emotions that he thought were buried a long time ago. it’s a bit too much for him

★ patience is key with Kokichi. please just wait for him. he’ll catch up when he’s ready.

★ but when he does? and when you’ve convinced him you’re not leaving anytime soon?

★ you have the most caring and lovable man right at your side.

★ he’s.. so soft with you.

★ Kokichi absolutely adores being held by you. probably the most out of the V3 crew. he feels so secure, so sure of your relationship in those moments. he sleeps best when you’re around, which he desperately needs due the insomnia that plagues him most nights.

★ quiet cuddles are such a treasure to you. he’s usually silent during your cuddle sessions, his head either in the crook of your neck or buried in your chest, inhaling your scent so he can imprint it to his mind. it makes you more in love with him.

★ also DICE adores you-

KAITO MOMOTA

★ he is,, the biggest simp for you,,,

★ literally every single day, Kaito looks at you with the biggest grin on his face because every time he looks at you, he notices a new thing that makes him love you even more.

★ stargazing da te s✨

★ ^ these dates often end up with him going on a rant about the constellations and their movements, star types, etc. and you love him for it

★ his coat is so warm?? you wonder how he wears it 24/7

★ he absolutely LOVES it when you tackle hug him. he doesn’t even care if he was in the middle of a conversation, just feeling the sudden embrace of his s/o makes him melt.

★ those tackle hugs usually end up in him turning around and scooping you up, spinning you around before planting you back down and giving you a sweet kiss

★ PDA? he loves it

★ he NEVER would do anything that makes you uncomfortable though.

★ your PDA mostly consists of hand holding, hugs, all that soft stuff :)

★ he would definitely have to do a double take if you ever wore his jacket.

★ “hey (f/n)? where-“ and he’d just s t a r e at you, his face going ablaze in red

★ he’s like that Tamaki gif

★ yeah that one ^

★ more often than not, you get piggyback rides from him

★ the gentle rock of his body as he walks, his overall warmth, his scent of lavender.. it’s perfect to lull you asleep.

★ he wouldn’t have it any other way :)

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forbidding-souda · 4 years

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hiii can i request hcs for the the sdgr2 girls with a chubby fem s/o pls 👉👈

SDR2 girls with chubby fem S/O

Kisses!! :D definitely xx

-Mod Souda

Hiyoko Saionji

Hugs you like a pillow all the time.

Too often, literally cannot separate from you sometimes.

If you have a sugar tooth, the two of you will debate your favorite candies together.

She gets heated in the argument.

Eventually, you’ll just agree to disagree, which doesn’t satisfy her too much.

Forces you to try to eat all her favorites foods. Will cry if you don’t.

Will cry if you don’t.

Also forces you to come to all of her dances. Not that you mind about that though, as you would have went anyways.

But the idea of you caring for her enough to go on your own free will scares her.

You don’t get made fun of often, because being apart of the class means being a friend to everyone, but Teruteru is the one to always make flirting comments because of your weight.

Hiyoko bops him on the head each time, scolding him to death.

Sometimes, when she thinks you’re sleeping at night, she’ll cry sympathetic tears for you.

“I’m sorry I can’t stop him,” she whispers, holding you tight.

Sonia Nevermind

Ironically her pet-name for you is princess.

She’s very cautious about things that can offend you, if anything.

Has a killer death stare when people say insensitive things.

Her favorite thing is having you too match clothes, and she has her own tailor to make you both clothes.

May or may not convince you to wear gothic clothes.

You have to deal with her rants about serial killers, too.

Sometimes she’ll wake you up in the middle of the night like, “I still don’t understand how he got away with it for so long.”

Dangerously in love with you. She’ll surprise you with kisses all the time.

“Surprise smooch!” She calls out, jumping on your back and making you fall over.

Kisses you softly. She’s never aggressive about it.

For showing off in public, her only issue is if you can learn the dozen of mandatory languages in such short time.

Since you need to be on her intelligence level to be with her, of course!

Almost forgets that you think you’re different from everyone else.

But you’re not! And no one in her kingdom really cares about the way you look, just the way you hold yourself and your devotion to making her happy.

Akane Owari

Worships you in every way.

Holds onto you while she tells you how much she loves you.

Will definitely die for you in every sense of the phrase.

Takes cooking classes with you! She was definitely a mother figure with her siblings, and so cooking with her is the moment you can see her settle down and be stern.

She gets serious about food.

But she’ll eat whatever you make, even if it isn’t too good.

Defends your honor against people who laugh at you!

And in turn you get to bandage her wounds.

Especially when she butts heads with Nidai.

Which happens a lot.

She’s a hard person to try and wrestle down to give her kisses. She will literally just try and make you chase her.

“Come on! I know you can do it!” She laughs as she literally climbs a building.

Peko Pekoyama

A little nervous about Kuzuryuu finding out she is together with a girl.

But he knows her better than anyone, so she knows that he already knows.

Especially when he gets you gifts, specifically giving Peko the gifts to give to you.

Like a treaty.

When you both finally meet he pretends like he has never done such a thing.

Peko tries to keep you away from him, though. It’s a dangerous world and she doesn’t want you to be involved in it.

You don’t see her all the often either. But when you do, it’s when she sneaks into your house.

You’ll go downstairs to her reading silently on your couch.

You’ve literally just gotten used to it.

She steals some of your clothes, too, since they are more comfortable than anything she owns.

And in summer time, that’s her opportunity to take all of your long sleeves when you won’t wear them.

Since your clothes are bigger than hers, too, she usually wears them as pajamas. But if her duty is to blend in, then she will 100% wear your clothes.

Mahiru Koizumi

Makes you model for her all the time.

It’s a bit embarrassing for you, since you don’t consider yourself the most qualified.

But she wouldn’t photograph anyone else.

She’s definitely someone who will try and get any immature male to leave your sight!

Especially Kazuichi for some reason.

When she asked you out, you thought it was a joke at first!

Something that embarrasses you is how she brags about dating you.

She’s no ashamed of who she is, or who you are.

Has a thing for giving gifts wrapped up. She would die to reason something with a ribbon on top.

So you’ll give her little lip glosses and bracelets, putting them in a small box and covering them in glitter for her.

It’s in inner joke between you two for you to get down on one knee when you give her these trinkets.

Because you know if it was an actual proposal the box wouldn’t have Sanrio stickers all over it.

Ibuki Mioda

She’s a very sweet person, very sensitive to your emotions, which you didn’t expect when you asked her out.

She also calls you bubblegum all the time!

And cares about your opinion on anything.

Even though she cares a lot, she has absolutely no idea what to say when you are down.

Likes your body a lot ^ it’s easy to huge.

If you ever say something negative about yourself she’ll just stand there like |

“What are you talking about? I don’t get it?”

Anyways luv she is your number one hype man.

And you hype her up all the time in return, though no matter how much you do, it never feels like enough.

Mikan Tsumiki

She’s a kissy, smoochy, huggy, cuddly person.

Wants to hold your hand every second of the day.

And it’s fun dating a nurse because she always knows what to do.

“You need more sleep, and maybe less stress!”

Even though she knows it’s bad for both of you, she likes hanging out with you in the morning, drinking her coffee, and eating sweets for breakfast.

Her favorite type of date is one where the two of you watch horror movies together!

Comforting you if you get jump scared, no matter how small, makes her feel better about herself.

She prefers old horror movies over newer ones. Some are so cryptid you haven't even heard of them.

Forces you to watch them sometimes.

She just loves experiencing horror movies with you.

Chiaki Nanami

One of the first times you saw her giggle was when she saw how nervous you got when you asked her out.

Your hands were shaking so she held them to calm you down.

She’s always been the calm one. A good listener, too!

Sleeps on your shoulder almost every day. Even in public. It’s hard to wake her up.

You get to listen to her talk about games for hours.

If you’re ever insecure, she’ll share with you her favorite character designs of characters that are shaped like you.

She can sense whenever you get uncomfortable in front of other people, too.

Somehow she developed that sense. Like a psychic.

And if you’re standing next to her during that situation, she’ll walk in front of you and just continue walking. The sign is to follow her and dip.

An easy way to get out of that situation.

Will not tolerate you talking bad about yourself, no matter if it’s passive-aggressive or not.

#danganronpa #super danganronpa goodbye despair #super danganronpa 2 #hiyoko saionji x reader #sonia nevermind x reader #akane owari x reader #peko pekoyama x reader #mahiru koizumi x reader #ibuki mioda x reader #mikan tsumiki x reader #chiaki nanami x reader

167 notes · View notes

lcdrarry · 4 years

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LCDrarry 2020 Master List

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Commentors, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of our fest,

Our 2nd installment of LCDrarry is coming to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in our little fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for us mods.

We hope we could bring you some joy and diversion in these trying times and send you lots of love, strength and perseverance wherever you are :*

Under the cut, you can find out who created what ;D The works are listed in the order they posted during the fest.

Happy reading & squeeing & don’t forget to follow your favourite creators!

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami @celilasart and Suzi @erin-riwen

PS: Reblogs are very much appreciated <3

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Love, Actually, is All Around

Prompt: #180 | "Love, Actually" - 2003 - Richard Curtis Author: punk_rock_yuppie Word Count: 9,975 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Wizarding Politics, Discriminiation, Slight power imbalance

Summary: It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco happens to work in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Read "Love, Actually, is All Around" now on AO3.

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Drarry on Ice

Prompt: #150 | '"Yuuri!!! On Ice" - 2016 - Series Artist: RunningOutsideTheLines Art Medium: Traditional Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco find love on the ice. I love Yuuri on Ice and Harry and Draco seem like such a perfect fit for Victor and Yuuri. I'll leave it up to your imagination as far as which is which. This image is from the final scene when the two of them do a exhibition skate together.

View "Drarry on Ice" now on AO3.

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Boats, but Not the Ocean

Prompt: #203 | "Groundhog Day" - 1993 - Harold Ramis Author: p1013 Word Count: 15,551 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Very minor mention of suicide, some mild horror

Summary: If Draco ever gets his hands on this Bill Murray character, he's going to kill him.

Read "Boats, but Not the Ocean" now on AO3.

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When I Put My Eyes On You

Prompt: #193 | "The Way He Looks" - 2014 - Daniel Ribeiro Author: Zzzara Word Count: 31,155 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

Read "When I Put My Eyes On You" now on AO3.

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Spellbound

Prompt: #113 | "Overboard" - 1987 - Garry Marshall Author: mortenavida Word Count: 15,878 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Amnesiac Draco Malfoy, Widowed Harry Potter, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Dub-Con due to Amnesia (Only Kissing)

Summary: It’s been years since Harry left with Ginny to get away from the bad memories of war. The small town of Elk Cove, Oregon, had been a perfect place to raise their children. Now widowed, Harry works hard to make sure his children never want for anything. When an old rival steps into his life, everything changes and Harry finds the perfect opportunity to get back at Malfoy for everything the Slytherin did to him -- if he doesn’t regret falling for him first.

Read "Spellbound" now on AO3.

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Of Labcoats and Animagi

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye" - 2017 - Series Author: meandminniemcg Word Count: 10,868 words Rating: Mature Warnings: mention of past abuse, panic attack (tw at beginning of chapter, can be skipped)

Summary: Fashion icon Draco? That's long past. After the war, he never bought any new clothes and lives in his labcoats. When he doesn't feel confident enough to meet his pen friend Prongs in real life, Luna decides to stage an intervention with a little help from the Fab Five.

Read "Of Labcoats and Animagi" now on AO3.

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Title of Their Sex Tape

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Cibee Word Count: 12,428 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Read "Title of Their Sex Tape" now on AO3.

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Harry Potter and the Beast

Prompt: #204 | "Beauty and the Beast" - 1991 - Gary Trousdale Author/Artist: Miakagrewup Word Count/Art Medium: 5,655 words/31 illustrated pages Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Arrogant prince Draco is cursed to live as a terrifying beast until he finds true love. This fairy tale consists of 31 fully illustrated pages.

Read "Harry Potter and the Beast" now on AO3.

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So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive

Prompt: #191 | "Secret Garden" - 1993 - Agnieszka Holland Author: mycucumbereyes Word Count: 12,865 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: trauma, canon typical violence, homophobia, use of f-g/f----t, mention of suicidal thoughts, character with a disability

Summary: When Draco Malfoy comes to live at Godric’s Hollow, he finds it full of secrets. One night he hears the sound of crying…

Read "So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive" now on AO3.

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i demand to dig my own grave

Prompt: #10 | "Psych" - 2006 - Series Author: M0stlyVoid Word Count: 20,836 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: Draco finds himself in hot water with the Aurors, and in a burst of panicked inspiration manages to wiggle out of it by claiming to be a Seer. There's just one little problem– Senior Auror Harry Potter, the Prat Who Lived, who's known him for a decade, knows full well Draco doesn't have a single psychic bone in his body and seems determined to pull him up for it. Now, the Department is demanding he help them solve cases, Potter's looming over his shoulder at every turn, and worst of all, he hasn't had a shag in weeks because of all this bother. What's a pseudo-Seer to do?

Read "i demand to dig my own grave" now on AO3.

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As You Wish

Prompt: #37 | "The Princess Bride" - 1987 - Rob Reiner Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 21,917 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-typical (Harry Potter and The Princess Bride) violence, mention of suicide, canon-typical character death

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead. Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Read "As You Wish" now on AO3.

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Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye"- 2017 - Series Author: blowfish_diaries Word Count: 18,201 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: none

Summary: Teddy's dads are great! Really! They just need a little push from five *fabulous* gays to get them to see what's right in front of them.

Read "Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys" now on AO3.

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Casecation

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Mfingenius Word Count: 4,293 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: AU, canon-typical discussion of heavy topics, discussion of mpreg

Summary: "Draco Malfoy, I swear to God-” Hermione snaps under her breath, causing Draco to laugh lowly as he ducks under a hanging plant pot. “Draco Potter, ‘Mione,” Harry murmurs with a helpless grin; they’re not really supposed to be speaking – they're walking through the halls of Antonin Dolohov’s beach house, on their way to arrest him – but Harry can’t help marking the difference, even a year after they got married. “Be quiet,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes. “If he hears us and escapes-” Draco signals at them, and they all steel themselves for when he throws the door of the bedroom open. “Shit!”

Read "Casecation" now on AO3.

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Don't Blink!

Prompt: #179 | "Dr Who" - 2007 - Series Author/Artist: Gnarf Art Medium: Digital art Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry had always had exceptionally bad timing. It's not different this time.

Read "Don't Blink!" now on AO3.

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A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz

Prompt: #167 | “Good Omens” - 2019 - Series Artist: ravenclawkward Art Medium: Digital Oil Painting Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry the demon and Draco the angel just finished saving the world. They've earned their celebration, wouldn't you say?

Read "A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz" now on AO3.

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Change on the Horizon

Prompt: #57 | "Shameless (US)" - 2011 - Series Author: static_abyss Word Count: 118,645 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Character with depression, mentions of not wanting to exist and lethargy, though no actual suicide or mentions of suicide. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, specifically not taking prescribed medication for depression. Internalized homophobia, and general homophobia from parental figures, though there is a happy ending. Casual relationships.

Summary: A canon AU drarry fic based on the relationship between Mickey and Ian from Shameless. A story about the aftereffects of the Second Wizarding War and how Draco and Harry come together and break apart over and over. How maybe, somewhere along the way, they find a way to live with themselves.

Read "Change on the Horizon" now on AO3.

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The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways

Prompt: #192 | "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries" - 2012 - Series Author: VeelaWings Word Count: 32,569 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Smoking Cigars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Poisoning

Summary:

“Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.

“Not at all.” Draco smiled sweetly, cuddled into the side of tonight’s date. “Although I did briefly own that painting until it proved to be stolen.” He helpfully pointed to the Renaissance portrait a few metres to their left.

“Why is it always so complicated with you?”

+++++

Some people might argue that Draco didn’t have very good ideas. That was a lie. Draco had fantastic ideas, however, due to mankind having free will, the planning and execution of those ideas didn’t always pan out in his favor.

(Or — Draco solves crimes that don’t technically belong to him and Harry tries not to fall in love. Co-Starring: Hermione, High Heels, and Hiccups along the way. #dat 1920s lyfe)

Read "The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways” now on AO3.

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Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)

Prompt: #202 | Casablanca - 1942 - Michael Curtiz Author: Triggerlil Word Count: 35,910 words Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Alternate Universe - World War II, Film Noir, Self-Medication, Alcohol, Infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), Smoking, Mention of Slavery and Human Trafficking

Summary:

It's been years since destiny walked into an apartment on Rue Azais, and Harry is over it. Really, he is. He has Blaise, he has his work, and if necessary, he still has his memories. But with the onset of WWII, the foundations of his life are crumbling, and suddenly a certain blond man is walking back into his life, asking Harry to make important, and dangerous, choices.

Read “Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)” now on AO3.

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Super Rich Kids

Prompt: #24 | "The Bling Ring" - 2013 - Sofia Coppola Author: Thusspoketrish Word Count: 81,000 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Thriller, Murder, Dark Humour, Angst, Depression, Nihilism, Existenialism, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Very Brief Instance of Suicidal Ideation, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence (not between Harry and Draco), Abusive Drug Use, Manipulative Behaviour, Heterosexual Sex, Threesomes, Candaulism, Possible Infidelity Due to Unclear Relationship Status (please read the tags on AO3 carefully, this list is not exhaustive)

Summary:

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Read “Super Rich Kids” now on AO3.

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We Built This Right

Prompt: #48 | "Yuri on ice" - 2016 - Series Author: remy_writes5 Word Count: 15,344 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Homophobic Language, Anxiety, Strained Relationship with Parents

Summary:

At last year's Grand Prix Final, Harry had an accident that left him with a lightning scar on his forehead, a concussion and a twisted ankle. Now everyone is waiting to see if his career is over - including former rival, Draco Malfoy.

Read "We Built This Right” now on AO3.

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rhmg-au · 4 years

Text

Prequel part 1.

Thinking of some endings for the final confrontation, would try to get them out once I complete the prequel first.

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

TW: Torture, blood, gore, restraints

(Mod Swanno: Edited with the read more option due to length and content!)

Eyes fluttered rapidly in the dark, the aching pain ran rampant throughout his entire body, the tears in his uniform exposing his skin to the coldness in the room from the lack of heat inside. Two figures seem to be in front of him, chatting with one another.

He let out an involuntary groan of pain, causing the two to turn to them. They look familiar.

“Awake already, Price? Thought you’d be knocked out for at least for few more hours.”

At that statement, the memories flooded back to him, as if he was in the sea in the middle of a big storm, only he was alone on a boat, the lighting and crashing waves wanting to throw him off the only thing keeping him from drowning.

The fighting, the snapping, the discovery.

———

A knock was heard on his door, he was in one of the rooms made for soldiers who needed to rest after a tiring mission or just stay for a break from their duties. His mind was wandering in its own little world, trying to think of ways to get rid of that monster he calls his general, he’s not noble anymore, after what he witnessed him doing to a Toppat, though he is a criminal, it was still so cruel to strip him of his memories and forcefully turn them to their side, and how it was carried out was…too brutal to watch or even hear for that matter. How could he live with himself after such a heinous act?

Those thoughts were carried to the back of his mind when that sound caused by a hand repeatedly hitting the door from the other side to get someone else’s attention inside.

“Rupert? May I come in?”

It’s him, it’s time to play the role of the actor again.

“You may, general.”

Galeforce entered the room as soon as the request to come inside was approved by the soldier, closing it behind him. His smile looked so normal that no one would ever guess that he did so many terrible acts behind that mask.

