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patchies · 4 years ago

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Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not... Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: depictions of gore

Word Count: 1.8+k

Author’s Note: This story is heavily inspired by a dream I had around two months ago and it pushed me into writing it. I haven’t ever thought that I would be writing and publishing a story. Let alone in English since it’s very far from my mother language, but I have to admit I like it way more. As I am pretty proud of it, I’ve decided why not just try? This story is not going to be updated very frequently as I hardly find time and motivation, but I have the whole story mostly planned out and I have plenty of ideas for it! There are 7 chapters written altogether as of now and I will try to update at least once a month. I’ve started writing longer chapters from the 6th and those will take longer to finish, but I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy it!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 1: The Awakening

Your eyes are met with complete darkness, unable to perceive your surroundings. The creepy, dusty and smoggy atmosphere isn't making you any less uneasy and confused either. Quite the contrary, actually. An unbelievable sickening feeling takes over your stomach and a great migraine is ever so present. Steering your thoughts to completely different places than they're supposed to. You feel the rapid thumping of your heart and panic floats in your head.

It takes you a few minutes until your dilated pupils get used to the blackness, but when they do, you're able to see the outlines of some demolished furniture. Upon fixating more on your surroundings, you distinctly spot the torn plain green wallpaper and empty broken picture frames hanged up on the wall. The tattered blinds covering the cracked windows tell you it's night and you seem to have gained consciousness in the middle of it.

Though, when you attempt to rethink through your day and previous whereabouts, you come up blank. Something like a heavy fog restrains your memories. A metaphorical lock put around it to secure them away from your conscious mind. As much as you try to concentrate on the past, you're left with nothing. It doesn't only leave you grasping for the forgotten past, but it makes you feel stranded and gasping of any, and very needed, recollection.

A sharp inhale of air makes your head rapidly turn in the direction of the sound and squint your eyes. You can hardly see the body of the person. The dark corner makes it difficult to focus, yet the figure still seems to take notice of you instantly, “Who are you…?”

Speaks up a very groggy voice and you can deduce their voice is coming from the shadows. Utterly hidden by the dark abyss. It sounds masculine, so you leave it at that, not taking too much interest in finding out any more information about the strange human. He seems to be in the same situation as you, but you still decide to be cautious around him. He's only a stranger to you, so you aren't going to blindly trust him. After all, stranger-danger is a rule, right?

You choose to stay guarded for now.

“Why does it matter to you?” You harshly reply. There really isn't anything to go off when it comes to his personality and intentions. As much as you'd like to be happy about seeing another human being, you don't know in what situation you are stuck in and you aren't the stupidest, neither the smartest, in the world. You'd rather stay cautious than die, “I'm surprised you have the audacity to speak to me even though you're obscuring your identity from me.”

“Well, if I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?” The stranger suggests, but you're inclined to not let him get through you.

“It doesn't matter to me. All I want is to get out and find whoever brought me here,” you simply say, “or search for my way home. That, doesn't have to involve you, nor your help.”

You turn your back to his voice, brushing him off with your words. Fixating your sight on the few boxes scattered throughout the room. You're sure he can feel your annoyance, but it's valid. He's making non-significant propositions, which is honestly irritable.

“I could help you. We could have each other's back.”

“What have I just said?” You inquire with an annoyed tint, “You have nothing of value to offer me, and you can't even step out of the shadows.”

With that said you slowly start to stand up from your position and look around for a possible exit. The floorboards creak under your weight as you step from foot to foot. The first thing that comes to your mind is to head straight for the windows for some unknown reason. Upon taking several steps to the blinds, you hear the stranger's footsteps echo. Your feet leisurely continue, but you're tempted to check behind you, therefore you do. Just in case he proves to have any malignant tendency.

There's still no silhouette of the other human, hence why you can't confirm what kind of a movement he's executed. With that done, you turn your head back and concentrate on the task at hand.

Once you get close enough to pull the blinds open, a loud screeching noise travelling throughout the whole street alerts both you and your companion. Blood pumps through your body at faster pace and you begin to be sceptical at heart upon hearing the scream of an unidentified creature.

“What the hell was that sound?” You can hear a slight waver in his voice. Presumably from not being able to decipher the inhuman noise from outside.

It didn't seem to scare you as much as it scared him. Although you did flinch back from the window, your guard has stayed high nonetheless the fright you experienced.

You shrug, but after realising he cannot possibly see you very well, you give him a response, “How am I supposed to know? Do you think I'm a witch?”

“Uh– yes and no?” After those words leave his mouth, your head turns to what you assume is his direction and give him a nasty glare. Offended thoughts swim in your head along with the throbbing pain of a headache.

A relatively loud scoff escapes your mouth and you fixate him with a harsh look.

You're sure he's going to die by either your hands, or he'll serve as sacrifice to the creature.

“You've chosen your destiny now, man.”

The scoff that leaves his mouth this time tells you that he's against the idea or he just plainly thinks you're joking. Either way, he's sold his soul by saying those words.

Cutting the conversation off, you finally get to glance outside the window, and you yell out a curse, which is enough to let the thing outside know of your existence. In the matter of seconds, it flies to your window and starts banging against it. It's long arms slam the panels with surprisingly little force. You fall back and try to scramble to your feet as quickly as you can. Can't go around risking your life even upon seeing the strength of the shadowy figure.

The man, who has chosen to stay anonymous up until now, decides against his better judgement to flee on his own to help you up. It doesn't show much strength, but the window already adores quite a few cracks, so you don't think it'll hold up for long.

“Just hurry up!”

As soon as you're stabilised and on both of your legs, you book it to the door. At first, the handle doesn't let you open them, but after a few sharp tugs it gives out and you fall to the floor again. You let out a curse once more, supporting your body on your forearms and stand up. The stranger only snickers behind you.

You stay silent and get your thoughts and clumsiness together.

“Here! We could hide in one of the other rooms!” He hurriedly tries to tug you to the direction he's talking about, but you don't budge. You can't take any risks when you don't know the house's layout and the person in front of you.

“I don't think it's a good idea,” you ponder over your thoughts, but after you hear glass being shattered, you run to another room and to the closest closet you can find. Completely disregarding the terrified look the man threw your way. You duck to the ground as hastily as you can and cover your mouth just in case. Soon wooden boards start creaking in the hallway and, even though you wished the man would be a sacrifice, you hope he's found a safe place and survives this monstrosity.

A rather loud groan is heard somewhat close to you and you peek through the small gap in the closet doors to see a rather disturbing view. One that you wish you haven't.

The creature has found a dead rat (rather beheaded the poor creature beforehand?) and is holding it to its bloody mouth now. Multiple sharp teeth sink over and over into the freshly killed animal, happily munching on the treat. It's turned sideways to you, so you can very clearly see all the contents of the rodent's body as it eats it. It's guts and blood spilling everywhere on the floor and on the demon itself.

You shudder, avert your eyes, and just look at your curled-up knees. ‘What in the name of hell have I just witnessed?’

