#there’s no way they can really scratch the surface of what anne was getting at | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

threewaysdivided · 2 years ago

Text

Infused-ganache Chocolate Truffles

Made a batch of these on the weekend (and then tormented my international friends on discord with them) so in penance by popular demand, let’s talk chocolate-making.

Okay, well, making things out of chocolate. Actually making chocolate from scratch is a long and specialised process that’s well out of scope for the average casual home-cook. See these videos from H2CT and Babish if you want to learn what’s involved there.

I’ve made a few versions of these truffles with different moulds, chocolate types and infused flavours, so this isn’t going to be a prescriptive recipe as much as the key steps/principles that you can tweak to fit what you’re working with.

Working With Chocolate

A lot of what I’ve learned about working with chocolate comes from Anne Reardon’s How to Cook That channel. If you have time, this video is a great introduction to some of the food-science behind how chocolate works:

youtube

Let’s do a summary of some key principles:

WATER IS THE ENEMY

Solid chocolate does not contain water. When water (or other water-based moisture, like milk) comes into contact with chocolate, it starts to dissolve the sugar, changing the chemical structure – which can change the texture and taste.

If the surface of the chocolate gets damp/wet (e.g. because of water on your fingers or condensation in your mould/storage container) it can cause what’s called a ‘sugar bloom’, leaving white streaks or other discolouration. You can actually see a bit of this in my photos; I was making these on a humid day and I think some condensation formed on the chilled moulds as I was pouring the chocolate in. This is the best case scenario for water – it’ll damage your chocolate aesthetically but you can wipe any away remaining moisture to stop it from getting worse and keep going.

If water mixes into your melted chocolate, your chocolate will ‘seize’; the sugar-water forming a solution that the cocoa sticks to, turning it thick, dry/sludgy/lumpy and resistant to melting. At this point your chocolate is texturally ruined (unless you’re making Flake) and can’t be used for moulding or shaping. You can use it for other things, by slowly adding more hot liquid until it melts into a chocolate sauce or ganache, but seizing can’t be reversed so this will be the end of the line for using that batch in truffle shells. You’ll have to start over.

The best way to prevent this is to keep everything dry. Wipe down your bowls/ knives/ spoons/ moulds/ surfaces well with a clean cloth or paper towel to ensure there’s no water left from washing or condensation build-up from the fridge/ freezer, dry your hands thoroughly, keep exposed wet ingredients on a different part of your work surface (or use them before/ after handing your chocolate so they’re not out at the same time) and try to limit the chance of condensation (e.g. from stovetop- or kettle-steam) dripping into your melted chocolate as much as possible.

COCOA BUTTER OR COMPOUND?

There are two main types of chocolate that you’ll find in the baking aisle: ‘real’ chocolate, which uses cocoa butter as the main fat, and ‘compound’ chocolate, which uses vegetable fat instead. For this you really need to read the ingredients list on the chocolate you’re buying since different brands can use either for different products (e.g. Cadbury Baking Melts are real chocolate while Nestle Baking Melts are compound chocolate, but other Cadbury products use compound chocolate and vice versa). The only way to guarantee what you’re getting is to check whether cocoa butter or vegetable fat is listed on the packet.

This makes a difference because the fats used change the stability and texture. The vegetable fat in compound chocolate has a higher melting point and is fully solid at room temperature. This means it holds its shape more easily and doesn’t need special treatment to set firm (which can be very forgiving to beginners and good for making thin decorations) but the trade-off is that those harder fats give it a tougher texture and a waxier/ oilier mouth-feel, as well as a less glossy sheen. Meanwhile, the cocoa butter in real chocolate has a lower melting point – closer to room temperature – which means that the heat from your hands (or even just a warm day) can be enough to melt the thinner pieces. Those softer fats are what give real chocolate that nicer melt-in-your-mouth feel, and the crystalline structures that the cocoa butter arranges itself into gives real chocolate its crisp snap and glossy surface. The trade-off is that, in order to keep the fats in that crystal structure, real chocolate has to be handled more carefully, and ‘tempered’ after fully melting; otherwise the melted fat resolidifies into an unstable, unstructured form that won’t set at room temperature.

Basically compound chocolate is more forgiving to work with (especially for thin pieces) but has a worse texture and appearance, while real chocolate looks and tastes better but requires an extra step and a little more care to work with.

TEMPERING

Tempering is that extra step I mentioned, which you need to do if you want real chocolate (the cocoa butter stuff) to set back into that nice crisp, room-temperature-stable, glossy state. When you buy real chocolate it is ‘in temper’, which means that the cocoa butter fat-molecules are arranged in a crystalline configuration that shimmers when the light hits it and breaks with a nice crack.

As you heat chocolate up the fat starts to soften and then melt, until it reaches a point where that crystal arrangement of fat molecules completely liquifies into unstructured particles: called going out of temper. Once out of temper, chocolate won’t reset into temper on its own – leaving you with squidgy, dull chocolate. The maximum temperature you can take chocolate to before it goes out of temper depends on the darkness of the chocolate:

White Chocolate < 29°C / 84°F Milk Chocolate < 30°C / 86°F Dark Chocolate < 32°C / 86°F

You can always try to thread the needle of heating chocolate up enough to make it workable but not so far as to send it out of temper, but that can take a lot of precision and be easy to overshoot (especially if you don’t have a candy thermometer). Instead, the simpler thing to do is to completely melt your chocolate, and then work the melted chocolate as it cools down so that you bring it back into temper. You can melt your chocolate by microwaving in 15-30 second bursts (stirring well in between to ensure it heats evenly) or over a double-boiler (stirring constantly).

Tempering chocolate is a lot less hard or scary than it may seem. I think chocolate is one of those things that has suffered a sort of “reverse CSI effect” thanks to cooking shows. These shows often like to feature the most technically complex/ specialised methods/ tools for food prep’ because it looks chef-y/ impressive/ spectacular, which can create the impression that these are the only methods available when there are actually simpler, more reliable, more accessible methods out there.

The method I find most accessible is the seeding method. To do this you need to reserve a couple of handfuls of your chocolate and chop it finely, then periodically add those reserved chocolate chips into your melted chocolate (biggest bits to smallest bits) as it cools. What you’re doing here is taking chocolate which still has its fat crystals in-temper and introducing it to your out-of-temper melted chocolate; providing a ‘seed’ template that helps the melted fats fall back into that crystalised structure. It also helps cool your chocolate down as the seed chocolate melts in. When doing this you have to be careful not to add the seed chocolate while things are too hot: otherwise it’s just going to melt out of temper as well, which could leave you in a mess unless you have extra chocolate on hand to sacrifice to the process.

A lifehack for this if you don’t have a food-thermometer is that the average core temperature of the human body is around 37°C / 99°F (with your extremities being colder) and chocolate will go into/out of temper between 29°C to 32°C (84°F to 86°F), so you can test whether it’s time to start tempering by getting your (clean and thoroughly dried) fingers involved. Dip a finger in to touch-test the temperature (stir your cooling chocolate to ensure the temperature is even throughout). Once it feels lukewarmyou can start melting in your bigger chips. Slowly add more, stirring to melt each addition through completely, until your chocolate mix feels slightly cooler than your hands while still being liquid enough to spoon and pour. If you have particularly warm hands, have recently exercised or it’s a hot day then you might want to shoot for a little cooler again. Just remember: the lighter your chocolate, the cooler the temperature it needs to go down to, so pay close attention when working with white chocolates in particular. I’ve done this every time with different chocolate types and it’s consistently got me into the tempering zone (even the first time I did it, which is rare because I usually muck things up on the first pass).

As you can see, it doesn’t actually take that much more work or time to temper real chocolate for truffles. But if you’re in a hurry (or don’t feel like it) you can just go with compound chocolate to skip this step.

Infusing Ganache

Ganache is a mixture of chocolate and cream, used for sauces, frostings, fillings or (in our case) truffle centres. It’s made by melting chocolate and cream together (either by heating both at the same time or pouring hot cream over chocolate) with the thickness of the ganache depending on the ratio of chocolate to cream, the lightness/darkness of the chocolate and its current temperature. Because ganache is a chocolate-cream mix that can’t be tempered you should use real chocolate when making it since the only thing you’ll get from compound chocolate here is a flavour downgrade.

Now you can just use ganache straight for a creamy chocolate-filled truffle but one of the fun things I like to do is add extra flavours to make them more interesting.

FLAVOURING THE CREAM

This depends on your flavouring. If you’re using a smooth dissolving powder (e.g. espresso powder, freeze-dried berry) or liquid essence/extract (e.g. vanilla, almond) then you can directly stir it through the warm cream to flavour your ganache. One thing to be careful of here is that adding acidic liquids to hot cream can make it split and curdle (that’s actually how you get cottage cheese), so if you’re looking for a citrus flavour I’d suggest infusing the cream with the rind not the juice. (If you want to make something like a wine ganache, you’ll need a recipe with extra ingredients to compensate for the added liquid and acid.)

Speaking of infusion, you may want to add flavouring from things that won’t dissolve smoothly; like vanilla pods, fresh herbs (e.g. rosemary or mint), fruit peel, culinary lavender or (as pictured) chillies. In this case what you want to do is infuse the flavour into the cream. To do this, soak your flavouring of choice in the heated cream to extract the essential oils and aromatics. For some flavours you can boil the cream with the flavouring to get the most out of it, but for more delicate flavours you might want to just steep the pieces in warm cream to avoid cooking away/ burning the taste. It’s a good idea to cut/ grate your flavour source fairly finely to release as much as possible. Once the cream is infused to your liking (the longer it sits the stronger the taste will be) you can strain the mix through a tea-strainer or mesh sieve to catch the chunky bits.

A quick note on infusing chilli The main thing that makes chillies ‘spicy’ is a chemical called capsaicin, which triggers the body’s pain and temperature receptors (making it feel like it’s burning you). Milk-based products (such as cream in our case) contain a protein called casein, which binds to and inhibits capsaicin – neutralising some of the heat. Capsaicin can also be dissolved and washed away by oils and sugars. Basically when you infuse chilli into a cream-ganache you’re surrounding it with things that either neutralise some of the heat or help it pass along faster, which means the end-product will be less spicy than the same amount of chilli used in other dishes. If you want a hot truffle you’ll need to use stronger chillies or add slightly more. (See this video to learn more about chilli and chocolate.)

Can you infuse pure chocolate? You can, but be careful. Make sure that your flavouring ingredient is completely dry and not something that would release any juice (again, water is your enemy). I would also avoid attempting any liquid or powdered additions since that could cause seizing. The things that I find have worked best are sitting whole woody herbs or spice pods in the chocolate as it melts (I’ve done this with rosemary). I’d recommend tying your flavouring into a bundle with some kitchen twine (or making a ‘teabag’ with some mesh cloth) to make it easier to remove; pure melted chocolate is harder to strain than cream. You can also salt your melted chocolate if you like. If you’re using real chocolate, remember to temper it once you’ve removed your ‘flavour bundle’ from the melt.

Once your cream is flavoured you can pour it over the chocolate to make ganache as normal – if needed warm it over a double boiler or microwave in short bursts until the chocolate is completely melted through. You can also colour white-chocolate-based ganache with a few drops of gel food dye for visual effect.

WHIPPED GANACHE

Let’s say you don’t want a very chocolate-heavy ganache as your filling (perhaps because it would be too rich). Or maybe you added too much cream while making your ganache and now you’re worried that your filling will be too runny at serving temperature.

What you can do here is whip your ganache to thicken it in the same way that you would whip cream. Any liquid that contains at least 30% fat can be whipped – the fat globules forming a stabilised network that traps tiny air bubbles. Meanwhile when you whip egg white/ gelatine/ aquafaba what you’re doing is stretching out proteins to create the air-trapping network. Since pure cream is typically 40% fat and chocolate typically contains 20-40% fat, a cream-chocolate ganache mixture has enough fat to whip up. Ganache whipped to stiff peaks will give you a thickness and structure similar to a cooled, chocolate-heavy ganache while being substantially lighter in richness and texture.

Whether you whip your ganache just to thicken it or all the way to peaks will depend on your starting thickness and personal preference for filling texture – how runny your original mix was and whether you prefer the filling gooier or fluffier. While you can whip ganache through enthusiastic application of a balloon-whisk, I would recommend using an electric beater (or at least a hand-crank) to save yourself the exertion.

Putting it all together: Truffle time

This type of truffle is made by pouring pure melted chocolate into a mould to a create chocolate shell, which you then fill with your flavoured ganache before sealing everything shut with more chocolate and allowing to set.

MOULDS & MOULD MATERIALS

In theory you could make chocolate in any kind of mould, but the thing to keep in mind is whether you’ll be able to get it out at the end without breaking the mould or shattering the chocolate. For example, you don’t want a shape that would hook into/ fold over the chocolate, because that part would just get trapped and break off. Ideally you want a mould with a bit of flex, so that you can pop the solidified truffles from the case more easily.

My recommendation is silicon moulds. These have enough heat resistance to handle warm chocolate while keeping their shape, while also being non-stick and pliable, which makes them easier to peel off your completed truffles. You can also use plastic ice-cube trays but there is a risk, since you need to apply more force to pop the truffle out, which can transfer to the shell and crack it – especially if you’re using a gooier filling that might shift around and press against the shell from the inside.

HOW MUCH CHOCOLATE DO YOU NEED FOR SHELLS?

This will depend heavily on both the volume of filling you make, and the size of the moulds. The smaller your moulds, the more chocolate you need relative to filling. That might seem backwards, but think about it this way: the smaller your mould is, the smaller the amount of filling that can fit inside, which means you’ll need more shells to use all that filling up (it’s a surface area thing). As a general rule of thumb, you need about 300 grams of chocolate per ‘ice-cube tray’ of moulds.

You can guesstimate the number of moulds you’ll need by comparing the volume of filling you expect your chocolate + cream to make (remembering that whipped ganache will expand) to the volume you expect each mould to take. It’s a good idea to overestimate the amount of shell chocolate you think you’ll need. If you end up with too many shells you can always fill them with other things, like buttercream/cream-cheese frosting, caramel, jam/jelly, peanut butter, citrus curd, wasabi (for prank truffles) or any leftover melted chocolate (which you could also press candy pieces into).

MAKING AND FILLING SHELLS

Okay, now that we’ve covered the theory, let’s make some truffles:

Step 1: Chill your chocolate moulds (making sure they’re clean and well-dried first). Either put them in the fridge overnight or in the freezer for a few hours. This will give your chocolate shells a head start on setting.

Step 2: Make your flavoured ganache and set aside. This gives your filling time to cool down while you prepare and chill the shells. If you add a warm filling to your thin chocolate casings, the heat will melt them. (Note: You will need to let your ganache cool to room temperature if you want it to whip properly.).

Step 3: Melt the chocolate, and temper it if needed. I would recommend using a heat-safe glass or pyrex bowl since those will hold heat for longer and you want to keep your chocolate warm enough to be workable throughout this process.

Step 4: Make your shell moulds:

Pour your chocolate into your first tray of chilled moulds. Using a spatula or the back of a knife, level the tops until they are flush with the moulds, scraping the excess chocolate back into the bowl for reuse.

Return the filled moulds to the refrigerator for 2-4 minutes to allow the outer layer to cool and harden into a shell – the longer you cool it for, the thicker the truffle shell will be.

Once chilled, invert the moulds back over the bowl to pour out the remaining chocolate ( you can gently tap or shake the tray to help encourage the liquid out).

Scrape the tops flush again, returning the excess to the bowl. Place the shells back in the fridge to harden completely.

Repeat with the next mould-tray, reducing the shell-chilling time each round since your chocolate will be cooler and set faster/thicker.

If you’re starting with lots of chocolate you can do two trays at a time, but since you need to completely fill each mould while the outer layer sets, a lot of the chocolate for the later shells is going to come from the excess poured out of the first moulds. You will not have enough to fill all your moulds at once. The chocolate poured from the last 1-2 moulds will be used to seal the filling inside later.

Step 5: Add your filling(s). If possible use a piping bag with a narrow tip to give you good control and help avoid spills or overfilling (if you don’t have a piping bag, you can improvise one by reinforcing the corner of a Ziploc bag with some tape and then snipping the tip off). You want to leave at least 3mm (1/9th inch) of headspace between the top of your filling and the top of the mould (this is to fit the chocolate cap). If needed, gently tap or jiggle your mould to even out the filling. For very thick fillings, you can use a toothpick/skewer to spread the filling into any gaps/air pockets. Return your moulds to the fridge for 5-10 minutes to help set the top of the filling.

Step 6: Seal your truffles. Check that the remaining melted chocolate is still liquid enough to be workable - if it has become too thick, microwave for no more than 10 seconds or briefly place it over a bowl of hot water, just enough to get it loose again. Spoon the chocolate to fill each truffle until it’s flush with the top of the mould – scraping any excess back into the bowl to use again. Here you need to be careful not to agitate the fillings or let them mix with the chocolate, otherwise your caps may not set.

Step 7: Chill your truffles for at least 2 hours (longer for larger moulds) or ideally overnight until the chocolate and filling have fully set. Once fully set, pop your truffles out of the moulds.

Step 8 (OPTIONAL): If you like, you can accessorise your truffles by drizzling with extra chocolate (remember to temper if using the real stuff) or topping with whipped cream, extra whipped ganache or other decorations (if you wanted, you could use a small amount of chocolate to stick on sprinkles or sugar flowers) . This is an especially good idea if you’re making truffles with different fillings inside the same type of shell and want to be able to tell them apart.

The ones in the picture

For the chilli-truffles in the picture, I infused three chopped fresh red chillies (with seeds) by boiling in approximately 200mL of pure cream, then strained and combined it with 225g each of White and Milk Chocolate to make slightly more than 2 cups of runny ganache. (You can absolutely use darker chocolates to make the ganache but be aware that darker chocolates have a stronger cocoa taste that can drown out/ mask more delicate flavours. Pick the sweetness/darkness of chocolate that plays well with the profile of your chosen flavour.) Since the ganache was runny, I let it cool and whipped it to semi-stiff peaks. For these truffle shells and caps I used 900g of tempered dark chocolate, set in my supermarket’s home-brand heart moulds:

This recipe made 24 (with some of the ganache reserved for decorating the tops) plus some extra chocolate shells which I filled with peanut butter.

Have fun with it!

The reason I wrote this post the way I did is that I don’t really stick to a precise recipe when making this kind of truffle anymore. Once you have the basics down, feel free to play around. Try out other combinations of chocolates and flavours, different moulds and different fillings.

Here are some variants I’ve personally made:

Salted White Chocolate shell + Rosemary White-Chocolate Ganache Filling

Dark Chocolate shell + Orange Curd filling

Dark Chocolate shell + Peanut Butter filling

Dark Chocolate shell + Habanero White Chocolate filling

You could also look at this playlist of chocolate videos if you want some extra inspiration.

Have fun experimenting!

#chocolate #chocolate making #chocolate truffles #recipe #I want to make lavender infused ones one day (when my big spice kit is no longer sealed in storage)#chilli chocolate #chili chocolate #food science #3WD cooks

8 notes · View notes

koumeowkami · 2 years ago

Note

imagine a chart of different fandoms and they're all connected by similar vas

then now imagine a circle around all that and you now find yourself in the seiyuu hole. There is no escape ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)

But also !! i would gladly love to hear about more of paralive from you, I really just scratched the surface of it to be honest... like after my hypmic phase I saw it as another franchise with really good music.

THAT'S WHAT I WAS THINKING YESTERDAY. it's like. the more you get deep into these franchises, the more dots you start connecting. as someone who's obsessed with voice acting, everytime i realize that x voice actor actually voiced a character i already knew and i absolutely had no idea i just end up staring at the wall in thought lmao (mostly trying to find any similarities among characters).

about paralive!!!! i'm very new to it and there are still some parts of the plot i don't understand (tho i hope the upcoming anime will fill these holes), but i already listened to all the groups :D it's weird coming from me, cause i literally never listen to rap ??? but yk, every group is different so you eventually end up finding something you like! the music is so good i swear, huge props to both the VAs and the producers cause some instrumentals are INSANE.

i love the characters' stories and this emphasis on trauma and stuff like that - there's so much angst in this series but since i'm so used to rejet franchises / enstars / aaside at this point nothing can hurt me anymore lol.

another thing i appreciate is the canon trans representation !! there are two trans characters (anne and aoi) and both of them are referred to with they/them pronouns in the official english translation <3

last but not least, i need to talk about my fav group :D i like pretty much everything about cozmez. first of all, their color palette! they're literally pastel colored and look so cute and soft. second, their duality. cause they LOOK cute but they can literally tear you to pieces, their music is so aggressive and dark, in some way it fits my tastes too lol. third, their story and bond. i am SO weak for twins cause everything they do brings me to tears; if you even add the fact that their past is absolutely heartbreaking, it's the perfect recipe to make me incredibly soft for them. like, i just need to protect them with my life. they deserve happiness :(

oh btw, i'm absolutely head over heels for the way kanata (the one with long hair) raps. i love raspy voices a normal amount i swear. i like nayuta's style too but damn it's hard to get used to tosshi-kun rapping 😭 still love him tho <3

#i hope you don't regret asking me about paralive #cause i talked too much oops #btw my other fav groups are bae and gokuluck #i am SO glad there's a group doing rap rock #i love that shit so much #OH and i love the kanata/allen dynamic #cause i love when the hyper main character annoys the fuck out of the tsundere loner character <3 #they remind me of nayuta/ren from aaside oof #ask #🪷; riko!