“What is it you need, sir?” Rupert asked, straightening his posture, and making sure to wipe his face clean from any form of an expression full of hatred. He cannot reveal his true feelings towards the man, or anyone for that matter. They can be loyalists to him, blinded by their duties to ever consider siding with him. No one is safe to talk to about his issues.

“Are you…actually loyal to the government, Mr. Price? I was informed by Dr. V that you were acting quite strange these past few days, and she has a suspicion that you’re a traitor.”

These words caught Rupert off-guard. They knew? How…how could they know? He thought he hid it so well, concealed it from everyone, how, just how?! Did someone snitch on him? “I, I am loyal sir. I was just thinking about my next missions those past days is all.” He was praying that he would buy it, he couldn’t risk to be found out of his resent. He knew it wouldn’t be anything but bad.

“Then tell me…do you know about the latest piece of technology we developed?” What was that supposed to mean? Naively, he shook his head, realizing too late that he made a crucial mistake by doing that.

Galeforce’s smile contorted into a smirk, one that is full of malice. That never meant good, at all. “A device that allows us to know who is lying by just hearing their words and their tone. Think of it like a lie detector, but a better version.” He took out the little gadget, the design was rather basic, just a square shaped piece of metal with antennas sticking out, a screen was visible with lines rapidly going up and down. Such a simple yet complex device. And it’ll be used for an occasion like this. “It’s still in the alpha stages, consider yourself honoured since you’re the first one we’re using to test it.” He took a good look at the lines. “And would you look at that, judging by the way the lines are moving, it detected that you’re lying.”

“No, no sir, are you sure it’s just a misinterpretation? An error?” Rupert knew that he was screwed, yet he still tries to deny it. Anything to get him out of this situation. Anything.

“Sorry to say, Price, but Dr. V told me these lines represent when someone is lying. It is no bug for sure.”

That was the answer he was dreading to hear.

“Now, do you remember what happens to those who are traitors? Or, for you, a potential traitor? You have quite the disdain for me, and that leads to backstabbing.” Galeforce pocketed the device, that grin turning sadistic now.

There was nothing left to hide. He saw through his facade, and now he has the information that he harbours distaste for him.

“You really think I would let something like that slide? What you did was absolute torture! How could you consider yourself to be human after what’d you done?! He may have been a Toppat, but you didn’t have to go to the extreme! What the hell is wrong with you?! Did you even think about how the Toppats feel?! That you took away someone who was so valuable to them, both personally and usefully, did you ever consider that?! Tell me, was there a time you even felt some sympathy?!” He couldn’t contain his rage anymore, he had to snap. It was in there for too long for him to ever hold it back, he may hate the Toppat Clan, but even he couldn’t deny that what Galeforce did crossed the line.

Galeforce didn’t responded, instead he took a step forward. Then another one. His face blank, showing no emotion, no care, no concern, no astonishment, no happiness, only apathy. Before he eventually leapt out and attacked him, like a wild animal would when it sees potential prey.

Rupert didn’t hesitate to fight back, both of them knocked to the ground. He raised his hand to counteract the opposing one ready to strike, catching it in time before it could land a hit on his face. Immediately afterwards, he caught the other hand that threatened to finish what the other arm wanted to begin.

“You could’ve been a valuable soldier here, had you not raise this hatred inside of you.” Galeforce taunted, ripping his hand out of his grasp and grabbed his hair that still stuck out from his hat, pushing his head forward.

“What was I supposed to do? Watch you turn someone into a relentless slaughtering puppet to do your dirty work? That isn’t how anything should go!” Rupert gave him a hard punch, directly on the nose. He wasn’t sure if he broke it, but blood poured out from the openings, a good indicator to confirm his suspicions.

Galeforce didn’t get knocked out, though the sudden punch to the face disoriented him for a few seconds, giving the resentful soldier enough time to rip himself out of his grasp and push him off, making a break for it to the door.

He didn’t make it, because of course he didn’t.

He was yanked back by his uniform, the grasp so tight and so harsh that he felt the cloth made to create this suit tear, and before he knew it, he was thrown against the wall, black starting to tease around the edges of his eyes from how hard his head hit the concrete.

“It’s the least I could do, trust me, I would do much worse.” Blood dripped down from his nose, staining the floor with the crimson substance.

“I don’t need to see them to know you’re a horrible person. I’ll beat the shit out of you and I’ll expose you and your heinous deeds.” Rupert shakily got up, it was rather hard when you’re close to blacking out from a strong hit on the head, but it was manageable.

“Still being cocky as ever? That’s biggest downside to you, always so certain you can do everything no matter how impossible it may seem. How cute.” Galeforce’s smirk increased in size as he approached him, taking him by the neck and lifted him off the ground, feet barely touching the floor. The soldier threw his hands onto the wrist of the general, suffocation is very likely if he was not released soon.

“It’s…not impossible…to get you…dismissed…” With his windpipe blocked, air couldn’t get inside to his lungs, affecting his breathing and speaking abilities.

“Dismissed? Why, so many ridiculous ideas run through your mind these past few days huh?” Galeforce released his grip on Rupert, letting him fall to the floor gasping for breath for a moment.

“They’re…logical…not ridicu…lous…” Regaining his strength albeit a bit slowly, he threw his fist at the general, aiming for his chest. The sleeve on the arm of his clenched hand was caught, yanking him to his feet so violently that another tear was made in his uniform, as well as causing pain to his arm due to how hard it was pulled, almost out of its socket. It took all of his willpower and gritting his teeth to not scream from the pain travelling up the limb.

“You must be forgetting that I’m a general, the public believes me as a good-intentioned nobleman who brings criminals to justice. Nothing can ever convince them otherwise.” Galeforce brought his face close to the soldier’s, letting him see that wicked grin close up, which only succeeded in letting his glare darken. He took ahold of his arm, tightening the grip instantly, as an attempt to prevent escape.

“Not if I get evidence, your acts are inhumane, no one deserves a fate like that.” Rupert spat, bringing his knee up and kicking him right in the stomach, using all of his strength in that one blow.

This action caused Galeforce to stumble back, releasing his grip on his arm in the process. Taking this opportunity, the soldier opened up the door, running out of the room. He needed to get out of here, now.

The attempt at escape didn’t work, as the general caught up with him easily, sending him crashing to the floor as he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body, He looked up, the black around his eyes more prominent.

Before his irises could see who was there, even though he already knew who, a fist collided with his head, causing the void in his eyes to finally take over.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out were these words:

“Really thought you could get away? Now, you’ll face the consequences.”

———

Everything was made clear now.

“What is this place?” His voice sounded weak, probably from the lack of water. “Are you going to robotize me like Green? Is that it?”

“No, something much worse. But now that you mentioned it, it would be a great idea. For now though, we have something else planned.” Galeforce answered, that grin so sinister it might as well be considered taking a spot on the most evil smiles list, if one was created that is.

“I would like to turn you into walking weapon, but I still need to monitor Green for the time being. Consider yourself lucky.” Dr. V added, sharing the same smirk as the one on Galeforce.

Rupert tried to throw a fist in either of their faces, but when he did, his hand never moved. Instead, he was greeted with the coldness of a metal cuff holding his hand down on one of the arms of the chair he was sitting in. It’s likely his other wrist was also in the same state as his left one. Though it should’ve been expected, it still shocked him. He was being restrained.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that you aren’t going to be able to leave. You’ll spend the rest of your days here rotting away while we make you realize just how stupid you are to doubt my acts of protection.” Galeforce informed, as if the feeling of the bindings on his wrists weren’t made clear to him enough.

“Protection?! You call that protection?! You hurt someone beyond the point of acceptance and you call that protection?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Despite his throat hurting after such an outburst, Rupert called him out on that statement of absurdity. Still thinking he’s a hero after everything? Even criminals don’t deserve that happening to them.

“It’s for the greater good. Besides, would you want a cyborg to be roaming free with those crooks?”

“He’s still human!”

“Criminals aren’t humans if they don’t have morals.”

“And you aren’t human if you feel no sympathy for them! Think about the hardships they went through that forced them to turn to crime and we never noticed! If anything, it’s the government’s fault!”

“…Dr. V, do your work.”

“Yes, sir.”

The blonde took out a pair of surgical scissors from her lab coat, walking over to the soldier, who is now struggling in the cuffs that held him in a one spot.

“Let’s begin the lesson, shall we?” Dr. V said, holding the surgical scissors over his face for a moment before snipping a part of his skin with them, blood immediately dripping out from where she made the cut.

Rupert grounded his teeth together, not wanting to give either of them the satisfaction of hearing him in such pain. He knew it would only bring more trouble if he gave them the reaction they wanted to hear, so no screaming. Just endure the pain all enough for something else to occur that causes them to leave. Like boredom or duties.

When no strong reaction came from the soldier, Dr. V dug the blades of the scissors deeper into his flesh, sliding it along slowly and painfully, intending to stop at his cheek if no signs of a scream comes soon. This was only the beginning. The next stages are much, much worse.

Despite the fiery pain growing inside of him from the scissors digging into his skin, Rupert still didn’t give them what they wanted out of him. His teeth were gritted so tightly together to suppress it the best he could. Blood started to leak into his mouth, that metallic taste made clear from the get go. He has to stay strong, this wasn’t the worse thing that happened to him. Seeing Dave getting fired and him going missing were much worse than experiencing torture…

Nothing, no reaction. “You’re stronger than you look. Impressive, but not too impressive.” The doctor pocketed the now bloodied scissors back into her lab coat, the remains of the crimson substance staining the white colour of the garment. She then took out a scalpel, this time instead of his face, she targeted his arm, plunging the sharp edge of the blade onto his shoulder.

The soldier bit down on his bottom lip as to let his teeth rest from the pressure they were under from grinding against each other for so long. Blood slipped out from the bottom lip due to how hard he was biting down on it, the metallic taste more prominent now.

Dr. V’s face contorted into frustration. “Don’t bother trying to hide your pain.” She advised, taking the scalpel out from his shoulder, that crimson substance affecting colour of the metal to make this surgical tool, now just like the scissors sitting inside of her lab coat. She clenched her hand into a fist and made it collide with his cheek, the one that isn’t soaking with blood from the cut. The force in the punch was hard, bound to create a bruise.

Rupert felt his head snap to the side momentarily, causing him to quickly look back to the woman in front of him. “How do you call this revenge if you only really want the Toppats?”

“Anyone who sides with Toppat Clan is called revenge.” Dr. V answered, making an incision on both of his wrists as he spoke, acting and speaking nonchalant about it. “I told you, masking your pain would make things worse. Cooperate with us.”

“You just need to give him a little push in the right direction. As I said before, he’s as stubborn as Green when he was a Toppat.” Galeforce said, his first words in a while.

“And how do you suppose we shove him where we want him to go?”

“Allow me to handle it. I’ve known him for quite a while now.”

The general stood in front of Rupert after Dr. V backed away. He leaned in close to him, whispering something in his ear, his breath causing a shiver to run down his spine. Surprisingly, his eyes widened at what was said, horror written all over his expression.

“Y-you, no you couldn’t-”

“Don’t worry, I trust him enough. But if I find out he’s been going behind my back…”

“Don’t you fucking hurt him! It’s me who you’re mad at, so just do whatever the hell you want with me but leave him alone!”

“I will take action if that’s the case, and what can you do in your current state?”

“This.” Rupert lifted his legs up and slammed them into Galeforce’s chest, the general taking a few steps back due to the impact. Man that hurt…

He looked up after a few seconds, Dr. V coming by his side to check if he had any injuries, pocketing the scalpel beforehand. “Chain his legs too. I’m not letting this happen a second time.” He checked his belt and took a pair of handcuffs from them, handing them out to her.

Dr. V nodded hastily, snatching the restraints quickly and cuffed the soldier’s ankles to the legs of the chair, despite his trashing interrupting some of the progress. “There we go.”

“Someone will find me here, and you’ll regret all of your actions.” Rupert promised, the glare so dark you could probably see a shadow brooding across his face. He’d struggled for a little bit more before giving up, the burning pain playing a part in why he stopped.

“You are in basement of lab, no one knows of this.” Dr. V said, immediately crushing any hope that he may have. Green most likely doesn’t know of this too. “Let’s continue now, shall we?”

Before she could pull out the blood covered scalpel however, Dr. V was stopped by the sound of beeping. “One sec.” She took out the communicator she brought down here, in case of the event someone made a call to her while they were doing what they were doing.

“Hello, this is Dr. Vinschpinsilstien speaking, how could I be of service?”

Rupert saw this as an opportunity, an opportunity to get outside help. It doesn’t matter who it is, the Twins, Victoria, Hayden, Charles or even Green, he can get out of here if he just yells at the communicator. He hated asking for assistance for anything, if he had to be honest, but at this moment, he needed help, he can’t escape by himself.

He was about to shout, to scream, to cause a scene to get the attention of whoever is there, but at the last second, his mouth was harshly covered by Galeforce, both hands were on him to block out his cries for help. Still, he called out anyway, muffled by the hands on his mouth, barely creating any noise.

“…Ah yes, I will be at the lab Green, just come along and I’ll attend to you.” The line cut off soon after Dr. V finished her call with the cyborg.

The opportunity passed…gone.

Galeforce released his hands from Rupert’s mouth as soon as the call was finished, allowing him to take in deep breaths and finally talk properly. “I’ll…I’ll scream down here and…Green will hear me. It doesn’t matter that he’s rewired, he will notice that something’s wrong with me down here.”

“And that is why you shouldn’t speak so soon.” Dr. V said, taking a piece of cloth out from her lab coat, using it as a gag as she wrapped it around his mouth, muffling his words once again. As soon as she finished tying the knot, she and Galeforce left for the door, opening it up to reveal stairs, his only way to freedom if he can get out from this stupid chair. Light temporarily pouring into the room as it was opened up, but soon it was closed, denying any light from projecting itself into the room, leaving him in the darkness again.

What now?

———

Every passing day was torturous.

Literally.

Beating after beating, his blood spilling out from his system, eventually creating blood stains on the floor, chair and his uniform. The smell of the dried up crimson substance still lingered.

Any cry for help was muffled from the gag, guaranteeing that no one could ever find him here while Galeforce and Dr. V continued to teach him the lesson.

Every gash, every bruise, he even got some broken bones some days.

Whenever they went away, he cried and cried to himself, tears mixing in with the dried blood that stains his face. His spirit breaking down everyday. He still held onto hope, but it seems his grasp on it is fading away slowly.

“Someone…please…find me…I can’t hold out for much longer…”

#PACKAGE - [ FANWORK ]#[ NON CANON ]#tw blood #tw torture #tw gore #hoooHHH BOY!!! HOLY SHIT - MOD - [ SWANNO ]#submission

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years

Text

Clever Little Fox

For @hurtled-into-chaos-you-fight featuring his beautiful Bloodhound design that you can see on his pinned post! I have also written them in here for those who do better with Written descriptions! LOVE U BITCH

Summary: Mirage decides today is the day he will decide to get one on over Hound. He's always been their prey in the arena, but it wouldn't hurt to switch it up, right? Lure them in only to humiliate them in front of aaalll the cameras? Shouldn't hurt anything, right? Not like he's expecting to get punished or anything. Haha...ha....

Reblogs > Likes. Must have your age (18+ only) in your bio before interaction or you will be blocked.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound has a penis, Mirage has a vulva, gender fluid Mirage who goes by she/her and Ellie/Elliott, both have body mods, Bloodhound is briefly called Daddy as a title but NOT a daddy kink, biting, denial + overstimulation, aaaand Elliott in a cute collar and being called prey!

Words: 8.7k

_________

King’s Canyon had felt almost eerie with its adjustments these last seasons.

Bloodhound missed the Leviathans’ calls, their large feet stomping down creating craters across the lands and sweeping the area free of any greedy or bold enemy teams. More adjustments being made reminded them of the sight of their own home planet, being mangled now by Hammond. It could bring painful memories if they thought too hard about it.

Thankfully, with the coming season, Bloodhound had been able to focus more on the games. Namely because just a few seasons ago, they’d gotten into a relationship. Elliott had finally, bravely come up to them instead of looking from afar, his tongue tripping himself up as he rubbed the back of his head and said, “Would you maybe like to go to the afterparty? With uh- with me, I mean. Like. You know. Like we go together? Like as a...as a couple- or er, duo? You know? Two pals in a pod- er, peas? Peas in a pod.” While doing that little pretend two punch towards them with his face burning and clearly losing the bravery he must have built on the way over to them.

Cute.

Bloodhound couldn’t help but smile, towering over him by a good head as they peer down at him through their dark goggles. “I would love to accompany you.” To which Elliott’s beautiful hazel eyes had lit up, a bright smile crossing his face and dimples creasing his cheeks. It had been worth it alone just to agree to go to see him so delighted, but then along the way, they’d grown close.

~Rest under the cut~

Accompanying him to afterparties soon became accompanying him elsewhere. To get coffee, to just sitting in the lounge area to bring Elliott company. Sometimes, Bloodhound found that they’d fall asleep quite often with him, their head nodding off in the blissful quiet only to awaken frightened and confused at first. Elliott, who’d quickly gotten used to that, would always gently tell them that they were alright. Reminding them where they were and how they got there until the hunter had settled.

Bloodhound’s narcolepsy was...odd. In order to be triggered, they had to be completely calm- rather than when it would normally happen for others when a huge overwhelming emotion passed. It seemed to happen when they were at their calmest, happening more and more frequent the longer they were around Elliott. To the point that eventually Elliott had slyly offered his room instead so they could lie down ‘just in case’.

Ellie had been the one to make the first move for a kiss, and for that Bloodhound is eternally grateful. They had been longing to, going so far as to cup her cheek and smooth their thumb over her lower lip and hearing her breath hitch- but never proceeding. But one day, on a date where they were in the woods on a picnic (Ellie’s idea, Bloodhound had to stop from grinning at how sweet it was), she’d leaned over. Gently cupping their cheek and asking permission quietly, Bloodhound hadn’t trusted their voice so they had nodded, and then her glossy maroon lips had pressed to theirs. So softly, so gently that they thought they would lose their breath.

Bloodhound had ended up with their lips and cheeks covered in her makeup, dizzy and hungry all the same. Watching her clean up around her mouth and reapply the lip gloss had been a sin in itself. A divine temptation.

She was, in herself, a divine temptation. And together, they both looked so different next to each other- a small thing that brought Bloodhound joy. And even then, they were clearly an attractive couple.

Bloodhound stood at 6’4”, built broad and fit with a body looking almost to be carved from the gods- something they were particularly proud of. Their skin is a deep, warm olive tone, discolored from dark coolant scarring that’s prominent on their forehead down to their thick, sharp brows. More stretching from their shoulders, down towards their collar bones.

Bloodhound’s face is just the same, seemingly carved from marble with a hooked nose. With age, now at 46, their age had slightly started to show with crow’s feet nearing their sharp eyes, as well as laugh lines on their cheeks, only really noticeable if they snarled or smiled. Their lips are full, split near the center across from five diagonal scars going across their face starting at the right side of their scalp, going through their ear and down to their left side jawline. Their sharp eyes are deep set, looking predatory near constantly. Ellie had called them out for having a ‘resting bitch face’ for it before. With their left eye a vibrant and unnatural deep crimson, and the right a blinded milky pink, both with diamond shaped pupils with their right being paler.

Their hair had to be another thing they were particularly proud of. Long, deep ginger hair in coiling, wild waves with a few gray streaks through their hair. The boldest streak of gray found at their bang and temple line. Falling well past their ass to about mid-thigh, normally pulled into a messy ponytail or varied braids throughout their hair. Their body hair is kept trimmed, save for their thick happy trail leading down below their pant line.

Bloodhound was also covered head to toe in body mods. Gauges in their ears appearing like large, swirled bones, their left ear having an industrial with varied hoops and two smaller gauges. Their right covered in the same hoops with a single stud at their helix with the same gauges. In their mouth, with their sharp upper and lower long canines, a tongue web piercing rested as well as a smiley piercing.