It takes less than ten minutes to finish its fiesta and you can see the unidentified creature turn to smoke from your peripheral vision. It stays in that form and floats out of the room and you guess it leaves out the window it broke.

Silent tears start to fall down your eyes and you honestly aren't surprised. The whole encounter was traumatic to say the least. To you, it was as if you were the protagonist in a horror movie, being hunted down by some unknown force. Except this is real life that we're talking about. Your life is currently put at stake and you don't want to die so early. Be at the hands of the creature or some other mythical thing.

This won't be the worst thing to happen to you, Reader. Or will it, now?

Was that demon chasing somebody before I yelled out?

It had seemed to be occupied by something else before you got startled by its presence on the little roof below the window. You can still remember the soulless holes for eyes staring in your direction vividly.

Was it me luring it to us? Could there be more people?

You sit there, contemplating the event that has just happened, for what seems to be forever. Blank stare put onto your hands as you cry and your body succumbs to total numbness. That is until the closet door creak open, forcing you to look up.

There stands a man of average height with messy brown hair. You notice just now how he exactly looks upon not having that much time to do so an hour (was it?) ago.

His eyes convey an emotion close to yours, which is utter fear and confusion. He silently offers you his hand and you gladly, albeit shakily, take it. He pulls you out the door and towards another room with a dusty and an almost broken bed, pulls you into his lap and tucks your head into his neck. Letting you quietly cry while he gently runs his hand across your back. You don't even care a stranger has you in his lap. He lets you cry until you have no more tears running down your cheeks.

Your guarded feelings towards the man begin to crack amidst the comfort you crave right now.

When you're done, you both can't get yourselves to break the silence. You’ve distanced yourself from him, but you both are too afraid to even utter a word and accidentally lure the creature back in. Although, he decides to break it with a small whisper and with an attempt of a comforting smile.

“Do you mind sharing your name with me now?”

#technoblade #dream #sapnap #apocalypse au #reader insert #mcyt x reader #mcyt #techno #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #l'manburg #shadows #??? x reader

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

Note

uhm if you still need and want a benny boi request: hiking with him and soft sex by the fireplace to warm up 🥺 or in the tent bc it's probably pretty cold ngl

(@queenmylovely)

God you bitches get me. These prompts are wonderful and came in about 30 seconds apart lmao so i hope you like what I did with them!

warnings: smut but its like super somft and fluffy, also a lil bit of arguing

Blurb Advent: Day 16

The trip wasn’t exactly what you’d imagined it would be. Initially you’d been planning to get away during Summer, maybe head to the beach for a couple of weeks, spend your time relaxing in the sun, hitting the waves. But the timing never quite worked out and the whole idea of going away was put on hold until it had cooled down again. And of course, once it became clear the trip would be in winter, you had to stop thinking of the beach and find somewhere new to go. Luckily (you supposed) a family friend of Ben’s had a cabin in the woods that he was happy to let you use. You weren’t quite as thrilled with it as you would have been a little beach side cottage, but you really just wanted some time for you and Ben without other distractions and he wanted to get out of the city. And neither of you wanted to wait another six months for the break. So the arrangements were made and early on a Friday morning you grumbled your way out of bed and into the warmest clothes you owned, packing everything into the car, ready to head off on your holiday.

The cabin was cute, surrounded by tall trees and the promise of picturesque views. A generator had been installed a few years previous to allow access to electricity and there was a large rain tank to collect water for all the plumbing systems. You had been warned that in dryer weather you may need to seek out the nearby well to collect water for drinking and cooking. There’d been a lot of rain in the previous month so you didn’t think you’d need to worry about it but, all the same, you kept it in mind, adding a few metal water bottles to your essential supplies (which included things like food, the makings of tea and coffee, toothpaste and condoms). On top of the essentials you also made sure to pack Ben’s guitar and your travel paint set in the hopes that the seclusion and nature would inspire you both.

The first day was mostly spent getting there and unpacking. When you arrived, you had to carry all your gear up a short incline that the car couldn’t access but it was worth it when you saw the scene. It was gorgeous, the surrounding woods a little damp with fresh rainfall, the cabin looking cozy and warm and perfect for a romantic getaway. You spent the morning putting food in the fridge and poking around the cabin, getting the doors and windows open to let in some air and natural light. In the afternoon you checked out the store of firewood and decided to collect some more so that it would have time to dry out under cover before you needed it. Together, bundled up in warm coats and gloves, you walked around the immediate area, collecting any logs that looked large enough as well as smaller sticks for kindling. In the evening you made dinner together and settled in for a night on the couch, wrapped in as many blankets as you could get your hands on. Things had been so busy lately you almost didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you were taking a break from it all. But the chaos you’d been living in had meant you didn’t get much of a chance to talk to Ben properly so that was what you did. Snuggled up on the couch and talked, finally able to just be together.

The next day Ben suggested you check out the surrounding area, follow the hiking trail up the hill and see what was out there. There were practical reasons like finding the well just in case you did need it, but mostly it was just for fun. You each filled a backpack with a water bottle and some food as well as a grabbing a small first aid kit, some bug spray to combat the mosquitos you’d noticed the night before, and your paints. Ben slung his guitar over his back and you set off. The walk itself was fine though there were a few steep places on the trail. Ben used them as an excuse to hold your hand, getting a few steps higher and then offering his to help you follow. It was silly but cute and you found yourself giggling whenever he did it. It was quiet too, which was nice. You didn’t meet any other people on the trail but that meant you could stop and point out creatures that crossed your path or pause to take photos of interesting plants and pretty views you might like to paint later.

At the top of the hill was a little lookout area with a park bench. Since you seemed to have it to yourself you unpacked your bags and ate lunch looking out over the tops of the trees below. As you ate you pulled out your sketchbook and started to draw things you could see, going over some with paints and leaving others as just the outline. Ben pulled out his guitar and found a small spot to lean against a tree and play softly, his eyes closed as he plucked at the strings. It was tranquil and peaceful and perfect. Or nearly perfect. You hadn’t noticed it as much while you were walking but now that you were standing still you realised just how freezing cold it was. For a while you tried to ignore it but eventually you had to speak up.

“Benny? Are you getting cold? My fingers are starting to freeze, maybe we should think about heading back?”

Ben dropped into the seat beside you and grabbed your hands in his, “I’ll warm them up for you.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled, not mentioning how unhelpful of a suggestion it was, “But I’m serious. The walk up here took a while anyway, might be best to start heading back down now, before it starts getting dark and even colder. Plus I don’t like the look of those clouds,” you pointed to a dark patch of sky off in the distance.

Ben eyed the rainclouds and thought for a moment, “Alright, you make a good point. Let’s pack up.”

As quickly as you could you packed everything back into your bags and began to make your way back down the slope. Walking did help warm you up again though you couldn’t help but mention your need to defrost in front of the fire. And your discomfort only got worse as the rain began. The trees protected you a little but not enough and before long your teeth were chattering and your toes felt numb. Ben was just as unhappy, his hair dripping onto his face as he snapped at you to hurry up. He got particularly cranky when you paused to take a photo of the pretty haze the rain had thrown over one of the scenes you’d photographed on your way up, the roof of your cabin just visible through the trees.