7 notes · View notes

fromyourstrulyh · 5 years ago

Text

The Sweetest Fruit

A/N: Hello! This is my very, VERY late submission for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge! This is long overdue but I have finally gotten around to writing this! A couple of disclaimers though before you begin reading: 1) this fic contains the teeniest bit smut and with that said, 2) this is my first time writing smut ever, so please be gentle with me. As always, a massive thank you to Anne (@oh-honey-styles), Kate (@andwhenshesays) and Anna (@for-fucks-sake-h) for hosting the fic challenge! I would also like to thank Kate, Anne, El (@real-work-of-art) and Morgan (@soullikestyles) for reading through and giving me the boost of confidence I need to post this fic! 🙈 Finally, please go support the other amazing writers who also participated in the challenge here!

Summary: In which Harry is craving for the sweetest fruit for breakfast.

— • — • —

Harry loves his fruit. Anything from apples to mangoes to watermelon, he loves them all.

Maybe it’s the different flavor profiles he gets from the variety of fruits — tangy, sweet, tart — when he first bites into it. Maybe it’s that fruits are readily available to him and he can have them any time of the day whether it’s for breakfast, a midday snack or his dessert. Maybe it‘s that some of his favorite fruits also happen to be some of the juiciest.

Which reminds him of how you taste on his tongue.

When he savors a fruit, his mind is flooded with memories of him between your thighs on nights (and days) when he feels the urge to feast on you like you’re his last meal. He’s relentless and he does not stop until his hunger is satisfied. He just can’t help himself when you look ravishing.

So when you enter the kitchen moments after waking up, looking as enticing as ever, Harry became turned on just at the sight of you — to say the least.

He thinks it’s because of the way your hair is still messy, the sex hair still evident from the night before. He admires the way you don’t show any effort in trying to hide the marks he made on you. He thinks it’s because of the satin nightgown you have on. Despite you being absolutely filthy for him the previous night, begging and unashamedly screaming for him to go faster and harder, he also loves that you still like to be a little modest. The thought of hearing the sounds you make for only him again makes his cock swell up.

Before Harry can even stop himself, he walks up to you from behind while you’re busy making coffee. He wraps his arms around your torso bringing you to him so that your back is flush to his front. He places a faint kiss to your temple.

“G’morning, love. How’d you sleep?” He asks.

The question is so simple, so innocent. Yet the tone of his voice is raspy which says otherwise. It makes your body tense. You know that’s how he sounds in early mornings shortly after he wakes. It’s also how he sounds when he just needs you and right now, you know what he wants when you become hyper aware of his erection poking the back of your thigh.

“Hm, slept well, H. You?” You tried to play it cool but Harry knows you like the back of his hand.

He chuckles. “Best sleep I’ve had in a long time. But I had to get up early to get something for breakfast.”

You hum. “Yeah? Is there anything you’re craving? I can prepare it for you.”

“Yeah, actually. Was havin’ some fruit earlier but I want something sweeter. Got any ideas as to what I can have?” You feel his hand trail down your stomach and goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver at the suggestive tone of his voice and the feeling of his hand getting closer and closer to where you need him. You exhale shakily, trying to maintain your composure, but you feel it slowly diminishing.

You turn around in his arms so that you’re facing him, abandoning the unmade coffee. Your hips grind against his, letting him know exactly what you want.

“No clue.” You reply innocently, looking up at his face through your lashes. His eyes that were once a bright green have darkened tremendously. Harry growls and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. You feel his hands everywhere — on your hips, your thighs, with the occasional squeeze on your behind — and it makes you moan in his mouth.

“Fuck, love, need t’taste ya. Please.” He begs at the same time walking you to the counter. You jump and wrap your legs around his waist before sitting down on the cool surface.

When you’re sat comfortably on the counter, he brings his hand to the apex of your thighs. You squeal, not expecting the suddenness, but it soon turns into a moan when Harry feels his fingers being soaked with your juices. You feel your skin heat up at his touch.

The contact from his fingers is gone as quickly as it came and you watch as he brings his drenched fingers in front of his face, admiring how it glistens in the sunlight peeking through the kitchen window. Harry brings them to his lips and he hums at your familiar taste. Your mouth is parted, chest heaving, one of the straps to your nightgown is hanging from your shoulder, exposing your right breast, and Harry has never seen anything more beautiful.

You whine. “Harry, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Touch me.” You command.

“Gotta be more specific than that, love. Use your words.”

You groan internally. He knows you absolutely hate it when he’s being a tease especially when you’ve gotten so needy. The last of your patience left of your body and you spread your legs wider for him.

“Fine, then. Eat me out, Harry. Put your tongue to good use.” He doesn’t say anything. He simply smirks before kneeling down so that he’s eye level to the most intimate part of your body. You watch him nip your inner thighs until red marks appear on your skin, to remind you (and him) of the pleasure he gives you, slowly getting closer and closer to where you need him most...

“Can smell ya from here, love. All this for me?” The vibrations from his voice sends a shiver up your spine and you don’t know how much of his teasing you can take.

“H, I swear if you don’t stop teasing me, I—” The rest of your thought gets cut off and is replaced with a loud moan when he finally licks a broad stripe from your leaking hole to your swollen clit. He flicks and nibbles on the bundle of nerves, knowing it only riles you up more.

“Mm, so bossy, didn’t know my girl wants it so dirty. Just remember I’m in control here, yeah?” He flicks your clit once more which earns him another moan.

“Oh my god, yes, you’re in control. Just keep going, please.”

At that, he keeps going and doesn’t stop, as if he had any plan to. The feeling of his tongue and cool breath on your contrastingly warm skin is only adding fuel to the fire. The air smells of sweat and sex. Your mouth feels dry from it being agape. You glance down to the man between your legs to find him looking back at you. He looks at you in the eye as he nibbles on the bundle of nerves that have gotten so sensitive from his work that the slightest touch is enough to make you beg for more.

Your mouth is open in shock, head thrown back. Your mind is in a state of pure bliss, almost as if it was transported to a paradise with nothing but pleasure. You’re brought back to reality when you feel his thumb rubbing slow and languid circles on your clit. You love how attentive he is and it only makes your grind your hips against his mouth.

“Harry, fuck, I’m so, so close. Please don’t stop.”

He hums at your request, sending vibrations throughout your body. Your skin feels clammy against the counter but you could care less when the man in between your legs is feasting on you like there’s no tomorrow.

You raise your hips again to bunch the hem of your soaked nightgown around your waist. As soon as you sit back down, your hands find their way to Harry’s head. With his curls between your fingertips and your nails lightly scratching his scalp, you lightly tug on his hair which earns you a groan. In response, you widen your legs to give him more access.

“Harder,” he rasps.

When you pull on his hair a little harder than the first time, you feel the smirk on your skin. Just before you make a remark, however, his thumb on your clit speeds up.

“So wet for me. So fuckin’ sweet, sweeter than any fruit. C’mon, know yeh wanna cum for me. Cum for me baby. On my count, got it?” He asks in a whisper.

Your mind has lost all words and you could only nod to tell him that you want — more like need — a release. Your senses are in overdrive and if this means Harry gets to have you like this, with your legs spread and his tongue buried deep in between, so be it. You’re at his absolute mercy, wrapped around his finger. He is in control of you and your pleasure and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“3...” He starts.

He continued his assault on your folds. He flicked, licked, nibbled, gently bit on your oh-so-sensitive clit.

I guess he really was hungry, you thought.

“2...”

You arch your back, buck your hips to his mouth. You tightly grip onto his hair, pulling on it towards your cunt, but also push him away because you can’t take anymore. But Harry doesn’t let his job go unfinished. He can almost just feel you’re almost there, close to your release.

“1...”

And you cum. Hard. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can see specks of white in your vision. Your body has a mind of its own, shuddering and your legs quake while Harry laps up every single drop of your juices. The only sounds that can be heard in the room is just you shouting curses and Harry’s name over and over again.

After what feels like an eternity, you feel like you finally recovered from what might’ve been one of the best orgasms you’ve received. You feel a loss of contact from Harry’s mouth and fingers.

You watch with hooded eyes as Harry stands, his face hovering over yours. He looks so beautiful with his chin glistening with the sunlight casted upon him. He brings his drenched fingers to his mouth and your mouth parts as you watch him taste you on his fingers. He hums in satisfaction.

He gives you a sly smirk. “Want some?”

You nod. He leans in to kiss you and your taste is evident on his tongue. You moan when you also taste a hint of the sweetness from the fruit he had earlier. It helps since your mouth was so dry from it being open for so long.

His kisses trail down your neck, his lips pecking the area around your sweet spot. You jump when you feel his teeth nip the area he knows make your knees weak. You lean your head back to give him better access. He nips and bites down on the skin until he knows a mark forms and soothes the pain with his tongue. He continues his torture down to your collarbone while he gently rubs your nipple, that’s poking through the your nightgown, with his thumb. He pulls the other strap down your shoulder and arm and pulls the top of your gown down to your stomach until both breasts are exposed to the slight breeze in the room, making you shiver. You can almost feel the smirk against your skin and before you have the chance to say anything, you feel his tongue flick your right nipple and nip on the skin around it before doing the same on your other breast.

For the first time since he went down on you, you speak up. “S-So good,” you stutter.

At that, Harry’s lips quirk up.

“Yeah? Come to think of it, I’m craving for some breakfast in bed. Think I just found the sweetest fruit.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #pypfc

684 notes · View notes

mortedeveles · 4 years ago

Text

Model For Me

Summary: Y/N has always been a timid, awkward person and artist when it comes to social interactions and it only gets worse when she asks her crush and best friend, Katsuki Bakugou, to model for her. And not just any type of modelling; Y/N needs to do a composition of a nude male body. Luckily for her, Katsuki's personality is anything but shy and he doesn't hesitate to undress in front of her. It's for art, he says. But something tells Y/N that the boy has hidden and devious intentions.

Genre: fluff, humor, suggestive content (a wee bit of NSFW themes)

TW: cursing, sexual themes, nudity.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!artist!reader

HERE: PART ONE

PART TWO. PART THREE. PART FOUR. PART FIVE. PART SIX.

a/n: this was originally going to be a oneshot but it was too long to be 1 oneshot, so the chapters will be rather short (1k-2k) but all of it together would be too long for a oneshot so it’s staying as a short story. i have two pointers for this short series!

1- reader is not white in this oneshot! (i don’t specify reader being white in others, but skin color isn’t usually mentioned) (i’m using the term poc since i’m not sure what else to use) nationality or ethnic background won’t be stated so feel free to employ your own! this isn’t really relevant tbh but i just wanted to clear it up in case someone got confused.

2- reader’s best friend here is Aneko! i would’ve used (F/N) but it would have been more troublesome so i decided to name the friend!

enjoy!!

''This month's assignment is human anatomy,'' your teacher stated. She walked around in the cramped classroom, holding a beautifully drawn painting of the nude female body to her chest.

Even though your classes weren't high end or expensive, you were still at awe at how talented your teacher was, especially since the classes were held in a small recreational center that was on the poor end. Since the classes were cheap, you would've thought that the art teacher would be inexperienced or an amateur. Sometimes you wondered how an artist like her didn't have more recognition.

''Since I'm familiar with all of your abilities and weaknesses, each of you will have a specific kind of rules,'' she said. She passed the papers around the rectangular table and once you got your hands on your copy, your face paled.

The bold words GENDER: MALE stared back at you as you swallowed nervously.

While you weren't shy or timid around the opposite gender, having to sketch a naked guy with his dick out sounded... unpleasant.

Your eyes only widened as you continued to read the rest of the rules.

The assignment must be done in a live session with the model, do NOT use images or any other type of resources.

Male must have a muscular and athletic body.

Preferably, the model should be in a position in which they are using their quirk.

Medium: charcoal.

The model must be drawn with the background as well. This assignment also includes a linear perspective.

You slowly raised your hand as you bounced your thighs nervously with the tip of your toes. The teacher raised an eyebrow and beckoned you to speak.

''Ma-Ma'am, is it necessary to do the assignment with a nude male model? Can I change it?'' You said nervously.

You could hear your friend snicker beside you and you elbowed her in the stomach without glancing, keeping your eyes on the art teacher. A soft 'ouch!' was heard from your left.

She sighed in response and stared at you through her glasses.

''Yes, Y/N. Everyone received different requirements. I will revise the progress every three days and I expect the project to be done by the end of the month. Remember that this assignment won't be done in class, so try your best and remember to use your knowledge to your advantage.''

You nodded and ducked your head, swallowing nervously. Who would you even ask to model for you? Money was tight at the moment, you were too broke to hire a model. And besides, most of your money would go to the art supplies you needed to restock on for the assignment.

''Aww, is the baby too shy to see a guy naked?'' your friend's teasing voice made you snap back to reality. Pouting, you turned to face her evil grin and stick out your tongue at her.

''Shut up, Aneko... I'm not shy! I've just never...well...'' you stammered, fiddling with your hands.

Aneko smiled smugly in response as she lowered her head to meet your nervous gaze,

''Never what...?''

You shook your head in response, refusing to admit that you'd never seen a naked guy. Scratch that, you had, through a screen of course, but being in the same room as a naked guy...? Nope. Hell, it was a rare occasion for you to be alone in a room with a boy. But staying with a naked boy?! You sighed. You can already feel the headache forming.

The teacher's firm voice snapped you out of it. ''Very well. The class is over. I'll see you all next week. Have a great weekend!''

Everyone rose from their seats, stashing away their art supplies and heading out of the small classroom. You stayed behind with your best friend Aneko, chatting about nonsense.

''So, who are you going to ask model?'' she said casually, stuffing her can of spray inside her ratty backpack.

''I don't know...'' you mumble. ''I don't really think I'm close enough with any guy to ask him to model for me...''

''Don't say that!'' Aneko chided. ''Well.. there is one person you can ask....'' she grinned at you as the two of you walked out of the classroom.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her words. Who was she talking about? From all the boys you knew, someone who was a male had an athletic build and a flashy or useful quirk, you'd say it would be...

Katsuki Bakugou.

Suddenly, you froze in the middle of the hallway. Aneko raised her eyebrows and she stopped as well, questioning your actions.

Thank god for your dark skin, otherwise, Aneko would've noticed you were blushing. She tugged your hand and urged you forward. But nope, once his name had surfaced, you were frozen. Thoughts of undressing your friend Katsuki were all over your mind, making you feel more flustered with every passing minute.

''Y/N, is something wrong? Why are you...'' she trailed off and her voice died down. But a devious grin rose from her lips and something told you that she knew exactly what you were thinking.

''Ohhh. Naughty Y/N! You're thinking about him, aren't you?! Asking Bakugou, your big, fat crush to be na-'' her next words were muffled violently as you pressed a hand against her mouth and with the other one, grabbed her ear and dragged her out of the run down the recreational center.

Aneko was screeching in protest, but her noises were muffled by your hand, keeping a firm grip around her. Once the two of you were outside of the center and no one was around to hear, you dropped your hand, grimacing when you saw that Aneka had tried biting you. Several times.

''Ouch, ouch! Why'd you do that?'' she grumbled, rubbing her sore ear.

''Don't say that when we're in public!'' you hissed, rubbing your warm cheeks.

''Even though he's still a student, Katsuki Bakugou gets a lot of attention from the media! Not to mention, I'm a U.A student too! If someone heard a word of this, who knows what they would've done with it! I don't want to be part of a teenage scandal!"

''Sorry...'' your friend mumbled as she glanced towards the ground. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

''It's okay, Anne, just please be more careful next time,''

Aneko smiled sheepishly and gave you a thumbs up. You smiled and shook your head in disbelief and the two of you began to walk home.

''Do you really think I should...ask Katsuki to model for me?'' you blurted out. Aneko shot you a glance as the two of you crossed the road and continued walking forwards.

''I think Bakugou is the type of person that will never back down from a challenge,'' your friend said. ''And besides, he'll probably agree so you don't ask another guy to strip for you. He'll get really mad.'' she snickered.

You gasped and you felt the familiar warmth travels across your face. Squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, you shook your head in denial and frowned.

''No he wouldn't!'' your voice was a pitch higher and what was intended to be harsh, ended up sounding like a harmless squeak.

Your friend laughed loudly and her laughter turned into relentless wheezing as she bent over her knees and leaned against the wall. Her lips were quirked upwards and her eyes danced with amusement.

''It's so funny seeing you all riled up when I mention your crush,'' she cooed.

Scowling, you stomped away and you were so angry that fumes were basically rolling off your body. You could hear Aneko's joyful laughter as she picked up her speed and caught up to you.

You were frowning deeply with your arms crossed, gaze focused anywhere but your cruel, cruel friend.

''Come on babe, don't get upset! You know I say it because I know it's true!'' there was a hint of pride and smugness in her last sentence, making you stop dead in your tracks and point a finger at her.

''You don't know that. He'd never like me...'' you mumbled. ''I'm too awkward and a dumbass to be with someone as confident and loud as him,''

The hope in your heart was quickly extinguished when you realized she was merely joking. Huffing, you shook your head and grabbed her by the ear, dragging her all the way home, though she kept complaining and whining the entire time.

''Don't you get it?'' the look in her eyes was sincere. Slowly, you could feel a hint of hope growing in your heart. ''You guys are a perfect combination!''

''He's a tough and strong grunting caveman and you may be a dumbass, but you're his dumbass,'' she cooed. ''He'll protect you from anything!''

''Please don't tease me a lot of that,'' you spoke up once you had reach your door. Your gaze drifted to your doorknob. ''I know you don't mean any harm but...it just makes my hopes get up. And in the end, it never works out. And I just get myself hurt for no reason.'' You smile at Aneko's pained expression and opened your door.

''I'll see you later, Anne. Take care and don't forget to text me once you get home, okay?''

Your friend nodded mindlessly and walked away, sending you a final wave. You waved back, smiling softly. Once she was out of your sight, you closed the door and leaned against it. With your phone in your hands, you shakily texted a risky message.

Katsuki had been your friend since the beginning of U.A, since you were quick to befriend him, despite his violent and rude attitude. You didn't mind. It was funny and endearing seeing him react to the smallest of things.

Y/N: hey katsuki, can you stay behind after school tomorrow? i have something to ask you.

Once you had hit SEND, you threw your phone on your couch, a giddy smile on your face as you spun and looked like a clown for a few moments until you calmed down. Sending the message had sent a surge of adrenaline and confidence into your heart.

Maybe Aneko was joking, but if you were up to the task, you could get closer to Katsuki. And if you were lucky, you'd score a date with him.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #artist!reader #fem!reader #reader insert #male model #poc!reader #veles' writing

291 notes · View notes

tomhardysteeth · 4 years ago

Text

Tattooed

[ao3] Eddie Brock/Venom 5.9k words

Eddie.

“Hmm.”

Tell me what this is.

Eddie shifts in bed and blinks himself awake with a groan. Venom is at his right hip, tendrils like small streams of water passing curiously over his skin. Eddie used to wear pajama pants and a t-shirt to bed each night, but his temperature runs hot with Venom inside him so he started wearing just a pair of gym shorts instead, and now he’s regretting it.

“Venom. I’ve told you this. Stop waking me up for stupid shit.”

The tendrils press insistently into Eddie’s skin, which tickles a little bit. You slept long enough.

“That’s not the—what are you even doing?” Eddie props himself up on his elbows and looks down at where Venom is pressing into the tattoo on his abdomen. “Oh. It’s a, uh—I got it after I proposed to Anne. It says ‘til I die AW,’ which, you know, in hindsight, is, uh…”

A long silence passes before Venom says, What do you mean you “got it”?