Nipple piercings, hip dermals , and a full jacob’s ladder with a prince albert through the head of their cock completed their piercings. Modifications done to their tongue to be split and forked at the tip, and their ears modified to be pointed. Tattoos covered up half of their flesh, a majority being black out tattoos. Swirling around their biceps and curling down their forearm partially, up to their neck where a helm of awe rested on their throat just above two ravens extending their talons out on their pecs.

Black out, swirled tattoos curl all the way down from their hips all the way to the center of their feet where the runes for Speed rested. Runes in a prayer for ‘the 13 th warrior prayer’ etched into their flesh through the areas the swirls did not cover on their legs. Over their hands they had runes on their left for justice, and on their right for death. Lines and black outs all along their hands as well.

And finally, along the base of their shaft encompassed black ink, a double band on either side are two runes for lovers/sacrificial sex. Both runes encompassing fertility.

They were huge, completely modded up behind that armor they wore. It had been a treat to see Elliott’s jaw drop open, entirely flattering them when he’d sputtered out and turned red, trying to find the words. It had been before they were in a relationship, Bloodhound having no shame in revealing their body to their fellow teammates. It had certainly been an ego booster to watch him trip over himself when they had removed their upper armor and helmet in the showers, making eye contact with the poor thing as he near tripped over his change of clothes he was dragging.

Such cute prey he made when he was flustered.

And yet, in turn, Elliott was similar yet different to their own self. Elliott had mentioned his adoration of Egyptian gods and the symbolism behind them whilst describing all his tattoos. Symbols in ink littered across his arms for Sobek, Osiris, and on both his shoulders being the eyes of Ra and Horus. On his torso being symbols for Isis as an underbust tattoo, an ankh over his left breast, a scarab over his throat and dual stars on the dips of his hips. And on his legs, symbols for Amun-Ra of a sun on his right thigh, the moon on his left, the bird-like head on his right calf, and Anubis on his left calf

His own mods were kept pretty hidden under his own uniform. More of piercings like gold barbells through his nipples, several ear piercings, a triple vertical tongue piercing, and a navel piercing.

His own body was fit, but he had a slight tummy that Bloodhound would admit they were obsessed with. His breasts were rounded, C cup they would assume and made him look rather broad in a compression bra in the arena, and his curves sharp and falling down to equally wide hips. He had a strong body, biceps well defined and his tummy equally defined, just with that small amount of softness to it that made Bloodhound want to squish it as much as his hips did. Without his boots, he stood at about 5’9”. Perfect chin resting height.

Oh, he was always such a taunting creature, wasn’t he? The tease of having Isis’ symbol upon his flesh, for fertility and motherhood. It wasn’t as if he had not had it before he had met Bloodhound, they knew that. But how their own runes on their shaft matched Her meaning- oh, he was so tempting to sink their teeth into at a constant. So inviting with his flirtatious remarks, his wits, and how beautifully he keened in their arms, murmuring their chosen name of ‘Rune’ with desperation in his voice.

That’s what had been running through Bloodhound’s head when they were in the arena today. Normally so focused and able to aid their teammates better, but something about Elliott was so distracting today.

Perhaps it was how he had smiled at them on the dropship, eyes bright and delighted at seeing them. Bloodhound had met his gaze from across the way through their goggles, watching as he held his index finger and thumbs together to form a heart and playfully blowing them a kiss. They had, in turn, delighted in seeing his pout when they drew their thumb across their throat in warning.

However, he had that look in his eye. As clever and as full of tricks as a fox, Bloodhound did not trust that look. His eyes had a gleam in them, his full lips quirking into a crooked grin before leaning back to the side to seemingly talk to Wraith, his partner in this duo match. Whilst Bloodhound found themself with a newbie, one who was talking a big game about how they were going to solo this, that they wanted to win a match on their own without a legend by their side. Bloodhound could respect that, in theory, but in practice of a blood sport that involved being in partnerships or trios? That was a mistake.

The newbie had been picked off early in the round, going so far as to split upon drop from them so Bloodhound couldn’t even respawn them and grab them by their collar like an idiotic kitten to scold. It had put them at a disadvantage- but the winds called them forward and they would answer those calls. They manage pretty well, at first, a duo is taken down by a stray spitfire they had picked up and their hatchet, another single person taken out with their longbow at a long-distance shot. A bit sloppy, but it got the job done.

They had been doing fairly well until they had caught sight of their beloved. At least, they thought they had, until they pulled the trigger on their longbow from afar and watched it crack clear through his head. Watching it dissipate with a robotic voice gleefully cackling, “Bamboozled!” But he must have been close by . He knew where they were looking. He was toying with them.

And so, the hunter becomes the hunted.

Bloodhound could grin at the idea. Their sweet little prey, always such an event with him. What would he be pulling out of his sleeve today? Would he roll over once caught and beg for their forgiveness? Bloodhound quite likes that idea, that he would bare his throat even in the arena if caught in their hands. Or would he perhaps have a new trick to pull, find a way to push their buttons until they thought of having him in the shower by his throat and sinking their teeth satisfyingly into the crook--

They’re shaken from their thoughts only when they catch that familiar yellow jumpsuit turning around a building. After quiet observation, it seems he’s alone. Perhaps a quick reminder what pretty prey he made was in order.

Their longbow shot hits next to his boot, watching through their scope as Elliott jumps and darts down into the valley left between The Cage and Market. Seeming to head towards the loot bunker below. Elliott is no fool, despite how he can come off, he should know that was a close quarters area. Bloodhound knew way better by now than to underestimate him, even if their instincts said to charge in. If not to secure a kill in their corner, but just to see what he had to say.

Wraith does not seem to be nearby; She doesn’t follow if that is the case. Bloodhound narrows their gaze, huffing to themself as they slide down from their position to edge the bunker’s mouth, slinging their mastiff from over their shoulder instead. Yet, when they drop down, they curiously note his footprints seem to be...not there?

Yet he is at the charge tower’s activation controls, his back turned to them. Their eyes narrow instantly as they approach, a hiss falling from their lips even before their fist makes contact with the hologram. “I am not playing your games today, Mirage.” They call out as the static voice fills the air with the same taunt. They know it would alert their location, draw him out of hiding of wherever he was. They expect him to follow the same path they did, drop down to their level with his hands up and that swagger in his step that his wide hips gave him.

What they don’t expect is to hear the sound of his ultimate being triggered and suddenly being surrounded by multiple of him aiming his wingman directly at them. Bloodhound is also acutely aware of the humming of two drone cameras circling the room to get in on the action of the two legends.

What a clever little trickster. They can’t help but be proud of his little parlor trick.

Bloodhound is quick to whip to the right, blasting their mastiff straight through what they hoped was the real Mirage. Only for it to dissipate into static with a taunt left behind gracing their ears of ‘bamboozled!’. Bloodhound hardly gets to take another guess when Elliott takes a well-aimed shot, shattering their armor with the loud crack of skullpiercer. Their second shot is incorrect, and their ultimate downfall when the real Mirage kicks the backs of their knees, sending them forward as another hologram kicks their chest to send them flat on their back and their mastiff skidding across the ground.

“Sooo, the hunter the gods have sent,” Elliott croons out in a sarcastic tone as he presses his boot to their chest to keep them down to the ground. Bloodhound grunts, snarling behind their respirator as he leans down on his thigh, applying more pressure. His wingman is tapping their helm, the only thing keeping them from lunging forward and tripping him up. “Tricked by lil ole me? Why, Houndie, I’m flattered ! Really, I am.”

His voice is a taunt and Bloodhound can’t help but look to his full lips quirking into that crooked grin they loved so much. Dimples crease his cheeks, his eyes sparkling with mischief in that way that always got Bloodhound to croon his fond nickname of ‘little fox’. But now, they bare their sharp teeth behind their respirator, fingers clenched into fists and their body starting to move to maybe lunge at him.

The click of his wingman cocking and those lips crooning, “Ah, ah, ah, ah! Not so fast, pup.” as if chiding a pet makes Bloodhound stay put, only propped up on their elbows and huffing at the humiliation. Elliott was playing a dangerous game, he knew that, always so clever and calculating. This taunt must have been for the last time Bloodhound had the upper hand and made that pretty little bird under them sing his pleads before they’d claimed Champion by a well-aimed hatchet.

A slight that Elliott did not seem to forget. Nor did videos scouring the various planets.

“Ah, well! Ya know, I won’t waste your time. Know you got better things to do than win like I do. Say hello to the ole’ chewing bone for me, will ya?” Elliott’s voice is that same crooning taunt, confidence rolling off him and each word another press into Bloodhound’s buttons. They go to lunge, and the last thing they hear is the loud crack. Placing Bloodhound third, with one last squad to go for Mirage and Wraith.

Elliott and Wraith claim champion not long after Bloodhound awakens in the medical bay with a frustrated growl. It doesn’t help that Elliott’s cockiness stirred something in them, something that hungered to see that look wiped off his face. Wanting to see that pretty face he made underneath them instead, except Bloodhound can’t find sympathy within them for what they have planned for him.

Humiliated. They were humiliated in front of the cameras. This would be talked about, Bloodhound could accept a loss, could accept even their beloved’s hand ending them in the arena. But, oh, they knew this would be talked about in interviews to come. That Ellie’s sweet smile would twist upon her features as she recalled the events, with that sparkle in her eye as she glanced at the camera’s lens and knew Bloodhound was watching not far.

No. Bloodhound does not find mercy within them for the thoughts that curl inside their mind. Predatory- hungry. Their little bird would sing until Bloodhound had their fill, until they felt that Elliott had accepted the punishment that he must have known was approaching. He should have, or else he wouldn’t have pressed and taunted like that. Normally if he caught the upper hand on them, he’d beam all proud of himself and Bloodhound’s heart would flutter at his pride.

This?

This was intentional. And Bloodhound would give him what he desired. Intensely.

Bloodhound considers this as they go to the showers, the sting of the humiliation lighter but not in the slightest eliminated. It still hangs fresh in their mind as they pull their respirator off to hang around their neck, about to start working on the rest of their heavier gear when humming reaches their ears. Cocking their head to the side, they turn towards the sound, watching Elliott joyfully humming to himself and swaying his body as he comes into the locker room area. Smelling strong of sweat and gun smoke.

Elliott must be high off his own win, not paying attention to his surroundings when he bumps right into Bloodhound. He jumps, taking a step back and his eyes landing on their chest where they must expect someone else, quickly flicking his gaze up to their face and offering a nervous smile.

“Elliott...” Bloodhound’s voice is a growl, that low rumble that makes Elliott bubble out a nervous laugh. He goes to take a step back, hands up and defensive and his back hitting a locker as they approach like a slinking predator. But at least he doesn’t look hurt, so they must have gotten the name correctly today. A male day, then.

Elliott gulps harshly when they come closer, another nervous laugh coming out. “H- Houndie ! Baby, I uh- I didn’t see you th --” He yelps when a hand fists into his curls, yanking his head back and their other gloved hand coming up to grip his jaw. Their thumb presses to his cheek, forcing his gaze to remain on them with a tight hold on his jaw. He can see the way their crimson eye glows behind their goggles, hungry and predatory.

“Quiet.” Bloodhound’s voice is a low snarl to stop his words and Elliott clicks his mouth shut. His breath hitches as they come closer, pressing their bodies together and Elliott can’t help but reach up. His hands land on both their forearms, squeezing them lightly but without intent to move them. He’s rewarded with a thick thigh shoving its way between his own, forcing them apart as a shaky breath inhales past his full lips. You really can’t blame the way his eyes flutter with anticipation, honeyed eyes flickering down to Bloodhound’s full lips and the sharpness of their teeth. So pretty.

Yeah. He was such a lucky person.

“You know what you have done, lítill refur.”

Maaaybe not that lucky.

“Who- me? Why, what did lil ole’ me d— ah !”

Not Elliott’s smartest move to back talk and play innocent when he’s being held by them. Their thigh comes up against him through the thin fabric of his holosuit, making sure to put enough pressure to make him stand on his tiptoes. They force him still, forcing his body to rock across their thigh until his hips start to do it automatically with a faint whimper building up from his throat.

“Do not play a fool, Elliott Witt. You knew exactly what you were doing to get what you wanted- and what is it that you want, hm?” Bloodhound’s voice is low, leaning close to his face until Elliott can see the reflection of his eyes in their goggles. How widely blown his pupils are and how he’s already got his lips parted and facial expression wanting. “Do you wish for me to take you here where anyone can find you? Where the cameras shall pick up on your pathetic whining?”

As if on cue, Elliott whines when Bloodhound’s hand moves from his jaw, keeping his hair still firmly in their grip as they trace down his body with their free hand. Their hand goes straight downwards, moving their thigh to cup his crotch and running their thumb over the seam of his cunt through his holosuit. Applying just the right amount of pressure to make his hips twitch into their grasp with a harsh gasp leaving his lips. They keep that pressure, rubbing across him until they feel wetness start to seep through the fabric. And only then does Bloodhound draw their hand way much to his dismay.

In fact, they let him go, getting completely off him as they swipe their split tongue over their thumb with a satisfied hum just to watch Elliott tremble. “Get cleaned up. Come to your room when you are finished.” Their eyes sweep over his frame, watching as he nods quickly as if all that fight and trickery has left his body. Bloodhound can’t help the smirk that graces their lips.

“Oh, and Elliott?” They call as Elliott starts to gather his civilian clothing, only able to get around the corner when they speak. They get the pleasure of watching him stop near instantly, shooting a look over his shoulder with those big puppy dog eyes of his as if begging them not to be too cruel. ”Be sure not to touch yourself. I will know. I do so hate when someone else touches my meal.”

Bloodhound does not miss the quiet ‘fuck’ Elliott whines out when he turns the corner, his feet hurrying across the floor.

Poor thing. However, Bloodhound has no sympathy for him. Not today.

Bloodhound had set up in Elliott’s room while he showered. They had recently gotten him a collar that they hoped he would enjoy- it was meant to be a gift, but now was as good of a time as any. A yellow and black lace, thick ribbon collar with a black and yellow bow on the front. A small silver O-ring was on the front with a little silver raven charm hanging off, the collar itself able to be tied in the back with a thin black ribbon. It wasn’t made to be tugged or yanked, but it was certainly a quiet marking of what they intended. Possessive. Theirs.

Lubrication was set to the side on his nightstand, his bed made politely to be comfortable for him. It was tempting to lie out rope, to be able to bind him and use him like a toy until he sobbed out. But, they knew that’s what he wanted, to be able to be fucked until he was made to not think.

However, Elliott was notoriously whiny when it came to edging. That was a true punishment for him.

Speaking of the devilish fox, they hear the beep of the lock before the door slides open. Elliott sneaks in quietly, refusing to lift his head and look at Bloodhound. How cute. His curls are freshly styled, fluffy and cleaned. A loose gray t-shirt is on his frame with matching sweatpants and his striped black and white socks, his shoes toed off at the door. Bloodhound had taken the time to strip in Elliott’s room. Their uniform gone sans for their tactical pants now hanging low on their hips without a belt, revealing their fit upper torso and all of their mods. Their long, long hair was pulled up into a ponytail, a few braids framing their face.

“Bloodh--”

“My name, little one. We are safe alone.”

“Rune -” Elliott breathes out as if he’d been holding it in all day. Finally raising his gaze from the floor to see them. He’s always shameless in the way he looks over their form, making Bloodhound’s chest swell with pride as they sit up taller for him to take in their form. They beckon him closer with their finger, watching that earlier fighting look in his eyes melt away as he approaches. “Is. ..Is it too late to say sorry?”

“Very.” Bloodhound replies, a smirk on their lips once he reaches them. Elliott whines low in his throat, but quickly stops when Bloodhound begins to stand. Towering over him, but they twirl their finger for him to turn around. He quickly obeys, making their heart swell, but they must keep their mind focused. He had humiliated them in the arena and had done so without abandon, that shall not be forgotten.

At first, they gently tug at the bottom of his shirt, waiting to hear him protest. But his arms go up, allowing them to pull off the shirt with ease. Running their hands down his curves and down to his hips with a sigh. “To hide such a beautiful form is a crying shame, my love. The gods have blessed you with their beauty, and yet tonight you try to hide that from me?” They can’t help but tut their tongue, their voice playful, yet honest.

They lean down to nuzzle into his hair to inhale his scent only briefly, moving to his sports bra, once again checking before they pull it up and over his head. They understood what dysphoria could do, thankfully Elliott had explained most days he didn’t experience it, whilst Bloodhound had the blessing of confidence in their own form.

The entire time, Elliott’s breathing is getting heavier as their heated hands slide down his form, taking the time to feel up his chest like he likes. Bloodhound leans their head down to trail their split tongue down his neck, pressing a heated kiss to the crook of his neck as their hand slides under his pants’ waistband. They growl when they find no underwear, feeling the trimmed hair between his thighs as they tuck their hand between his parted thighs. Tracing over his already wet cunt and sliding two fingers through his lower lips, tracing upwards towards his clit to part his lower lips just to make him whine out, “Rune, baby, please-”

Bloodhound helps him out of his pants then. Leaving Elliott in his socks only before they reach back to grab the collar. They pull it around Elliott’s neck, tying it in the back and checking to make sure they could fit two fingers underneath so he could wear it comfortably. It’s worth the reveal just to hear how Elliott whimpers, his hips twitching into nothing and his head tipping back on their shoulder to look up at them. “You got me a collar, pup?” Spoken in a shaky, almost amused tone that makes Bloodhound smirk.

“It is to mark what is mine. You complained the last time I tried to mark you and said a collar would be easier- I merely took your advice.”

“Because you left me BLOODY and covered in BITE MARKS!” Elliott stresses out as if he didn’t enjoy every second of it, moving with Bloodhound as they spin him around. They walk back until they can sit back on the edge of the bed, guiding Elliott onto one of their thighs. He straddles it with ease, momentarily focused more on proving his point as he tips his head to the side, showing the pink scar on the crook of his neck and jutting an accusing finger at it. It’s partially hidden by the collar, and Bloodhound can’t help but groan at the sight, whilst Elliott whines. “Look! You’ve bitten me so many times it’s scarred!”

Calloused hands slide up Elliott’s curves, squeezing his breasts and teasing his nipples with their thumbs just to make his mouth shut. Feeling his hips jerk as his hands grip their broad shoulders with a low sound leaving his throat. “Mmh. I believe your last words to that was ‘you can bite harder than that’.” Bloodhound cheekily replies, being sure to show off their sharp teeth as they tug one of his pierced nipples, making his hips twitch again. Able to flick their gaze down to see the wet spot he’s put on their pants.

Bloodhound abandons his sensitive nipples to grip his hips instead in a bruising embrace. Pressing their nails to his flesh just as he liked and tugging him forward to make his hips twitch backwards, forcing his large clit to peek out from his lower lips. Their mouth waters at the thought of getting their mouth on him, but they had to pace their actions. Elliott would easily get over excited and cum if they weren’t careful at monitoring his body.

With the goal easily in mind, they allow Elliott to cling to them as they grab his hips and start rocking him, forcing him to hump their thigh. His breathing is quick to pick up, pressing his face into their neck and clinging around them with a soft swear exhaling from his lips. Bloodhound releases his hips, getting joy in the fact that he’s already canting his own hips against their thigh and whimpering into their neck. “Fuck, baby, I could probably c-cum like this.”

“You won’t.” Bloodhound assures, curling one hand into the back of Elliott’s curls, the other gripping his hip to set the pace to something quicker when Elliott slows down with that sputtering little ‘wait wha -’ coming out of his mouth. It’s as if he realizes their plans, his nails pressing into their back and a whine erupting past his soft panting.