“All your fucking complaining and now you want to stop to take pictures? Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t for me you’d still be sitting up at the fucking lookout twiddling your thumbs.”

“You’re so fucking full of it. And slow! Could you walk a little faster please!” Ben tried to grab your hand and pull you along but you shook him off.

“It’s not my fault my feet feel like ice blocks. I didn’t even want to come out to this stupid cabin.”

“You’re the one who was practically begging for me to take you somewhere.”

“Yeah but not a fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere. This is the start of a horror film Ben. You brought me to a horror film.”

“Y’know this isn’t exactly what I wanted either. I was hoping for something a little more romantic, a little less bitching.”

“Well I think you’ve put paid to that.” You spat back, dropping your eyes to your feet so you could watch the terrain you were walking over, not wanting to slip in case Ben decided to walk ahead.

You were surprised when Ben held his hand out to you, offering his help to get down a particularly uneven patch of the path, but you took it all the same.

“Sorry,” he said softly, keeping his hand tight around yours, “I know this isn’t ideal.”

“It was lovely up until the rain,” you shrugged, “Sorry I stopped before, and that I’ve been winging so much,”

“Hey, you’re allowed to winge, especially when your idiot boyfriend gets you stuck freezing to death in the middle of nowhere,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly, “but maybe he can make it up to you when you get back to the cabin?”

“How?”

“I’m thinking we get the fire going and sit as close to it as we can until we’re warm. I can make us some hot chocolate and then maybe we whip up a curry for dinner? Something really hot.”

You chucked and nodded, “Sounds good. Can I make one request?” “What is it?” “Can we cuddle? While we’re in front of the fire?”

“The cuddling was implied. It’s the most romantic thing I can think of so of course we’re cuddling.”

“You’re not an idiot Ben. And walking in the rain is kind of romantic, especially when there’s a fire to go back to.”

Ben pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it as you walked.

By the time you got back to the cabin you were damp through, though your shoes felt completely soaked. Ben was true to his word though, peeling off his jacket and bending over the fireplace as he told you to go and get changed. You dug out clean, dry clothes, throwing Ben’s hoodie over the top. You grabbed all the blankets you could and came out to a fire coming to life as Ben hurried off to change. While he was gone you dropped the blankets on the floor, a little back from the fireplace, creating a sort of nest for the two of you.

“You stole my hoodie,” Ben pouted.

“Can’t blame me, it’s so warm and soft and I look cute in it,”

He chucked as he took his place beside you, wrapping his arms around you, “all of that is very true.”

For a while you just sat together, letting the feeling come back to your fingers and toes. Ben asked to see the photos you’d taken, pointing out scenery he thought would make nice artwork, and especially anything you could hang on the walls at home.

“I hope your sketchbook didn’t get too wet”

“I don’t think the rain got into the bags too much. What about your guitar?”

“It should be fine, it’s been in worse weather. Sorry I was short with you before,” he said quietly, his nose bumping your cheek.

You turned your head towards him, “It’s alright. I’m sorry too.”

He kissed you softly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

You sighed against his lips and shifted to better face him, discouraging him from moving away.

Ben kissed you slowly and deeply, as if he intended to just keep kissing you all night. But gradually his hands began to wander too, fingertips lightly tracing patterns over your sides as they slipped further down. You hummed at the touch, mirroring him, trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Slowly, he inched the hem of the hoodie higher until he could pull it over your head. You didn’t mind, plenty warm from the fire and Ben’s embrace.

“This okay?” Ben asked between small kisses along the corner of your mouth, his fingers already tugging at your shirt.

“Mmhmm, very,”

He nodded and lifted your shirt over your head, keeping his arms up so you could do the same to him.

He didn’t rush, leisurely following the line of your throat with his lips, humming in response to your whimpers and mewls. You were already wet when he wriggled his hand under the band of your leggings, exacerbating your arousal as he stroked along your slit.

Once he had your pants off he rolled you onto your front, making sure you were comfortable amongst all the blankets, the heat of the fire washing over you. Gently, he hooking his fingers into the top of your underwear, pulling them down your legs, leaving soft kisses on your lower back and arse and thighs.

“Give me two seconds, babe,” he whispered, tugging his own pants off and leaning over to grab one of your backpacks.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at the noise.

“Might have thrown a couple of condoms in here, just in case.”

“In case? In case of what?”

“I don’t know. In case the view made you super horny or we wandered into a fairy ring and ended up kidnapped by pervert fairies. Just, y’know, in case.”

“You’re so stupid,” you laughed, tapping him with your foot as you lay down again, your arms folded under your head.

“I was just preparing for any eventuality.”

“Mmm well, you might want to hurry up and prepare or else I’m gonna fall asleep here. It’s very comfortable,”

“Don’t do that, hang on,” You heard Ben tear at the wrapper and then swear and then tear it again as you laughed into your arms.

“Alright, ready. You still awake,”

“Surprisingly, yes,”

“Good,” his voice was close to your ear as he lay over you, cocooning you in his warmth as he entered you from behind.

You moaned into your arm as he slowly rocked into you, his chest against your back as he braced himself on arms either side of you. There wasn’t much scope for anything fast or hard but it was intimate, his cock pressed against your g-spot so that every slight shift of his hips sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

Ben kissed your shoulder and left his lips there as he mumbled, “feel good?”

“Mmhmm, fucking incredible,”

“Mmm, you feel incredible too.”

You pushed your self up and looked around for Ben. Within seconds he was kissing you again, tongue dragging over your lips as another jolt shot though you and you gasped.

For a while you stayed like that, your movements lazy and slow. But it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge, even with Ben groaning in your ear or sucking at your pulse point.

“I need more Ben,”

“Alright, babe, if I pull out are you good to roll over?”

You nodded, catching him in another kiss to show your appreciation.

Once you were on your back, leaning on your forearms, Ben adjusted his position, his legs falling between yours as he lined himself up once more. He wasn’t much deeper but the angle was different and you felt Ben hit a spot he hadn’t reached before as he leaned over you and attached his lips to your neck again.

“Fuck, Ben,” The fire was still burning, heating your opposite side as you threw your arm around Ben, digging your nails into his back as he gave an experimental thrust.

“This better?” “Yeah. You make me feel so good,”

Ben smiled and lay you back further, so he didn’t have to hold himself up with his arms, instead allowing him to slide one hand between you to softly play with your clit.

You grasped at his back as his hips snapped against yours harder, his fingers constantly rubbing at your clit.

“C’mon, babe, you’re close aren’t you.”

You nodded again, feeling as if you’d lost the ability to form words as your back arched. Everything was warm and comfortable – the fire and the blankets and Ben’s low voice, mumbling encouragement between kisses – and before you fully comprehended it was happening, your orgasm washed over you, pulling Ben’s name from your throat. He mirrored you a few seconds later, groaning your name as he stilled, his forehead falling to meet yours.