“What—what do you mean what do I mean? It’s a tattoo.”

Venom spreads out over his body, crawling itself up over the tattoos on his sides, chest, arms and back. Are these also called “tattoos”?

“Can’t you read my mind, man? You’ve been inside me for several weeks, you’ve gotta know what a goddamn tattoo is by now.”

That is not how it works. Explain to me what a tattoo is.

Eddie groans in frustration. He sits up on the side of the bed and grabs his phone from the nightstand, checking and deleting emails like he compulsively does each morning. He is going to lunch with Anne today, but other than that, his schedule is free.

Eddie.

“Look, I’ve actually been thinking about getting another one, so, uh, maybe I’ll make an appointment and then you can see—”

Anne’s skin is not like this. Do only some people wear tattoos as part of their bodies?

“Um, hmm. Well, yeah, only some people have them. But they’re permanent. Once you add them to your skin, they stay there.” Eddie stands up and stretches his back out before heading into the bathroom for a shower.

He can feel Venom still exploring his tattoos, the symbiote moving its liquidy strands in such a meticulous way like it’s tracing each tableau: the wolf on his left forearm, the numbers near his right clavicle, the corvid over his left pec, and so on until Eddie is so mesmerized by the feeling that he spends several minutes in the shower just standing completely still as cold water pours over him.

Venom nudges him out of his trance, merging itself with the muscles of Eddie’s legs to get him to move and sending hunger signals to his brain.

“Hey, no taking over without my permission, how many times do I have to tell you?” Eddie says, annoyed as he awkwardly jerks his legs in a fruitless attempt to regain control.

This is our body, Eddie.

“No. No, there’s my body and there’s your body, and whichever one of us is driving is the one in control.” Eddie stops and tries to work out what he means. “That’s me most of the time, in control.”

A tickle runs through Eddie’s whole body, which means that Venom is laughing. Even so, it cedes leg muscle control back to Eddie, allowing him to get dressed before going to the kitchen.

I keep you alive. If I left your body, you would die very quickly.

“Yeah, well, so would you, so I’m not sure what your point is.”

Venom pulls part of its body out of Eddie and floats its head directly in front of his face. The first few times it did this, Eddie felt terrified and found Venom repulsive. Now, he feels a begrudging fondness for it. He thinks it probably has to do with the kiss they shared in the woods, but in general he tries not to think too hard about that.

You do not know the things I do for you, Eddie, Venom says, slowly.

Eddie blinks. “OK. Uh, I don’t really—don’t give me more information than that, please.”

Venom just smiles with all its teeth in response, then it turns toward the fridge and coaxes Eddie into making a heinous breakfast.

Eddie tries to get some writing done before his lunch with Anne, but Venom is more active than usual as it continues its ministrations of his tattoos, so Eddie impulsively calls the artist he always goes to, Marie, and asks her if she can fit him in by the end of the week. She tells him he can come in later that afternoon if he wants, since she had a last-minute cancellation. Eddie has been going to her for years, so she has several of his designs ready and waiting.

Eddie meets Anne at an Indian restaurant across town, one of their favorite date-night joints when they were still together, and the only difference now is that they don’t sit on the same side of the booth anymore.

Anne greets Eddie with a hug and comments on how warm he feels.

“You say that every time,” Eddie replies with a small laugh as they break apart. He removes his leather jacket before taking a seat.

“Well, you’re just always feverishly warm. I don’t know how it doesn’t bother you,” she says as she sits across from him.

“I mean, it does bother me sometimes. I only take cold showers now. And I sleep mostly naked.”

Anne raises her eyebrows at him. “Mr. I-have-to-shower-and-change-into-PJs-immediately-after-sex sleeps naked now?”

He smiles at her. “Yeah, alright, I deserved that.”

A server comes by to take their drink order. Anne makes a face when Eddie orders water.

“You never drink water.”

Now he’s the one making a face. “That’s not true. I used to drink water, uh, sometimes.”

“So what else is he making you do besides drink water?”

Eddie shifts in the booth. “Nothing. He’s just, um, mostly just irritating.”

Venom rumbles and slithers uncomfortably inside Eddie, clearly angry with his assessment.

“He’s been asking me about my tattoos today. He definitely doesn’t understand what they are.”

Anne laughs. “Does that happen a lot, him not understanding something basic?”

The server returns with their drinks and asks if they are ready to order, and just as Eddie is about to say no, Anne orders for both of them.

Eddie pouts at her.

“What?” she asks after the server walks away. “We’ve been here a million times, I know what you like.”

She doesn’t know what we like.

“Yeah, uh, you know Vee’s appetite is a little different.” Eddie clears his throat. “Which means, um, my appetite’s a little different, too. It’s OK, I’ll just have to order more food. We eat a lot.”

“Are you sure you’re OK, Eddie?” She drops her voice to a whisper and leans across the table. “He’s not torturing you or anything, is he?”

Eddie imitates her, leaning across the table and narrowing his eyes as he says, “He’s inside me, Annie, so getting closer to me and whispering doesn’t mean he can’t hear you.”

Anne bats playfully at Eddie’s shoulder before leaning back again. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.”

Venom moves and twists its tendrils through Eddie’s body, coming closer to the surface of his skin before burrowing back down into Eddie’s muscles. It was an annoying sensation the first few times Venom did it, but now Eddie thinks of it like a cat repositioning on his lap—which, to be fair, was also annoying when Mr. Belvedere deemed Eddie worthy enough to sit on, but even so, thinking of Venom like a pet makes the alien seem like less of a nuisance.

“Yeah, Annie, I’m safe,” Eddie responds softly. “We’re still, uh, just trying to figure out living together. It’s annoying, sometimes, but we’re working on it.”

“Is ‘living together’ the right term for it, though? You’re just...together. It’s kind of a big commitment, if you think about it.”

Eddie laughs and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, which is why I don’t really think about it. But, you know, I don’t really have that much of a choice. If he leaves, I die.”

Venom moves in a way that feels like it is tightening inside Eddie, like all of its strands are taut, which Eddie’s body responds to antagonistically: he relaxes.

“OK, so if you knew you wouldn’t die if he left, would you want him to leave?”

Venom simmers, angry.

“No,” Eddie answers honestly. “I mean, there are definitely things I would change, but…”

“You like the power.”

Eddie looks around, irrationally embarrassed that someone might overhear them. He nods shyly then takes a drink of water.

“Oh, Eddie, you’re so predictable.”

“What?”

“You don’t like having your own power, you just like taking it from other people. Or, in this case, an alien.”

He leans back in his chair and defensively crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits. “What are you talking about?”

“Your career. And now this.” She shrugs. “I just hope you sort it all out with Venom, is all. You’re irritable, like you were the first couple weeks after you moved in with me. Remember that?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yes, I remember because you won’t let me forget. This is different though. I’m not—um, I’m not in a relationship with Venom.”

“Aren’t you though?”

Yes.

Eddie swallows. “Not—it’s not—I can’t think of it that way, it’s too weird.”

“Yeah, probably. But it’s something you're gonna have to deal with eventually.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Eddie changes the subject after that, asking Anne about her work and about Dan. When their food arrives, Eddie immediately orders another entree and an appetizer and tries not to feel embarrassed about it. He could actually eat way more than that, but he won’t in front of Anne. Venom complains in his head, insists their bodies are still hungry, swirls its strands frantically around Eddie’s midsection to make its point, but Eddie just sets his jaw and ignores it.

When Eddie tells Anne at the end of lunch that he has an appointment to get a tattoo, Anne just laughs and says, “Still the same old Eddie.” She pays for the meal, Eddie leaves a cash tip, and they walk out to his bike together.

Feeling relaxed and brave, Eddie gives Anne a kiss on the temple as they hug goodbye. She doesn’t acknowledge it.

On the drive over to the tattoo shop, Venom asks, How long will it take to win her back?

Eddie hates when Venom talks to him when he’s driving because although Venom can hear his voice no matter what volume he speaks, he can’t hear himself over the sound of the engine and the wind. “I told you, it’s not happening.”

But we like her.

“I know we like her, but she’s with Dan and you and I are, uh, kind of fucked up.”

I don’t understand.

Eddie sighs. “Anne’s right. Like it or not, you and I are together—a package deal, so the chances of me having any kind of human relationship with anyone is just out of the question.” Realizing how depressing that is, Eddie tacks on, "Right now."

But Anne likes us. I think she would like being with both of us.

Eddie doesn’t respond. Surprisingly, Venom doesn’t push the issue.

At the tattoo shop, Eddie is greeted by one of the artists, Solomon, with little more than a curt nod and a waiver slapped down on the counter, which Eddie signs without reading. He then takes a seat out front to wait for Marie.

Your pulse has quickened. You’re beginning to sweat.

“Yeah, well, that’s because the guy that just helped us is my ex, and it did not end well,” Eddie whispers through gritted teeth.

Oh, like Anne?

“Stop playing dumb, you know what an ex is.”

Eddie watches as Sol greets another client. Despite having dated nearly a decade ago when Eddie was only in San Francisco for a six-month temporary gig, Sol still acts like it was just yesterday that Eddie chickened out on their relationship and told him he had to get back to his “real life” in New York. Not his best choice of words.

Sol looks bigger every time Eddie comes to the shop. He is older than Eddie, has to be in his 50s by now, but he clearly still lifts as evidenced by the broad muscles of his back and the thickness of his tattooed biceps. His muscled chest tapers into a soft torso, his belly significantly more pronounced than when they dated. His beard looks thicker, too, a few fuzzy gray hairs mixed in with the black, and he is bald—has always been bald—and richly dark-skinned and six inches taller than Eddie.

You are still attracted to him.

Eddie clenches his fist against his thigh. “He’s still attractive.”

You are attracted to Anne, too. But Solomon looks very different from Anne.

“I don’t know if now is the best time for me to explain race and gender and sexuality to you.”

Anne is small, so I assumed you preferred someone smaller than you. But Solomon is—

Eddie ignores the rest of Venom’s sentence as Marie comes out of the back office and waves Eddie over to her workstation. Marie is rail thin and only ever wears baggy tank tops and baggy ripped jeans, and nearly every inch of visible skin is covered in colorful tattoos.

“Did you pierce more of your face since the last time I was here?” Eddie teases as he takes a seat.

She swivels toward him on her stool. She has piercings everywhere: eyebrows, nose, lip, tongue, all over her ears, and a barbell through her sternum. “I’m sure I have, since you haven’t been here in forever, buddy. I was wondering what the hell happened to you.”

“Yeah, uh, I’ve been going through some stuff, you know how it is.”

She pulls her long black hair up into a bun on top of her head then grabs a stack of drawings off a table as she says, “My aunt told me you ate a dude in her store.”

Venom vibrates through Eddie’s entire body.

“You know no matter how many times you tell me, I’m never gonna remember you’re Mrs. Chen’s niece.”

Marie holds out three drawings for Eddie to pick.

“Ah fuck, they’re gorgeous, Marie,” he says as he leans forward to get a better look. He points to the one in the middle, a partial skeleton of a rib cage and pelvis held together by nuts and bolts. “Let’s put that one on my left side.”

“You got it, bud.”

As Marie prepares everything, she says casually, “So you gonna tell me about the dude you ate, or?”

“Oh right, um, I have a parasite.”

Venom constricts inside Eddie, making the muscles in his arms and legs jump.

“It’s, like, an alien,” Eddie continues lamely.

Marie’s face doesn’t change. “Take your shirt off. So, can I see it? The alien? My aunt said it’s gnarly.”

Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt and asks, “Do I have to take it all the way off?”

“Aww, poor little Eddie doesn’t wanna expose his cute body when his ex is right over there.”

I like her. I’m going to say hi to her.

“No, Vee, wait—”

It always feels like Eddie’s face is being sucked into a vacuum when Venom takes it over.

Hi, Marie. Eddie and I are Venom.

Marie blinks. “OK, so. I think I understand why you ate a guy.”

Venom sticks its tongue out then relinquishes control back to Eddie.

“Goddamn it, I hate when he does that shit,” Eddie says with a nervous laugh, looking around the shop to make sure nobody noticed anything.

“You, like, straight up have an alien inside you, bud,” Marie says. “But for real, take your shirt off.”

Eddie complies, then turns over to his side so Marie can get started. She presses her gloved fingers against his skin and asks exactly where he wants it, how big he wants it, then she cleans the area.

Venom stirs inside him, concentrating much of its mass in Eddie’s rib cage, where Marie is touching. What is she going to do to us?

“You’ll see, buddy, just be patient,” Eddie replies.

“Who you talking to, Eddie? Your alien?”

“Yeah, he talks to me. Constantly.”

Marie stands. “Ooh, sounds like that’s annoying. I’ll be right back.”

You think I am annoying.

“Yeah, we’ve established that already.” Eddie flips over to his back and crosses his arms over his bare chest. He has no qualms about his body, usually, but he does not like feeling exposed around an ex.

I don’t think you are annoying. I still think you’re a loser, but I like you.

“Can you just—can we put a lid on this until we get home, please?”

Venom’s tendrils bury deeper inside Eddie before going still, which Eddie interprets as Venom doing its best to leave him alone.

Marie returns a moment later with a stencil, and Eddie turns back to his side without having to be asked. With the stencil in place, Marie leads Eddie over to the full-length mirror.

As Eddie looks at himself to make sure he likes the placement, he spots Sol in the mirror, managing equipment at his own workstation across the room and stealing a glance at Eddie. Eddie flushes, but not with embarrassment. More like pride.

We can eat him if you’d like.

“No, Vee, we really can’t.”

He is looking at us. Do you think he still wants to be with you, Eddie?

“Why are you so nosy? Seriously?” To Marie, he says, “Looks perfect. Sorry I’m talking to myself.”

“What’s he talking to you about?” Marie asks as they walk back to her workstation.

“Sol.”

“Oh, that’s awkward.” Marie sits on her stool and puts on new gloves. “If he’s in there with you all the time, how the hell are you supposed to have any privacy?”

“I don’t.”

Eddie, what is that? Why does she have needles?

“Calm down, buddy,” Eddie placates even as he feels Venom’s tendrils pull as taut as strings of a guitar inside his body. “This is what getting a tattoo is like, and we trust her.”

Marie laughs.

She is going to hurt you.

“It’s OK.” Eddie’s entire body is rigid. “Can you please—loosen up a bit, Vee.”

It takes a moment for Eddie’s muscles to relax.

At the sound of the tattoo machine, Venom stirs but does not constrict again.

“You ready?” Marie asks sweetly, machine poised over Eddie’s rib cage.

“Yep.”

At the press of the needle, Venom turns to liquid inside Eddie, concentrating into a single point and numbing his side completely.

“Hey, hey, hey, no,” Eddie says.

Marie immediately stops. “What, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, not you. Hold on a second.” Eddie flips to his back and looks down at himself. “The pain is OK. Don’t try to heal me.”

But it hurts you. She’s hurting you.

“I know that, but sometimes pain is...good. Just—hang out until she’s done.”

Marie doesn’t say anything, just waits for Eddie to give her the go ahead. She looks a little apprehensive as she presses the needle back to his skin.

After a few minutes, probably less than five, Venom swirls watery soft around Eddie’s ribs again, soothing the burned skin.

“Goddamn it, you’re doing it again.”

Marie stops. “Thank god I know about the alien, or else this would be a very strange experience for me.”

I don’t like feeling your body get hurt. I like your body.

Eddie sits up, groans, scrubs a hand down his face. “Venom. I am fine. Look at my body. This is how I got all the rest of the tattoos you love so much, by going through this pain. It’s not permanent, and it’s not even that bad. Please stop trying to fix it.”

Venom is quiet for a moment before saying, But why would you want to be in pain when I can fix it for you?

“I like this pain. I want to feel it. I’ll tell you what, if it gets to be too much, I’ll let you fix it. Deal?”

Fine.

Eddie lies back down on his side.

“My god, Eddie, what the shit?” Marie asks.

“He should be OK now, you can go ahead,” Eddie replies.

Marie clears her throat and tentatively presses the needle against Eddie’s skin. The pain is a single small point, constantly moving, burning, tickling, unlike any other type of pain imaginable. Eddie relaxes into it.

“So, the alien likes your tattoos, huh?” Marie asks after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah. He likes pretty much everything about me.”

“Well, that sounds totally healthy and normal.”

Venom moves the bulk of itself into Eddie’s shoulders and neck and settles there. I can feel that you enjoy this pain. I think I understand.

“Anne said he and I are in a relationship,” Eddie says quietly.

“Gross, dude. He’s an alien living inside you, you can’t be in a relationship.”

“I mean, I get what you’re saying, but it’s not like I can be in a relationship with anybody else either. Kind of hard to be intimate with another human being when an alien is always talking inside my head and moving around inside my body.”

You don’t want to be in a relationship with anybody but Anne, though, and Anne understands us.

“Huh,” Marie says. “That kind of sucks, buddy.”

I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to tell you this today.

“Hmm?”

We should talk to Anne.

“He’s talking to you now, isn’t he? You’re not listening to anything I’m saying.” Marie stops the machine and wipes the wound. “What about sex? Like, if you tried to have sex with someone, would he pop out your face and get in on the action?”

That might be fun. We could try that.

Eddie’s heart drops to his stomach. “Um, let’s not—can we not talk about that right now.”

“Oh my god, are you talking to me or to him? What did he say?” Marie asks.

“Nothing.” Eddie laughs nervously. “And I’m not discussing sex with you, Marie, you’re, like, 20 years younger than me.”

“You dork, it’s not like you’re my dad.”

Does sex make you uncomfortable, Eddie?

Eddie buries his face in the crook of his elbow. His body wants to squirm, to escape this situation, but he has to remain perfectly still on his side.

Venom doesn’t say anything else to him, but it spreads itself evenly across Eddie’s body and holds him in place, immediately turning Eddie’s embarrassment into a quiet calm.

The tattoo takes another two hours for Marie to finish. It’s not very big, just about the same size as the Buddha up and to the right of it, but it is intricate and beautiful in a way that makes Eddie stare at it in the mirror for a solid minute and a half before Marie asks if he likes it or not.

“It’s gorgeous, Marie, thank you,” he says softly.

Marie pulls out her phone and presses a hand to Eddie’s side to make him turn toward her so she can snap a picture. Venom moves swiftly against the touch, pressing through Eddie’s muscle tissue and pushing out through the surface of his skin exactly where Marie’s hand is.

“Oh geez, what’s that?” Marie asks as she snatches her hand back.

“I don’t know, he’s never done that before. Vee, what’s the deal?” Eddie touches the spot where Venom still lingers.

Just testing something out.

“OK,” Eddie says, annoyed. “You’ve got to communicate with me, buddy, you can’t just randomly touch people.”

Venom rumbles through Eddie’s entire body in a long-suffering sigh.

“Why does he want to touch me anyway?” Marie asks.

She’s been touching us for hours, I was curious.

“He was, uh, curious,” Eddie repeats.

“About what?”

Venom rumbles again.

“I don’t know! I don’t know, Marie, he’s an alien.” Eddie glances around the shop and catches Sol’s eye before Sol quickly looks away. “Can we just—how much do I owe you?”

Marie doesn’t ask any other questions about Venom even though Eddie can tell she wants to, and she doesn’t say anything when he leaves her a much bigger tip than usual, but she does roll her eyes as she takes the cash. Eddie heads quickly out of the shop and is standing by his bike about to strap his helmet on when a familiar voice calls his name.

“Oh, hey, Sol,” Eddie says sheepishly, moving his helmet to his right hip and avoiding eye contact as Solomon walks up to him.

Stand up straight, Eddie. You look weak.

“Seems like Marie was giving you a hard time,” Sol replies, his voice deep and smooth. “You doing OK, Ed?”

Eddie scratches the back of his head. Stop fidgeting. “Yeah, I’m alright. You?”

“Your phone number the same?”

Stop moving.

“What?”

Sol tilts his chin down, making himself slightly more eye-level with Eddie. “I still have your number, if it’s the same. I’d like to use it.”

Eddie involuntarily laughs like an idiot. “OK, um, yeah, it’s the same. But, uh—”

“Good. See you later, Ed,” Sol says as he walks back into the shop.

Why did you let him talk over you? Why didn’t you stand up taller?

Eddie feels heat creeping up his neck, into his ears, as he recalls his and Sol’s relationship: there was rope sometimes, and Sol teasing Eddie about being a brat, and Sol always being the one in control even when they were out in public together, and Eddie enjoyed every bit of it.