“God, Rune- sweetheart, that- that isn’t fair.” He tries to whine out, rolling his hips into their thigh and leaving a bigger wet mark. His fat clit that Bloodhound loved so much made it easy to grind against any object. Some days Bloodhound couldn’t help but wonder what else he could just get off on. If he liked humping them like a dog so much.

“Not fair?” Bloodhound parrots back in the same whine he does, mocking him. They steady their thigh, setting his pace harsher until his body is rocking quicker, trembling with more swears tumbling from his lips into their shoulder. “Oh, my love, this is justice. To humiliate me in the arena is one thing, but to humiliate me in front of the gods?” They tut their tongue, yanking his hips forward to force him harder against them to make him sob out.

Elliott can’t even come up with a response, his breathing already so heavy and his hips grinding downwards on their own accord. But the second his breathing hitches and he whimpers out a ‘fuck!’, Bloodhound drops their thigh, their hand leaving his curls and both hands grabbing his hips. Forcing him to hover just above their lap without him tumbling to the floor. Elliott still tries to grind into nothing, his mouth moving and singing out just like they thought he would. “Fuck- baby, sweetheart —Rune- Rune, come on, that isn’t- ah - funny! Can’t you just overs—overt—make me cum until I cry?!”

All the while they can smell him. That deep, musky scent that makes them want to growl, so they do, low in their throat and causing Elliott to sob into their neck from his own denial. It was one of his most hated things, so he claimed, and yet he always was a mess after. Dripping and drooling and begging for them. Bloodhound certainly enjoyed it. Especially with how he whines into their neck and his hips twitch in their hands as if he humping air could solve his problems.

“Perhaps if you were a good little pup, I would make use of your fertile little cunt right now,” They pause there to hold him up with one hand under his ass, the other tucking between his trembling, spread thighs to run their thumb from his hole to his clit. Delighting in the breathy noise he releases, watching Elliott lean back with heavy eyes to watch Bloodhound’s promising tongue lick over the slick with a low groan. “Instead, you had to be bratty and cocky.”

Elliott, however, has always been a good persuader to get what he wanted.

Bloodhound lets his hips drop back down to their thigh that they pull back up to give him pressure. Elliott looks so pretty already, completely bare, a flush edging over his chest and face, that pretty collar around his throat, and not to mention when their eyes drop they can see the way his clit sits on their thigh. They almost want to drag their thumb down to touch him again, but judging by his half-lidded eyes and his hitched breath, that might just set him off too early.

However, Elliott was ever quick with his silver tongue, licking over his lips with his own pierced tongue that made Bloodhound’s breath catch, knowing just the dangers of how it could work their cock. “Please,” He whines out, low in his throat as their hands flex on his hips, a growl building in their own throat in warning when Elliott’s hands slide down their chest. “Please, please, I’ll be so good, baby, I’ll be your good dog. Any way you want me, I’ll do it- you wanna breed me? I know you do, I’ll be so good for you, you’ll see, come on just bend me over, forget this whole thing and we can--”

He’s cut off when one of their hands comes up to grab his hair again, causing a cry to erupt from his lips mid-sentence as his head is yanked back. Bloodhound would be the first to admit that they were hard- the whole situation with him could drive them to this point of hunger. Only this clever little fox could make them want to lose control so badly, their plan almost swayed by the idea of bending him over and taking him raw and hard how he liked.

“You will take your punishment with honor, Elliott. Do not babble and beg, you deserve this and you know it. I dare say you wanted this to happen. Such a masochist.” Bloodhound near about snarls out, raising their lips to show their sharp teeth, their other hand on his hip starting to force him to move again. But this time, they keep the hold on his hair, tugging it until his throat is bare and they can see the way his eyes flutter and try to roll into the back of his head.

The second he’s close, they stop him again, much to his dismay judging by how he sobs out. They wait for him to settle down again, letting him frantically hump their thigh this time, until they pull him away a third time. Elliott reacts with a sob, tears welling in his eyes and his body trembling. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his hips squirming in a way that tells Bloodhound he’d probably be stomping for not being able to get his way by now, if his feet could touch the ground.

“You may cum this time, little one.” Bloodhound assures him, setting him gently back down on their lap once his breathing settles. They ease on his hair, grabbing his jaw and tilting his blurry gaze up to them, swiping their thumb on his lower lip sweetly. “What is your color?”

“Green! Green, so green, very green.” Elliott breathily replies quickly, earning a small smile from Bloodhound as they lean to kiss his forehead softly with a ‘good’.

It’s a break in the scene, they both know it, but it was to ensure both of their safety. Bloodhound feared of crossing a line despite Elliott constantly telling them that they could ‘fuck him up’ and he’d be happy, and Elliott liked the pause to know that they weren’t actually angry with him but it was more of a scene to play.

There’s that brief moment shared where they go from his forehead, to his nose in a peck, and then to his lips the same way before they’re moving back into their role. Keeping a grip on his jaw to make sure that their eyes meet as Elliott starts humping their thigh again. More frantic and earnest in his desires, like a dog humping a leg. Soaking through their pants as repetitive moans leave his lips of ‘ah, ah, ah’ the closer he gets.

“Say thank you.” Bloodhound reminds him, pressing their thigh up harder against him.

It takes not five seconds after before his body is seizing beautiful, muscles taut and tears spilling down his cheeks finally as Elliott cries out, “ Thankyouthankyouthankyou - hnnh —thank you, fuck , oh thank you, Daddy -” Like the good boy he was, each twitch of his hips making a shuddery breath leave him and a spasm rock his frame from his orgasm.

However, he doesn’t get a break. Not when he uses that title. It’s like a band snaps within Bloodhound and they need their tongue on him. Now.

Near instantly, while he’s still twitching and contracting, Bloodhound moves their position. Slamming Elliott down onto the bed to crawl between his thighs like they were starving for him this entire time. And they were. His legs go over their shoulders, their hands clasping his inked thighs tightly and forcing them apart so their tongue could lick up his drooling mess.

They moan at the same time Elliott sobs out, his hands slamming down into their beautiful mess of amber waves to clutch tightly at the root and pulling just like they liked. It only drives them to quicken their tongue, licking up his mess and wetly getting their mouth around his clit to suckle and trace over the shape of it in eager licks.

Bloodhound can’t help but rut into the bed when they finally get his taste and smell on their tongue and nose. Slick smears across their lips, down their chin and over their nose from how wet he is, but they never minded a messy meal. Elliott’s so delirious and still riding that high of his orgasm, over sensitive from his denial as his back arches off the bed and he’s making such pretty sounds.

Bloodhound lets their gaze look up to him, seeing his head thrown back and exposing the collar around his throat. How his chest rises and falls quick with each pant and his body twitches and trembles to each lick over his clit. When they introduce two fingers into his pliant pussy to work in tandem, it doesn’t take long before his mouth is going a mile a minute, “Yes, yes, yes- God your tongue is my favorite—f-favorite thing. Ah - wish you’d just fuck me— hhh ! Just fuck me already! Oh - you sounded so angry in the arena- fuck, you looked so good, wanted to- to just shove my wingman in your fucking mouth and make you my dog right there-”

Bloodhound can only growl against him, rutting their hips harder against the bed at the mental image he’s providing. Elliott was always better at the dirty talk, not even thinking as his mouth ran. Twisting his fingers into their amber locks to press their head down and they follow so eagerly, burying their face between his thighs with a deeper hunger at the idea of Elliott making them his dog.

Another time, they tell themself, because tonight they needed inside him.

When Elliott cums again with a loud cry, Bloodhound moans against him, messily licking up the mess he’s spilling onto their tongue. They pull back to pant heavily against him, their fingers still pounding into him and curling upwards, keeping him still on that high. They get the pleasure of seeing him arch off the bed, his hips trying to thrust upwards and dropping back down in little twitches like his body can’t decide to get away from their fingers or fuck himself on them.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Bloodhound can’t help but tease, fucking their fingers upwards and introducing a third. “To cum until you cry, little one? You were just begging for it earlier.”

Their point is driven home by their lips sealing back over his clit. Elliott screams out, twisting his fingers back into their hair and slamming them down against them. Bucking up against their face as they curl all three fingers into him and let him hump their face desperately. A string of ‘yes, yes, yes’ falling from his lips until a third orgasm rocks his body.

That should be plenty of prep.

It’s a bit of a move to get Elliott’s hands out of their hair, especially when Bloodhound could spend hours just licking him clean and feeling their hair pulled. Gently, they manage to move his twitching body, whimpers erupting from his lips and his headspace long gone.

So cute when he was just a little doll for them. Little prey all caught up in their arms.

Bloodhound sits back on the edge of the bed, dropping Elliott into their lap and undoing their pants. Hardly having the patience to remove them as they tug them down enough to pull out their pierced cock. They catch the way Elliott looks down at their own hand stroking themself to pull back the foreskin. Pausing to slide fingers between his lower lips to gather the slick and cheekily, lightly pinching his clit to make his hips jerk with a yelp. Smearing his slick over their own cock as lubricant and letting their own groan bubble from their lips, one that Elliott matches.

“Come here, litli kanína, spread your legs.” Bloodhound encourages him, watching just how Elliott splays across their lap, arms dropping around Bloodhound’s shoulders as he pulls himself up. They can’t help the growl that leaves them, dragging their cock through his lower lips, letting the head catch over his hole and up to his clit with each slide. “This is mine. You are mine. You are my prey to do with as I please, am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Boss.” Elliott chokes out, his clit giving an obvious jerk and his cunt contracting with his own arousal and drooling more slick onto them. Bloodhound swears under their breath when their eyes meet, Elliott’s honeyed gaze half lidded and tears pricking his eyes. He had to be so sensitive, and yet still was oh so willing to spread his legs and do as they wished. That was as good of an apology as any.

Bloodhound eases Elliott down onto their cock, a swear erupting from their own lips at how tight and wet he is. They can feel each barbell on their cock slip into him, like a milestone marker with each inch added. Their cock wasn’t exactly small either, thick enough you couldn’t wrap your fingers around to meet each other on it, uncut and seven inches. There was nothing to be ashamed of on their body, they were very confident in it, and even more so when Elliott seemed to appreciate every inch of them.

They can still feel how he squeezes down on them, probably still sensitive and every twitch making Elliott clench down. He looks every bit the role he plays of prey, so sweet with his eyes fluttering and his arms clinging around them. They brush their hands up his sides, squeezing the soft bit of abdomen he had and causing him to squirm with a whimpered, “H-hey-”

“I plan to fill your womb with my pups, little one,” Bloodhound starts, smoothing their hand over the front of Elliott’s abdomen, dropping their hand down so they could use their thumb to swirl over his clit. Elliott gasps out, hips twitching over them and making Bloodhound grunt softly. “Such a pretty mama you shall make. Swollen with our child, and these,” They pause there, bringing their hands up to squeeze his chest and thumbing his nipples. ”So full and swollen. How beautiful you will be.”

Elliott’s moans of agreement could be enough to make them spill inside of him. Sounding so sweet when he whimpers out, “Yes, yes, yes-” Like he can’t get enough of the idea. It was something they had talked about- both kink wise and a future. Ellie had mentioned wanting to be a stay at home parent, proudly saying she would play the role of papa and mama with glee in her eyes. That she wanted a little homestead, a dog, a few kiddos running around. The look on her face when Bloodhound had agreed and said that was something they wished as well stayed in their mind for ages. Her big dimpled smile, the tears in her eyes in excitement. So sweet.

And in turn, it became a discussion where Bloodhound had mentioned their little kink with a red face and playing with their hair to avoid eye contact. Ellie had been eager to agree- despite birth control being very well in place, it was still a little thing they indulged in. The terminology never bothered her either, whether it was an Ellie or Elliott day, though it did seem she gravitated towards Mama the most rather than Papa.

Elliott’s hips have started to move now on their own, eager to ride Bloodhound it seems, and they don’t mind. Not when they can focus on wrapping their arms around him in turn, holding him close and tucking their head down to his neck. They lick and suck at the flesh there, teasing over the pink scar they had left ages ago. Their own noises are limited, soft grunts and pants with each slide and squeeze of Elliott’s cunt around them.

Elliott’s mouth isn’t helping either, crooning into their ear absolute filth. “Want you to cum in me, baby, want to feel how your cock empties in me. C-cum in me as many times as you like until I’m full for you and- a-ah-” His mouth can only do so much when one of their hands reaches down, cupping his mound and working his clit with their thumb. It’s a distraction when their teeth sink into his neck, delighting in how his pussy contracts and a pained ’nghk!’ leaves him.

They don’t stop there, leaving bruises and bite marks over his neck and shoulders, their other hand pressing to his lower back to press every time his hips come down to force him to grind forward into their hand. Bloodhound can’t help their own hips from thrusting up into him, his moans and whines like music to their ears.

It’s only when his body tenses and another orgasm comes crashing down through his body do their teeth sink into that familiar scar, their arms tightening around him and holding him still on their cock.

Elliott’s body jerks, swears tumbling from his lips as his hands fist into their hair. A symphony of, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Whining from his throat as Bloodhound growls when they cum. Exhaling from their nose shakily and parting from his neck to pant against him with each jerk of their cock spilling their cum deep within him.

“Fuck, Rune.” Elliott breathes out, his voice hoarse and tears having spilled down his face at some point. Bloodhound takes a moment to blink their own haziness away, sitting up with a tremble in their movement as they cup his cheeks. Swiping their thumbs over his tear stained cheeks but Elliott only laughs softly, breathless. ”Yeah , yeah, don’t whine about it, pup, I’m okay. Would have told you if I was hurt, yeah?”

Bloodhound can’t even find their voice at first, just drawing him close to rest their foreheads together in a comforting gesture. It’s with utter care and gentleness they help Elliott off their lap to lie in the bed they had made earlier. Murmuring that they’d be right back as they slide out of bed, tucking their cock away and fixing their pants- much to Elliott’s disappointment.

They leave the room and return with a few wet wash cloths, salve, and water for him. Seeing the sight of him elevating his hips, legs pulled up to either side of his head and exposing himself entirely. Bloodhound can’t help the groan when Elliott only grins up at them cheekily. “Hey, baby. Just wanted to make sure it takes.”

“Elliott Witt you are a menace.” They can’t help but whine out, their mouth watering at the tempting sight of his cunt, still swollen from sex and some cum leaking down towards his ass. They almost lick it up, but refrain and bat his arms to let his legs go. Cleaning him up first with one wash cloth over his cunt, resting the coldness of it over him to help reduce the swelling in his clit. The other is taken gently to his neck, cleaning up the blood from their bite marks and cooling salve applied.

Bloodhound then goes to the floor to find his clean clothes. Helping him back into his shirt and sweatpants with a little help from Elliott. Bloodhound works out of the rest of their gear, grabbing a pair of their own lounge pants they’d left here before. Elliott’s already got his arms up, eagerly bringing them into an embrace until they both can arrange in bed, facing each other and legs tangled, Bloodhound’s hands cupping his cheeks softly. They admire him, eyes flickering down to his lips that are pulled into a small smile.

Light of their life. They would kill for him, die for him, they would do anything he asked if it meant he would still stay smiling like he is. How they loved to have him in their arms, safe and warmed, knowing he was comfortable and at peace. The gods have gifted him to them, and they would not quell that flame within them ever for him. How they compared his eyes to the sun and his smile to--

“Hey, does this mean you aren’t mad about earlier?”

Bloodhound huffs through their nose, squishing his face to make his lips push out and making his brows furrow in a pout. “You are a menace.” They repeat. Laughing at his face softly when he tries to grin and it ends up smooshed in their hands.

“So that’s a yes?”

They can only groan at him, pushing a pillow into his face instead to muffle his teasing of them being ‘whipped’ and ‘wrapped around his finger’. Perhaps they were.

But, wouldn’t you if you were sent such a beautiful gift as him?

#miragehound #mirage #bloodhound #apex lemons #apex legends #genderfluid mirage #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

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borderlandsthirst · 4 years

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The City of the COV

The Shopping District

The place to get your latest COV fashions from baggy hazard pants to freshly stitched psycho masks, you can even buy looted enemy mods for you guns and grenades here.

Fresh, recently killed Pandoran meat can also be purchased here. From skag, to spiderant, to varkid and all the other horrific things this planet has to offer. And human, and meat is the only thing anyone here eats.

You can also get more tattoos added to your body here as long as you don’t cover the symbol of the Gods.

Food, echo mods, and clothes are yours here.

The Working District

Here is where work is done, the twins didn’t want the labor area to be in or near the Cathedral, best to keep that somewhere else where they don’t have to see it every day.

Here you’ll find the engineering department, weapon manufacturing facility, and everything else except the spa. Which is attached to the Cathedral on the lower level, Troy and Tyreen visit often. Someone fell asleep in there once.

The hospital is never full nor does it ever have many patients, if a follower is severely hurt then they are sent to the Cathedral for Tyreen to leech, no need to let good energy go to waste right?

The Holy Church

This is where the followers come to pray and give offerings, as well as where the sacrifice ceremonies, initiations and sermons take place.

The church looms over the gate leading into the city, it’s the second tallest building in the main hub of the COV. Initiations are very quick, a hot iron or lengthy tattoo across your back or chest and then you’re sent to the chapel to receive your welcome video from the twins.

Sermons are held every Sunday at six in the morning, every follower and priest is expected to attend every sermon, failure to do so results in death. Each sermon is at least three hours long.

Sacrifices are also once a week because of how extra bloody they are, depending on the mood of the twins and the angel, there might be blood all the way up to the ceiling.

The Fun Square

This is where the twins get into trouble, bars, strip clubs, a “candy” store. This is the place Koetai probably hates the most in the city.

The Bars all carry a large variety of unique and exotic drinks from across the galaxy, drinks strong enough to knocks even Tyreen out. But the bars are just for drinking and conversations. It’s the clubs that they need supervision for.

The Backroom is the most popular of the strip clubs, plenty of exciting shows and even back room performances. Parties and even hands on activities, this place is the reason Troy and Tyreen need a “real” adult with them. Tyreen has crystalized more than a few orgies, and Troy as has woken up naked more times than he’d like to admit. Koetai has even found herself smashed between a few naked bodies, to her dismay and disgust.

These particular candy shops sell the best drugs, from pain numbing to ones that make you fly higher than Elpis. Here Troy and Tyreen go candy shopping to numb the feelings of self-loathing and depression. Koetai never buys her own, instead she settles for taking the twins supplements. Sometimes all three of them get high together and spend the whole day crying.

The Cathedral

The Cathedral is made of four floors, the spa on the first floor, the worker’s living quarters on the second floor, the saint’s and priest's room on the third floor, and the twin’s and Koetai’s room on the fourth.

The entire bottom floor is dedicated to the spa with an elevator leading to all the other floors, however each level an only be accessed by certain groups, the workers can go no higher than the worker’s quarters, the saints and priest can go no higher than they’re floor, only the twins and Koetai have access to the whole building. Each section of the spa is color coordinated. Massage rooms are green, the mud bath rooms are brown (fitting), steam bath rooms are purple. For security purposes the three highest individuals have their own special treatment rooms that come with everything the spa has to offer. Troy’s room is red, Tyreen’s is blue, and Koetai’s is orange.

The worker’s quarters are a bit compact and cramped, although the resting room is considered enormous, all the workers have to sleep in the same room in bed that are jampacked against each other with only one window. They only get five hours of sleep thirty minutes to get themselves together for the day. That means they must eat, shower, dress themselves, and do whatever else that needs to be done, in only thirty minutes. And there’s only forty or so showers with hundreds of workers.

The spa workers live in the spa in their own space so they’re always in tip top shape to massage and sere the higher ups.