Carefully he rolled off you and you shuffled around to lean your head on his chest, still mostly tucked up in your blanket nest.

It was quiet for a moment as you both settled, your breathing falling into sync as you watched the fire and listened to the rain that had only gotten heavier while you were wrapped up in each other.

Suddenly Ben spoke, his tone more than a little braggy, “How’s that for romantic.”

#my writing #my blurbs #smut blurb #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #cant believe you made me yearn so fucking much #but here we are #guess those canada goose pics really fucked us all up huh #ohladymoon #blurb advent 2020

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generallynerdy · 4 years ago

Text

Discovery (Rey X Solo!Reader)

Summary: You take the time after the war to bring Rey to Naboo, one of the greenest places in the galaxy. It isn’t hard for you to understand why it was here, of all places, that your grandparents fell in love. The apple apparently doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Requested by Anon: I don’t know much about Star Wars lmao but I think Rey is neat. Can I get a Rey/Reader please? Something fluffy!

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: holy FUCK this is fluffy anon what have you DONE, finnpoe is only background :(, some self deprecation, mentions of character death, unfortunately it follows canon plot but just ignore it and it doesn’t exist, mention of K*lo R*n Word Count: 1,944

Note: u dont know how much strength it took to not put Jar Jar in this fic just because also WOW holy fuck this is so fluffy i think i choked. Oh also please tell me if that idiom in the summary is wrong because growing up bilingual means I Don’t Get Them. anyway sorry i’ve been inactive things have been...wack.

“I didn’t know there was this much green in the whole galaxy,” she’d said when you met her what felt like forever ago.

It broke your heart.

Your father later said that he could see it in your eyes. You’d spent your whole life travelling the galaxy, experiencing its every wonder, and there was Rey, who had never been off Jakku in her entire life.

You wanted, at that moment, to drag her back into the Millenium Falcon, point at a map, and tell her to pick a place, any place. More than anything, you wanted to show Rey every corner of the universe, every sand-free planet or moon that you could possibly find.

The pity the woman thought she saw in your eyes was much more than that; it was horror, despair at what she had missed.

You eventually settled for showing her Takodana and D’Qar, after your father was killed, but it never sat right with you. The more you got to know Rey and the longer the war dragged on, the more you wanted to give her the infinite freedom she so desperately deserved.

To put it simply, you wanted nothing less than to hand her the galaxy on a silver platter.

It wasn’t until the war was over that you finally had the opportunity to do so.

You and Rey were still travelling with Finn, Poe, Chewie, BB-8, and D-0, as you had since the end of the war. With their help, it was easy to surprise her.

Carefully, you led her down the Falcon’s boarding platform and onto solid ground. Poe had lovingly donated his jacket to be a blindfold, in order to keep Rey completely in the dark. Luckily, the Force wouldn’t tell her where she was-- it didn’t work like that.

“I’m not great with surprises,” she warned, gripping your arm tightly.

“You’ll love this one, I promise. Now, take off your shoes.”

“What?”

“Just trust me,” you laughed, having already discarded your own.

You watched with pure childlike glee as her feet met soft grass. She wiggled her toes about in the dirt, a smile coming to her face. Sure, D’Qar had gotten her used to grass rather than sand, but you were almost certain she’d never taken a moment to go barefoot in it.

“Grass?” She asked hesitantly. “Where are we?”

“Only the prettiest planet in the galaxy,” you teased, already reaching forward to pull the jacket from her face. “Welcome to Naboo.”

When the jacket came off, Rey found herself gaping-- as soon as she’d gotten used to the brightness of a sunny day on Naboo. You’d landed in the middle of a great, grassy field near the edge of a cliff. A waterfall tumbled over the edge of that cliff from a stream, a feature that Naboo was well known for. You were pretty sure Rey had never seen one of those-- something you had to correct.

*“(Y/N)--” she breathed out, gawking. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to say.”

You laughed a little. “Neither did I, the first time my mom brought me here. I spent days exploring.”

“It’s so...alive,” she said, reaching down to feel the grass.

She meant in the Force, though even the least Force-sensitive person could probably see how alive it was. Naboo was an explosion of light and life, even for those not strong in the Living Force, and could be overwhelming for those who were.

“C’mon,” you called to her with a smile, holding out your hand. “I know the best place to take it all in.”

Her lips twitched up into a grin, one of the brightest you’d ever seen from her. Her eyes shined as she reached out, taking your hand in hers and squeezing it as she stood back up. With her free hand, Rey tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and opened her mouth to say something-- but a shout from the Falcon interrupted her.

“Have fun, lovebirds!” Poe called with a devilish smirk, waving the two of you onward.

You shot the man a rude gesture that made him cackle. Rey turned bright red, an adorable look on her, you thought, as Poe was dragged back into the ship by Finn, who chewed him out the whole way-- fondly, though.

(Bittersweetness struck you at the memory of your mother laughing her ass off at the fact that both of her children, blood or otherwise, were head over heels for Force-sensitives.)

Rolling your eyes, you dragged Rey along through the field at a near sprint. Her musical laughter in your ear made you run faster and hold her hand tighter. The breeze swept up both of your robes and hair, completely ruining your venerated Jedi facade that Rey had insisted upon since getting lightsabers, which you both wore on belts, though they swung wildly now. If your father could see you right now, he would be so, so proud. Uncle Luke would probably cry.

At the very edge of the cliff, by the waterfall, you came to a skidding stop with a bark of laughter.

“Now, this is gonna sound crazy--”

Rey scoffed. “You always sound crazy.”

“Aw, thanks,” you said, heavy with sarcasm before continuing. “Uncle Luke told me stories about Jedi during the war, how they’d jump off cliffs without a second thought. Ben and I spent weeks practising how to cushion our falls, just so we could be like the old Jedi.”

Her eyes were wide. “You what?”

“Yep! And now it’s your turn!” you declared.

“What? (Y/N)--”

Before she could panic, you grabbed her hand again. “We’ll jump together and I’ll stop the fall. You’ll be completely safe.”

She bit her lip. “You’re sure about this?”

“Completely,” you reassured her. “Do you trust me?”

Despite herself and her growing fear, Rey smiled. “I do.”

“Great! On three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!” the two of you shouted together, racing toward the edge of the cliff.

Rey was immediately screaming, out of terror at first, but as you tucked her against your side, holding her close against the resistance, the shriek turned into an exhilarated one. You let out a joyful whoop as you went down, Rey’s face buried in the crook of your neck, which only elated you further.

As the ground grew closer, you pulled on the Force and the two of you touched ground gently, as if you’d never fallen at all.

Rey didn’t pull away, but laughed gleefully. “That--” she gasped, breathless, “--was amazing.”

“Wasn’t it?” you asked, grinning. Then you pointed at the horizon ahead. “But the view’s even better.”

She followed your gesture and froze.