Although Eddie is pretty sure Venom can see his memories when they flare so vividly, he still says out loud, “I didn’t wanna stand up taller. Not with him.”

You are a loser.

“Nah, this is different,” Eddie replies as he gets on his bike. “Sometimes it’s a choice to let someone else have, uh, control. Willingly giving up your own control, you know, that kind of thing.”

Like willingly feeling pain when getting a tattoo.

“Yeah, actually, kind of,” Eddie shouts over the roar of his bike as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto a main road.

Or willingly letting me take over your body.

Eddie grips the handlebars tighter and doesn’t respond.

He stops by Mrs. Chen’s before going home, letting Venom pick out whatever it wants (two bags of frozen tater tots, a gallon of chocolate milk, three different kinds of chocolate candy and a family-sized bag of salt and vinegar chips) and enjoying Mrs. Chen’s reaction when Eddie shows her his new tattoo.

“My niece is very talented, but I still think most of your tattoos are silly.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Chen.”

Back at their apartment, Eddie sits on the couch and reads the news on his phone while Venom eats all the food with its head and two arms protruding out of Eddie’s right side. Venom shares the chips and one of the candy bars with Eddie.

Eddie.

“Yeah, buddy.”

Your side hurts.

“Well, yeah, it’s gonna hurt for a while. Tattoos are like burns.”

Venom recedes back into Eddie’s body and slithers to his left side, swirling several small tendrils around the new tattoo. Is it still the good pain?

Eddie thinks about it for a moment before answering, “No, actually, it sucks.”

Venom soothes the pain immediately. Eddie closes his eyes and drops his head back against the couch; he didn’t realize just how much his side had been hurting. He reaches his hand down to cup his rib cage, and Venom responds by pulling tendrils out of his skin and lacing them with Eddie’s fingers, directly over the new tattoo.

“What are you doing, buddy?” Eddie asks even as he squeezes Venom’s inhuman fingers.

Marie called you ‘buddy,’ and now you’re calling me ‘buddy.’ It’s annoying.

“Oh good, something annoys you. Now I’m not the only one in this relationship that’s annoyed.”

Relationship.

Eddie clears his throat but still keeps his fingers tightly wound with Venom’s. “You know what I mean.”

Internally, Venom pulses near Eddie’s rib cage like a deep pressure concentrated against his bones. I think I can recreate the pain of getting a tattoo.

“What?”

You like the pain of the needle marking your skin. I can imitate it.

Eddie feels tense, his body rigid. “But—but why?”

Why not?

Eddie blinks. He can’t come up with a reason why not. He lets his fingers slip out of Venom’s grasp as Venom narrows one of its tendrils into an impossibly small point and presses Eddie’s side, gently at first and then speeding up as Eddie relaxes against the couch cushions.

“What the fuck, Vee, that’s so weird,” Eddie says on an exhale.

You enjoy it.

“Yeah. It’s weird as shit, but yeah, I do.”

Maybe we would be less annoyed with each other if we did more things that we enjoyed.

“Hey, I basically let you do whatever you want.”

Venom stops poking him. I’d like to eat more people.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d like to have some privacy every now and then.”

Privacy? What do you need privacy for?

“I don’t know, like maybe if I had someone over and wanted them to spend the night.”

Venom moves up Eddie’s chest and wraps the bulk of itself around Eddie’s shoulders. You want to have sex.

Eddie runs a hand down his face then settles both his hands on his knees. “Yeah, well, a man has needs, and my needs aren’t exactly being met right now, so.”

Venom creeps up Eddie’s neck. I can help meet your needs, Eddie.

“I don’t know if—I’m not sure that’s a good—you know, I just—”

You want this. We can do whatever we want, Eddie. What’s stopping you?

“Well, um, for starters, you’re an alien. I don’t even know how we would…”

Venom materializes in front of Eddie, massive and solid, deeply black and muscled with a nearly fully-formed body connected to Eddie directly at his hips. It places one hand on Eddie’s side, near the tattoo, and its other on his shoulder. This body is close to what you humans look and feel like.

“No, um, not really, Vee.” Eddie puts his hands on the couch, not daring to touch Venom even though it is taking up so much space in Eddie’s lap that it feels against instinct not to put his hands near where its hips would be if it had them. “Do you even know or, like, understand what sex is? Is it something that you want?”

Venom grins and then sticks its tongue out, moving it slowly from one side of its mouth to the other. Yes. And yes.

“What? For real?”

Definitely for real.

Eddie sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks up and down Venom’s body, considering. “When you kissed me in the woods—”

Yes, I wanted to. Venom moves its head forward, its sharp teeth an inch from Eddie’s face. I want to now.

Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie relents and puts his hands on Venom’s sides. They almost feel like hips, but Venom’s body is more like liquid and string than muscle and bone. Eddie digs his fingers in. He tilts his chin up tentatively, presses his nose against Venom’s face before pulling back, looking at the alien curiously, then he turns his head to the side and slots his mouth against Venom’s.

Eddie tries to move his lips like a normal kiss, but Venom’s tongue fills his entire mouth, and it somehow suctions Eddie’s mouth against its own, and it’s too much, not enough, and Eddie’s arousal stirs in him so quickly that he would laugh if he could. The most he can do is make strained noises in the back of his throat.

After a minute or so, Eddie loses all sense of control and begins bucking his hips up, but there is nothing for him to buck against since their bodies are too intertwined in his lap. So he scrambles for one of Venom’s hands while simultaneously undoing his fly, and Venom gets the gist and wraps its weird malleable fingers around Eddie’s cock without breaking their kiss.

Venom’s hand morphs around Eddie’s cock, stretching and folding and weaving threads together until it feels like Eddie is actually fucking into a hole—not quite human, so not possible to define as any type of genitalia—and while Eddie thrusts his hips up, Venom constricts and relaxes around his cock in a steady rhythm all while continuing to fuck its tongue down Eddie’s throat. Then, impossibly, tendrils are everywhere, snaking around Eddie’s balls, caressing his skin, kissing his nipples, pushing into his ass—Eddie comes early.

Venom unwinds itself from around Eddie’s cock and releases his mouth. Eddie takes a deep breath, choking a bit as he realizes just how far down his throat Venom’s tongue was. Venom rumbles a laugh, licks Eddie’s face, then noses at his jaw as it fuses its mass against Eddie’s skin like a moving blanket. There is a feminine quality to Venom’s movements, which Eddie struggles to rationalize with his skewed view of the alien as a hulking beast that rips and bites people’s heads off. He decides it’s time to stop assigning gender-specific qualities to his alien.

I liked that.

Eddie tangles his hand in the tendrils of Venom’s neck. “Yeah, me too. Fuck.”

Is this the part where you freak out?

“Uh yeah, I guess I should. Fuck. That just, um, it felt really fucking good. Really good.” Eddie tries to bring Venom’s face toward him for another kiss, but Venom resists.

So if you’re not going to freak out, then we should talk.

“What? Why?”

That’s what we are supposed to do. Our relationship has been nebulous and undefined, and it has made you irritable and difficult to live with.

“Hey, you never said I was difficult to live with,” Eddie replies, feeling irrationally hurt.

I’m saying it now.

“OK. Fine.” Eddie tries to remember when he had to have this exact same conversation with Anne two weeks after he moved in with her. He thinks she may have approached him in a similar way, after sex, curled up close to him and soothing him with her touch. “It’s difficult for me to adjust to having you inside me, not because I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just that it’s, uh, different. You’re a fucking alien. There’s no human experience that could’ve prepared me for…” He points between their connected bodies. “This.”

I was not prepared either, Eddie.

“What do you mean?”

Venom kisses him. I did not expect to like you this much.

Eddie automatically smiles, then tries to downplay it by rolling his eyes. “OK. So. A relationship then? Do you even know what that entails?”

I hope it entails a lot more sex.

Eddie laughs. “Yeah. But it’s also, I don’t know, taking care of each other and—”

We already take care of each other.

“—And communicating our feelings, and spending time together.”

We spend all of our time together.

“Yeah. Um. I’m not sure you’re really understanding what I’m saying, and I’m pretty bad at this, too, so it’s probably gonna be different than, like, my relationship with Anne.”

Venom grins wide, showing every one of its teeth. Good. She can help us.

[read the rest on ao3]

#venom #symbrock #eddie brock x venom #venom fanfic #literally how do i tag stuff lm ao #whatever man if you see it you see it if you don't you don't!#my fics #sciapod #tattooed fic

297 notes · View notes

shoichee · 4 years ago

Text

Phantom Thieves of Hearts in KNB

This is part 3 for Murasakibara only! Part 2 and part 1 for other KNB characters are right here and here, respectively!

Persona 5 x Kuroko no Basket crossover

[Murasakibara x s/o reader]

Headcanons on how KNB characters find out you were a member of the Phantom Thieves + what they do afterwards

@akichan-th i remember how you wanted a murasakibara h/c and i spent a while thinking LOL

Warning: spoilers regarding the palace’s deadline after 10/11 and the subsequent events shortly after

Murasakibara Atsushi

in this headcanon, the PT is located in either Yosen high or any nearby schools in Akita, since it’s a 7 hour drive minimum from Akita to Tokyo (the main location of the PT, Shujin Academy)

you and Murasakibara have been dating for a few months

very casual, easygoing relationship between the two of you where you two give each other space if needed and cuddle (while snacking, of course) other times

so your Phantom Thief life remained secretive and very manageable to keep under wraps, especially since he just never saw the need to poke and prod through your business if you never bring it up yourself first

as long as you gave him cuddles and snacks, he didn’t have a problem; he knew you were a good person too, so he had no reason to doubt you

“(y/n)-chin,” he childishly demanded. “I wanna cuddle.”

“Ah..! I’m so sorry, Atsu!” you gave him an enveloping hug as an apology. “But not today, I have lots of work to do for school…”

you gave him a regretful look, and while he was pouting and whining for snacks, he eventually let you go out of his ginormous arms

he might be a childish person and have lots of clingy tendencies/demands, but he��s still reasonable in letting you carry out your own life

. . .

“Ready to explore the palace?” Futaba waves you over, with the other hand grasping her phone that already had the metaverse app opened and ready to be activated

“Yup,” you heaved, after jogging briskly for several minutes to the hideout

Ryuji: “Alright! All set!”

Haru: “I’m still a little nervous…”

Ann: “Don’t worry, Haru! We’ll make sure to change his heart!”

. . .

“Humpf,” Murasakibara huffed, blowing his hair strand off his face for the umpteenth time as his chin was propped on the table, his biscuits left mostly forgotten a few feet away

“You’ve been sighing a lot, Atsushi.” Himuro peered over from his book to see him moping. “What’s wrong?”

“(y/n)-chin isn’t here,” he grumbled

“That can’t be helped sometimes, you know.”

“I knooow,” he drawled before sighing again

“What are all these snacks lying around for? Aren’t you going to eat them?”

“They’re for (y/n)-chin, obviously.”

“Staring holes into the Hi-Chew packages isn’t going to summon them over. Come here, we can use the kitchen and maybe fix you up a quick appetizer to take your mind off of this.”

“O-kay.”

the next subsequent day, Murasakibara was clingier than normal, even went as so far as to initiate PDA by holding your hand when walking in the hallways and draping himself all over you during breaks

and yes, he fed you those snacks he saved for you from yesterday

Murasakibara honestly thought this was going to be a one time thing where you were busy, but since you were working on Okumura’s palace before the deadline, you had to always leave every day, or at least every other day, to finish the palace exploration

you initially went to the palace with the PT every day, but after seeing Murasakibara’s sour moods during school and being really grumpy over you not spending time with him, you opted to tell Joker that you would settle on coming every other day instead

Murasakibara still had some reservations about the changes in your “after school” activities that didn’t involve him by your side, but at least he knew you made the effort to try to be with him as much as you could, even though he could see how important these “activities” were to you

so for now, he was content enough with the way things are

until several days later, when he was about to approach you after school, after finding you in a secluded corner of the campus outside (it wasn’t hard to spot you with his height), he tried to approach you when he overheard your hushed conversation on the phone:

“Yeah… got it… mhm… I’ll be there at Leblanc… yeah, it wouldn’t be a problem, I hope. I should be free this evening, Akira. Wait for me, okay?”

Akira? Who was that?

Murasakibara stood there, frowning as he was processing your words and the possible implications from them, and for the first time, he felt doubt

while he was lost in his thoughts, you hung off the call, and went to look for Murasakibara, and in immediately spotting the tower of your boyfriend, you ran to him

“Atsu!” you cheerily called, and it immediately snapped Murasakibara out of his thoughts to face you (more like looking down)

“Atsu,” you said, squeezing his torso in a hug and nuzzling him. “I gotta go again… But I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

and as you backed up from Murasakibara to start jogging to your destination, you yelled out, “I’ll bring lots of food tomorrow for lunch!”

a small hiss in the back of his mind concluded that you were possibly seeing someone else; the fact that you constantly canceled a lot of plans with him just for these “activities” already gnawed at him

in his laziness dread, he opted not to follow you at all and immediately went to look for Himuro

“Muro-chin, what does it mean when someone is always busy?”

“Is this about (y/n)-chan again?” Himuro chuckled, not missing the way how Mursakibara was even more sullen than usual

“Che.”

“Maybe you need to talk to them yourself, Atsushi,” he hummed, walking slightly ahead of the giant. “You can’t constantly rely on me for all your decisions.”

“Maybe they’re just sick of eating snacks with you 24/7,” Fukui popped up between them. “Have you ever even been on a proper date with (l/n) before??”

“(y/n)-chin isn’t like that…” he grumbled vehemently, but it was totally obvious that he was hesitant

the next day, you came to school like nothing ever happened, your face bright as you held a cloth loaded with bento boxes, and Murasakibara decided to try Himuro’s advice to “talk to you”

“(y/n)-chin, you like me, right?” he propped his chin on your head

“Huh? Of course I do, silly,” you beamed up at him, and Murasakibara, right there and then, lost the will to question you any further, and he felt the doubt washed away

he figured this whole ordeal must’ve been just his imagination and he chided himself for doubting you like that when you always gave him amazing food and told him when you were free and whatnot

scratch that, when school finished for the day, you were ready to bounce out again with another excuse

his doubt came back and just multiplied tenfold

you felt really guilty, leaving your boyfriend in the dust constantly

you hadn’t anticipate this would happen, no; Okumura’s palace unexpectedly became a lot harder to deal with in the deepest areas, especially with the constant puzzles in the maze to sort through

and you knew he wasn’t a stupid person to overlook your behavior despite his oblivious surface, but even though you knew you couldn’t tell him your secret life, you tried to make him feel better in the only way you knew how: give him food

but there’s only so much food could do to appease Murasakibara before enough was enough for him

so while you ran out from campus again for the umpteenth time, Murasakibara decided to put his laziness to the side and follow you for once

okay but to outsiders, it totally looked like this grown ass man child giant was stalking a little, unsuspecting you

you made a sharp turn before slipping into a quaint coffee shop, and Murasakibara made the connection to the phone call after seeing the shop sign “Leblanc”

he was already jittering inside from nerves, but now he’s agitated

If he walked in, was he going to see you with another person?

he gave a slow sigh before stopping before the door and opening it as he ducked in the doorway

a soft jingle from the door’s bell announced his entrance and everyone in the shop (including you) stopped their conversations midway and turned their attention to the newcomer (whose shadow from standing at the door blanketed the entire shop interior)

Ryuji: “Huh? Can’t you read? Shop’s closed.”

Makoto: “Ryuji! Can’t you just be nice?—I’m sorry, please don’t mind his manners, but he is right that we’re not open as of now…”

“(y/n)-chin came in here.”

Ann: “A-ah! Well, yes they did! But uh, they’re a sweeper and is training to be a waitress—”

you jabbed Ann’s side with your elbow with a “shhh” before you got up from your seat to walk to Murasakibara

“Atsu, what are you doing here?”

“I came here to ask you the same thing, chibi-chin.”

“(y/n) is working here as an apprentice to be a coffee barista under the owner’s tutelage along with the rest of us,” Joker said, getting up from his seat to walk towards Mura as well

“Akira…” you turned to Joker

not only was this man on a first name basis with you, but he was the Akira from the phone call

Joker could suddenly sense a huge spike in a hostile aura emitted by the purple-haired titan

Murasakibara suddenly pulled your arm into his chest and wrapped your waist from behind, all while glaring at the ravenette

“(y/n)-chin is mine.”

there was a collective silence before everyone started shouting in disbelief

“I didn’t know you dated anyone, (y/n)!!” “That’s sooo cute!!” “How long were you with him?” “What a wonderful thing to experience, (y/n)-chan!” “Mwehe, got any dirt on (y/n)?”

Joker just gives a smirk to the two of you, which you knew he meant that he was gonna make some comments and jokes on your relationship from this point on

No wonder you couldn’t come everyday to do a palace run.

“Ugh, seriously?? How the hell did (y/n) find someone before all of us? I mean, I thought being a Phantom Thief would’ve made me more noticeable to girls—”

“Ryuji!!”

“Oh… uh—”

everyone in the PT gang turned to Murasakibara to gauge his reaction:

he just had figurative question marks and clouds floating over his head as he continued to embrace you from behind

“Fan… tom… Thief?” (you inwardly sighed in relief and amusement at his reaction)

“It’s a group activity we have to do often,” you hurriedly explained. “Like… D&D role-playing gaming, and plus we all do it together after we finish doing barista work… together, but it’s kind of… embarrassing, so that’s why we’re all doing this rather secretively. So… could you keep this to yourself too?”

“O-kay.”

“Yeah, so sorry again, Atsu, but could you leave me to my own devices for the evening again?...”

“No, I don’t want to,” he replied, squeezing you even harder with his arms as if daring you to try to escape from him, and you shot glances at your team members to help you out (they looked at you as if this was all yours to deal with)

“Atsuuu,” you turned to face him while still being in his arms. “Other than this group activity, you’re still my number one priority, you know?” and you tippy-toed up to his face to give him a sweet peck on his lips

choruses of fangirling and groaning ring out again

“I guess I’ll leave you be, (y/n)-chin,” Murasakibara said indifferently, but you spied a small smile on his lips

being relieved that you weren’t going behind his back to see someone was an understatement; in fact, he was giddy that you were so forward with him in front of a large group of your friends

true to his word, Murasakibara never mentions a peep of the “Phantom Thieves” again to anyone (other than with you sometimes when you two are alone)

although he merely thought it was just a type of extracurricular/club activity of some sorts, he did ask Himuro (and a nearby nosy Fukui) if they knew what the “Phantom Thieves” were

“I’m surprised you only heard about them now,” Himuro replied. “There’s tons of popular merch of them and everyone is so hyped up that they’re pretending to be the Phantom Thieves themselves and trying to hand out ‘calling cards’ to other students.”

Fukui popped up in hearing the “Phantom Thieves” with a collection of calling cards of his own and bragging about how he had to go through extensive means to obtain the “limited edition” card

so you were just fans of these famed superheroes and role playing it with your other friends? he guess it could be embarrassing for you enough to try to hide this from him

Mura always walks you to Leblanc and then leaves home for the day, but sometimes, Sojiro invites him in (when nobody is doing PT business) for good plate of curry and soba

Murasakibara loves the old man and his cooking

he’s grown somewhat close to your PT friends, particularly Ann, Makoto, and Haru; Ann has a massive sweet tooth like Mura, so she would often give him extra sweets she bought from a dessert shop, meanwhile Makoto and Haru are like mother-figures (strict and doting, respectively) to him (sort of like Akashi and Himuro)

if you didn’t give into his whining for a particular something, he’d turn to Makoto or Haru to try to persuade you in giving in (may or may not work)

he’d probably will not think much of the “PT” business for the longest time, even when the Okumura news break out, because he doesn’t think they’re real to begin with (oh, he would believe the murder is real, but the perpetrator being the “PT” he thinks would be the media over-exagerrating and just giving any anonymous killer at large the term, “PT”)

as long as he wasn’t directly affected, he’s not someone to worry about the needless things

when things were getting dire for the PT, you actually isolated yourself from Murasakibara as well as the Yosen basketball team, not because you hate them, but because you didn’t want to drag them into legal matters with the police by association with you

you cursed yourself for being careless and letting your boyfriend hang out with the PT because someone’s bound to see a giant kid lurking in and around Leblanc at least once

Murasakibara thought he did something wrong and would tried to get your attention, but every time he did, you would expertly avoid him

he even left so many snacks at your desk hoping for you to accept them :((

one day, you finally went up to Murasakibara when you were absolutely sure you were alone with him, and before he could say your name and be elated that you were in front of him again, you coldly said:

“I want to break up.”

the usually apathetic guy would widen his eyes in complete shock and fear; the first thing you said after not talking to him in weeks were… that?