The second floor is also very grimy and not well decorated or sanitized, not much thought went into the second floor because the twins don’t care about their “employees”, that get what they got and should be happy they even have a place to stay, be happy they’re even alive.

The third floor is more polished and better designed, mahogany wood floors and pearl white walls. Each saint and priest get their own room and bathroom, although they also have to share a kitchen, there are less of them and they get more time to themselves to prepare.

There are two windows in each bedroom that allow them to see when the workers leave for their designated district. The saints are required to be their stations at least an hour after the workers are scheduled to leave. The priest must leave sooner to prepare the church for the offerings and prayers of the followers.

The fourth and final floor is home to the sirens, from the elevator is the large chill room known as The Lounge. On the left wall is a huge flat screen Tv built into the wall with games and a few gaming systems below it, on the right side is three big couches each positioned inward to face the Tv, and a big coffee table in the middle. Pass the Lounge is the kitchen with motion censored equipment. The twins buy so much high cooking utensils that the wide counter space really is necessary. They also have a big kitchen island for eating.

From the kitchen there are three hallways, each hall way leads to a different siren’s room with a bathroom connected.

Tyreen’s room is decorated with many shiny objects, her walls are covered in smoothed gem pieces, her carpet is made out of Bullymong fur, her bed is up against the corner opposite of her door and the corner across from her bed is her vanity. The down a few feet from where her bed is is the closet that opens with button switch on the wall, further down on the other side of the room is her painting area, there are four room length shelves holding her smaller paintings while the bigger ones sit on the floor.

Tyreen’s bathroom is filled with so many soaps and shampoos and bath salts. She likes smelling clean and fruity. Her tub is bigger than it needs to bed, Tyreen is the smallest of the three sirens but she has the second biggest tub on the top floor. And a jacuzzi, and a two-person shower.

Troy’s room the opposite of Tyreen’s, his room is brighter and full of rock like textures, his walls are made of asphalt, his ceiling is blood red, he has an in-floor pit bed, his fur carpet is made of something he’s never heard of before, but apparently he’s not allergic so that’s what really matters. On the left side of his room is his project station where he makes more little bots that Tyreen complains are too many of. The other side of his room is his workout spot, sometime he does his exercises in the lounge, but most of the time it’s in his own room. He has a closet that extends outwards so he doesn’t have to try and maneuver in a tight space.

His bathroom has a karaoke machine in it so he can lose track of time, his tub is big enough for him to submerge his whole body in. Lots of scrubs and essential oils to calm and relax himself. Sometimes Tyreen or Koetai has to check on him because he falls asleep in his tub.

Koetai’s room is decorated with a bunch of junk she grabs from every camp she helps raid, broken chest locks, guns and shields, even skulls of creatures she’s never seen. Her bed is in the middle of the back wall surrounded by handcrafted plushies that look like nightmares, but they make her more comfortable. Unlike Troy and Tyreen who have a theme with their rooms, Koetai does not, she likes plushies, broken items, orange and purple and blue and red and black. She likes trying to create things and whatever the twins like. She never really got a chance to develop her own personality.

Her closet is also an extending one like Troy’s, most of her clothes were designed by Tyreen, but sides her stuffed demons and bed, there isn’t much to Koetai’s room. (which will change over time)

Her bathroom on the other hand, is a quiet place for her to bath and think, or try to, her tub is really a three-person tub, but three people will never get in there at the same time. Her shower can fit plenty of people, but it will only ever be her in there. She has a three-person sink, but it’s just here in there. She doesn’t know which part of her living space makes her feel worse.

I know everybody is calling their COV layout the City, but I didn’t know what else to call it. XD

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #Koetai #Troy Calypso #Tyreen Calypso #Flame Angel au #My writing #please reblog

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eisiramdeus · 4 years

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FOR WEEKS ON END THE MC HAD BEEN PLAGUED with pointed fingers and unneeded retribution – they’d had their own fill of BODY BAGS in and out of the club house, had SHED more blood than their President could remember. But that of INNOCENTS had never been his wont – not for a millennia, and that hadn’t changed with this new age. Yet it was EASY to place blame upon the rugged outsiders, who lived on the EDGE of society and dabbled in the dark dealings of VIOLENCE. Modi was many things, but he had never been a LIAR. Especially when it came to honing RESPONSIBILITY for his antics, for the lives lost beneath his watch. And these random, bloodless murders ?? They WEREN’T his doing – and there was only one man he TRUSTED enough to call, so the problem could be dealt with.

Though he APPEARED alone, there were several pairs of claws that lingered within the darkness, ready to strike should their LORD come into any trouble on his travels. He HUNG BACK as the presence of the sheriff lingered within the home – since he was already being blamed, it wouldn’t be WISE to linger in the company of those who wished to lock him up AGAIN, now would it ?? But DEFIANCE had ever been embedded into his psyche as the Fury, and he purposely crosses paths with the very man in QUESTION as he saunters up the driveway – eye contact made and lasting until Modi disappears into the THRESHOLD of the home. A sigh rattles through the bone - cage of his chest at the sight, roach of his own JOINT tossed out through the broken glass

❝ Then ya better tell me – but i’ve got my OWN ideas, ❞ there were few creatures that would leave their prey DRY and parched as this ( and he and his own were hardly among them ). ❝ Think these little shits’re gettin’ BOLD, and the boundaries of MY TERRITORY clearly aren’t being respected anymore, ❞ that in and of ITSELF was reason alone for confrontation. But the added INSULT of blame being placed upon his MC was ENOUGH to ignite the smoldering flame of agitation within his core. Icy, celeste hues flicker from the body, toward Alexander. And he ALLOWS a subtle simper to TUG at the edges of his lips, ❝ been better – can’t escape the throes of BATTLE no matter how hard I try, ❞ time had changed NOTHING ( but that had always been his wyrd, hadn’t it ?? blood and battle were all he would ever know ). The offered hand is TAKEN and clasped against his own, and he makes no attempt to conceal his claws. ❝ Thanks for COMIN’, can’t bring my whole crew into this. But CLEARLY it needs to be dealt with. How’ve YOU been ?? ❞

✯ DON’T GET HIM WRONG NOW, THIS IS FAR FROM A BLOODLESS MURDER. LOTS OF BLOOD, ACTUALLY, CAN SENSE THE TRACE AMOUNTS OF IRON ON HIS CLOTHES, SKIN, CARPET, WALS [...] IT IS JUST A VERY THOROUGH CLEAN UP JOB. THOUGH NOT THOROUGH ENOUGH. Something about being too professional in the way you clean. LETS THEM KNOW WHO YOU ARE. EVERY MASTER WITH AN AMATEUR AT HEART. REMEMBER TO MISS EVERY NOW AND THEN LEST THEY THINK EVERY SHOT WITH CERTAINTY IS FROM THE BARREL OF YOUR GUN. Surely, I killed the man in nineteen sixty three. MUST HAVE BEEN ME.

If nothing else, Modi, happy to be the one and only man for the job. Always am. That is unfortunate. ❝IT’S MY TERRITORY already now, is it? Dallas n’ Forth Worth can only seat so many Kings these days.❞ A jesting remark as they shake, hand to hand, claw to... whatever is gracefully analogous. Lion’s fangs? Eagle’s talons? I am unsure. Don’t mind it, there are more pressing implications—FOR ONE, the ease at which they do this. No effort to conceal his claws, even in the presence of other people, the sheriff, for one, who moves aside and gathers his thoughts amongst his crew, who will inevitably hit their heads on an infinite series of dead ends trying to untie this one. Nothing leaves a man so high and dry like a vampiress. Poor bastard probably thought he would score, too; invited her in through the front door. Now that is unfortunate. Yet your secret and your claws are safe with me, and amongst us, these hands fit for a king, at ease. The cigar blows out the draft in the window, he cuts into the citizen’s trashcan, a little crude for the scene but surely, he’s got work to do now. Time to stash the toys away back into his shirt’s front pocket and perform God’s work with his hands. FOR WHEN THEY ARE IDLE, THE DEVIL FINDS WORK FOR THEM. In this case, though, it seems Modi found work for them.

❝Yeah, I hear ya. Not the kind a’ MURDER ya solve with a whole crew anyways. The, uh—❞ he points to the shattered window with his eyes, a slight tilt of the eyebrow toward it. ❝MISSUS out the window 'ere? Not a fan of crowds. But fer two gentlemen with a lot o’ meat on their bones an’ full o’ blood in... well, also their meat? Sure she’ll make the exception. Three’s the lucky number, am I right?❞ EMPUSAS, vile vampiresses, shape-shifting beasts and seducers of men ( too close to home? ) made her first move tonight. That we know of. At least the one that’s been brought to Modi’s attention, and thus, to Alexander’s attention. In any case, this is your end, madame. ❝The irony of it all, though, Mod? The missus is a vampiress. Ten to one it’s one o’ Hekate’s. It’s just that season o’ year they come out o’ hell like this. But I don’t think she even knows yer name; really just looking for her fifteen minutes o’ fun every October. Puttin’ the blame on yer pack o’ boys? That’s just what the folk want to see. Good news is, ain’t no frame job ‘gainst ya. Bad news is, this ain’t the last you’ll get the blame thrown ‘round, buddy.❞ A CHUCKLE AND A FIRM PAT on Modi’s shoulders, lighthearted grin, shaking his head. You’ll live. Sucks to be the center of the wrong kind of attention, though? Deep breath, detective hat’s off, case solved, exterminator’s hat on. The cooler part of the job. Identifying the nature of the beast to the trained, old private eye was the easy part. Now it is fun.

❝Wait on me awhile, will ya? Just gotta... wrap this up with the ol’ sheriff an’ the whole county, else they’re gonna be at it all damn night an’ start graspin’ at every straw.❞ IT’S ALMOST CHILDISHLY CUTE, like a father watches his son fail to ride a bike. If you know, you know, if you don’t, you scrape your knee until you get it right. In this case, you won’t. He leaves Modi’s company for a minute to hit heads with the increasingly desperate Sheriff as he hears the midnight News channel vans already pulling up outside the crime scene. What will he tell them? The vacuum cleaner killer strikes again? Victim, male, 27, claw marks at the carotid, bled dry? In the distant conversation, he seems to yell at the federal agent but that’s hardly Alexander’s problem. A tip of the hat to the men working the midnight shift, and his work here is done. BACK AT MODI’S SIDE, he adjusts his jacket, grin of excitement on his face. This one’s on the house, Modi; been too long since he’s had a hunt that requires a bit of planning rather than just a one-two that punctures the beast’s lungs with his trident. ❝Think ya can point us to the nearest sleazy bar in town? Somewhere a pretty girl might find herself an easy score. That easy score; that’s you, partner.❞ That’s his plan. Draw her out. Let the vampiress lead you someplace only we know, eye to eye, cheek to cheek, one thing leads to another and then [...] just kidding. Just bait the demoness out to the nearest dark corner of the world and remove the nuisance. But St. Alexander cannot wait to see his reaction to the plan. ❝Has to be ya. She’d know my face if she saw it. Real shame, right, bein’ the revered monarch? Otherwise I’d totally do it. Sure you’ll do mighty fine, Mod.❞

#𝐈. IN CHARACTER.#𝐗𝐈. VERSE. MAIN.#maegtig

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ramblinganthropologist · 4 years

Text

N7 challenge 8 - Gun

Summary: Coming back to life has brought some challenges for Alistair Shepard. Most importantly, all these guns are made for right handed shooters. What’s a Spectre got to do in order to get some proper equipment? Cerberus really dropped the ball on that one...

---

If he never saw another Cerberus base, it would be too soon. Unfortunately, they had kind of brought him back to life so it was kind of a moot point.

“You're shooting a little weird there, Shepard.”

Jacob was a good guy, apart from the whole working for Ceberus thing. He had come with him on what was a minor mission – everyone else had been busy except for Miranda, and he didn't feel comfortable having her around. He couldn't help it – she had messed around in his guts. Who knows what she had seen and done while he was out?

He didn't like thinking about it... and that was hard, considering he had GAD. If he didn't think about it, it all but guaranteed he was going to do it.

Still, Alistair sighed as he nodded from his shuttle seat. They were pulling up close to the Normandy – in five minutes, he would be able to peel out of his armor and get back into some regular clothes. Then it was paperwork.

Yay.

“Sorry, I'm still not used to these new guns.” He held up the pistol that had been in his hand for most of the mission. “Every time I fire I almost get whacked in the face with the round. Learned first hand how hot they were the first time he used one.”

That burn was healed now, but it had shocked him so much he had almost dropped the gun the first time he had used it. He didn't use that one now – it was a pretty shitty model anyway. However, he was finding most of them had the same problem whenever he went into the armory.

These new guns were great for ammo and not overheating, but all of them were tooled for right-handed shooters. As a southpaw, he was out of luck.

“Sorry we didn't have anything for you back on the Normandy. You should be able to find a left-handed model when we get to the Citadel.” Jacob sounded sorry too. Really, it wasn't his fault – he wouldn't have known. It was kind of an overlooked fun fact for left handers that the first human Spectre was among their ranks – a mild curiosity, but nothing really important.

Until he almost got hit in the face with a red-hot piece of metal. Then it was kind of a big deal.

Still, Alistair smiled at the apology. “Surprised Miranda didn't mention it when she put me back together. Guess the Illusive Man figured she could rewire me to be right handed.”

After all, they had brought him back from the dead. What was changing his hand dominance compared to all that?

“Must've overlooked it in the vids.” Jacob sounded somewhere between being convinced at the other option. “Weird, considering the other Commander Shepard is left handed too. You think she could've just-”

And then he stopped talking as the pair shared a look during the Normandy docking. Even though Bo Peep Shepard had only briefly been a part of the new Normandy crew, her feelings towards Cerberus – and Miranda in particular – were very clear. More likely than not, someone asking probably would've been blasted through a wall. That, or just punched through. When it came to it, his sister was delightfully analog.

That was why he had to keep extra omni-tool parts around – he'd yet to find a model that was easy to use and didn't break when it got punched into a krogan.

At least they were back on the Normandy. Once the pair were through decontamination, it was time to get out of armor and head off in their separate directions. Alistair more than anything needed a shower as he started to pull off his chest-plate – this new body was sweating more.

Or maybe it was just adapting to not being dead anymore. Had they conditioned this damn thing while he was out?

“Finally, you two are back. I was beginning to think you were killing each other on the shuttle.”

A low voice caused Alistair to turn. As if she knew he had been talking about her, Bo was standing in the doorway. To her, it didn't matter he was half dressed. They had known each other far too long to ever be phased by this.

Besides, it was practically WLW/MLM solidarity not to give a shit.

Alistair chuckled as he pulled off his greaves. “Sorry, it took a little longer than usual to talk them down.”

“Next time just shoot them.” Bo blinked, however. “Shit, I forgot. Don't move.”

And then she was gone, headed off to God knows where. This left Alistair half dressed, holding his armor as if it was going to solve the Collector problem for him. For all he knew, maybe if he threw his dirty greaves at it, they would disintegrate.

And maybe the Illusive Man was actually a giant hamster who had taken up smoking to convince people he was human.

“Was that Commander Shepard?” Jacob's voice carried from the other side. He had been out of view of the Normandy's new XO, so he was already getting back into his clothes. “She sounded like she had something on her mind. Think the Illusive Man told her something?”

Alistair shot him a blank look as he put his armor aside. “That would be a terrible idea. I think she hates him even more than I do.”

That was probably weird, saying on a Cerberus vessel that was most likely bugged. No doubt the Illusive Man had heard that a few times over. However, the Spectre had never been one for playing those kinds of games. If he didn't like you, he'd be civil but you'd know about that. He'd get the job done, but there would be nothing nice about it.

And for his least favorite financial backer? Well, let's just say the Alliance was going to get some juicy files when he was back in regular clothes.

By the time he was pulling his shirt back over his binder, Bo had returned. She was clutching an oil-stained box in her hands so tightly it was a miracle she wasn't leaving a dent in the material. This she all but shoved into him, eyes glowing.

“There. I finished it up a couple weeks ago. Pretty sure it was around the time you woke up, so I guess I win there.”

Her reaction caused Alistair to cock an eyebrow as he lifted up the lid and peered in. Inside rested a red pistol – a Striker, if he recognized the shape right. They didn't make that model anymore, though it had been popular in 2183. More importantly, it looked as though someone had pieced it together from spare parts and battle-damaged originals. Even under the fresh paint, the wear showed through.

So did his initials, scratched in just above the handle.

Alistair's mind went blank as he lifted the pistol out of the box and held it up to the light. Though some of the parts had been replaced, he still recognized every tool mark. This just wasn't any gun – it was his, the one he had lost when he died.

Somehow... it was back in his hands.

“How?”

Bo was practically beaming. “They gave it to me at your funeral. Figured you'd need it when you came back. Had to buy some parts on Omega, but it's pretty much all there. Even got it to work with the new bullets.”

She tapped the top. “And of course, it's got your mods to shoot left handed. Couldn't get the stabilizer to work, but I don't think you'll need it with two eyes.”

Normally, Bo was much more subtle about being happy about something. She probably would've been gloating more too or warning him about her limitations with tech. But there wasn't much of that as he stood there, holding the gun he had thought lost for good.

They had gone through Akuze with this...

Alistair's hand shook as he placed the pistol on the table. Then he launched himself at his XO, barely able to wrap his arms around her as he squeezed. Up above, Bo made a strangled noise that was probably meant to convey surprise. He had caught her off guard – good.

“Thank you so much, Bo.”

Her voice came out strained as she awkwardly patted him on the head. “You should probably give it a once over to make sure I did it right. I'm pretty analog and all that shit is tech based.”

Then she was nudging him away. “Go get a shower before you do stuff like that, you smell like ass.”

That got Alistair laughing a little as he nodded. “Alright, that I can do. You're going to get another hug, though. I still got one in me.”

Bo's groan was worth it as he picked the rebuilt Stinger off the table and took it with him to his quarters. Later, he would have to look it over. No doubt there were problems that needed fixing. However, that was much easier than buying and modding a new gun to shoot left handed. Besides, he liked this one: it was red.

Best present ever.

---

“What... the hell just happened?”

Jacob was left standing alone in the room, staring blankly at where both Shepards had once been. When the larger of the two had come in with her box, he had expected plenty. Seeing the first human Spectre almost flying hug the second was not on the list.

Who knew he was so... affectionate?

“Just a touching display of sibling affection.”

Joker's voice carried over the speaker – no doubt he had seen it too. To that, Jacob just blankly made a gesture at about his shoulder. Then he pointed it far above his head. Once he was done, he waved it in the space left behind.

Siblings... right. And he was a batarian.

“Hey, he was adopted. Don't judge.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” A beeping came from his omni-tool – it was time to get back to work. He would have to leave the mystery of their relationship for another day. Someone had to keep the armory running.

At least Shepard had a proper gun again. He had been shooting way too wide. Almost hit him the one time... the guy was lucky they were both biotic.

Who knew, Commander Shepard needed a stabilizing mod... now that flipped the galaxy upside down. Hopefully when the time came, he wouldn't have to shoot anything from a distance, or they might just be in trouble.

#n7month #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Alistair Shepard #Bo Peep Shepard

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greatgreengremlin · 6 years

Note

can you put your bag things bingo fills on tumblr? it would probably be easier for requesters to see and the mods to keep track of. and, i just want to reblog your fem!hance, cause that was cute.

Actually I meant to do that, I just forgot. Oops.

Sure I can!

(VLD) Space: Anger Born of Worry

AO3

Something Lana will never tell anyone is that during their first meeting, Huihana scared the crap out of her. Only for the first thirty seconds or so, sure, but in those thirty seconds the fear was real. She took two steps into the room the Garrison assigned her, took one look at her roommate, and felt her blood turn to ice.