You were standing on another lush, grass-covered cliffside, as the waterfall tumbled onto a layered terrain, almost like massive steps. After another two layers, the falls gathered into a lake that stretched out for miles. Surrounding the lake were other cliffs with their own waterfalls, towering trees, and blankets of flora. And in the sky, the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the world in pinks and purples and oranges.

“Sweet Force,” she whispered.

Your gaze shifted to the woman next to you. You wore a smile that would make Chewie gag.

The light of the sunset fell gently on her features, outlining her face with an ethereal sort of glow. Her eyes reflected the sparkling water and the sun, a window into her soul and the flame of fierce bravery that you knew she always carried in it. Lips slightly parted in awe, Rey looked more beautiful now than you had ever seen her, watching something so simple, so unknown and taking a galaxy’s worth of joy from it.

You wanted to see that look on her face every day. You wanted to drag her across the galaxy and show her every corner of it, if only to watch her smile the way she was now.

“It’s beautiful,” she said in quiet awe and respect.

You exhaled sharply. “Yeah. You are.”

She didn’t process your words for a long moment, but when she did, her head snapped over to look at you and her eyes went wide. “(Y/N)...”

“Rey, can I-- can I tell you a story?”

She frowned, uncertain, but nodded. Before you could speak, she reached out and took your hand once more, sending a wave of warmth up your arm.

You smiled and took a deep breath. “When my grandmother was young, she was the Queen of Naboo and, after that, its Senator. My grandfather was a Jedi and-- and he was tasked with protecting her, so he brought her home, brought her here. She showed him everything about this planet: the sights, the people. He was already in love with her then, but it was here that, with nothing but them, the Force, and the life around them, that she realised she loved him back. He was a kid from Tatooine who had never seen anything like Naboo before and watching him discover something she loved so dearly, she just...knew.”

“Sounds familiar,” Rey said with a little laugh, her voice soft.

You echoed the noise before lifting her hand, bringing it to your lips and kissing her knuckles gently. “I have watched you come from nothing, seen you face down the most terrifying people in the galaxy and hardly blink. You terrify and amaze me, Rey, and I-- I think I’ve been in love with you for much longer than I thought.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” she breathed out. Turning to face you, she put her free hand on your cheek, caressing it with her thumb. “I’ve never-- well, I’ve never really...had anyone. Your family took me in and that-- that means the galaxy to me, having a family. You are so, so kind and so much more than I ever hoped for. I’m nothing. I don’t have anything, (Y/N), just this lightsaber. I don’t even have a name. How could you possibly love me?”

Unable to resist, you placed a fond kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Take mine.”

She blanked. “What?”

“You are not nothing. You are everything to me,” you told her firmly. “If you want more than that lightsaber, more than this family we have, take my name. It belongs to you...and so do I.”

Rey opened her mouth and then paused, unable to find words. Instead, she decided on an action.

She grabbed the collar of your robes and pulled your forward, slanting her mouth against yours. You did not squeak as she would claim later, but you did make a wordless noise. After a moment, you pulled her in close, slipping your arm around her waist.

For an innocent, young desert scrapper who had supposedly never kissed anyone before, she was damn good at it.

When you finally pulled away, you couldn’t help resting your forehead against hers.

(A Keldabe kiss, Aunt Ahsoka and Uncle Rex had called it. It was just as intimate as any regular kiss and meant so much more)

“Rey Organa-Solo has a ring to it,” you murmured against her lips.

She laughed, a sweet, song-like thing that melted your heart again. “Is that a proposal?”

“Definitely,” you said, kissing her again. It was soft, but sank into something deeper, the sort of kiss your father would say he and your mother shared after defying death yet again.

A fairytale moment in a fairytale place. And, technically speaking, you were royalty.

“I think,” Rey said when you finally let go again, “that we have a lot more to see.”

You grinned. “Naboo first, love. But after that, believe me, I’ll show you the galaxy.”

River Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

#rey x reader #rey imagine #rey fanfic #rey oneshot #star wars fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars oneshot #rey #poe dameron #finn #solo!reader #rey x solo!reader #request #anon request #generallynerdy #rivika #river #discovery

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lilytriestoexist · 4 years ago

Text

R0wan? More like Row(neck)beard

This is all @bleeding-star-heart ‘s fault (tumblr refuses to let me tag this one blog for some reason, sigh), they challenged me to do this and I can’t turn down a challenge. Alas, I have no art skills, but I am marginally better at writing, so here is my contribution to the great Uglification of YA Book Boyfriends/Bad Boys movement.

Warning, it gets a bit NSFW at one point because R0wan is ~horny~. It’s not explicit or anything, and since we’ve all read Sarah Janet’s atrocious sex scenes, I assume it won’t be a big deal, but in case it is, here’s a warning.

Rowan had a problem.

He bit his lip and glanced behind him, through the ajar door of their bedroom, where Aelin’s slim form was outlined by the rise and fall of glossy silk, the sheets brought up to her chin as she tipped her head back against the pillow, hair a golden halo around her. In sleep, the sharpness in her face seemed to ease, accentuating her youth. Gods, she was so young. And already she was set to change the world. It was the greatest honour in the world to be by her side as she did so.

Only...would he be by her side? Would he be there, watching as the gilded crown was set onto her hair, watching as she turned to face the adoring masses, watching as she fulfilled her destiny and ruled as queen? He eyed the mirror, running hasty hands through his white hair, tracing the smooth, hairless jut of his jaw. Eternity was a long time, far longer than any one person could truly comprehend. And people had a tendency to grow, to change. He couldn’t guarantee that he and Aelin would change together. He couldn’t rule out the possibility of one day waking up and realising he no longer recognised the female laying beside him.

Ideas crowded his mind, ways to keep Aelin alert, to keep her wanting him and to keep him wanting her. He considered shifting his body parts, perhaps acquiring Fenrys’s hair or Dorian’s eyes or Lorcan’s physique, but dismissed that thought almost immediately, a shudder running up his spine. Tapping his foot against the cool bathroom floor, he stared into the eyes of his mirrored self. His hand drifted up to trace the words and symbols inked across one half of his face, a habit he had embraced as the years had flown by. It was calming, to let the quick instinct in his fingers take over, letting his brain rest. They slowly traveled downwards, framing the outline of his throat, the protruding lump, the cords of his neck.

And suddenly, he had a thought.

He examined the smooth, tan expanse of his neck, pressing his palms against the warm curve, pinching and pulling his skin. He’d cut his hair short before, shedding long white locks in favour of a shorter, more low maintenance haircut, but he had no idea of knowing if that would hold Aelin’s favour for any longer. What if she didn’t even like short hair? Rowan worried at his full bottom lip and, before he could overthink and hesitate any longer, ran a single index finger up his neck, from the tip of his sharp collarbones to the centre of his chin, and willed his magic to follow his unspoken command.