“(y/n)-chin… why? (y/n)-chin! Talk to me...”

It was for the best… you never wanted to ruin his future and his basketball career just by being near you

you feigned indifference and tried turning around to walk away from him, struggling to keep your face from being tear-stricken

“(y/n)-chin!” Murasakibara released a bellow you never heard unless he was playing aggressively on the courts, before he forcefully tug your arm to spin you around

there you were, failing to keep your true feelings hidden as you started sniffling and then full blown sobbing the longer your boyfriend stared at your face in full worry

“Here…” he pressed your face into his shirt as he hoisted you up from your knees, and he walked home with your legs around his waist, crying your eyes out from the stress and fears you’ve felt haunted by lately (“Stop crying, (y/n)-chin, it’s annoying” he would say as he rubbed your back)

as soon as he puts you down on a couch in his living room, you knew he meant business when he had a serious look on his face that meant “Talk now.”

you bit your lip in apprehension and in seeing that, Mura grabbed a few snacks from the cabinets for you before settling next to you again

and you confessed the entire truth to him, sniffling and hiccuping as you struggled to enunciate your words while stuffing your face with cream biscuits

“Is that all?...” Mura tilted his head. “You obviously didn’t kill him, so why are you worried?” he munched on his next package

“Atsu, it’s not that simple, you—”

“I know, I know.” he ruffled your hair before pulling you close

“Just stop crying,” he mumbled into your head

and you felt safe for the first time in a couple of weeks

the Phantom Thieves will overcome this, definitely.

“Don’t break up with me, (y/n)-chin,” he said out of nowhere, pouting and sulking at your figure

you busted a huge laugh, the very sound he missed hearing from you for so long

“I wouldn’t dare, Atsu.”

bonus: sometime in the future, you brought over an overly-curious Murasakibara to mementos with everyone, and there, he finally hears Morgana speaking for the first time. Afterwards, he’s best friends with the cat, taking him everywhere he went whenever he did errands or snack-shopping and ignoring the questioning gazes from strangers as he talked to the said cat like it was a normal thing. Both love to eat sashimi together.

54 notes · View notes

aaliyah-babe · 4 years ago

Text

The One With The Butt: Part Two

pairings: eventual joey x reader, jamie x reader

authors note: i own nothing from friends, all credit goes to their respective owners. feedback is always appreciated!

feedback is the glue that holds my writing together!

you all walked into monica’s apartment and there stood rachel, in the living room,

“ta-da!” she yelled happily,

“are we greeting eachother this way now because i like that,” chandler pointed,

“look! i cleaned! i did the windows, i did the floors. i even used all those attachments on the vacuum except for that little round one with the bristles, i don’t know what that’s for,” she said to you and ross,

“oh yeah nobody knows,” he asnwered, “and we’re not supposed to ask,”

“well what do you think?” she asked,

“great!”

“it looks amazing,”

monica walked around the coffee table and stopped dead in her tracks,

“oh, i see you moved the green ottoman,” she pointed out and your eyes widened,

“uh-oh,” all of you said,

“how did that happen?”

“i dont know, i thought it looked better there. and i- and also it’s an extra seat around the coffee table,” she said,

“yeah, it’s interesting. but you kno what? just for fun,” she picked it up, “let’s see what it looked like in the old spot,” she put it down and examined it for a second, “ha! well, it looks good there too, let’s just leave it there for a while,”

“cant believe you tried to move the green ottoman,” pheobe scoffed,

“thank god you didn’t try to fan out the magazines, i mean she’ll scratch your eyes right out,” chandler told rachel,

“guys, i am not that bad!” monica argued,

“monica, let’s be honest with ourselves, you are,” you told her,

“yeah, cause remember when i lived with you? you were like a little...” she started imitating music from Psycho, moving her arm up and down,

“that is so unfair,” she complained,

“oh come on. when we were kids yours was the only raggedy ann doll that wasn’t raggedy,” ross agreed with you,

“okay, so i’m responsible, i’m organised, but hey i can be a kook,” she sat down,

“all right, you madcap gal,” ross said walking over to her and the rest of you joined them, “try to imagine this, the phone bill arrives, but you don’t pay it right away,”

“why not?”

“because your a kook!” you exclaimed,

“instead, you wait until they send you a notice.”

“i could do that,” she said,

“okay, okay. then you let me go grocery shopping and i buy laundry detergent but it’s not the one with the easy-pour spout,” rachel plays along,

“why would someone do that?” everyone gave her a look, “one might wonder,”

“someone’s left a glass on the coffee table,” chandler starts, “there’s no coaster. it’s a cold drink, it’s a hot day. beads of condensation are inching their way closer and closer to the surface of the wood,”

“stop it!” she yelled, “oh, my god. it’s true, who am i?”

“monica, you’re mom,” ross said which lead monica to gasp, while pheobe began immitating Psycho music again,

“uh-huh,” joey walked in, talking to the phone, “oh, my god! okay! okay, i’ll be there,” he hung up the phone, “that was my agent. my agent has just gotten me a job.... in the new al pacino movie!”

“what?!”

“oh, my god!”

“what’s the part?” monica asked,

“can you believe this? al pacino!” joey said excitedly, “this guys the reason i became an actor, “i’m out of order? you’re out of order! this whole courtrooms out of order!”” he quoted,

“wow, what’s the part?” pheobe asked,

“just when i thought i was out, they pull me back in!” he yelled again,

“come on, seriously joey what’s the part?” ross asked,

“uh...” joey began mumbling and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

“you’re....” rachel began mumbling, “what?”

“i’m his butt double, okay?” he told you and all of you began giggling, “i play al pacino’s butt. he goes into the shower and then i’m his butt,”

“oh, my god,” monica laughed and you buried your head on chandler’s arm to stop laughing so much,

“come on you guys, this is a real movie, and al pacino is in it! and that’s big!” he exclaimed,

“oh no it’s terrific, it’s- you know you deserve this. after all your years of struggle you’ve finally been able to crack your way into show buisness,” chandler joked making you laugh harder into his arm.

“okay, okay fine make jokes. i don’t care. this is a big break for me!” joey exclaimed,

“you’re right, it is,” ross started, “so you going to invite us all to the big opening or?” he joked making you laugh even harder.

it was the next morning and you had woken up to shuffling in the living room, and you could hear someone talk faintly on the phone,

“yeah later, of course, i’ll just say i have work, okay, i love you baby, bye,” you heard your boyfriend say to the phone and you frowned, anger striking through your body. you decided that you would play dumb and act like you didn’t know, for now.

walking out, you smiled at the person you hated most right now, “morning, baby, who was that?” you asked him and he shrugged,

“i uh, it was gracie! yeah, actually she called, asking if you could work extra hours later?” he asked you and you shrugged, then realisation hit you, he’s saying that because he knew that gracie doesn’t work on fridays so he could have his girl over, wait, was gracie his girl?

“i actually can’t tonight, i’m going to spend some time with joey, congragulate him on his part in the movie,” you told him,

“oh okay, i’ll just call her and let her know,”

“okay, actually i’m gonna head over there now just to wish him good luck,” you said, leaving the house in your robe and pyjamas.

instead of going to joeys, you went to monica’s, knowing she could help,

“mon?” you called out, before hearing her answer you,

“yeah?”

“can i talk to you, for a sec?” you asked and she nodded,

“what’s up sweetie,”

“okay, i think jamie may be cheating on me,”

“what?!” she yelled,

“i know! i woke up and i caught him on the phone with someone who i now think is my boss but anyways, he said something about telling me he was going to work late, saying i love you, calling them baby, and then told me it was gracie asking if i could work late hours tonight so now i think it’s gracie he’s sleeping with cause she doesn’t work on fridays,”

monica’s eyes were wide with shock as she just hugged you, “did you confront him?”

“no, not yet at least. how should i?” you ask her,

“i dont know, you’ll figure it out don’t worry,”

“thanks mon, is joey still home?”

“yeah he’s in his apartment,” she told you and you nodded going to his apartment before knocking, and walking in.

“hey joey,” you said to the guy who was putting his shoes on,

“hey y/n, are you okay?” he asked you, concerned painted on his face,

“yeah, i’m fine, just wanted to wish you good luck today,” you told him and he smiled at you, god you loved that damn smile.

“thank you,” he kissed your cheek,

“you’re gonna be great, remember me when your famous joey or else,” you joked,

“could never forget you,” he said with a smile before leaving.

chandler walked out of his room, with aurora attached to his hip,

“oh, sorry you two,” you apologised and she smiled,

“aurora this is y/n,” chandler put an arm around your shoulder, “y/n this is aurora,” he put an arm around hers, letting you go,

“hi, nice to meet you,” you said, and she smiled, hugging you,

“yes, it’s nice to meet you two,” she turned to chandler,

“i really got to go, ethan is probably waiting,”

“okay,” he frowned before pulling her in for a kiss, you shielded your eyes a little before leaving.

you guys were all hanging out in monica’s apartment and chandler was sad because he and aurora had split because of ‘andrew’

“look at it this way- you dumped her,” ross tried to reason, “right? i mean that woman was unbelievably sexy and beautiful, intelligent, unattainable...” ross trailed off, “tell me why you did this again?”

you saw joey walk in and you smiled, “hey!”

“hey, wait a minute! werent you the guy who plays the butt in the new al pacino movie?” monica asks,

“nope,” he sighs, sitting next to you, you frown and rub his leg,

“no? what happened big guy?” ross asked,

“big guy?” chandler sneered,

“it just felt like a big guy moment,”

“seriously joe, what happened, are you okay?” you ask him,

“i got fired!” he put his hand over your,

“oh!” everyone said sadly for the boy,

“yeah they said i “acted” too much with it,” he sighed, “i told everybody about this! now everyone’s gonna go to the theatre expecting to see me...” he trailed off,

“oh joey, no one will be able to tell,” rachel tried to make him happier,

“my mom will,”

“there’s something so sweet... and disturbing about that,” chandler told you all,

“you know, i’ve done nothing but crappy plays for six years and i finally get me shot and i blow it!”

“maybe this wasn’t your shot,” monica told him,

“yeah, i think when it’s your shot, you know, you know it’s your shot,” ross agreed with his sister, “did it feel like your shot?”

“hard to tell. i was naked,” he told you all,

“i don’t think this was your shot, i don’t even think you just get one shot, i really believe that big things will happen for you,” pheobe said,

“yeah, you’ve just gotta keep thinking about the day that some kids will run up to his friends and go, “i got the part! i got the part! i’m gonna be joey tribbiani’s ass!”” you reassured him,

“you think?” he looked at you and pheobe, and you both nodded, “that’s so nice!” he hugged you both,

“i’m sorry, joey. i’m going to go to bed, guys,” monica told you all,

“uh, mon. you’re leaving your shoes out here?” rachel asked,

“oh- uh-huh!” she said,

“really? just casually strewn about in that reckless haphazard manner?”

“it doesn’t matter. i’ll get them tomorrow... or not, whatever,” she walked inside her bedroom,

“she is a kook,” ross said,

“i’m gonna head home, see if my boyfriends cheating on me,” you said without realising,

“what?!” they all gasped,

“oh right, yeah i heard jamie say to someone on the phone earlier about telling me he’s going to work late...” you finished explaining the rest of the story to them,

“oh, my god,” pheobe sighed,

“mhm, okay well i’ll see you all tomorrow, update you guys then,” you said to them before leaving and catching a cab to jamie’s apartment,

“wow, can you believe that? jamie? a cheater?” ross asked,

“i know, and did you see how happy y/n looked when she first met him?” rachel agreed,

“i’m gonna kick his ass if he is,” joey said,

“we all will,” chandler agreed,

without knocking, you walked into his apartment and heard moans coming from the bedroom, yep, they were having sex.

“oh jamie!” you heard- gracie yell.

walking into the room you barged in, “fuck you! and you gracie! what the hell is wrong with the both of you? oh my god!” you yell before running out, ignoring the calls from jamie.

let me know if you want to be mentioned in future taglists!

taglist: @zestygingergirl

11 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

Text

Out of The Hive, Into The Cocoon

[Wing AU]

Wing Reference

Word count: 2284

Prompt: “Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”

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

“I don’t feel that well…”

“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”

Jane rolled her eyes at Joan’s wounded expression. She canted her harpy eagle wings away, as if she were afraid the Flightless’s presence may dirty the pristine, shiny feathers. Joan noticed that, too, and looked even more hurt.

“What’s going on this time?” Kitty asked loudly. Her glass butterfly wings are blindingly iridescent in the overhead fluorescent lights and make Joan feel even more dizzy and nauseous than she already was.

“None of your business.” Joan snapped. She rubbed her wrists, which haven’t stopped burning since the night before. Her stomach was all cramped up, too, like something was trying to claw its way out of her.

“Must not be important then,” Kitty said with a shrug.

“Kitty’s right,” Jane said. “Don’t waste our time, Joan. We’re going to perform in an hour and don’t need you distracting us.”

“But--”

“If you felt bad, then you should have called in sick or left sooner.” Jane cut her off coldly.

She whisked away after that, leaving Joan alone in the hall to stew in embarrassment and increasing discomfort. Joan sighed and trudged to her dressing room to get ready, but was stopped by a sharp twinge in her wingbuds. She winced and reached back, but a pain in her wrists halted the movement. She yanked her arms forward again.

And her wrists burst open and silver came exploding out.

Silk.

Joan let out a cry of pain and jumped back, but the stuff pouring from her followed like starved snakes. It began to wrap around her arms and legs and chest, and she desperately tried to tear the silk off of her, but not only was it sticky, but it was also really strong and refined. She scratched and pulled, but it either stuck to her hands or just didn't come off. She frantically covered the slit in one of her wrists, trying to stop the flow, and the strands merely wove around her fingers and consumed them.

She tottered backwards and sunk to her knees, overcome by an intense feeling of nausea like she hadn’t eaten in years, every energy source in her body--fats, carbs, calories, sugars--were being burned away by this hellish process. She opened her mouth to scream or cry for help, but found that she couldn’t even muster up a mere squeak of noise. Cramps seized her stomach in a vice grip, like all her organs were being shredded inside of her. Her vision was starting to fade out as the silk wrapped around her neck and face and she wondered if this was how she died. She suffocates because of some mutation she doesn’t even understand.

Joan doesn’t want to die, not like this, not again, not without flying at least once, not without a single person who cares about her…

Then, blackness. The silk wrapped around her entire body until she looked mummified, and then spun itself larger and larger and larger.

The last thing she heard was someone stepping into her dressing room, telling her she was needed by someone on tech, and then nothing.

She prayed they would help her.

------

Everyone stared in shock at the silvery-gold cocoon sitting in the corner of the dressing room. It was the shape of an egg lying on its side and was so thick with silk that none of them could see the music director inside. It just sat there, glowing faintly, not showing any signs of breaking open anytime soon.

“She did not…” Maggie said, trailing off, flabbergasted.

“She did too.” Maria affirmed.

“What the fuck?” Jane said. “I thought she was Flightless. She is Flightless. What happened?”

“You sound disappointed.” Bessie commented. Her big bat ears were swiveling around, as if she were trying to listen for any signs of life inside the cocoon.

Jane ruffled. “I’m--” Her tail feathers bristle, wings twitching in agitation. “I’m just confused.”

“Uh huh.” Bessie nodded, deftly dodging the glare Jane shot her by wing her ears to block out the corners of her vision.

“It’s definitely an insect avian cocoon,” Cathy said. She stepped forward and tapped the cocoon. “Maybe she was just a really late insect and not actually Flightless.”

“There’s no way!” Kitty barked. She almost looked jealous at not being the only butterfly anymore.

“Well, whatever it is,” Cathy went on, “it’s going to make performing difficult for the next week until she comes out.”

“IF she even comes out,” Anne said, and Jane looked slightly wistful at that concept.

“We could always cut it open,” Kitty suggested breezily. “Get her out early.”

Aragon shot Kitty a disgusted look. “Don’t your insides melt during metamorphosis?” She asked. “If we cut her out, she’ll probably die. And not entirely be a solid person anymore.”

“Oh.” Kitty said, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Meh. Oh well.”

“Well,” Cleves said, “we got a lot of waiting to do.”

------

Aragon resisted the urge to smash her wings into Maggie’s head when the magpie poked the fragile structure of Joan’s cocoon, and she wasn’t sure why.

“How long will this take?” Maggie asked, already impatient even though it’s only been a day since Joan started metamorphosis.

“A week, I think.” Cathy answered.

“A week?!” Both Maggie and Anne yelped.

“We’re never going to get our MD back!” Anne groaned dramatically, flopping out her wings.

“What a shame,” Jane mused.

“Yes we will?” Cathy tilted her head at Anne. “She’s coming out eventually.”

“Yes,” Aragon agreed. “A week is fine. She can take all the time she needs.”

The others glanced at her strangely, but she ignored them. Just like how she was trying to ignore the weird maternal instincts welling up inside of her.

------

“Is it now? It is happening? Is that a sign? What does that mean?”

“I will throttle you if you don’t shut up.”

Anne snickered at Aragon’s annoyance, then fixed her eyes back on Joan’s cocoon. It was as plain and still and boring as the day before. And the day before that.

“Nothing is happening,” Aragon added. “It looks exactly the same.”

“Are you sure?” Anne said. She waved a parrot green wing at one side of the cocoon. “Doesn’t that side look a little crinkled? Hey, Kit!” She turned to her cousin passing by in the hallway. “Is this a sign she’s going to come out?”

“Sure,” Kitty said, not caring.

“This is so boring.” Anne said to Aragon. “I’m gonna go find something else to do. You were right.”

Aragon rolled her eyes in amusement at the bird, then fixed her eyes on the cocoon.

“Come out when you’re ready, Joan,” She said. “I’ll be waiting.”

------

By the fourth day, most people stopped gawking at the cocoon. Only a few workers would stop by to look at it, but quickly went on with their work, not really caring anymore. The lump of silk was sort of just there now, almost forgotten. Just like Joan had been.

------

On the fifth day, Aragon found Kitty alone in the dressing room, staring intently at the cocoon with a look in her eye that Aragon did not like. When she was noticed, Kitty flicked her wings dismissively and walked out without a word. That night, Aragon dreamed of the cocoon being ripped open and Joan coming out in agony, horribly disfigured and screaming.

------

For the eleventh time on the sixth day, Aragon counted the food she had bought. Fruits and vegetables, cookies and chips, cheese strings and slices of sandwich meat-- She worried her talons in her feathers and hoped it would be enough for when Joan woke up. Cathy had said Joan was going to be extremely hungry when she woke up, so she was just preparing, that’s all. Nobody else was going to, so she just decided to do it herself. That’s all. There were no maternal implications going on at all. Nope. None.

Aragon stole a glance back at the faintly glowing cocoon in the corner. It looked exactly the same as it did six days ago.

Or did it?

Aragon walked over to the cocoon, circling around it for a moment before kneeling beside it. She carefully placed both hands on the surface, folding her wings away, and pressed her head against the woven material.

“Joan? Can you hear me?” She whispered softly, so softly, like she was afraid she might disturb the girl inside. “It’s Catalina, Joan. I’m here. I’m right here. You’re doing great, sweetheart. You’ll look so beautiful once you get out of there, baby girl.”

Aragon found that she was missing the girl. Like, really badly. She missed Joan’s shy smile and her gentleness and how she was always so passionate about music, even if it took everything out of her. She missed everything about the timid little music director, and she hadn’t realized how much she enjoyed seeing her everyday, even if they didn’t talk that often, until right now.

And then the silk moved against her skin, a slight push and give, as though the avian inside was nudging her back or saying that she missed her, too.

------

It was late afternoon of the seventh day when the cocoon moved. Aragon and Cathy, who were both in the dressing room waiting, snapped their heads up in sync, watching closely as if they thought that if they looked away for even a second the week would start all over again.

Right when they started to believe it had been their imagination, the cocoon moved again. And, this time, it wasn’t spotted in the corner of their peripheral vision.

Joan was coming out.

“It’s happening.” Aragon said after everyone was gathered in the dressing room, as if they didn’t already know that. She grabbed and squeezed Cleves’s arm tightly, not realizing that her talons were digging in. “Do you remember your metamorphosis?” She snapped her head around to Kitty. “Is there anything we should do when she comes out? What if she needs help getting out of the cocoon? Can she get out on her own?”