That chick was freaking huge. Biceps like boulders, fists like frozen turkeys. She could probably take Lana’s head off with one punch. Nervously, Lana gulped, trying to think of something suave to say, straining to shape her mouth into a confident smirk so this Amazonian stranger wouldn’t smell her fear. Then the giantess advanced and before Lana could escape, those brawny arms encircled her, deftly lifted her right off the floor…and pulled her into a hug.

“Mmph!” Lana found herself pressed up against the soft, plentiful pudge of her roommate’s round midsection, and her face smushed into the pillows of her even softer, coconut sized breasts.

“Nice to meet you, new roomie!” chirped a voice of pure sunshine.

She gave Lana a hearty squeeze and returned her to the floor.

“So I’m Huihana, most people call me Hana for short,” she paused, amusement squiggling over her features as she blinked at Lana’s name tag. “Guess that means we’re Hana and Lana, huh? Pfft, Hana and Lana. We could totally headline a sitcom.”

“Heh, yeah.” Lana gave a chuckle, feeling herself melt in relief.

“I’ll help you put away your stuff, but let’s eat the muffins first. They’re best while they’re still warm.”

“You made muffins?”

“Uh-huh.”

Hana showed her the small oven she’d hidden in the closet. It was about the size of one of those toy ones, but Lana could tell it was made of spare parts. The metals didn’t match and the screws were different sizes.

“Let me guess, you’re here to be an engineer.”

“Yep.” Hana smiled and pulled a small muffin pan out of her makeshift oven and if the tantalizing aroma of apple cinnamon was anything to go by, mismatched metal didn’t prevent it from working.

Lana took a muffin and shook her head. Hana was a freaking teddy bear. No hecking way could she ever scare Lana again.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Lana scolds, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hana rolls her eyes and keeps rolling the orange dough in front of her. “As if you always do what you’re supposed to do.”

“This isn’t about me!” Lana barks, still too shaken to keep herself from snapping. “You’re a mess, you can hardly stand up!”

Hana shoots her a look that might’ve been dangerous if she were actually standing steady. But she isn’t steady at all, she’s tottering like a butterfly could knock her over and Lana isn’t sure if it’s making her nervous or furious.

“What I am is sore and stressed, and not in the mood,” she warns irritably.

“Oh, you’re not in the mood?” Lana scoffs. “Don’t even. I’m the one who gets to be mad! You almost got yourself killed!”

“We almost get ourselves killed all the time,” Hana grumbles bitterly, flipping the dough and rolling some more.

“This was different! You know we’re supposed to be extra careful since the pods got hacked, but you ran back into a Galra infested tunnel for no reason!”

“No reason my ass, I was checking for civilians.” Hana pauses to wipe the sweat from her brow.

“Civilians who weren’t there!” Lana huffs, grasping at her hair in frustration. “BLIP tech told us the tunnel was clear!”

“And like I already explained to you and everybody else, the dust storms on that planet were interfering with our tech. Our comms were screwy, our scanners were screwy, we had no reason to trust in the BLIP tech!” Hana gives the dough an exasperated whack with the rolling pin and Lana can see the immediate regret in her eyes as the movement sends repercussions through her battered body. Recoiling, she hisses through her teeth.

“Damn it! Ugh, just come off it. I clearly did the right thing.”

“How? No one was down there!”“But someone could’ve been down there,” Hana insists hotly. “We couldn’t rely on the tech to tell us one way or the other, so I checked for myself. It’s what a paladin would do.”

Lana chews her lip. She understands where her friend is coming from, but she doesn’t have any forthcoming fuzzy feelings for her decision either. It was too reckless. Lana doesn’t like to see any of her team in danger, but this was the kind of stunt she would at least expect from Keith or Shiro. Not Hana. It was a stunt that blindsided her coming from cautious, nervous Huihana.

“You should have at least called one of us for backup.”

And what she means is, you should have called me for backup.

“I didn’t think I had enough time.” Hana gripes, maneuvering her way around the kitchen. “It’s over and done with, so just lay off.”

Lana feels the worst of her fury dying away, but she still isn’t happy. This was too much, too close a call. She can’t just swallow it with a smile and pretend she wasn’t terrified to her core. Not with the echoes of Hana’s scream still rattling around like vengeful wraiths inside her head.

“Oh crap…I’m bleeding,” Hana mutters, yanking Lana out of her thoughts.

The red stain spreads through her robe and Lana gasps, scrambling over.

“Don’t want to say I told you so, but this is exactly why you should be in bed,” she says tersely, hiking Hana’s arm over her shoulder.

Hana is still the bigger of the two, but Lana is tougher than she looks and more than strong enough to offer her support. Hana accepts it wearily, and Lana becomes increasingly worried when she fails to fire back some retort. Lana studies her more closely and frowns.

Drops of sweat sprinkle Hana’s face, headband practically drenched with it. The pain is naked in her eyes, glistening with the mist of unshed tears. Her jaw tightens, teeth clenching as she fails to bite back a whine.

“Come on,” Lana encourages. “Just a little farther.”

“A little?” Hana shoots her an exhausted look. “The med bay’s on the other side of the castle.”

“But your room is right around the corner, and Coran helped me stock it with all the right aftercare supplies while you were out being a bad patient.”

“I wasn’t trying to be a bad patient,” she mumbles. “Today just caught up with me and sitting still in silence wasn’t exactly doing wonders for my anxiety.”

“Yeah, well you bleeding through your clothes isn’t exactly doing wonders for my mental health, either,” Lana retorts.

Hana must be too spent to keep arguing because all she does is glower.

When they reach her bedroom, Lana parks her down on the bed and slides the robe off her shoulders. The bandages encasing her torso are soaked scarlet and it sends chills up Lana’s spine. Even so, she tries to keep herself together. She opens the impressive supply kit Coran prepared and paws through until she finds the sutures.

“So you’re gonna patch me up even though you’re pissed?”

“Of course I am, jerk face.”

Lana gets the packet of numbing gel and the scissors, kneels down, eye level with the wound. She snips through the layers of gauze and they fall loosely to the bed. A wide absorbent pad remains, taped over her side. It’s sodden with blood that smears onto Lana’s fingertips as she removes it as gently as possibly.

What lurks beneath is like something out of a slasher flick. Lana is a tad nervous about tending to it because it’s such a gruesome injury, but she doesn’t want to admit that aloud. The blast from the sentry’s gun shaved off a good hunk of flesh. The aperture of the wound is irritated where Coran had to trim away ruined skin. The layer of fat beneath the remaining skin peeks out a bit, bumpy and glazed in blood. The open meat in the middle is this sickening, moist, melon pink.

“Congratulations,” Lana offers sarcastically. “You managed to pop all of your stitches.”

Hana grimaces. “I don’t wanna know the graphic details.”

“No,” she agrees grimly. “You don’t.”

Lana pinches the tip of the scissors over the broken thread of the old stitches and carefully pulls them through. Hana’s fist clenches into the blankets, a tight look of discomfort twisting her features.

Some of Lana’s frustration ebbs.

“This is the worst part and it’s almost over, okay?”

Hana nods tensely.

Lana removes the long, thin thread and discards it. She opens the numbing gel and carefully spreads it along the in tact skin around the wound.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she says softly. “I know I shouldn’t be mad at you, you did what you felt was right—“

“You mean what was right,” Hana breaks in stubbornly.

“…I thought you died,” Lana admits somberly.

“What?” Hana’s jaw drops.

Lana purses her lips as she opens the suture set. “It was the way you screamed. You’re super jumpy, so I’ve heard you scream a thousand times before, but never like that. That scream chilled me to the bone, I could just hear the hurt in it…and then when we started screaming back for you to answer, you didn’t. We— I was begging you to answer me but all I got was radio silence.”

“I scared you,” Hana concludes quietly.

“Yeah.” Lana huffs, poking the needle into the flesh. Evidently the gel is doing its job, because her friend doesn’t even flinch. “Scared me more than anything else ever has. You’re in front of me right now in one piece, talking to me, and I’m still kinda shook up over it.”

“Aw, Lana…”

Lana sews quietly, occasionally glancing up to make sure Hana’s tolerating it okay. She’s fiddling with her fingers, gaze pointedly fixed on the wall.

“Look, I’m sorry. Not for what I did, but for scaring you.”

“I don’t really blame you,” Lana says, finishing off the stitches. “This is war, we get hurt. But can you at least be a good patient for the rest of the day?”

“I will if you stick around to distract me.”

“I’m supposed to let you rest,” Lana mutters, distracted as she fishes through the supplies.

Hana groans quietly and shakes her head. “I can’t. You don’t think I got scared too? It’s so quiet in here, all I can do is relive getting blasted. It’s freaking me out.”

She takes another absorbent pad and thick roll of gauze, wincing sympathetically. “Alright. I’ll stay. Maybe I can get Pidge to bring us a projector so we can watch a movie or something.”

Hana lets out a sigh of relief. Lana returns to her bedside and strips the sterile packaging off the pad. She plasters it over the freshly stitched wound and gingerly pats it down. Hana gives a wince and she stops short.

“Too rough?”

“Nah. The gel wore off, that’s all. It’s sore.”

“I’ll bet.” It’s a hell of a wound, after all. Wide, deep, and butt ugly.

Lana unwinds a length of gauze and makes an effort to be especially gentle as she bandages her, starting from the bottom and moving upward. She smooths out as many of the wrinkles as she can and tries to secure the gauze around Hana’s torso without pulling too tight.

“Alright, almost there. Just hold your tits.”

“Huh? I’m not rushing you.” Hana puzzles, brow furrowing.

“I meant literally, my busty bestie,” Lana chuckles. “They’re in the way.”

“My bad.” Grimacing, Hana sheepishly hefts them up and Lana wraps the last layer around. She finishes up with small adhesive strips to keep the bandage in place and gives it the slightest of tugs to make sure they’re effective.

“All done,” she says brightly, pulling back. “That should keep it clean and safe. Just try not to bump into anything and don’t abuse the rolling pin anymore.”

“Thanks. I’d hug you if I could.” Hana sighs and slides her arms back into the sleeves of her robe. She raises her shoulders to get it all the way on— at least, she attempts to. Pain crosses her face halfway through the motion and the fabric slides back down.

“And I can’t do that either.”

She tucks her head down like a grumpy turtle sulking in its shell. Lana wordlessly pulls the garment up for her.

“Gonna do everything for me?” Hana lifts a tired brow.

“If I have to,” Lana says, crossing her arms. “As long as you promise not to scare me like that again.”

“If it were a promise I could keep, I would,” she says wistfully.

They gaze at each other a moment, an understanding passed. Lana deflates and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaning forward to pull back Hana’s blanket.

“Go on, climb in.”

“Could’ve done that much myself,” Hana mutters, sounding more weary than offended.

Lana studies her as she draws herself up, stiffly braced back on her elbows. Pain speaks in every movement, from her legs’ halting stretch, to the low breath hissed between her teeth as she carefully reclines to the pillows. Lana lightly drapes the blanket over her.

“Lemme get you something for the pain—“ Lana turns to go and stops short as Hana’s hand encircles hers.

She tugs with surprising strength for somebody who looks two seconds away from passing out, and Lana’s eyes pop wide as she gracelessly flounders to the bed.

Lacing their fingers together, Hana gives her a tender look. “This is enough. I feel better already.”

“Liar,” Lana huffs, crinkling her nose.

“No, really. Holding hands has the potential to reduce pain. Several studies suggest it produces an analgesic effect.”

Lana pauses, studying her face for any trace of deceit. Normally having genius friends is pretty cool because they can explain complicated stuff to you and help you ace your homework. But sometimes genius friends can mess with you by rewording bullshit to sound all science-y and smart. One time Hana and Pidge nearly convinced her that the moon was indeed made of some form of petrified cheese.

“For real?”

“Yeah, for real,” Hana insists, smiling gently. “When we hold hands our brainwaves begin to synchronize. It’s like communicating empathy through touch and it makes people feel better.”

“Huh.” Lana looks down at their hands and squeezes Hana’s a little tighter.

With Hana’s hand in hers, solid and warm, Lana is beginning to feel better too.

#bad things happen bingo #badthingshappenbingo #hunk vld #lance vld #platonic hance #i mean i don't touch shipping in the vld fandom no thank you #not even in genderbend aus #blood tw #injury tw

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marshmarrowsans · 6 years

Text

Sans/Reader: Outdoor Monster Concert and Jamboree

I saved this word doc as “OutDOOT Monster Concert and Jamboree” lmfao -Mod Kasha AO3 link

You had to say, you appreciated the creativity they put into the big monster concert and jamboree. It was a huge deal, both to monsters and to the humans who loved them. There was an enormous selection of food and drinks, both alcoholic and virgin, both magical and mundane. There was a big, theatrical performance on stage for each song (most of them involving Mettaton, because who the hell would want to go up there and entertain both human and monsterkind more than him?). And the idea behind the song choices was simple: one song from each decade they were trapped underground, counting backwards.

Currently, you were on the 80s. She’s a maniac, maniac on the floor

And she’s dancing like she’s never danced before!

You weren’t really looking onstage anymore. You were too wrapped up in what you were doing: hopping and swinging your hips along to the beat, and letting Papyrus pull you along. It really didn’t bother you at all to be dancing with your best friend Sans’ little brother like this—the two of you were close friends too, he was so much fun to be around, and he had so much energy! The whole reason he ended up dancing with you was because Sans was too busy lying on his stomach like a cozy little slug, on a blanket laid out over the grass, watching the performance on stage, and occasionally, glancing over to look at you. He wasn’t much of a dancer. But boy, Papyrus sure was! “WOWIE! I CAN’T BELIEVE SANS IS BEST FRIENDS WITH SOMEBODY WHO IS SO GOOD AT DANCING! MAYBE HE LIKES THAT YOU COMPENSATE FOR HIS OWN LACK OF GRACE!” You laughed, twirling in a circle that made your loose clothes fluff out around you momentarily, like you were some kind of royalty. “Yeah?! Well I can’t believe that Sans is RELATED to somebody who’s so good at dancing!” It can cut you like a knife If the fight becomes the fire On the wire between will and what will be…

The chorus started up again, and you put everything into your dancing. You forgot your insecurities and inhibitions, forgot your usual worries that somebody might look at you and laugh at the way you danced. You’d never felt so comfortable in your own skin as you did around your monster friends.

“NYEH-HEH-HEH! YOU GO, HUMAN! STRUT YOUR STUFF, AS THEY SAY! SHAKE THAT BOOTY!” You were having a hard enough time holding in your own laughter when you heard him say that before you glanced over at Sans and saw him snort the root beer he was trying to drink up into and out of his nasal cavity. That made you double over for a second, laughter squeezing a couple of happy tears from your eyes. Then you threw your arms up in the air and sang the last couple of verses of the song at the top of your lungs while dancing downright recklessly.

She's a maniac, maniac I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before

Maniac, maniac I sure know…

As the song fell into its final diminuendo, so did your dancing, until the song was over and you were left standing there, breathless. Papyrus rushed you and gave you a hug that almost made your exhausted legs give out from under you. “Whoa! Is my dancing THAT great?” “IT’S JUST SO NICE TO SEE YOU HAVING SO MUCH FUN!” It struck you at that moment—you didn’t know it had been so noticeable, but you hadn’t exactly been in a good place when you met your now-friends. You had been shy, and quiet, and lonely, and sad. And that was all putting it simply—it had been more severe than just those things. Sure, things weren’t perfect now, they never would be perfect, but you were happy. That was worth a lot. And it showed, clearly.

That was easily the most energetic dance you’d done so far at the concert, and you’d been on your feet since it began, so you and Papyrus both agreed that you’d earned your spot next to Sans on the blanket. “wow,” he remarked simply, his eyes following you all the way from your spot in the crowd to your new spot next to him. “making me jealous of my own little bro.” “Pffft. Why? I’d dance with you if you wanted to.”

“i know. i just wish i could keep up with those quick hips of yours.” He grinned mischievously and reached over to tickle your sides, making you squirm for a moment before you managed to shove his hands away. “heheh. too bad i’ve got these old, slow bones.” “Sans! You’re only, like… five years older than Papyrus.” “i know. i’m sooo old. i’m knock-knock-knockin’ on heaven’s door. man. they shoulda’ played that for the 90s song.” Now that you were close together, he put his arm around you. Between cuddling with your best friend and the cool evening breeze, relaxation washed over you quickly. Your heart slowed from an excited and euphoric race to a slow, even beat.

It was a good thing you took some time to relax, because a few songs later, a miracle happened. Sans got to his feet and silently, somewhat awkwardly offered you his hand. You looked up at him, puzzled. “… You want to dance to this one?” you asked him. “if that’s ok. it’s in a movie i like. and it’s slow dancing. the only kinda dancing i can handle…” he joked, earning a cute little giggle of acknowledgement from you, “if you don’t mind putting up with my two left feet—” “Of course I don’t mind.” Earth angel, Earth angel, will you be mine? My darling dear, love you all the time I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you

You and Sans stood across from each other, your arms over his shoulders, his hands on your hips. You swayed aimlessly from side to side like a couple of teenagers at prom, but not even high school prom. Middle school prom. Eighth grade, we-just-did-the-dancing-unit-in-PE-and-we-swear-we-know-what-we’re-doing prom. “… i’m so bad at this,” Sans whispered under his breath. “You’re fine, little guy. As long as you don’t step on my toes? I’d say you’re doing pretty well~” “just so you know. when i keep glancing down?” You’d noticed he’d been doing that. “that’s not me getting fresh with you. that’s me making sure i don’t step on your toes with these clodhoppers.” “Heheh! Okay, Sansy…” “it’s true.” Earth angel, Earth angel, please be mine My darling dear, love you all the time I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you You smiled, feeling your cheeks become warm as they often did around him, and pulled him in until you had your arms fully wrapped around each other and you were dancing cheek-to-cheek. You could smell something besides ketchup and pine on him for once. Did… he put on bone cologne for this? He must’ve been planning to dance with you ahead of time, waiting for a good song to start. God, it was always the little things about Sans that made him so sweet. I fell for you, and I knew

The vision of your love's loveliness

He mumbled what you were pretty sure was your name against your chest, and you shifted your head a little to let him know he had your attention. “Yeah, Sans?” He pulled away, just a little, and you faltered and stopped dancing for a moment before he chuckled and told you to “keep goin’.” He just wanted to look at you. His pupils were in the shapes of hearts.

I hope and I pray, that some day

I'll be the vision, the vision of your happiness

Oh, oh, oh…

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his teeth to your lips, tense, as if just waiting for you to pull away and reject him. Instead, you leaned in, curled your fingers into the fabric of his hoodie, and reciprocated. Earth angel, Earth angel! Please be mine My darling dear, love you for all time

He pulled away first, nervous despite your clear acceptance. “probably shoulda warned—” “Shut up and kiss me again, bone boy.” You leaned in first this time, and kissed him even deeper than the first time. It was his turn to show his acceptance, and he did, his body relaxing blissfully in your arms. I'm just a fool A fool in love with you.

#sans #sans the skeleton #sans/reader #sans x reader #monstersummermash #undertale #pre-relationship #first kiss #fluff #happiness #first dance #dancing together #just aaahhh #papyrus is there bein cute too

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fearandloathinguniverse · 6 years

Text

When Raoul met Oliver

We arrived at Tumblr sometime in late April, I was driving the car as my attorney was giving directions while under the effects of cocaine, we were looking for our blog space and had already passed several other blogs that showed the variety of individuals that inhabited this odd yet stimulating land. I was barely able to make out our location when he suddenly shouted: “There it is!” I sharply turned the car to the right to not miss the location my attorney had pointed out. As we stopped I saw It was a house, it was colorless with a generic house shape and no windows, just a door on the front. “Our blog lets go check it out.” My attorney said getting out of the car. I looked around the somewhat deserted area around our blog, I thought to myself how we were going to get any support if we were on the outer rims of Tumblr. I carried my luggage into the blog house, it had a giant tv on the wall with a couch and a table that had a smartwatch on it.