It was instantaneous, the growth of hair, following the path his finger had laid out for it. White strands began blooming from beneath his skin, shooting upwards to about an inch long before halting. He swept his finger from side to side, expanding the single line of hair, until it was a thick, healthy bush of white, encompassing the entirety of his neck. When he pressed his hand into the beard, it was a strange, fluffy sensation, but it filled him with inexplicable warmth. The corners of his lips stretched upwards as he surveyed the finished look, admiring the beard that now swallowed his neck and was beginning to creep up over his jaw.

Aelin can’t possibly say no to this, he thought, striking a few poses and positively grinning with pride at his new feature. His whole body was tingling with anticipation as he walked back to their bedroom, a bounce in his step as he bent over and gently shook Aelin awake. With any luck, they’d be entwined beneath the sheets within minutes, and he swallowed as images filled his head of the wonders his neckbeard could do when his mouth devoured her, what kind of pleasure it could bring his mate when he buried himself inside her.

“Aelin,” he whispered as her lips began to part. “Aelin, wake up.” His fingers trembled with excitement as he used his free hand to stroke the neat bush of his beard.

“Rowan?” she asked, arms coming up to stretch out the fatigue as a yawn escaped her lips. Her eyes opened, and he smiled as she took in the change.

The smile dropped from his lips when she let out an ear-splitting scream.

“Aelin!” he yelped as she practically flung herself out of bed and to the other side of the room. “What are you doing? What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?!” she screeched, pointing a single shaking finger at his exquisite, beautiful neckbeard. “Rowan, what in the name of the Gods has gotten into you?”

“This is my neckbeard!” he snapped, affronted. “Are you implying something, oh great Queen of Terrasen?”

“I’m not implying something, I’m stating it outright,” she shot back. “That neckbeard is the most gruesome and atrocious thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing. I wish Maeve were here to gouge out my eyes so that I would at least not have to continue seeing that monstrosity on your neck. I would not mind if Erawan came and obliterated you into smithereens, because at least your Gods-awful neckbeard would be removed from this forsaken world.”

Rowan flinched with every harsh insult Aelin hurled at him. “It’s not that bad,” he protested, hugging his arms around his chest and dipping his chin, nestling it in the comforting cushion of his neckbeard. “You don’t have to be so mean about it, anyway. A simple ‘I don’t like it’ would have sufficed.”

“I don’t like it doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings about that...thing,” Aelin deadpanned. Her hand came up, fingers curling, and a flame bloomed from the pale skin of her palm. “Rowan, this is for your own good.”

And then she threw it.

On instinct, his hands flew up and the air in the room jumped to his aid, swirling into currents of manipulated wind in front of him and extinguishing the fire his mate had just thrown at him. The brief flash of overpowering heat in his face told him just how close it had been, and he stroked his neckbeard, reassuring himself of its survival.

“I...you just threw fire at me.” Fear, anger, hurt, and a myriad of other emotions warred in his voice.

“It’s like I said,” Aelin replied, shoulders rising in a shrug. “It’s for your own good.”

He shook his head and took her in, the long hair tumbling down her back and front in loose golden waves, the smug upwards tilt of her chin, the eyes he had loved so much staring back at him without a hint of remorse. She had tried to burn his neckbeard, his most valued asset and prized possession, had tried to incinerate it, and did not care in the slightest.

Rowan had always feared a gradual deterioration of their relationship. Hadn’t he said not so long ago that one day he might wake up and not recognise the female next to him? It just hadn’t occurred to him that the day he had been dreading might come quicker than he’d expected. He looked at Aelin, his mate, his wife, and saw nothing he could love.

“No,” he said, and Aelin’s eyes narrowed.

“No, what?” There was a sharp, low note of warning in her voice.

“It’s not for my own good,” Rowan said, burying his fingers in his neckbeard. “You’re not for my own good, Aelin.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re just tired, Rowan,” she said, easy smile gracing her lips. “Come back to bed. We’ll sort it all out later in the day. And we can do other things as well, after that.” Aelin smoothed down the skirt of her short nightgown and winked.

Usually, that would’ve sent him diving straight into bed. But now, he looked at her slim waist, long legs, and suggestive smirk, and felt only the faintest stirrings of what used to be a wildfire.

“You’re not good for me, Aelin,” he repeated.

Her eyes darkened. “Come back to bed, Rowan,” she said, kindness draining from her voice and replaced with pure steel. He shook his head, and she sighed. “Remember, I love you. I’m doing this for you.” Her hands began to rise, flames beginning to pour from her palms.

“I’m doing this for me, too.” A single, massive gust of wind shattered the yellow-stained glass of their window and he dove for the opening, avoiding the fireball blazing in his direction and shifting into his hawk form. In a piece of glass, he could see thick white fluff underneath his beak, and found solace in the fact that his beloved neckbeard was with him wherever he chose to go.

“Rowan Whitethorn, get back here this instant!” Aelin shouted, and he could feel the approaching warmth behind him. Rowan served to the side, wings outstretched. He could feel the coolness of the air caressing his feathers.

Aelin continued yelling, but her voice grew fainter and fainter as he soared into the distance. He had no idea where he was going, where he could even go, but all he cared about was putting distance between himself and the woman who he’d risked his life for, given his heart to, wanted to swear his existence to. What a fool he had been, to love such a person.

He flew, and then he ran, and he did not look back. And when he faltered, when he stared at his shaking hands and dared to consider returning, he only needed to find a mirror and stare at the thriving forest of hair beneath his chin. His faithful neckbeard, who gave him strength, who showed him nothing but love and loyalty.

And against all odds, Rowan Whitethorn and his neckbeard lived happily ever after.

#anti rowan #anti rowan whitethorn #rowan with a neckbeard #rowan whitethorn with a neckbeard #um...idk man

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darkmindsotome · 4 years ago

Text

Two Cups and a Cure

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC

Word count: 4,296

Warning: soft/ very light angst quickly turning to fluff with a dash of spice at the end.

Written by: darkmindsotome

Tagging @cinnatwisted for this commissioned piece.

Summary: Creative block. We all get it from time to time and a suggestion turns into a sort of date. There will be teasing, there will be blushing but as always there is love.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Two Cups and a Cure

The sound of pen on paper as it scratched out markings on the manuscript filled his room. The black ink rhythmically plotting its way through a song that was currently only heard in the head of the man composing it.

A loud noise preceded the muffled yet audibly far to clear chatter through his door. His creativity stalled while simultaneously his hand involuntarily jarred. Violet eyes watched in horror as the ink from his pen ran in a meaningless stroke destroying his perfect score.

He growled in frustration, crumpling the paper in his fist as he bounded from his desk and out into the hallway. His eyes fell on the two people at the root of this recent interruption and it was not a sight that induced a calming influence on his mind.

“Why is it so loud out here? It’s like you all have an affliction in this building that prevents you from remaining silent.” His voice resounded with a fury that caused the now still figures of Mc and Arthur to flinch. “Can you or can you not understand what it means to maintain piano-forte or must I forever be cursed by your deafening crescendo?”