“Oh my god,” Kitty groaned in annoyance. “I don’t know!”

“How can you not know?!” Aragon squawked, beating her wings. “You literally went through this!!”

“I forgot.” Kitty shrugged.

“No you didn’t.” Aragon growled. “You’re just not saying anything because you want to be a selfish--”

A crack split down the front of the cocoon. Aragon shut her mouth instantly before she could finish her scolding and whipped her gaze forward again. Fingers with new, tiny curved claws grabbed the edges of the slice and began pulling open, then clawing when that didn’t work.

“Is she okay?” Aragon asked. “She looks like she’s struggling. Is she struggling? Cathy, is she okay?” She looked at her goddaughter, sinking her talons deeper into Cleves’s arm. She didn’t even hear Cleves’s hiss of pain.

“She’s fine, Catalina.” Cathy assured her. “From what I’ve read, this is normal. Just give her a moment.”

Aragon swallowed thickly, but nodded and looked forward again.

Hand prints could be seen pressing against the inside of the cocoon as the silk bindings were slowly scratched away. After a moment of fighting with the structure (and Kitty muttering, “I got out a lot faster than this” underneath her breath), an arm poked out, then another...and then another.

Right. Insect avians have four arms. That’s probably going to be daunting to Joan after having only two for so long.

The three visible arms, which were all covered in a thick, dripping shag of pink-yellow fluff from the elbow down, dug their claws into the surface of the cocoon, tearing and crinkling the silk, and then a familiar head popped out.

“Joan,” Aragon breathed. “Joan, we’re here. I’m here. You’re doing so good!”

“When did you start caring so much?” Jane asked, but shut up when Cathy nudged her.

Elegant golden antenna that looked like feathers unfurled from the crown of Joan’s head and waved in the air. Tufts of pink and yellow, like the fuzz on her arms, were matted by wetness on her ears. When she shoved more of her upper body out of the shredded cocoon, they all could see that 1) she was completely naked from her clothing being eroded by the cocoon’s fluids, and 2) there was more of that pink and yellow fluff on her chest and belly. It completely covered up her breasts until it looked like she didn’t even have any anymore (maybe she didn’t), and her ribs could just barely be seen under the blanket of fur, which was so long it reached down her torso. Her flat stomach had patches, too, making it soft and fuzzy, much different from the chitin on Kitty, Cathy, and Maria.

With a splash and a cascade of cocoon fluids, Joan collapsed forward on her stomach. A few of the spectators looked away from her nakedness and stepped back from the liquids now spilled across the floor, but Aragon couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight. Her heart was beating rapidly inside of her chest. She had the unresisting urge to run over and swaddle Joan in her wings.

Joan twitched on the ground, then took a deep breath. Fishhook-like claws scraped down against the tile as she tried to regain mobility. Cocoon fluid dripped off her wet hair and pale skin that was now bristled with fuzz. She unfolded her wings to let them dry, and everyone in the room gasped.

They were beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Aragon had thought that Kitty’s glass-like wings were the prettiest wings to ever exist in the entire world, but not even their iridescence could live up to the beauty of Joan’s rosy maple moth wings.

Pastel pink and banana yellow swirled together in beautiful shades across fuzzy chitin, as if the sunset itself had bled itself upon Joan’s wings. They were gigantic and curved into the most precious shapes Aragon had ever seen before.

Joan looked up, and her eyes were rings of moon silver blinking from an abyss of solid black.

“Ta-dah!” She squeaked hoarsely.

#wing au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #katherine howard #jane seymour #catherine of aragon #joan on the keys #anne boleyn #anna of cleves #catherine parr #maggie on the guitar #maria on the drums #bessie on the bass #out of the hive into the cocoon #mamagon

41 notes · View notes

mikkomacko · 5 years ago

Text

Dear Daisy 1

The first time Daisy met Harry, she was seven. Her father had just started working for Styles' Steel Co. and his boss had invited him over for a dinner. Even at seven she was terrified of Thomas Styles. He was dark and brooding, and had a booming voice that seemed to shake the ground. She doesn't remember much of the dinner, only that Harry's mother, Anne was really kind and his sister Gemma fun to be around. She made Daisy laugh a lot that night, so much so that the adults ended up kicking all the kids out to the back yard to play.

She remembers Thomas had a pool, and it was funny to her because the beach was only a short ways away. Her brother Sterling got on with Harry right away, and they ran around in the grass with a ball while Gemma and Daisy sunk their feet in the pool. Again, Daisy doesn't remember much about what her and Gemma talked about, but she remembers smiling until her cheeks hurt and she was breathless. What she remembers most though, is hearing Harry and Sterling shout behind them, and seeing Gemma turn to look over her shoulder just as someone collided with her back.

She tumbled forward into the deep end of the pool, water rushing up her nose before she could hold her breath and it made her lungs sting. She felt like she was kicking and flailing under the water for hours, heart pounding in her ears before two arms were around her waist. When she reached the surface, Gemma was holding her, treading water and grimacing when Daisy coughed up water and broke into tears.

Gemma got her back to the edge of the pool, helping her up before climbing out herself. The backdoor to the house was open, and Anne and her mother Meredith came rushing out.

"What happened?" Meredith asked, wiping wet hair out of her face. Daisy had buried her face in her mother's side, holding her tight as she sobbed.

"Harry pushed Daisy in the pool." Sterling said over her cries, and while Daisy doesn't remember if Harry ever got in trouble for it or tried to defend himself, she does remember deciding that she officially hates Harry Styles.

Daisy tied the fabric in her hair into a bow, wishing she had red lipstick to paint on her pale lips. Tonight she's attending a dinner with her father's business associates, and he told her to doll up because he really needs to impress them tonight. She put on her prettiest red dress, long socks and heels, and curled her hair with rollers borrowed from her mother. Typically she'd apply the lipstick that matches the dress to her lips, but she ran out of it weeks ago after she'd gone on a date with the neighbor boy. She wishes she hadn't worn any that night, because it turned out he wasn't worth her or her best lipstick. And now that she needed it most, she didn't have it. The bow will just have to do, she thinks glummy, looking over herself in the mirror.

Her father hardly made her go to these dinners ever since the first one she'd been to. After almost drowning in Thomas' pool, Daisy refused to return to his house, and for some unknown reason, so did Sterling. He refused to see Harry Styles, he said heatedly. Daisy thought it sweet of him to be upset about what Harry did to her, and in return for their stubbornness, Daisy and Sterling got to stay with the neighbors on dinner nights. When Kitty was born, it was easier to leave her at home as well, with the older two siblings to babysit. Which was why it was such a big deal that William requested the whole family go out tonight. She knew it had to be important, so she didn't argue even though she was completely nervous about having to see Harry again.

Typically she only sees him around town, sometimes he'll make small talk with Sterling, but they both give each other these disgusted looks when walking away and pretend they didn't see the other do the same. It's quite amusing, even if Harry usually takes the time to critique something about her before going on his way. Usually it's small little comments about her clothes or lipstick, claiming her skirt is too short and her lips to bright. "You'll give some bastard the wrong idea," he'd say, carelessly looking over her outfit, "and you'll never impress anyone respectable."

Daisy fought against the urge to respond. She always desperately wanted to ask him if even knew what a respectable man looked like, and give him that same cold look he always gives her, but she doesn't. Because she was taught better than that. She doesn't like to be rude, even if Harry did almost kill her and is the reason she can't step foot near a pool or the ocean anymore. He doesn't deserve your words, she'd always remind herself.

As mean as Harry is, he's nothing compared to his uncle. Thomas Styles has the coldest personality out of them all. It's fitting that he owns a steel company, since he's practically made of it. She was right to be afraid of him when she little, because he's the most disrespectful man she's ever seen. He once yelled at her and her friend Summer when they were twelve and had gone to the park down the road to play. It had started raining, so they tried to hurry home but got distracted by a few puddles. Summer was in the middle of splashing in a particularly muddy one when his car had pulled over on the side of the road, window rolling down and screaming at them for acting like street rats. That was the day Daisy decided she hated Thomas Styles too.

Tonight's dinner isn't at Thomas' house, much to Daisy's relief. She'd hate to be around that pool again, and she hate for Kitty to be around it too. Not that she thinks Harry would push a 6 year old into the pool now that he's reaching 24, but one can never be too sure.

William told them the house was close enough to walk, so they all huddled together down the sidewalk until they reached Aster lane. This is the road that all the wealthy people live on, four blocks away from the poor street Daisy lives on, and two blocks away from the street Thomas lives on. The further north, the wealthier the houses, meaning whoever lived on this street, has quite a comfortable life.

The house they approach has a small front yard, mostly taken up by hydrangea plants and a short driveway leading to a closed garage. The front porch is large, but bare of any patio furniture which Daisy finds odd. Why have a beautiful porch if you don't use it?

William knocks on the big green door, looking over his shoulder at Sterling with wide eyes. He nods his head just once, and then Sterling is in front of Daisy, straightening the sleeves of her dress with a nervous smile. "No lipstick?" Sterling asks, pinching her cheeks to make them redder and she swats his hands down.

"I ran out after my date with Jonah," Daisy pouts, "if you can even call that a date."

Jonah is the neighbor boy that had asked Daisy to dinner about two weeks ago. He was cute and shy about it, and Daisy thought it might be fun. It turned out to be a disaster. Jonah had stepped on the edge of her skirt and tore it, and he'd bought her a bouquet of daisies which she's ironically allergic to. They ended up having to rush her home for medicine before even getting a chance to eat dinner, and then Jonah had been rude to her the next day for not telling him that she was allergic to the flower she was named after.

"Oh well," Sterling says, just as the door is pulled open. Thomas is the one to greet them, shaking William and Sterling's hands. He then kisses Meredith's cheek, and the back of Kitty's little hand before moving to Daisy. His lips purse under his thick mustache, and his dark eyes look over her as if measuring her up for size.

"Good evening Mr. Styles," Daisy says pleasantly, smiling, "it's wonderful to see you again." It really isn't wonderful to see him, but she'll lie for the sake of her father's reputation. Finally, Thomas nods and then he kisses her cheek as well, his mustache scratching her cheekbone.

Anne was the next to greet her, hugging her tightly and telling her how much she's grown. She even cups Daisy's face, looking over her features with teary eyes and Daisy's stomach twist with unease. Why are they all looking at her differently?

Gemma isn't at this dinner, much to Daisy's disappointment, but Harry is. He stands against the archway that separates the dining room and what must be the living room. His face is hidden in the shadows, but she can feel his eyes and scowl on her. He doesn't move until William calls out to him delightedly, and then he's stepping forward to shake hands with her father. William's very enthusiastic about greeting Harry, and Sterling leans into Harry's ear to whisper something when saying hello, and again Daisy wonders why they're acting so strange. Her mother coos over Harry the same way Anne cooed over her, and even Kitty is excited to meet Harry. She giggles when Harry crouches down to kiss her cheek, and he mumbles something to her that turns her cheeks red.

When Daisy comes up to him, she thinks she'd rather be standing chest deep in open water than having to hug him. He pecks her cheek the same way he has kissed her mother's, the action making her heart jump into her throat and her face grow hot.

"Daisy," he greets simply.

"Hello Harry," she mumbles, avoiding his eyes as she moves to sit at the table. Harry ends up across from her, and she can feel him looking at her but she refuses to meet his gaze. William and Thomas chat about a new deal in the works, and Anne asks Sterling about his girlfriend Stella, receiving a few extra comments from Meredith. Both Harry and Daisy are quiet, and her neck hurts from looking down at her lap and plate all night. She wonders if Harry's tired of looking at her, but he has too much fun making her uncomfortable to stop. She doesn't look up until her father is clearing his throat.

"We have some news to celebrate tonight," his chair scrapes as he stands up, and Daisy turns her head to look at him. Thomas is smiling proudly at Harry, and Sterling has fallen quiet, jaw clenched. "Thomas and I have talked, and we've decided that it's for the best for both our families if Daisy were to marry Harry."

Only Daisy makes a sound, something between a gasp and a choke, and she realizes that they've all known about this. They've been acting so different, because they were realizing that this is the first dinner they'll have as a new family. Her chest aches, stomach suddenly twisting with nausea. How could they blindside her like this? They know how she feels about Harry, especially her mother, and yet they still agreed to this. They're sending her away with Harry because he's got money, more money than her family will ever earn.

She can feel them all looking at her, gazes burning into her skin. She doesn't know what to say, because she honestly just feels like screaming. She however, cannot do that in front of Thomas or even Harry, because she'd never hear the end of it, so she just gapes at her father.

"He should consider himself lucky then." Sterling says, as if warning Harry to object. She turns her gaze to her brother, swallowing the lump in her throat and willing the stinging in her eyes to go away. He nods at her thankful smile, looking at Harry. "You're getting the best girl you could ever ask for."

Harry clears his throat, and she feels him look at her again. "Yeah, could be worse I suppose." Harry mumbles, not sounding particularly pleased with the situation either. She wonders if he knew, if that's why he was brooding in the corner when they first arrived.

"Shall we raise our glasses?" Thomas suggests, and they all rise from their chairs, holding their drinks. Her hand trembles as she lifts hers, and she's glad she drank it down some otherwise it'd be spilling over the side.

"To Harry and Daisy," Thomas beams, "by this time tomorrow, this'll be your new home." Everyone repeats their names, clinking glasses in the middle of the table and then taking a sip. Daisy gulps down her water, hoping it'll keep her from being sick. She doesn't see Harry's reaction, or if he swallowed all his wine because she's quickly excusing herself, taking off though the closest exit.

Tears burn at her eyes, choking in her throat as she rushes down the dark hallway. A table with an empty vase sits at the end of it, with an empty frame hanging above. She passes an empty bathroom on the left, but it still feels too close to the dining room so she keeps going. Two doors come up on the right, and she reaches for the knob only to find it locked.

"No," she quietly whimpers, jingling the the knob as if that'll open it. It doesn't work, and Daisy thumps her forehead against the door, squeezing her eyes shut. She's too busy willing away her sobs to hear someone coming down the hallway.

"S'not gonna open by magic." Harry mutters behind her, her heart jumping into her throat and she leaps away from the door. Harry doesn't look at her as he digs a key out of the pocket of his grey trousers, quickly unlocking and opening the door. He enters the room, leaving the door open for Daisy. She doesn't know what makes her follow him, but she does, closing the door behind her. Maybe he'll be sympathetic, she hopes, since he's in the same boat with her. She has a feeling she's fooling herself.

The room is dim and musty, dust particles floating in the stale air as Harry leans his hips back against the desk placed in the center of the room. Her throat itches at the first inhale of old oxygen, Daisy quietly clearing her throat to get rid of it. One look around the room reveals that it's hardly used, dirt on every surface including the dark curtains that block out the sunlight. She stands a little taller, priding herself on her ability to keep her home clean. She may not have as much money or food as Harry, but at least her house is never covered in dirt and dust bunnies.

Chin up, she accidentally meets his gaze and the harshness of it immediately has her chin falling. It bothers her how cute he'd look in his brown suspenders and grey newsboy cap if he'd just smile. Not even a full toothy smile, just a little quirk of his full lips would suffice.

"Why didn't you argue with him?"

Harry's voice cuts through the dust like sun beams, basking her in a heat that burns her chest and brain. She wishes it were as welcoming as the sun after darkness. Instead it's like being welcomed to the first realm of hell.

She can't hold his gaze. Maybe it's the way they pierce through the shadows, scrutinizing her every move. Or maybe it's because she still finds him handsome, no matter how harsh he is with her.

"Your father? I know you wanted to say something. Always have something to say."

His words stir a reaction out of her, brow furrowing. "Not always." She insists quietly, a little offended that he thinks he knows anything about her. His lips perk up into a smirk, one that has her stomach fluttering despite how amused he looks. He's mocking her, and she is foolish.

"Not what I heard."

Daisy scoffs, arms tightening around her chest. "Yeah? From who? Sterling?"

Harry copies her movement, arms crossing over his chest. She tries to ignore the way his arms stretch his white shirt. He shrugs, still amused with her. "Doesn't matter, does it? All that matters if it's true or not."

"Why?"

Harry drops his arms, using them to push himself off of the desk. His leather shoes drag on the floor as he stalks towards her, eyes twinkling mischievously. He stops in front of her, close enough that she can smell his sticky cologne and feel his breath on her face. She steps back, wondering how he's managed to afford cologne when she's been out of perfume for months. He follows her, leaning down so his lips are only a couple inches from hers.

"I have some thoughts on marrying a girl that can't keep her mouth shut."

His words sting her ears and behind her eyes, burning uncomfortably in her chest. She refuses to let him see the water in his eyes, instead dropping her gaze to his chest. Swallowing thickly, she takes another step back. "I want to go home now." She whispers, not waiting for him to respond. She turns on her heel, feet silent as she crosses the room to the door.

"Daisy," Harry huffs after her, and she hears his footsteps following. She turns the knob, pulling it open and stepping into the hallway. She tries to hurry back to the living room without actually running but Harry's long legs beat her, his hand locking on her wrist. She tugs away, not quite strong enough to remove his grip, turning to face him long enough to spit out, "I don't really want to marry you either!"

It's harsh, the harshest she's ever spoken to him and it leaves him stunned enough for her to pull away from him again. He doesn't chase her, no, he just drags his feet behind her. Daisy feels a bit guilty for snapping at him, no matter how often he does it to her, but the thought vanishes at the sight of her family in the dining room. Tonight's her last night with them and her last night without Harry.

She doesn't take much with her, not that she needs to. Harry's got everything she could ever need at his house, everything except her clothes. Her few dresses and skirts are packed into her suitcase, her blouses, undergarments, and nightgowns in the one Harry brought over because it's far bigger than hers, and her shoulder bag holds personal objects such as photographs of her family and a jewelry box containing her few possessions.

It's silly for her to be sad, she knew she couldn't live with her parents forever, but she had hoped that the day she'd be leaving would be with a man she loves. Or is at least comfortable to be around.

Despite her silence and set jaw, Harry offers her a teeny smile, more awkward than comforting, and grabs her suitcases in his hands. She throws her bag over her shoulder, heart shuddering painfully as she closes the door to her bedroom and follows Harry down the stairs. Kitty is waiting for him at the bottom, peeking around the banister with that shy smile she gets when Harry's around, and Daisy imagines Harry gives her a smile back because she giggles and runs towards the kitchen where they're mother is.

Sterling has already left for work, as has her father, and Daisy refuses to say goodbye to Summer because that's just not something they do, leaving just Kitty and Meredith to say goodbye too. She leaves Harry in the living room, dragging her feet into the other room where Meredith is waiting with a sad smile.

"All ready dear?" She asks, and Daisy does her best to nod, despite the fact that she feels sick to her stomach. Meredith opens her arms for her, and Daisy happily steps into them, burrowing in her mother's shoulder and wishing she were still as tiny as Kitty. She doesn't mean to, but she ends up crying into her mother's blouse.

"You're going to be fine Daisy," Meredith soothes, rubbing her back. "he'll take care of you."

"I'd rather starve here than live with him forever mother." Daisy cries, not caring if Harry hears or not.

"I'll live with Harry," Kitty offers weakly, pawing at Daisy's legs. "so you can stay. Harry can take care of me."

Despite her tears, Daisy giggles and pulls back to look at her baby sister. Kitty's got clumps of tears in her eyelashes, pouting up at Daisy. "That's awful sweet," she croaks, wiping her own tears away. "but I don't think Harry could hold you the way mother does when you're scared."

Kitty's eyes widen in fear, immediately taking back her sentiment. "I have to stay with mumma, sorry Daisy."

She sighs, leaning down to kiss Kitty's forehead. "I'll see you soon bug." She murmurs, straightening to her normal height. Meredith gives her an encouraging nod, walking her back to the living room where Harry's leaning against the back of the couch, suitcases at his feet and arms over his chest. He picks them back up when he sees the girls return, nodding politely to Meredith.

"Take care of her please, Harry." Meredith begs, and Daisy distracts herself with opening the front door so she doesn't have to look at him.

"I will." Harry says firmly.

"That's what he's paying for, isn't it?" Daisy says bitterly, ignoring the way her mother glares at her.

"Didn't pay for you," Harry says shortly, stepping around her and out the door. He mutters something under his breath that she's glad she didn't hear because it would probably just hurt her feelings anyway. With one last pleading look towards her mother, Daisy steps out of her home and follows Harry down the sidewalk to his car. He's already loaded her suitcases in the backseat, making her shoulders sag because she was planning on sitting back there.