“You should take that” my attorney yelled from the other room where he put his luggage “It will give the locations to other blogs and more information.” He was reading this out loud off a tablet from the table the watch was on “The big monitor can help us search for other blogs we want to visit as well and check our own ‘asks’ or receive a message from the ‘mod’ whoever the hell that is “ he continued on as I strapped the watch onto my wrist and turned it on. “Grey people are anonymous Tumblr inhabits with no identity, called anons for short.”

“What do we do know?” I asked as I looked around on the watch looking for some clue of what to write about.

“Ask blogs are pretty popular on Tumblr, you should go interview someone from those blogs since asking questions is the whole point of the blog. Just interview someone fast because inactivity for too long with no content may lead people to think we’re just some guys who wanted to get past the safe mode or troll people.” My attorney said still reading from the tablet now with a joint in his left hand.

“Who should I interview?”

“Fuck, I don’t know just go look on the screen and get to it!” He yelled as he walked over to the tv typed in ask blogs and pressed a button that looked like a compass which caused the TV to start searching for ask blogs. Several based on fictional characters turned up but one that appeared to be the most popular were asked blogs based on a line of characters called ‘Vocaloids’

“There, go find a Vocaloid ask blog and interview the person. It’s that easy” he said as he sat down on the couch “Try this Fukase guy or Miku or Oliver he looks friendly.”

“You whore, I don’t even know what a Vocaloid is, just let me sit down and relax”

“Then learn about them when you travel out to one of them just get something to write about, the sooner the better.” I had no way of arguing with him right now, he was high off his mind from that joint. With little recourse, I cussed him out as I left the house and got into the car and looked for the nearest Vocaloid ask blog based on the only reasonable name my attorney listed inside. Oliver had plenty of blogs on him so it wasn’t too hard to find one but it was hard to pick which one I wanted to interview, Christ, some were flat out scary. There was a vampire, a creepy crawler, a mermaid, one whose eye was replaced with a mouth and another who was a dummy or something. I found one who was obsessed with knives named ask-okniver.tumblr.com or Knife for short and decided he would be interesting, I have an interest in knives and maybe he could lend me a good hunting knife. I punched in his location and hit the road to his blog.

The journey wasn’t too long and I pulled up to his house in a few minutes. Okay, be calm don’t alienate him, tell him your name and what your business at his blog is, those words kept going through my head as I walked up to his door and entered his blog. I stopped in my tracks as I saw several grey people standing around in almost a circle around the body of Knife who was motionless on the ground. Jesus Christ what were these grey monsters I thought before I remembered what attorney had said about them just being fellow Tumblr inhabitants. I walked up to them to look at the body of Knife, he didn’t have any visible woods but seemed to be sleeping but he wasn’t breathing. I checked my watch for information and saw that the ‘mod’ had written something that said “Fun fact: Knife does have an on and off switch. You just gotta find where it is.” So this kid is a robot? That makes this even more interesting but I knew it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t find the switch to turn him on. One of the anons said “I'm going to make a guess. Is the on/off switch along his spine like Data from Star Trek?” My watch buzzed as the ‘mod’ answered with “Good guess! But it’s incorrect!” Another anon said, “well if Knife's turned off then I guess I could pull off his bandages to see if the switch is there.” As he began to pull of Knifes bandage around his eye. The sight was phantasmagorical, the left side of his face was grey and rusty orange with a black hole where his eye should be, the entire section looked like the skin had been ripped off. I guessed it wasn’t there either, I was thinking of calling it a day but then the watch rang with a message, “Perhaps there is someone you can ask for hints. Someone who was made by the same person as Knife.” I thought this over and remembered that there were other Olivers living around here and that maybe they would have information. I was really hoping to get at least one interview so I could go back home and hey if I turned the Knife back on him might be grateful and even more willing to be interviewed, well shit I better get going then.

I dashed out of the house and looked on my watch for the Oliver who seemed like they would know the most about the mechanic of their body. ask-a-dollie.tumblr.com Perfect a doll robot thing, of course, it would know the most about machines. I drove off as fast as I could to Dollie's house and made it in a few minutes, I jumped out of my car and kicked the door open like a madman and located Dollie who was sitting on the floor and yelled "You! little doll.. robot thing. I am a journalist and I need to know if you have any information on the whereabouts of an on/off switch on your friend Knife's body. I need to ask him questions!” I was met with a quizzical look from the mangled face of Dollie who said, “Whats a Knife? I don’t know what a switch is either.” He continued to stare at me confused with that yellow eye and I noticed a red-eye beneath it was also staring at me but it looked far more sinister. I realized I just made an ass of myself as this doll clearly knew less than I did and I didn’t research this beforehand, I slowly backed out of the room as Dollie continued to look puzzled. I got back in the car, calmed myself down and looked for another Oliver to ask preferably a normal version. ask-ollie-and-co.tumblr.com seemed like a normal one and he was close by so I decided to go to his blog. I arrived and went inside with a little more composure so wouldn’t appear like a maniac again. He didn’t seem to be home but I noticed on the desk blueprints of his body, I looked through them quickly and found where his on/off switch was located, it was on his left shoulder blade.

“Behind his heart,” I said to myself thinking it sounded poetic in someway maybe I was just overjoyed as I quickly ran back to the car and drove back to Knife’s house to deliver the good news. I arrived back at his house and ran inside and pushed past the anons.

"anons, step back. I am a doctor of journalism and I have figure out where the switch is” I said as I walked up to Knifes body and reached for his hoodie before stopping as I grabbed it. I didn’t want to pull off this kids clothes in front of all these people, I would like some creep for god sakes and I don’t want that reputation on this site. So I casually reached for a knife that was on the table and ripped a small hole in his hoodie where the switch would be. I stood back up and said, “Behold, The answer was behind his heart.” I still thought that sounded poetic as I announced it to the crowd. Our watches suddenly buzzed with a message that said “You found it. Your actions will have consequences.” That last sentence caught my eye, consequences? What could it mean, it’s not like it will hurt him to be woken up and he seems to have been asleep for a while so he should be fine, I noticed the others in the room seem concerned as well but I had to get an interview or story of some sort for my site so I said, “I don't think we have a choice. I know I don't, I have to talk to him.” I leaned down and opened the panel and flipped the switch to on. Knifes eye opened up letting us know he was awake. I took a few steps back as he stood up and stretched a bit, he reached to close the panel on his back. He suddenly had a look of worry on his as he pulled off the hoodie, I stepped back a little more as I noticed the scars and bandages. He looked at his hoodie in horror with tears forming and he looked up and said, “ What did you do?” I didn’t know whether to be scared or to laugh, I thought he would be happy to be awake but it seems that he feels worse and I didn’t know why, he fell down and sat with his face pressed into his knees with his hoodie in-between. My thoughts on this situation being comical left and I just felt bad.

“Sorry about turning you back on kid, but it seemed like a good option at the time. Clearly wasn't, so I feel bad and I want to know if we can do anything to help you.” He didn’t look at me as he said, “Just go away.”

I felt a knot in my stomach surprisingly, I saw my chances to talk to this kid fly away. I finally looked at the hoodie and realized he was upset that I tore a hole into it, I felt really bad and I decided to try and do something helpful. The first thing I had to do was lock up those knives, I didn’t like the idea of that kid having them while he was like this and I got an idea from those scars on his bodies that I might be right.

“I should probably leave but I’m locking up these knives so you don’t do anything stupid with them,” I said as I started picking up knives from around the house but as I grabbed one off the table I noticed some pictures on it. The pictures had Knife and some other Oliver in different places, an anon walked up behind me and said “Those are pictures of him and his boyfriend. He loved so much, but he’s gone now.”

I looked at the pictures and pieced together how upset the kid must have been, so upset that he might’ve shut himself off. I contemplated whether or not to give these to him or lock them ups with the knife collection, I didn’t know if they could trigger some kind of bad reactions or if they would comfort him. Fuck it. I walked back out to Knife and handed the pictures to him.

“Do you still want these here?” He looked up and grabbed them from

“Please.” He said sadly. “ Don’t touch anything” he followed up with as I left back to the kitchen. I ignored his request and continued to collect the knives, there is nothing more depressive and self-loathing then someone who just lost someone they loved, I knew it was safe to keep these locked up. I gently carried his knives and put al eighty fucking two of them into a cabinet. Damn this kid had quite a few knives, most were butter knives but I still considered myself lucky for not getting cut, I had thoughts about taking one but I didn’t need to give a reason for the kid to hate me more. I grabbed the nearest lock and closed to cupboard with all the knives and locked it, in hindsight the lock wasn’t a very strong one and I’m pretty sure any halfwit fool could see that it could be broken with a hammer but it was all I had to use at the time. I walked back to the main room and was about to head out but I still felt bad so I turned back to Knife.

“Can I at least fix your hoodie before I got? I feel bad for tearing it like some animal, I just didn’t want to be seen as some creep who took off little boys clothes.” I didn’t know shit about sewing but I intended to just make some gesture of goodwill even if I probably couldn’t fix it.

“Don’t touch it. Leave. Go away… just go away” was his response, this kid seems to hate me now, I had no chance at that point to interview him. I could only walk out with my head down in defeat. I didn’t understand why he was so upset about a sweater that could be fixed, I walked outside and turned back to see more people talking to him. I heard someone ask why the hoodie was important and I stopped within earshot to hear Knife tell a story about how another one of his friends had left it for him as a goodbye gift. It was a farewell present from a person close to him and I damaged it. Shit, the only word going through my head as I drove home depressed and tired. I got back to the house to find my attorney had already made a mess of the place, he was stretched out on the couch with a drink in his hand.

“About damn time, how hard is it to get an interview?” I didn’t respond as I took my hat off and poured myself a drink. He sat up and looked at me “Did something happen?”

“I didn’t get an interview but I at least have a story to write about,” I said tiredly.

“Okay, see it wasn’t that hard.” If I wasn’t so tired o would’ve poured my drink on that bastard but I was beaten down by the day I just had and I still had to write this story, so I just walked to my room and got to typing this story. The strange and decadent adventure has made me reconsider whether or not this change will be for the best, I already feel like life is trying to beat me down again, can I really survive in this place or should I suck it up with thoughts that will be fine later on, I guess I just have to take the ride and see where I go.

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Knife belongs to ask-okniver.tumblr.com

Dollie belongs to ask-a-dollie.tumblr.com

#long story #longs to #hunter s thompson #okniver #dollie #vocaloid #oliver #vocaloid oliver #raoul duke #gonzo style #this took way too long #sorry

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lcdrarry · 4 years

Photo

LCDrarry 2020 Anonymous Master List

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Commentors, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of our fest,

Our 2nd installment of LCDrarry is coming to an end, and we’d like to thank you all for taking part in our little fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending our drarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for us mods.

We hope we could bring you some joy and diversion in these trying times and send you lots of love, strength and perseverance wherever you are :*

Happy reading, commenting and catching-up,

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami (@celilasart) and Suzi (@erin-riwen)

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information and more detailed warnings. Thank you!

***

The creations are listed in the order in which they were posted during the fest.

***

Love, Actually, is All Around

Prompt: #180 | “Love, Actually” - 2003 - Richard Curtis Author: Anonymous Word Count: 9,975 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Wizarding Politics, Discriminiation, Slight power imbalance

Summary: It’s Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco happens to work in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley’s tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Read “Love, Actually, is All Around” now on AO3.

***

Drarry on Ice

Prompt: #150 | ’“Yuuri!!! On Ice” - 2016 - Series Author: Anonymous Art Medium: Traditional Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco find love on the ice. I love Yuuri on Ice and Harry and Draco seem like such a perfect fit for Victor and Yuuri. I’ll leave it up to your imagination as far as which is which. This image is from the final scene when the two of them do a exhibition skate together.

View “Drarry on Ice” now on AO3.

***

Boats, but Not the Ocean

Prompt: #203 | “Groundhog Day” - 1993 - Harold Ramis Author: Anonymous Word Count: 15,551 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Very minor mention of suicide, some mild horror

Summary: If Draco ever gets his hands on this Bill Murray character, he’s going to kill him.

Read “Boats, but Not the Ocean” now on AO3.

***

When I Put My Eyes On You

Prompt: #193 | “The Way He Looks” - 2014 - Daniel Ribeiro Author: Anonymous Word Count: 31,155 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: When a hero defeats a villain, there’s supposed to be a happily-ever-after… but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there’s more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

Read “When I Put My Eyes On You” now on AO3.

***

Spellbound

Prompt: #113 | “Overboard” - 1987 - Garry Marshall Author: Anonymous Word Count: 15,878 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Amnesiac Draco Malfoy, Widowed Harry Potter, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Dub-Con due to Amnesia (Only Kissing)

Read “Spellbound” now on AO3.

***

Of Labcoats and Animagi

Prompt: #97 | “Queer Eye” - 2017 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 10,868 words Rating: Mature Warnings: mention of past abuse, panic attack (tw at beginning of chapter, can be skipped)

Summary: Fashion icon Draco? That’s long past. After the war, he never bought any new clothes and lives in his labcoats. When he doesn’t feel confident enough to meet his pen friend Prongs in real life, Luna decides to stage an intervention with a little help from the Fab Five.

Read “Of Labcoats and Animagi” now on AO3.

***

Title of Their Sex Tape

Prompt: #112 | “Brooklyn Nine Nine” - 2013 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 12,428 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: What are the Wizarding world’s most elite law enforcers doing when they aren’t catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter’s mouth when he’s mid-yawn. This story isn’t about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can’t help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That’s about it.

Read “Title of Their Sex Tape” now on AO3.

***

Harry Potter and the Beast

Prompt: #204 | “Beauty and the Beast” - 1991 - Gary Trousdale Author: Anonymous Word Count/Art Medium: 5,655 words/31 illustrated pages Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Arrogant prince Draco is cursed to live as a terrifying beast until he finds true love. This fairy tale consists of 31 fully illustrated pages.

Read “Harry Potter and the Beast” now on AO3.

***

So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I’m Alive

Prompt: #191 | “Secret Garden” - 1993 - Agnieszka Holland Author: Anonymous Word Count: 12,865 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: trauma, canon typical violence, homophobia, use of f-g/f—-t, mention of suicidal thoughts, character with a disability

Summary: When Draco Malfoy comes to live at Godric’s Hollow, he finds it full of secrets. One night he hears the sound of crying…

Read “So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I’m Alive” now on AO3.

***

i demand to dig my own grave

Prompt: #10 | “Psych” - 2006 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 20,836 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: Draco finds himself in hot water with the Aurors, and in a burst of panicked inspiration manages to wiggle out of it by claiming to be a Seer. There’s just one little problem– Senior Auror Harry Potter, the Prat Who Lived, who’s known him for a decade, knows full well Draco doesn’t have a single psychic bone in his body and seems determined to pull him up for it. Now, the Department is demanding he help them solve cases, Potter’s looming over his shoulder at every turn, and worst of all, he hasn’t had a shag in weeks because of all this bother. What’s a pseudo-Seer to do?

Read “i demand to dig my own grave” now on AO3.

***

As You Wish

Prompt: #37 | “The Princess Bride” - 1987 - Rob Reiner Author: Anonymous Word Count: 21,917 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-typical (Harry Potter and The Princess Bride) violence, mention of suicide, canon-typical character death

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry’s forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead. Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Read “As You Wish” now on AO3.

***

Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys

Prompt: #97 | “Queer Eye”- 2017 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 18,201 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: none

Summary: Teddy’s dads are great! Really! They just need a little push from five *fabulous* gays to get them to see what’s right in front of them.

Read “Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys” now on AO3.

***

Casecation

Prompt: #112 | “Brooklyn Nine Nine” - 2013 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 4,293 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: AU, canon-typical discussion of heavy topics, discussion of mpreg

Summary: “Draco Malfoy, I swear to God-” Hermione snaps under her breath, causing Draco to laugh lowly as he ducks under a hanging plant pot. “Draco Potter, ‘Mione,” Harry murmurs with a helpless grin; they’re not really supposed to be speaking – they’re walking through the halls of Antonin Dolohov’s beach house, on their way to arrest him – but Harry can’t help marking the difference, even a year after they got married. “Be quiet,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes. “If he hears us and escapes-” Draco signals at them, and they all steel themselves for when he throws the door of the bedroom open. “Shit!”

Read “Casecation” now on AO3.

***

Don’t Blink!

Prompt: #179 | “Dr Who” - 2007 - Series Author: Anonymous Art Medium: Digital art Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry had always had exceptionally bad timing. It’s not different this time.

Read “Don’t Blink!” now on AO3.

***

A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz

Prompt: #167 | “Good Omens” - 2019 - Series Author: Anonymous Art Medium: Digital Oil Painting Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry the demon and Draco the angel just finished saving the world. They’ve earned their celebration, wouldn’t you say?

Read “A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz” now on AO3.

***

Change on the Horizon

Prompt: #57 | “Shameless (US)” - 2011 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 118,645 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Character with depression, mentions of not wanting to exist and lethargy, though no actual suicide or mentions of suicide. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, specifically not taking prescribed medication for depression. Internalized homophobia, and general homophobia from parental figures, though there is a happy ending. Casual relationships.

Read “Change on the Horizon” now on AO3.

***

The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways

Prompt: #192 | “Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries” - 2012 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 32,569 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Smoking Cigars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Poisoning

Summary:

“Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.

“Why is it always so complicated with you?”

+++++

(Or — Draco solves crimes that don’t technically belong to him and Harry tries not to fall in love. Co-Starring: Hermione, High Heels, and Hiccups along the way. #dat 1920s lyfe)

Read it now on AO3.

***

Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)

Prompt: #202 | Casablanca - 1942 - Michael Curtiz Author: Anonymous Word Count: 35,910 words Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Alternate Universe - World War II, Film Noir, Self-Medication, Alcohol, Infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), Smoking, Mention of Slavery and Human Trafficking

Summary:

It’s been years since destiny walked into an apartment on Rue Azais, and Harry is over it. Really, he is. He has Blaise, he has his work, and if necessary, he still has his memories. But with the onset of WWII, the foundations of his life are crumbling, and suddenly a certain blond man is walking back into his life, asking Harry to make important, and dangerous, choices.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Super Rich Kids

Prompt: #24 | “The Bling Ring” - 2013 - Sofia Coppola Author: Anonymous Word Count: 81,000 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Thriller, Murder, Dark Humour, Angst, Depression, Nihilism, Existenialism, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Very Brief Instance of Suicidal Ideation, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence (not between Harry and Draco), Abusive Drug Use, Manipulative Behaviour, Heterosexual Sex, Threesomes, Candaulism, Possible Infidelity Due to Unclear Relationship Status (please read the tags on AO3 carefully, this list is not exhaustive)

Summary:

Read it now on AO3.

***

We Built This Right

Prompt: #48 | “Yuri on ice” - 2016 - Series Author: Anonymous Word Count: 15,344 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Homophobic Language, Anxiety, Strained Relationship with Parents

Summary:

At last year’s Grand Prix Final, Harry had an accident that left him with a lightning scar on his forehead, a concussion and a twisted ankle. Now everyone is waiting to see if his career is over - including former rival, Draco Malfoy.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Author and artist reveals are on 15 June.