“Now, now, Wolfie. No need to be so angry. I was just having a little fun with Mc here. You should hire her for your next Opera. Did you know she could reach such a high note?” Arthur recovered much faster than Mc, the teasing lilt to his voice grated on his nerves like an untuned violin.

“Arthur…” Mc looked between the two men for a second, trying to prevent incurring further animosity. She was also trying to free her hand from Arthur who stubbornly refused to loosen his grip.

“I don’t hire amateurs. I also don’t care what you are doing just take it somewhere else.” He scoffed a deep frown etched into his brow. He was aware of his words being more barbed than usual, it still shocked him how sharing his life with another had caused him to notice such things.

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I borrow her for a little game then?” Arthur made a show of getting closer to Mc. Drawing her to him by the hand he refused to part with. Violet eyes lingered on the connection between Arthur and Mc mentally taking note of every part touched.

“What?” His voice had lost some of its volume but none of its venom. Arthur almost looked as if he were going to wrap himself around her in public. It was enough to make his blood boil at the thought both in terms of jealousy and envy. How could he be so brazen?

“You’ve been so focused on your composing dear boy you’ve left your love completely unattended. It would be only natural should she find another.” Arthur’s words stung and were also little more than stirring the pot. It was all to clear that he was relishing the torment he was causing inside an already troubled mind.

“Preposterous! Mc isn’t like the women you fool around with.” Firmly denying the assumption he flicked his violet eyes towards Mc as if looking for confirmation.

He found it, those beautiful eyes were looking only at him. The way she held his gaze told him everything he needed to know. She had never failed to meet him head-on no matter his mood. He knew this and yet it did little to prevent the thoughts swirling in my mind of the possibility that Arthur may have a point.

In truth, he wanted to treat her kindly and spoil her. It was a genuine wish and one he had voiced before. He hated his current mood with a passion for how it caused his mouth to run without regard to her.

“No, she isn’t, is she? Still, even the purest of heart can be forgiven for having a wandering eye when mistreated.” Arthur and his blasted observational skills managed to put a voice to the budding insecurity in the composer’s mind. There was a playful smile on his face as if this were nothing but a very entertaining game to him before shrugging and straightening out his collar. “I should be running along though I promised a rather fine filly I would join them for a jaunt around town, cheerio!”

“Erm Mozart? He didn’t mean anything by all that… I’m sure.” Mc’s slightly timid voice confirmed his fear that he had been excessively harsh. If he hurt Arthur he didn’t care, but her? That idea was a pain that surpassed the torment and frustration plaguing him.

“It is of no concern of mine what he or anyone else thinks.” He looked in the direction Arthur had left before drawing closer and busying himself with a handkerchief to wipe the hand that Arthur had been holding. He meant what he said the opinions of others meant little as there was only one opinion that mattered to him now. “What do you think?”

There was a tenderness in her eyes as she watched him diligently cleanse her. The faint smile on her lips calmed him. She should always be smiling.

“I think you have been working very hard recently and very focused.” Mc spoke softly turning her hand in his and threading her fingers with his own. “No matter how much time I see you spending on work though I only ever see the torn-up paper. If you’re struggling then I’d like to help.”

“Help? How would you help?” He wanted to ridicule her for her offer but found his words had deserted him under her clear gaze.

“Look I get you are frustrated but that is no need to take that tone with me.” She frowned and took on a more determined manner. “I’m worried about you not just as your lover but your friend too. I used to get writer’s block as well.”

“Writer’s block?” His pale features became dusted with pink. How could she say something so embarrassingly sweet with such a straight face? He felt warmth rush through him from where their hands were connected and broke the connection in an effort to rid himself of these bothersome feelings.

“It’s a thing you get when trying to work. It's like an invisible barrier in your head that prevents you from completing a task. Prevents you from doing what you would do normally or want to do. It is very frustrating but unless you acknowledge it you will just be hitting your head off a brick wall.” Mc continued without pointing out his change of appearance.

“Who would do such a thing?” He felt a little horrified by the idea that his love had suffered as he was and taken to such extreme measures to overcome them.

“It’s an expression, like... trying to get blood out of a stone.” Mc giggled like a tinkling bell realising he had taken her words literally instead of figuratively.

“Pointless…” Again, he felt a rush of embarrassment hit him but it was from his own lack of understanding this time.

“Exactly. It’s a futile action that isn’t going to change just because you pushed on with more determination. If anything, you will get more frustrated, angrier and become exhausted.” Mc straightened her posture and outlined everything he was currently feeling with finely tuned precision.

“So, what did you do when you had this writer’s block?” His mood hadn’t exactly improved but he felt a lot calmer now.

“Change of scenery. I’d go out, walk around with no particular place in mind and sometimes that was all it took.”

“Sometimes? That doesn’t sound at all convincing.” This was hardly the first time he had suffered such a creative barrier but it felt better somehow to know that at least this time he was not alone.

“Well I’m not saying getting some air and going for a walk is a cure-all for it every time but it doesn’t hurt to try.” Mc gave a small shrug.

He had been holed up in his music room and his bedroom for days. It wasn’t that he was trying to ignore her but he knew he had been. Her hair looked different, the colour of her skin, the scent flowing from her was all just a little changed from their last private time spent together.

“One hour” The words were out before he knew it.

“Pardon?” Her wide-eyed look nearly made him laugh. She's always so expressive.

“Meet me in front of the mansion in one hour.” He didn’t wait for a response and just returned to his room to prepare to leave. She had possibly meant for him to go out alone but he couldn’t deny how he felt after being reminded of how much of their time together had been lost. I missed her.

The town was as lively and annoying as he remembered it, somethings apparently never change. Getting down from the carriage he felt his legs regain their strength as his feet touched the solid ground.

“Are you getting any better with the whole travelling thing?” Mc asked quietly enough for him to hear.

“It is easier when there is sufficient babbling to distract me.” His clipped reply brought an end to the inquiry before she could push for more and caused her to smile at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You are a very strange woman.” He grumbled.

Thinking about how far they had come together and how his words now no longer seemed to instantly spark confusion or offence he felt a warmth spreading through him.

“And you are in a relationship with me so what does that say about you?” She caught him off guard with her fast reply. The flustered moment was only brief but enough for him to feel overly aware of himself. He pivoted on the spot and began walking without a clear direction in mind. “Hey! Wait up.”

“Don’t dawdle or you’ll be left behind.” He didn’t have to look back, he could hear her feet shuffling as fast as a scampering child to reach him. It brought a smile to his face even if it was a slightly sadistic one.

“So where shall we go? That café looks nice.” Mc wrapped her arm around his like they attending a ball and pointed in the direction of a quiet-looking shop.

“They have good coffee.” He nodded. He was musing over the fact that she seemed to be looking for places he would like rather than dragging him towards more lively and noisy locations.

“Been before?” She looked up at him from his side still smiling happily. Honestly, why are you so happy about this?

“Been and won’t go back.” His voice was a monotone rejection.