"Wanna get home before dark, if you don't mind." Harry says loudly, and she realizes he's holding open the passenger door for her, tapping his leather boot impatiently. Daisy climbs into the car, looking at her house sadly as Harry gets in and starts the car. He drives away, and Daisy wishes her mother had come running out at the last second, demanding Harry let her stay. She doesn't though, and Daisy suddenly feels like she could die right then and there.

Despite being fiance's, Daisy refused to share a room with Harry. She had expected to fight him on it, thinking he'd immediately take her things to his bedroom and instruct her to unpack. Instead, they pulled up to his garage, and he shut off the car, tossing his keys in her lap.

"S'the gold key. Go pick a room, just not the one on the right of mine."

Daisy didn't have to be told twice, and almost too eagerly she jumped out of the car, dashing to the door and unlocking it. She was in this house just last night, so she doesn't bother looking around the area before tossing his keys on the table and heading to the room she's been thinking of all day. Harry's room is upstairs, so she heads down the hall that took her to the dusty office. She recalls seeing another door down here, and she really hopes it's a bedroom.

She can hear Harry coming into the house, dropping her suitcases to the floor and shutting the door. She stays quiet, listening to him climb the stairs, before turning the knob to the door opposite the office. It creaks as she pushes it open, and just like the other room over here, she's hit in the face with the overwhelming smell of mothballs. The room's in great need of a dusting, but other than that it's perfect.

A big window sits on the furthest wall, overlooking the grassy back yard. A large, unmade bed is pushed up against the wall opposite it, and a big white dresser across from the closet, with a matching nightstand next to the bed. The floor is the same dark wood that covers the rest of the house, but for some reason it looks better in here. Daisy bites back a grin, walking to the window and pushing the dusty curtain back. Sunlight filters into the room, warm on her skin and she closes her eyes, enjoying it for a moment. The sun never shined in her old room.

"You want this one?"

Harry's voice startles her, making her jump and whip around to face him. He's leaning against the door frame, arms over her chest and looking around the room with contempt. She smiles at that, nodding proudly.

"Gets kinda cold over here, but s'your loss I suppose." He pushes himself off the door frame with a shrug. "M'not paying the hospital bill when you're toes goes frost bite."

Daisy knows he's exaggerating, it wasn't cold over here last night, and even if it were she'd stay. Based on the displeased look he gave the room, she hopes it'll keep him away from her. He disappears down the hallway, and she turns back around to pry open the window and let fresh air in.

She peels the mattress cover off the bed, balling up the dirty fabric and tossing it towards the door. She sits on the corner of the bed, dropping her bag to the mattress as Harry comes in with her bags. He stumbles on the bed cover, and Daisy giggles when he curses, "bloody fucking Christ."

He sets her bags on the bed next to her, narrowing his eyes at her as he runs his fingers through the short curls on his head. "Let's run to town so ya can pick out bedding and whatnot."

Daisy has no chance to decline the offer or even ask to go later before he's scooping up the dusty fabric on the floor and leaving the room. With one last look around her room, Daisy follows.

Daisy is not the only person that dislikes Harry. In fact, she thinks the whole town might have some sort of problem with him. At the fabric store where she picks out pale yellow sheets and a multicolored quilt with matching pillows, Harry's stared at. At first, Daisy thinks it might just be his looks. He's awful tall, and his shoulders are almost too broad, and he definitely doesn't look like he should be in this store. It's not until they go to pay and Harry's fishing out his wallet, that she realizes it's not his looks.

"You're paying for this?" The man behind the counter asks, taking Harry's bills with a dubious look on his face and recounting them.

"Is that a problem?" Harry huffs.

The man opens the register, counting out his change. "Not at all," he says, not bothering to smile when he hands Harry his coins. "just a surprise. I didn't know your lot knows how to be generous."

Harry offers no rebuttal, instead grabbing the paper bag off the counter and heading towards the door. The man eyes Daisy with confusion, no doubt wondering what she's doing in town with Harry. She steps towards the door, hesitating when the man's words echo on her head. The Styles aren't nice, but they're not selfish either.

"That was very rude of you." Daisy says firmly. "And he may not care, but I do. You've offended me greatly."

The man blinks in surprise, mouth opening to respond but Daisy turns and leaves the store. Harry's holding the door for her, and once it's shut he turns to her. "What did ya tell him?"

"That he's rude."

They start walking down the street, Daisy refusing to look at Harry. He's quite for a moment, before finally mumbling, "thank you." The cleaning supplies store comes into view, and she starts walking a little faster.

"It's nothing. Every big mouth wife would do that, right?"

Harry doesn't say anything else, but she thinks his lips twitch like he's fighting a smile.

It didn't take long to clean the room. Harry bought a really nice dusting cleaner that she had never heard of before. She used it to wipe down the windowsill and furniture, and halfway through Harry came in with a broom and a mop. He didn't say anything and neither did she as they silent worked around each other to make the room comfortable.

The dust went away, and the mothball smell faded into the fresh summer breeze and the smell of cleaner. By the time Harry finishes the floor, and Daisy has dusted and made the bed, their stomachs are grumbling.

"I can warm leftovers," Harry says, lifting up the dirty bucket of mop water. He's rolled up the sleeves of his button up, and she can see the way his forearms tighten as he hauls the bucket up. He's got his usual leather suspenders on, holding up his light brown trousers. Daisy can't help but notice that they're tight on his thighs and bum, but hang loosely around his lanky legs.

"That's fine," Daisy mumbles, face heating up. She's never genuinely looked at Harry as more than the boy that shoved her in the pool, not even last night when she was told she'd be marrying Harry. But now, she can't help but realize that he's more handsome than he originally thought. In another world, one in which maybe they liked each other and Harry knew how to treat people, she'd be lucky to say she's marrying him.

She waits for him to leave the room before unpacking her bags. She lays the photographs of her family on the dresser next to the candle Harry bought for her, and then sets up her jewelry box next to it. She unpacks her clothing into the drawers, hanging her skirts and blouses in the big closet. She's struggling to put up her new curtains when Harry returns.

She's tip-toeing to try and place the rod back up when he reaches over her shoulder and takes it from her. "Go eat your food," Harry commands, stepping to the side so she can walk to the bed. Daisy doesn't argue, mostly because Harry's voice has got a rough edge to it that she doesn't particularly like, but also because she knows she could never reach up there.

A plate of food with a fork sit on the nightstand, and she sits in the middle of the big bed to eat and watch Harry. She wishes his personality matched his looks. She thinks his pink lips were meant to say sweet words, and his jade eyes were meant to look over the world with a gleam in them. He could be a perfect husband, if he cared enough, Daisy thinks sadly, and when he turns to look at her as if checking to make sure she's eating, she thinks he could be a perfect father too. And if he's not, there's not much she can do about it anyway.

#harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #soldier harry #ww2 Harry #dear Daisy #alternate universe #harry styles au

185 notes · View notes

fresafresitawrites · 4 years ago

Text

hemera: goddess of the day

my second vignette in my creative writing class! posting this here so everyone can have fun reading and also cuz i havent posted anything in a while. it’s not that long, so if u can read thatd be so appreciated !!! inspirations: a party i went to with my art history friends and anne carson’s eros the bittersweet

rest of the vignette is under the read more

I waited outside Hemera’s apartment building, wiping my shoes on the doormat and holding the champagne bottle she asked me to get. She was still 20 until next March and I turned 21 back in June, so for the next few months this would be my job.

The October air was crisp and sharp. The occasional gust of wind felt like needles on my skin. I’m glad that before heading to Hemera’s, my mom convinced me to wear the Sherpa-lined Levi’s jacket she bought me at a Black Friday sale last year—- 70% off.

The door swung open.

“Andrew!” Hemera’s sudden embrace knocked me back a little. The rollers in her hair scratched the surface of my cheeks when she hugged me, and I was hit with the scent of coconut milk shampoo. A tropical wave juxtaposed with the autumn breeze.

“Hey, is no one else here yet?”

She didn’t let go of me. She hadn’t seen me in a while ever since she started a new job at an Italian restaurant near Union Square, and I’ve been working late-shifts at the bookstore since the holidays were around the corner. “Oh, here.” I gave the liquor store bag.

“You got it!” I closed the door behind me as I entered the lobby. “They use this brand at work, so I wanted to try it.” Her black nails tapped against the green bottle before handing it back to me. “And no, I actually told them to come at seven because I know if I asked you to come early you wouldn’t have done it.”

“Oh really?” I wasn’t actually surprised but I wasn’t going to argue with her either. She’s probably right anyway. I followed her up the three flights of stairs and into her studio, hanging my coat behind the door. She went back to unraveling her curls in front of the bathroom mirror. I leaned against the doorway. Her sink was covered in hair and make-up products.

“You would’ve said, vos! Jou’re gonna make me clean your room while jou do jour make-up again.” She exaggerated my accent. I’ve been a New Yorker for eleven years, but Argentina will always ring in my voice. “Anyway, can you clean you room? I have to brush out my hair.”

“No.” I started peeling off the foil of the bottle.

She turned around, snatching the bottle away from me.

“Not until everyone’s here!”

“All right, whatever.”

I was going to help her straighten the place out anyway. Hemera lived in a studio apartment that she moved into just last year, despite her mom’s disapproval. On the night of her move-in day, we lay down on the hardwood-- since she hadn’t gotten her couch yet-- and shared a bag of Doritos.

“Do you think she’ll be okay? All she has is the cat now.” She meant her mom. “Maybe things should be like they were back in like, the old times. She always talks about how full the house back in Mexico used to be, even my great-grandmother lived there. Three generations! With the kids and everything. There was so much noise… and now it’s just Pepino.” She rolled over to face me. “I miss my kitty already!”

Hemera sometimes had this way of speaking where nostalgia tinted her voice with memories that weren’t hers. I could name more people in her family than my own.

The entire apartment was the size of my mom’s bedroom. The hardwood creaked with every other step, the pipes under the kitchen sink moaned like ghosts, and the walls were covered with floral wallpaper tearing at the edges, but Hemera treated her apartment as if everything was made of gold. I would too, honestly.

I cleared up the wooden coffee table by removing piles of open mail—mostly bills and Target coupons—printed recipes, and scripts from her theater classes. I didn’t know what else to do with them, so I just hid everything under her pull-out couch. On the kitchen counter, she had those trays of assorted cheeses and meats—to be fancy for her college friends. I rummaged through the cabinets and found her supply of Hot Cheetos to snack on while I reheated the pasta on the stove she made for the guests.

“Okay, how do I look?”

I followed her voice. Her hair was curled up in short rings, like black garden roses, and her eyes were dusted with purple and black eyeshadow. Or eyeliner, I didn’t know, but the glitter illuminated her tan skin. She was dressed in her signature all-black style. In a lace, spidery dress that hugged her curves and ended at her thighs. She sparkled under the dim lighting of her apartment, like a crystal in a cave. In Greek mythology, Hemera was the goddess of the day, but Hemera always reminded me more of Nyx, crowned in dark mist and black-winged.

In high school, Hemera spent most of her time woven in the arms of the upright bass player from our orchestra class. He was long haired and mysterious, as she liked them. She would ask me to French braid her hair before their dates, having me incorporate the artificial flowers he’d give her into her strands. This was something my mom taught me how to do so it’d take less time to get my sisters ready in the morning when they were younger. Maybe it was Hemera’s smooth hair, or the scent of her Jasmine perfume, or watching her finally leave, but my thoughts turned to poetry. The night he broke up with her she cried on the edge of my bed.

This was when she crawled towards me, placed her hand on the calculus textbook on my lap, and kissed me.

And in that moment, any romantic feelings I had towards her dissolved into a fog.

I read in an essay once how unrequited love is a form of escapism. Briefly, perfection exists in the form of a person who you believe is immaculate. Once the feeling is returned, you realize their judgment is flawed because they’ve decided to like you of all people. They lose their divinity. The Greeks spoke of a similar sentiment, Eros: the desire for what is missing. You desire only what you lack. Once something, or someone, is finally in your possession, you can no longer want it.

And where’s the fun in that?

“Hello? Andrew? Andrés Ibarra? Do I have to say it in Spanish? Does my ass look fat or not?”

She walked over to the full-length mirror, answering her own question and taking pictures on her phone. “Also, can you not be weird around my friends? You always talk about that time you swore you saw a UFO and I don’t think you realize how much of a weirdo you sound like telling that story.”

I sprinkled some of the Hot Cheetos dust from the bag onto her pasta and stirred.

“No problem.”

#creative writing #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #short stories #flash fiction #writers community #spilled ink #writers #my writing #fiction writing #fiction #original writing #original characters #short story #quotes #my vignettes

10 notes · View notes

her-story6 · 4 years ago

Text

Recently, I've been having a really bad case of writer's block, but @asocial-nebula 's Demons & Angels AU gave me sufficient motivation, so I wrote a little drabble based on it.

The italicized part is from one of their headcanon things. Most of the ideas are theirs too.

This is purely unedited, written in one sitting, and just for fun- please give me some slack

“Cathy, we talked about this.”

The demon looked up from the floor to see Kitty standing over her, arms crossed and expression stern. A pang of guilt registered in the pit of her stomach before she could stop it.

“About what?”

“Don’t play games with me. You know the rules. Burning Aragon’s books? Really? I thought you were done with that silly feud” Kitty gestured aimlessly at the piles of ashes strewn around the demon. Cathy had to admit, the evidence did seem very damning. Still, it wasn’t her fault.

“No, you don’t understand. Just let me expla-”

“No, Catherine.” The witch shook her head sadly. “You know the rules. I really don’t want to hear your excuses.”

Cathy’s breath hitched at her words. A distant memory, tucked away after thousands of years, began to resurface, bits at a time, and suddenly she was no longer in the living room-

“I’m not going to tolerate your excuses”

That was the last thing she heard before the world exploded into golden, burning light. She can’t see, can’t hear, can’t feel. All she knows in the moment is pain, and the horrible sensation that she’s falling… falling… falling…

And then, all of the sudden, she was back.

Except, she wasn't in the living room. Some cold, hard surface pressed up against her back, but she couldn't quite tell where she was. Her vision was cloudy, black dots standing out against the ruthlessly blinding light. She tried to cover her eyes, but it made her head spin, so instead she turned her attention to the pain in her chest.

Her heart felt tight, as if the pressure had built up and it was full, like a water balloon, and someone was squeezing at it, squeezing so hard that an explosion was inevitable. This thought caused her to panic even more.

Desperately, Cathy clawed at her chest, trying with all her might to force her lungs to inhale once more. She needed to breathe, this much was obvious, but she couldn’t figure out how.

One thought stood out against her panicky state. There was only one explanation for this feeling, only one thing that had ever felt like this before-

She was going back to Hell.

The humans must have gotten tired of her. Perhaps the books were the last straw, perhaps Anna reached the end of her patience. Maybe Aragon had convinced Kitty that she was a danger to them all. Not that she knew exactly how this could have happened, because wouldn’t they have sent her back earlier if they could have?

Still, that must have been it.

She thought they had cared about her. She thought that she had finally found people who would stand by her through thick and thin.

She had been wrong.

---

Meanwhile...

“Kitty, where’s Cath?”

Jane poked her head out of the kitchen, looking toward the witch in the living room.

“I just put her in the jar for a while. She set a bunch of Catalina’s books on fire again.”

Kitty looked up from where she was still scraping ashes from the floor, shaking her head in exasperation.

“Ah. I thought they had finally stopped doing that.” The demon opened the door the rest of the way, leaning against the frame and chuckling softly.

“Yeah, me too.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence for a while, Jane eventually fetching a dustpan to put the burnt remains into. The living room was almost clean when the tell-tale signs of the front door opening could be heard from the foyer.

“That must be Aragon and Anne.”

“Ooh.” Jane inhaled sharply through her teeth. “Who’s going to tell her about her books?”

“Not it!” Kitty touched a finger to her nose playfully, rushing off with the dustpan towards the trash can. The demon watched her go, smiling a little at her antics, before turning to see the two angels enter the room, laughing at something unknown.

“Hey Jane!”

“Hello, how was your walk?” Jane smiled, a little too politely.

“Alright. What’s going on around here?” Aragon eyed the demon suspiciously, looking around the room, as if to spot some hidden trap.

“Cathy got in trouble again.” Jane felt it was best to get right to the point. “She may or may not have set some of your books on fire”

“Oh”

“Oh?!” Jane raised her eyebrows in shock. “Just ‘oh’? You’re not, like, mad?”

“Nope.”

And with that, Catalina was gone, disappearing up the stairs, presumably to her room. Jane looked at Anne questioningly, but the angel seemed just as confused as she was.

“That was weird.”

“Yeah...” Anne continued to stare at where the older woman had just been, eyebrows creasing in worry. “That was really weird.”

---

Sometime, amidst her panic, though she wasn’t sure when, her glamour must have faded, and she could feel her wings pressed against her back. The pressure made her itch, but nothing she did made it stop. In fact, it made it worse. Cathy still hadn’t worked up the courage to open her eyes, but she had tried to extend her legs fully, only to find she was confined to a small space, something she was none too pleased about.

Over all, it was torture. The light, the texture, the pounding in her head. All of it.

Plus, somewhere off in the distance, an irregular tapping had begun a few minutes ago, and it felt like nails jabbing into her skull. Or maybe that was her horns. Either way, it was terrible.

It went on forever. Eventually, the demon realized that if she pulled her knees up as close to her as possible, stuck her head between her legs, and rocked lightly on her heels, it ALMOST made the pain dissipate. Almost.

She stayed that way for what felt like an hour, but for all she knew, it could have been just a few minutes. The only rational thought that broke through the pain was how badly she must have failed, how disgraceful it was to be sent back to Hell again.

And, the most agonizing thought:

How much Kitty, how much all of them, must hate her now.

---

Anna slipped through the side door, peeling off her tennis shoes, soaked with rain water after being caught off guard on her run, over a mile from the house. After changing out of her workout wear, she made her way downstairs, peeking into each room as she searched for the other occupants of the house.

The sight that greeted her in the dining room, though, was not what she was looking for.

In one of the many, usual empty, jars on the fireplace mantle, was Cathy- scratching violently at her chest and rocking desperately back and forth.

In a moment of panic, Anna rushed across the room and made to grab the jar, but soon realized that she had no way to get the demon out, let alone to her normal size. Plus, the sudden movement might startle her.

After a few seconds of staring at the girl helplessly, watching as her breathing became more and more shallow, she turned on her heels and rushed from the room, resuming her search for Kitty, but now for different reasons.

---

“Cathy, are you alright?”

Kitty had immediately released the girl from her makeshift prison the moment she entered the room, but instead of calming down, the demon just sat in the corner, continuing her previous movements, except this time, her wings could open completely, and were blocking their path to her.

“Catherine, love, you need to breathe.” Anna tried to reason, moving so she was in the girl’s eyeline. Unfortunately, Cathy had yet to move her palms from over her eyes.

“What the hell happened?” Kitty questioned, turning to her friend.

“I don't know, I just walked in here and she was like this.” Anna shrugged, still watching Cathy, relieved to see that her rocking was slowing steadily.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?”

“Just wait, I suppose.”

And wait they did, for several minutes as Cathy’s breathing evened out, and her movements calmed. The two humans watched carefully, trying their best not to startle or scare the panicking demon.

Slowly, slowly, Cathy retracted her wings, pulling them in closer to herself, obviously relieved to find that nothing was restricting her actions. And even slower, she began to pull her hands away from her eyes, squinting at the harsh light.

She blinked rapidly for a moment, taking in her new surroundings, before her vision landed on Anna and Kitty, who were both still staring at her in concern.

“Hey, Cath. You alright?” Kitty cooed, taking a small step towards the girl, who was still curled up against the wall.

“You really had us worried there, kid.”

Cathy blinked up at them slowly, looking from one to the other, before promptly bursting into tears.

“O-kay. You're okay, Cath.” Kitty muttered, crouching down and shuffling closer to the girl.

“It hurts,” the demon whimpered, curling back in on herself and scooting back farther so she was all the way into the corner.

“Catherine, what’s wrong, hon? What hurts?” Anna reached to strike the girl’s hair, but she flinched back violently, hitting her head on the wall.

“What on earth is going on?” Anne burst into the room, looking at Cathy on the floor as she cowered away from the two humans. Jane followed close behind, peeking over her shoulder warily.

Behind them, barely visible in the doorway, stood Catalina, anxiety lining her features.

“We’re not sure.”

“Make it stop, it hurts, please!” Cathy mumbled through her sobs, fists clenching at her sides.