179 notes · View notes

imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Text

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Seven)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

Links to past installments: (One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six)

Many a red-headed man I’d passed on the long road from Lallybroch. Every single time, my stupid, desperate heart had leapt with joy; and every time, I cursed myself for the fool that I was. For Christ’s SAKE, why the bloody hell should he be on the road from Inverness, Beauchamp? Jamie Fraser is south, in Edinburgh, with his wife. With his daughters. Happy. So, pull yourself together.

So deep had been my longing, though, that my traitorous eyes had tried over and over to convince me that it might be, it MIGHT be this time! (even when the actual travelers hadn’t looked remotely like Jamie). Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, one had been a very tall boy no more than twelve, and I still had had to see his face from ten feet before I would allow my heart to quiet. Not him. Not him.

Blind hope, indeed.

But this time, as I whirled and fell on the hillside, heart exploding, in a single moment, I was certain. Even from a great distance, even two decades later, even not yet able to see his face through the snow-flecked gloom, even had he not been screaming my name, yes, I’d know the shape of that man anywhere. It was Jamie, tearing toward me on horseback, riding like the hounds of hell were at his heels. And the SIGHT of him? A relief and a love smashed through me, so deep and so visceral that I staggered downward; not running, not even making my way down the hill; just slipping, pulled toward his orbit.

Alive. I had known for months, believed, had confirmation from Jenny herself, and yet the proof was now there before my eyes. Not under a stone on Culloden Moor; that nightmare was now banished forever. Jamie Fraser was ALIVE.

I saw him kick hard, spurring the horse to an even more astonishing pace—how loudly must he have been screaming that I had been able to hear him from so far away?—and found myself bursting out with joyous laughter at the way his shirt flapped like a sail in the wind. Nothing changed, then, if the ridiculous man had ridden without a coat or a cloak against the wind and the sn—

Wife.

No.

Daughters.

Please....please, no.

This changes absolutely nothing, Beauchamp. This ends with you going through those stones, sooner or later. Make it sooner.

But he came for me—Jamie came! He’s HERE.

He’s happy. He may have come, but he’s happy. Don’t make him suffer by forcing this impossible choice.

Just let me say goodbye.

Please.

Let me hold him, just for —

Beauchamp:

Can you honestly do what needs to be done if you have to look him in the eye and pull yourself out of his arms?

“CLAIRE!—What are ye—? S T O P !”

I was running up the hill, stumbling and tripping, going as fast as I could. I couldn’t stop. If I looked at him—If I touched him...

Everything seemed to slow to single frames, impressions:

The slow shrill cry of my breaths,

the grass suddenly inches from my nose as I staggered low over a boulder.

Hoofbeats, closer, louder.

I’m running for my life through quicksand,

every footfall sinking me deeper, and slower, as the monster gets closer and closer and—

A fierce whinny, a curse.

A voice— my voice—screaming. “STAY AWAY!”

Boots hitting the ground,

“CLAIRE, STOP!”

Running, both of us running,

and I couldn’t stop.

I must not st—

Time smashed into its normal pace again as I fell, mere yards from the crest of the hill, and cried out in pain.

“CLAIRE!” God, he was so close, pounding up the hill behind me, no more than thirty—

“Don’t!” I shouted as I scrambled to my feet.

“CLAI—”

“DO—NOT—TOUCH—ME!” I screamed it over my shoulder with all the violence I possessed, a feral beast, cornered and ready to go for the throat as it went down.

Silence fell on the faerie hill. Stillness, and absolute silence.

When human thought returned, I was on my feet at the very top of the hill, the stones screaming their evil song behind me. My body was slung sideways, both arms raised in defense; my head hung at an improbable angle so as to look nowhere, see nothing: not the stones, not him. It was elemental in my body, in that moment: the absolute imperative not to look at him. If I could keep from looking, keep from getting trapped in those eyes, everything would be alright.

It was a ridiculous logic, I knew; somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness, that was obvious. Jamie Fraser was HERE. He wouldn’t simply let me walk away unacknowledged; but such was the depth of my panic and hysteria that I couldn’t move. I was bare millimeters from completely falling apart, abandoning all my noble resolve, and flinging myself into his arms, begging him to choose me — take me — and damn the fucking consequences.

But it still wouldn’t change a bloody thing, the rational half of my mind whimpered. He would still be married. He would still have his children. We still could not be together, or at least not under any circumstances that honor would permit. I still could not force him to make that choice.

Hold yourself together, Beauchamp. No tears, remember? You said you could do the same for him; could be calm and sure for him. Now, do it. Stand strong.

“....Mo nighean donn?”

That flower-stem snap.

That voice—Jamie’s sweet, clear voice; my very heart speaking aloud, quietly, but with every ounce of pain and longing that I felt in my own breast.

“Look at me, mo nighean donn.”

Stand. strong.

My mouth was dry and my entire body was shaking, each word an effort. “— Can't—”

A sudden, vicious snarl. “LOOK at me!”

I half-growled, half screamed, “I—CANT!”

Desperate. So desperate, that ‘can’t’. I was shaking. Going into shock, in fact. Could feel the darkness and the manic energy and the absolute inability to retrieve words or actions closing—

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

He said it like he always said his own name: low and distinct, with honor in every syllable.

BE STRONG.

“I have ridden,” he said, in a voice so quiet and deep and measured, “night and day for nigh on a week, terrified that—terrified th—*Please,*” His calm vanished and the words were tumbling out of him in a frantic rush. “Please, for the love ye bear me, for the love that brought ye to find me: TURN.”

STAND.

God, but I can’t stand.

“By everything that is holy...” A whispered moan. “Let me see your face, mo ghraidh.”

....and damn my weak, foolish heart, I turned. I looked.

Day and night for a week, he’d said, and I believed it. Even at a distance of twenty feet down the hill, I could see just how bloodshot his eyes were, wide and wild. He was pale, underneath the red of wind and exertion, paler than I remembered. That glorious hair was now worn long. If it had been tied back, the ride and the wind had undone it. It was wild and tangled, whipping about his face, his chin covered in stubble that nearly amounted to a beard. His clothes—nothing but shirt, breeks and boots— were filthy and torn and splattered with mud. He looked, quite simply, dead on his feet.

He was the most beautiful sight I'd ever beheld.

God, you’re so like her, I wanted to moan. I’d known it, had had my heart broken every day to see the proof of him in our daughter, and yet seeing him now before me, I was absolutely run through to find her broad, good-humored face there, the same dark blue eyes aslant the high, flat cheekbones and wide mouth.

He’d aged, of course, as had I. The lines around eyes and mouth were deeper, the skin more weathered and coarse, but it was still him. His nose had been broken, at some point. It made him look fiercer, though perhaps that was simply fatigue and the vast waves of emotion obviously rushing through him, through us both.

Jamie had staggered back a pace or two back as he stared up at me, nearly toppling down the steep incline. “Jesus....Christ...” he whispered. The back of his hand was pressed to his mouth as though to stifle a cry, “You’re....You....” The hand became a fist and he shook his head as a gasping smile broke from him. “Claire—God, Claire, mo chridhe!” He moved, about to sprint up the hill.

I jumped backward. Raised my arms against him. No.

Hurt. Betrayal. Pain. It was as though I had shot him at point-blank range...And something deeper shone beneath it all: some blazing intensity I couldn’t quite identify. He looked as though he would bleed out there on the spot, from this newest wound.

So will I, my love.

But he heeded me, standing completely still. His hands shook, half-raised before him. He simply didn't know what to do with them—I knew because I didn’t know what to do with mine. His mouth worked as he tried to speak, to ask, to say something, but failing. Those eyes held everything, though. Pleading.

Silence on the hill. Silence and screaming.

“You—survived,” I managed at last, weakly, with something like a laugh.

“Aye—” He exhaled in a huge rush, clearly grateful that I'd broken the stalemate. “It was a verra close thing.” He spoke fast and frantically, babbling, even, as though terrified to let silence fall again. “I should have died in the battle, or from the firing squads after, or of my wounds festering, but— Aye, I—I was—spared.”

“Thank God,” I whispered, and his eyes lit with such hope and relief that I could have cut my bloody tongue out at the root.

STOP this instant, Beauchamp. Nothing has changed.

Jamie was the one to break the silence, this time. “Your letter,” he gasped out.

“You read it, then?” A stupid thing to say. He’d obviously read it, but I clung to conversation just as he had. The stupid words were something, something to keep from falling off the edge of this insanity. “When?”

“By providence, I arrived at Lallybroch the same day you’d left, and....Oh, God, CLAIRE....”

Oh, God, Jamie.

Each time my name left him, it seemed to tear a piece out of both of us. I could only look down at him, waiting.

“When I saw your hand on that letter,” he said, voice shaking uncontrollably, “the print of your ring in the wax, I ...”

He shook his head, at a loss, mouthing it over and over. I...I....

Through the snow, though darkness was creeping steadily around us, I could see the first tear sliding down his cheek. “....I felt as though I were dying.”

So did I. So do I.

“To know you’d survived—that you’d come back, and—and,” his eyes lit up. “Brianna.”

From his lips, our daughter’s name sounded like strange music from another world, and I wanted to listen to it forever.

“It would have been enough—more than enough—only to ken our bairn had lived, that the both of ye had lived and been cared for, but to....Claire, I simply couldna believe my eyes.” He shook his head, violently. “To see...to SEE the lass...our daughter.” Jamie released his sobbing breath and closed his eyes, holding out his hands before him, tears streamed down his cheeks. “Her entire life, there before me... and she so happy and so braw and bonny and—God, it tore out my beating heart.” He heaved a breath and smiled up at me, beaming with love and joy, though it was difficult for him to get out the words. “She’s—more wonderful than I ever could have imagined, mo ghraidh....Our Brianna.”

I forced a smile and choked down a sob. “I’m so honored,” I whispered, so haltingly, so carefully, so, so carefully, “to have been able—to bring her to you, in some way.”

My love.

My own love.

Nothing has changed.

I know.

I took a step, two steps, backward toward the stones. This was the part where I was to be strong.

Jamie’s eyes snapped into laser-focus, a predator’s, and that unknown intensity I’d seen earlier flamed now into life. It was anger.

“Why would ye just GO?” His voice was still wretched with pain but he was snarling, stammering, growling in mounting fury. “Ye—ye came for me and—Ye came all the way from your time through the stones and then meant to go back and leave forever wi’out even—Damn ye, woman, ye didna even—If I hadna come just in time—Foolish—wretched, FOOLISH—” He hurled the demand toward me with his entire body. “WHY?”

“You *know* why.” It was all but a moan.

He growled again. “Ye dinna ken —”

“I know that you’re married,” I got out, moving sideways around the rim of the hill, countering his advance. “I know you have children. Jenny told me everything—how hap—”

“No, Claire, ye dinna understand!” Something had shifted in his eyes — relief? — and he was once again still, though scarcely fifteen feet in front of me down the hill. “Jenny lied. She lied, Claire,” he insisted, the words falling out of him. “She lied and made ye think I was—”

“You're not — ??”

Jenny lied! Thank the bloody stars above, the horrible bitch LIED!!! Jesus H—

My smile broke through like the dawn, a blaze of glorious, raging happiness as I gasped out, “Then, you’re not married?”

And I watched as that hope shriveled and vanished to dust. His eyes dropped to the ground. “I am marrit.”

I swayed, eyes closed. I couldn’t bear this any longer, couldn’t take this agony raging in my heart, both the emotional and the physical heart. I felt light-headed, felt pain in my limbs. I couldn’t be strong. I couldn’t.

Just a little while longer. Say your farewell, and be gone. It will be alright, Beauchamp.

“Then she didn’t lie,” I said, simply, my throat burning with the effort not to wail. “You have a wife and two beautiful daughters.” I caught my breath and opened my eyes, managing to smile, though I was so very near the brink. “I meant what I wrote in the letter. Every single word. I want you to be happy—and I’m glad that you are. I’m glad that you have a family and that they have made you happy.”

His brows were drawn up, making him look absolutely crazed. He mouthed the word like he’d never heard it before. Happy?

“But I—” Somehow, I kept up the smile as I whispered through wooden lips and burning throat and the tears. “—but it means—that I have—to go, now— before—”

“NO,” he snarled, springing with sudden force. I staggered still further away around the hill as he bellowed, “You’ll NOT—”

“BE STILL!” I bellowed back.

And once again, he heeded me.

“For God’s fucking SAKE, you bloody — Scot!” I shouted down at him, suddenly just as furious as he. “Have you NO notion of what — Don’t you understand? I’m giving you up! I’m letting you go!” I gestured wildly behind me to the stones, choking on my tears. “I’m leaving so you don’t have to choose! Do you think I’m so arrogant as to believe I’m worth upending your happy—”

“DAMN YOU, woman, I havena been HAPPY in TWENTY YEARS!”

Silence on the faerie hill. Silence and screaming.

When he spoke again, it was once more in that quiet, aching whisper.

“Jenny led ye to believe otherwise and may she be damned for it.” He took a step forward, pointing. “But in that letter, ye renewed a promise to me; and I’ll give ye the same, now.” Another step.

I stepped back.

He surrendered, went to his knees, hands clenched in the posture of oath-taking. “No lies, Claire.” His eyes blazed into mine. “Nor secrets. Not ever. Not now. I swear it on Brianna’s life.”

God, my heart...

“Will ye hear what I have to tell?”

...it simply couldn’t take this.

But I nodded.

“I left Laoghaire more than a year past.”

“LAOGHAIRE?!?”

The outburst was so violent, so loud and so shrill in the wake of my long silence, that it startled us both. Jamie had to put a hand out to steady himself as he jumped, and the acute panic of a fresh hell showed across his face. “She—Jenny didna—?”

“No, she BLOODY well DIDN’T!”

“Aye, well—ah ...ehm...Claire?”

He was peering leerily up at me, and little wonder, for I was laughing—actually, CACKLING with laughter, hands clutched to my belly as I doubled over with it.

“No, Jenny didn’t tell me who,” I sighed, when I had calmed down (marginally). “The only detail your darling sister deigned to divulge about your wife—”

Of all people. Of ALL the marriageable women in all the bleeding Highlands. He had married —had had children with—loved—

All levity, all scorn dropped out of me, and my voice cracked, a whispering shell. “—was that you were happier with her than she’d ever seen you....And that you had two little girls that call you Da.”

“But they’re not mine, Claire. They’re not mine,” Jamie said again more urgently as I stared. He gritted his teeth. “And I shall wring my sister’s neck for a wicked liar when next I see her, for she kens fine that I’ve not had ninety-nine happy minutes in that marriage since it began.”

I was so cold. Frozen, in every cell.

“Two years ago, we wed,” he began carefully. “She was marrit before, twice, and found herself a widow wi’ two bairns to feed just as I was newly come back from England.”

His words were running together, a bit. There was so much warring within him, so much he clearly wished to say, but cold and fatigue and emotion were taking their devastating toll.

“I’m fond of her lassies—Marsali and Joan. They're aged fifteen and twelve and have had a cruel, rough way of it, in lives so short. Wi’ all that they’ve endured, I was glad—honored, even— for them to take me into their hearts as a father, but hear me, Claire.” He held my eye. “I've shared scarce more wi’ them than what loving gentleness I could offer, and a scant few months of meals shared ‘round the same table. No more.” He shook his head with a sound of shame and regret. “Christ, I sound an unfeeling wretch. I do care for them, I do.”

But they weren’t born of his love; nor had he had a hand in raising them.

“Their mother...She...”

She.

“I did have hope, at the beginning; hope that perhaps there could be some — tenderness between us. Nothing like—” He make a vain gesture up at me and closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear it. “—like what I kent it could be between a husband and wife, but something good to keep me sane; keep me alive....Can ye see?...Have ye kent that same hope, Claire?.... Only she couldna; or I couldna. I’ll accept the blame in full, but in the end, the ‘why’ and ‘who’ dinna matter. It was a broken thing within months, and I knew that if I’d stayed....”

He hung his head, and for the first time, I could truly see the twenty years that had gone from his life.

“I left for Edinburgh; have been there ever since. I provide for them, but I havena called Balriggan home for over a year...nor shared her bed since long before that.”

The wind whistled between us. What he was saying...

I was numb. I was...It was like I was underwater, with news being shouted to me from dry land as I slowly drowned.

“I’ve lain wi’ three women, since you’ve been gone,” he blurted suddenly, urgently against my silence, his voice so miserable, his eyes imploring. “Laoghaire, and two single-night encounters, and from one of those—From one of those nights...”

Oh, Jesus...

“William,” he whispered, nodding in confirmation, his eyes absolutely wretched but shining with the need to confess. “He’s a — a bastard, in England, and I shall never see him again. I’ve never told anyone of him, not even Jenny or Ian. His mother, his putative father—they’re both dead. He’s highborn, in the care of a man I trust. John will give him a good life; better than ever a convicted traitor could.”

He closed his eyes and I could see his mouth working furiously as he tried both to form words and to hold back his weeping. “But he’s my son,” he whispered. “My only son, alive in the world because of me, and he’s bonny and canty and strong, just like Brianna, and there are days when I canna seem to live wi’out seeing him, holding him, or —” And he went silent, hiding his face in his hands until he could manage to speak. “Nor can I regret that he lives, for those years I had near Willie were the closest thing I’ve had to—to — And that only a shell of what....”

He raised a hand up as though he would cup my cheek across the chasm between us; then dropped it. Both hands lay on his thighs, aimless.

“No. Happiness has not been granted me, Claire.” He stared at his palms, speaking in the barest, broken murmur. “My heart left wi’ you and the bairn; and while it is my duty to go on, to care for those under my protection, as I shall do, I've had little joy save the knowledge that at the end, I'd die and be able to find ye, just as I promised. Two hundred years, I said I’d wait. I’ve been counting.”

The snowflakes danced around us in the near-night, oblivious to desperation or to miraculous sparks catching in dark, deep places.

“And to then learn in a moment that you’d come back...”

I tried to speak; but I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t open my mouth. I clenched it tight, feeling the tears slipping over my lips.

“Claire?” he moaned, reaching out a hand. “...Lass?...Love?...I feel as if I shall die if I canna touch ye....Please.”

My knees had locked — everything within me had locked, between Jamie and the cold— and as I tried to adjust my footing, I accidentally stumbled backward a pace.

Despair escaped out of him and he jumped up as though to run to me, but he thought better of it, and came back down to his knees.

“Twice, I brought ye here to send ye away, mo nighean donn, because I knew a better life awaited ye on the other side of those accursed stones. Perhaps it does, this day, as well, but this time, I shall beg. Don't go.”

He raised both clawed hands to me. The tears were flowing so violently and his face was so deeply contorted so as to be barely recognizable.

“Don’t go. Stay wi’ me. Stay. I canna...I canna do it...Please....*please*....”

I was paralyzed, completely immobilized by — by —

“Is it too much to forgive, Claire?” came the cracked moan of my heart through the darkness that had suddenly hidden him from me entirely. “Laoghaire and—and William? Do... do ye not want me?”

“God, Jamie...” I whispered, so softly that surely only the grass and the snow could hear.

It was the first time I had said his name aloud to him.

“....you're all I want.”

“Then what else matters?”

“....Nothing.”

Nothing else mattered.

And I was flying down to him, and he was flying off his knees to catch me, and the feeling of his arms around me, of Jamie’s arms around me at last was —

Like lightning, striking upon the sand. A flash of light, of power, instantly transforming the hundreds of tiny fragments— the millions of shards weathered to all but nothing by time—into a single, molten one. A whole.

END OF PART I

#;mod bonnie #A Hundred Lesser Faces #seeeee if i'd kept this with part 6 it would have been wayyyy too much #Angst Angst Baby #dm-dm-dm-dm-dididi-dm #also #sorry for the bolding #i usually avoid bold text but i found i needed it #why do mega-italics not exist #as if i needed more tools in my formatting-overkill repertoire

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