“What is she talking about?” Anne walked up to the witch, bending down so she was level with them.

“I have no idea. And she won't let us touch her.”

“Here, let me try.”

Jane crossed the room in a few short strides, kneeling down next to her fellow demon. She reached a gentle hand out, setting it carefully on the girl's shoulder, feeling quite relieved when she didn't jerk away.

“Hey, Cath, come here love.” Jane brought the smaller woman into her arms, slowly, slowly, as to not startle her further.

The demon tensed at first at the contact, but leaned into it once she realized who was holding her.

“Please don't make me go back”

“Go back where, Cath?” Jane asked, running her hands through the girl’s tight curls. Cathy only mumbled in reply.

“What was that, love?”

“Hell,” she whispered “It hurts.”

“Of course not, Cathy,” Jane murmured, but she glanced back at the rest of the group in concern, only to see them mirroring her expression.

“Does it hurt to go to Hell?” Kitty questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. Jane shook her head in confusion.

“No, not at all.” A pause. “Unless, of course...” she trailed off, looking back at the demon in her arms as she came to a sudden realization.

“ ‘Unless, of course-’ what?” Anne all but snapped, looking from Jane to Cathy frantically.

“Unless you fall from Heaven,” Anna said knowingly. “Right, Jane?”

“Yeah” The demon sighed. “Unless that.”

“How did you know?” Kitty glances at Anna in bewilderment.

“I assumed. She's covered in scars, and she mentioned once that some of them were from her fall.”

“She told you all that? She never tells me anything?” Jane raised her eyebrows in surprise, but before Anna could reply, her attention was brought back to Cathy as she whimpered, trying to lean away from the harsh tone.

“Sorry, Cath. You're alright, love. We’re not sending you anywhere.”

The group stayed like that for a while as Cathy’s cries calmed. After a few minutes of silence, she uncurled slightly, taking a chance to glance around the room once more.

First, up at Jane, who was smiling comfortingly down at her. Then at Anne and Kitty, who were sitting across from them, leaning against the table. Up at Anna, standing over them protectively.

The demon released a breath she has been holding, relieved to find that she was still at home, still with people who cared.

But then she looked past Anna, towards the door, and saw the last person she wanted to see right now standing there, watching the scene carefully: Catalina.

In a flash, Cathy was out of Jane’s arms and across the room, having pushed passed the two humans and the angel who had just happened to be in her way. She hesitated for a moment in the doorway, tears once again streaming silently down her face. After a tense few seconds, though, Aragon stepped aside in shock, and the demon rushed past her and up the stairs, disappearing from sight.

---

“Did you try to get in?”

“Yeah, she must have locked the door magically again. And I really don't want to startle her any more than she already is.” Kitty ran a hand through her hair as she sighed.

“And Aragon?” Anna questioned from the armchair.

“She told me she was fine, but she won't come out of her room either.”

“Is Cathy going to be alright? We really shouldn't leave her alone too long, right?” Anne looked from Jane to Anna, but they both simply shrugged.

“I'm not even sure what we would say. We don't know why she was upset in the first place.” Jane pointed out.

“I have my suspicions” Anna sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but first I have to talk to Aragon.”

---

“Catalina? Can I come in?”

A moment of silence, just long enough that Anna considered giving up, before the door swung open, revealing the angel.

“I'm sorry, Anna” Aragon’s gaze was trained on the floor, foot scuffing back and forth. Anna watched her curiously.

“What for?”

“I wasn't very helpful back there, with Cathy.”

“Ah.” A pause. “Well, can I come in?”

Aragon simply nodded, stepping aside and shutting the door quickly behind her.

“So, what's going on with you?

“I don't know what you mean.” Aragon sat down on the edge of her bed, still avoiding Anna’s gaze.

“When you left earlier after you found out about your books. When you hid after the Cathy thing. Do I need to clarify more?” Anna rolled her eyes goodnaturedly.

“No,” the angel admitted reluctantly. “I don't know, Anna, I just...” she trailed off, and Anna waited patiently.

“I was the one who set the books on fire.”

“Ah” Anna raised her eyebrows in shock.

“Yeah. So it was my fault Catherine got in trouble. And if she was upset about her fall from Heaven, well...”

“I see.”

“She was my friend, Anna.” Aragon’s voice suddenly broke as she looked at the human desperately. “She was my friend and I hurt her so much. For what? Nothing. That's what.”

“So... you're guilty.”

“Well, duh.” Catalina’s tone grew cold.

“Then it's simple.” Anna shrugged.

“What?”

“It's simple.”

“Anna,” Catalina warned.

“Just talk to her. Easiest cure for guilt. Ask for forgiveness.”

Aragon scoffed.

“Yeah, like she’d listen to me right now.”

“It can't hurt to try.”

---

A few minutes later, Anna and Catalina stood outside the youngest demon’s door.

“You ready?” Anna questioned, turning to her friend. Catalina sighed, but nodded, if not a bit reluctantly.

“As I'll ever be.”

#my writing #six fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

i-do-trash-fanfictions · 4 years ago

Text

Thera’s Journal Entry #20

I shot up immediately after waking up. Scout was beside me in a heartbeat, checking to make sure I was okay.

“What happened?” He asked.

I explained the entire dream the best I could.

“Then we need to go. It’s six in the morning so I’m sure Ikora is at her spot.” Scout answered.

I got up and rushed around to throw my armor on, load up my guns, and everything else. I then headed out of my room and down to where Ikora was.

“Ikora, I need to find Ann.” I said. “She hasn’t returned from her mission on the moon yet and, this part is going to sound crazy, but I just had a dream that told me where she’s at.”

“Explain,” Said Ikora. “As quick as you can.”

“She’s in a cave underground in Archer’s Line. She was captured by a hive lord named Nuvar who is going to get put into an arena to fight hive. Her and Poppy have been split up. If she dies-”

“Okay, okay. Go.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Thera. I know how much you care about that young Hunter. And I know how much you have lost. I refuse to sit by and let you loose someone else.”

“Thank you, Ikora. But what about Zavala and my missions on Europa?”

“The missions can wait, but if something pops up, I’ll send a fireteam to take care of it. As for Zavala, I will inform him after you have left so he won’t be able to stop you.”

“Thank you!” I took off running to the Hangar.

“We can’t just rush into this for once.” Scout said as I ran. “We need a plan.”

“I have a plan. Run in, kill some hive.”

“We need a more detailed plan.” He stated.

“We’ll figure it out on the ship.”

I made it to the Hangar and headed to the Queen of Hearts.

“Hey, what are you in such a rush for?” I heard Amanda asked as I passed her.

“Rescue mission,” Was all I answered.

She nodded.

I jumped into the pilots seat and started up the jumpship. As soon as I was out of the Hangar I headed into orbit and set course for the moon.

“Okay, it should take us there on it’s own. Now, we need to set up that plan.”

I headed out of the cockpit and fired up the holo-table that was in the middle of the main room. I pulled up the moon’s map and zoomed in on Archer’s Line.

“It’s too bad we don’t have a 3D version of the map.”

“Are we going stealth or guns blazing?” Scout asked, hovering over my shoulder.

“I think we’ll try stealth until we can’t. It’s likely that Ann’s getting held in a cell of some sort.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to break the cell?”

“Depends on what it’s made out of. I think we should find Poppy first though. Maybe if we get down there we’ll be close enough to contact her and figure out where she is. Once we get her she might know where Ann is.”

“What if we run into Nuvar?”

“We either run, or I fire up my Golden Gun and let him have it.”

“Seems like a good enough plan. Better than no plan at all.”

I felt the Queen of Hearts leave orbit and a few minutes later Scout transmatted me to the moon. I wasted no time getting on my Sparrow and speeding down to Archer’s Line. I slowed down once I reached it, to make sure I didn’t pass the cave.

And then I found it, tucked away and hidden behind a bunch of rocks. I squeezed past and entered the cave. Scout stayed hidden and I pulled out the Old Fashioned hand canon. I walked slowly, trying to keep as quite as possible. I was sure that not many hive would be here in the start but I wanted to stay safe.

I went through a lot of narrow tunnels for a long time. Until finally, I reached a large opening. There were many hive there. Some thralls, some acolytes, some knights.

“I think if you’re careful you can stay in the shadows. Just stay alongside the walls.” Scout whispered to me.

I went carefully and slowly until I reached the left wall of the open area. There were three separate narrow tunnels.

“We’re going to get lost in this place.” I stated.

“Stay optimistic.”

“I suppose it won’t hurt to try again,” I suddenly heard over my inner coms. “Hello? Hello? This is Poppy, the Ghost of Angelica. We’re in trouble, we need your help.”

The message had a lot of static but we could still make out every word.

“Poppy, this is Scout. I’m here in the caves with Thera. We’re here to rescue you and Ann.”

“Oh thank goodness! I’m sending my location to you now. Be careful in the tunnels. It’s easy to get turned around in there.”

I turned down the tunnel closest to me and kept moving.

“I’m so glad you’re here! Ann’s been captured by this hive lord! From what I’ve heard he wants to put her in some arena and have her fight. She won’t survive without me!”

“We won’t let that happen.” I promised. “Do you know where Ann is?”

“Yes. Once you get to me, I’ll lead you there.”

I took care of a lone thrall with my knife quickly and was then on the move again.

“I wish I could do more. But I don’t want to leave without Ann. And I don’t want to accidentally run into some hive. I have no one to protect me and if I die, then there’s barely any hope for Ann at all.”

“Does she know you’re still alive?”

“No. I saw where they took her, but there were too many hive surrounding her. I couldn’t get too close.”

I could see the light of a Ghost optic shining down the cave.

“I see you! Come quickly! I don’t think there are any hive around here.”

I ran over to her. Poppy flew around my head.

“We have to hurry. Follow me.”

I stayed down and let Poppy take the lead.

“She’s down that hall. They’ve made cages of some sort that you’ll have to break through, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

I sneaked down the hall. Poppy had tucked herself away in a crevice in the wall. Finally I saw a small room with Ann in it. Bars of stone kept her from getting out. How they got her in was a question I could not answer. A wizard blocked the door, along with two knights.

I pulled out Riskrunner and stepped out of the shadows.

“Hey, I think you’ve got my friend in there.”

I jumped into action and started to blast them. It didn’t take long for Riskrunner to break through the wizard’s shields. In the next minute, the wizard was gone, disintegrated into ash. Another few minutes and the same happened to the knights.

Ann pressed herself up against the bars as I had Scout remove my helmet. “You came!”

“You seem surprised. Of course I came.” I took a look at the bars and backed away. “You might want to move back. I’m going to have to shoot these things to break them.”

“Just try not to shoot me, alright. In case you don’t know, Poppy, she’s-” Ann froze when Poppy rushed up beside me. “She’s alive?” Ann exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

“Yes. I’d say I’m a very good actress when it comes to playing dead.”

Ann laughed.

“Alright, move back.” I took Riskrunner and aimed at the bars and began to shoot. The bars soon became tiny pieces and Ann came running out. She nearly tackled me with a hug.

“Thank you.” Was all she said. She moved back and let Poppy heal the small scratches and bruises and then looked to me. “So, are we going to stay and fight or-”

“We’re leaving. Right now while we still can.”

“Fine with me.”

Scout and Poppy both dissipated again and we ran down the tunnels.

“They took my guns.”

I threw her my Old Fashioned hand canon. “Here, use this. I’ll give you some new ones when we get back to the Tower.”

When we turned a corner we were both greeted by many hive. Ann and I both nodded and our helmets appeared on. Scout started up my playlist. The hive already knew we were here. Might as well make some fun with it.

To the sound of ‘Blue Monday’ we fought off the hive that was in our way but kept running when we could. I threw a grenade behind us at one point which took out a good few.

After running through narrow hall after narrow hall, I saw things get brighter. We were about to reach the surface. And out of all times for Ann to trip.

I stopped in my tracks and rushed to help her up with one hand while shooting blindly with my other. She got up and we kept running again. The hive were now getting closer. A sudden thought rang through my head. If all these hive got out, it would cause chaos. No one would be ready for a fight like that! I looked around for a solution until I found it.

“Keep running! We need to stay ahead.” I said to Ann.

“I think that’s common sense.”

We jumped out of the cave and I turned around at the last second, pulled out my grenade launcher. Instead of aiming at the hive, I aimed at the top of the cave. I fired all five grenades and caused an avalanche of rocks to go sliding down, trapping the hive all inside.

Ann and I waited a few seconds. A few more. And then we caught our breath and started to laugh.

“I- I am never going to the moon again. At least not anytime soon.”

“You better not.” I said in between breaths of small laughter, glad to be alive. Glad that both of us were alive. “Scout, call over my ship. We’re going home.”

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny guardians #destiny game #theras journal entries

7 notes · View notes

piccolina-mina · 4 years ago

Text

What Her Mother Gave Her

Fandom: Roswell, New Mexico

Characters: Rosa, Liz, Maria, and Isobel

Theme: Day 3 of Ladies of RNM week 2020. I’m a child/I’m a Mother Family/Legacy

A/N: Just a small contribution. All errors my own. Enjoy or not. It’s OK. :)

----

Her earliest memory is one she doesn't share. She has spent years trying to drown it out.

It's the look on her mother's face the first time she sketched something that was pretty damn masterful for a three-year-old. She remembers the way her mother looked past her, swatted her aside with disinterest and resentment.

Helena's face telling more than her words ever did, and she's been chasing away that memory every since.

She got her mother's face. Resting somewhere between alluring and bitchy. A face that was an indictment-- guilty even at her most innocent; she always looked like she was up to no good.

Not even her smiles helped, always coming off conniving and insincere except to those who knew her best which wasn't a lot.

She also got her mother's demons -- the shadows that haunted her, the whispers that invaded her headspace that she couldn't shake.

She got her mother's sadness, but see, she also got her mother's rage.

She doesn't know what and who she would be without it. Without that full capacity to be angry, without the ways it fuels her because without that anger there is no art, without her art, there is no her.

Her capacity for anger can be destructive, but it also waylaid to a capacity for love, fiercely, strongly, and passionately.

Her mother gave her things that made her too much. Too sad. Too angry. Too happy.

But on her best days, she recognizes the gift within the curse.

She sees her mother's face in a shard of glass in some back alley. The paint fumes are more comforting than her mother's kisses ever were.

She sees her mother's face, her mother's anger. Her mother's passion, as she takes a break from turning something ugly into something beautiful.

She sees all the things her mother gave her.

She runs. She runs so far away from her mother that she became her.

She ran so far away that she ran into her.

Her mother gave her a knack for having one foot out the door, and she's been combatting that ever since.

She wears her mother's armor, painted red stain on full lips. She has her mother's lips.

They press kisses with passion and love, doles them out selectively, leaves others craving more.

Her lips tease, like her mothers do, a playful smirk, a sexy smile, or pursed so tightly there's no room for interpretation when she's angry, or annoyed, or determined.

She has her mother's determination. She didn't see it at first because her mother is fickle. She's flighty, and she used to think that she lacked focus.

She knows now that Helena was focused and determined, just not about motherhood.

She has her mother's tongue. Equal parts sweet and biting with her words. Her tongue is like a sword, tiny slices, and nicks until she kills someone. Vicious death by a thousand cuts.

She has her mother's focus. Maybe she doesn't see it until it's far too late.

She wears goggles like her mother wears heels. A lab coat like her mother wears a formfitting dress, but their missions consume them.

She was born with her mother's chaotic spirit.

She loses herself in science, cloaks herself in warped logic, determined to make the world a better place.

She's willing to slip-slide into chaotic destruction to do it. She doesn't see it.

She's short-sighted and laser-focused. Her mama gave her that.

Her mother is always teaching her.

She thought the lessons stopped a long time ago, but there was so much more her mother had to share with her.

Her mother isn't done teaching her.

She inherited her mother's dusky skin and thick curls and the myriad of things that come with it.

She learned to stand in that proudly and unapologetically. All the better in a household that championed individualism, pride, and confidence.

Her mother taught her those, too.

She feels Mimi's energy surround her in coral and pink waves whenever she hits a stage. She sees Mimi's face in the recesses of her mind as she wipes down the counter at the Wild Pony.

She has her mother's flair for whimsy, but with her own hardened edge.

Her mother raised her to be confident, but she taught herself to be brave. They share strength, in many ways strength is a birth rite, it's in their blood, the marrow of their bones.

And so are their gifts. She has her mother's abilities, who got them from her mother and grandmother before.

She's still untangling the convoluted mess that is her past -- her history, and she's trying to piece everything together.

She used to be so scared.

Of her abilities in part, but mostly of her own mind.

She thought inheriting her mother's brain was a death sentence, but it may be her biggest superpower.

Her mother never played it safe; it cost them both greatly.

But she doesn't play it safe either. She's fearless now. The line between fearless and reckless is razor-thin, and between both and insanely stupid, it's up for debate.

She knows what she's risking to unlock a mind with abilities that contain multitudes.

She's never felt so alive, so powerful, so in tune with who she is and connected with her family, her roots, her history.

It's a gift, really. One most take for granted.

Maybe she is fearless like her mom, willing to throw herself full-bodied into the unknown.

She has a thirst for knowledge. She needs to know her limits and what she's capable of doing and being.

She needs to know who she is. But for the first time in years, she has never felt so connected to Mimi, and the allure of that is something she can't relinquish.

If there's a way to meet her mother in some dimension or altered state where they're as one, she'll take it.

She knows no one else can understand this, except maybe her mother.

Because she gave her a power than can barely be restrained and a spirit that pushes boundaries.

And damn it, she's her mother's child.

She was always driven to be perfect. Her mother just happened to demand it too.

It's nurture as much as nature, or so she's come to learn. She picked up on her mother's hyper-focus on image, and well, it fell in line with what they needed to do anyway.

Her mother taught her to never have a hair out of place. How to put her best foot forward, particularly clad in some name-brand shoe that others covet.

Her mother taught her how to incite jealousy.

People talk, she knows, she's people, so if they're going to be speaking about you at all, it's best to give them no reason to disparage.

She got her mother's knack for event planning. Hours spent orchestrating elaborate ordeals ranging from high-class to hoe-down and everything in between.

She got her mother's habit of picking sensible appearing men, for the aesthetic, but in truth, she doesn't know what she likes.

She thinks maybe she got that from her mother too. She loses herself in what she thinks she's supposed to be, some carefully crafted caricature that appeals to the masses, or doesn't, but she's still so unsure if this is her.

Ann has that air of being unknowable too. Like she's pretty and stylish, and she's whatever she needs to be in a moment, but whoever she is -- she's buried so deep that she can't access it anymore.

She shares her coldness, an ice queen vibe that only thaws on special occasions and in certain company.

Except, she's a mess. She is always just barely keeping herself together, and when someone looks carefully they see the cracks in her exterior.

She has so many cracks. She's so damn imperfect. And while diamonds are by nature flawed, she focuses on the sparkle.

She's a force of nature. Multiple at once, like fire and wind, and just as devastating.

Ann is a force, and she wanted to be one too.

She sees her mother in the little things, the time she spends applying glossy lips and tucking a strand behind her ear.

She hears her mother in the calculated demands as she micromanages everything and everyone.

She feels her mother when she's gripping tightly to whatever handle on the control that she has.

She needs to be in control and craves it really, and she's just now discovering what it feels like to let go.

Who gave her such shame? Well, her mother gave her that too.

Saddled her with insecurity she couldn't begin to process. She doesn't know what to do with it all -- the constant buzzing that maybe she's not enough that maybe she's not the perfect daughter her mother signed up for.

She's broken, and her mother is a fixer. She didn't manage to get that from her. It's something her brothers have in spades, though.

Her mother taught her about femininity and what it's supposed to look like.

She taught her about how everything is supposed to look.

But her mom, her mom gave her abilities she's only just scratching the surface of and learning how to contain.

Her mom gave her life and sacrificed her own for hers.

Her mom gave her a lifeline, a tether to the past, to their home, to who and what she is, and she didn't realize how lost she was in this world without it.

Her mom gave her family, more importantly, a pleiad of women she didn't know she needed.

Her brothers were always more than enough, but she was always on her own in that way.

Her mom gave her a guideline because she didn't know who the hell she was and maybe she never knew, but now, now she knows she can be her mom's daughter.

Her mom gave her a legacy to carry on, and she can honor that and herself.

Her mom gave her purpose.

#roswell new mexico #ladiesofrnmweek2020 #rosa ortecho #liz ortecho #maria deluca #isobel evans #roswell new Mexico fic

19 notes · View notes