“Why not?” She tilted her head clearly baffled. He couldn’t say he blamed her given he had just admitted their coffee was acceptable.

“There was a line of dirt where the handle attached to the body of the cup.” He scrunched his nose up at the memory.

“That’s it? That is why you won’t go back?” To her credit, she managed to keep the laughter mostly out of her voice as she looked at him.

“No… I can’t.” His clear voice sounded muffled even to him as he turned his head away from her.

“I know you’re a clean freak but seriously that--” That’s right Mc was aware by now of his habits. Her face wasn’t that of someone shocked at his observation more disbelief that it would be the only reason to refuse to return.

He had never hidden his preferences for cleanliness but he had been informed more than once by the other residents at the mansion that he was strange. She, however, had adapted and seemed to take his peculiarities in stride.

“The owner took offence to me using my handkerchief to wipe the utensils before I used them.” His face heated up under her direct observation. He could feel the prickly heat gathering as his ears started to burn with new colour.

“Pfft… HAHAHA oh my gosh, you didn’t? hang on I could totally see you doing that.” Any control she had over her laughter now was gloriously destroyed by the images of her imagination.

“Yes, yes. I’m sure it is all rather amusing. Pick somewhere else.” He wanted to be angry at her for her outburst. He wanted to chastise her for drawing attention to them in public and for his appearance taking on that of a ripe tomato, but he found he couldn’t when faced with her in such a happy display.

“Alright… let's go this way.” Mc gathered herself and looked around for a moment before settling on a direction.

“Where are we going?” He looked where she was pointing and failed to see anything of interest.

“I just told you this way.” Mc tugged his arm urging him to move forward and follow her.

“This is stupid.” He complained even as he naturally came to her side matching her pace.

“Oh? Got something else to be doing?” She sounded petulant but still happy. He frowned at her attitude but still found himself hopelessly lost in her. Mc glanced at him and gave him a wink before pulling on his arm a little harder drawing him closer to her side. “Come on where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Oh! This is a cute shop” Mc exclaimed and stopped in her tracks which in turn caused him to nearly knock into her.

They had been wandering aimlessly around side streets and bystreets. Honestly, the lack of direction irritated him but he had kept his mouth shut as he watched how happy she seemed to be and realised his irritation was nothing when compared to the time they were spending together.

He could even hear ripples of melody in his mind. The more they walked and passed pointless conversation the clearer his music seemed to become.

The ‘cute shop’ she seemed to be referring to was a hole in the wall location that was, in all honesty, the stuff of his worst nightmares combined. There was no order to it, items littered and piled high in places as if abandoned. Had it not been for the small sign denoting it as a shop he might have assumed it was simply the location of a recent disaster.

“Yes, if you find dust, cobwebs and clutter cute then I imagine this place is quite charming.” He felt his repulsion willing him to recoil but it was no match for the small female dragging him ever closer to the abyss.

“Don’t be like that I know it’s not up to your standards but look! They have some things that came from where I live. Lived.”

She points to a few strange items and he found himself wondering how she could have seen anything amongst the mess. It reminded him a little of that slob at the mansion and his appalling room. No matter what you asked him for he seemed to find what was needed effortlessly among the debris he called creativity.

He couldn’t deny he was a little curious about the things from her homeland. Sebastian was also a native but he had never taken much of an interest in Japan or other lands until she arrived in his myopic little world.

“Bonjour.” A detached voice called out from the back of the building. A few small thuds and some shaking stacks of objects announced the appearance of a happy, if rather scruffy, looking man.

“Oh, Bonjour Monsieur I was just admiring this little teacup.” Mc took the new arrival in stride smiling and holding up something ceramic.

She was so open and warm it amazed him and also worried him. She had proven time and again how meddlesome she could be but also how friendly. She really was going to get herself hurt one day, he only hoped he could be there to prevent disaster striking.

“Ah, Mademoiselle has a good eye. That is one of a pair it survived a very long journey.” The shopkeeper returned her smile and started to look around the space for something that was probably the partner to the cup in her hands. Why don’t you keep things together if they are a pair?

“How can it be a teacup without handles? There isn’t even a saucer.” He looked over her shoulder at the object she had referred to as a cup. It actually looked more like a ceramic beaker, crudely made as if someone had failed to smooth out the finger indentations on the outside of it.

“Japanese teacups don’t have handles we hold them, well cup them in our hands.” Mc demonstrated her right hand wrapping around the cup as her left hand slipped under to hold it from the base. “See?”

“You said they survived a long journey?” He called out to the shopkeeper who had his head buried in a swath of dangling linen that made his skin crawl just by looking at it.

“Yes, I had asked a trader to acquire a small number of them for me but only two managed to make it all the way. I understand there were some storms at sea.” Detaching himself from the dangling fabric the owner held out a second cup that looked to be a little bigger than the one Mc was holding. The colour was also a bit different. How is that a pair?

“They really are pretty.” Mc reached out and took the other cup from the shopkeeper. The expression on her face softened to match the warm glow of the glaze on the teacups.

“I’ll take them.” The words left him without much thought. He had felt the change in him the more time they spent outside the mansion and he wanted to gift his love with something she would actually like. If she liked these mismatched cups from her homeland then it simply made locating such a gift easier.

“What?”

“Very good Monsieur I shall get those wrapped up for you tout suite, pardonnez moi.” The shopkeeper gently took the cups from Mc and vanished once more into the back of the building.

Back in the street, Mc kept looking at the small box tucked under his arm that contained the two cups from the store.

“You didn’t have to buy them.” She said acting aloof.

“And what would you have preferred I left them here and have you wax lyrical on the return home about how much you liked them?” He could clearly see how her eyes were betraying her.

“So where to now?”

“Somewhere clean.” His response brought a smile to her face and she once more linked arms with him careful to not knock him too much out of consideration of him now carrying cargo.

“Fine how about we take a walk along the Seine and then just call it a day then?”

Their outing continued until the sky was dyed in a new hue. The melody in his mind once trapped and stuttering flowed freely through sonata to sonata. All the while he was accompanied by his muse in human form.

The moon was high and full in the velveteen sky when the silence of his room was interrupted with the soft knocking at his door.

“Mozart? It’s me.”

“Come in.” His reply wasn’t loud but she had heard it clearly. He put down his pen next to the fresh stack of paper.

“Excuse me.” Mc came into his room slowly carrying a tray with a bottle of Blanc and the set of cups he had purchased earlier for her.

“What’s this?”

“I saw your light on and I thought I’d bring you a drink.” She placed the tray down on his desk in front of him.

“Last I checked I only had one mouth.” His playful quip was met with apprehension.

“Is it too much of a bother for me to join you?” Mc’s voice sounded meek which was unlike her. She was also avoiding making eye contact with him, shuffling her feet as if trying to make up her mind if she should leave or not.

“Come in and sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet.” He ushered her towards his bed.

It had not been his intention to push her to this extreme. She was normally so fast witted he could only assume that after their return she had pushed herself to help Sebastian with what was left of the chores and tired herself out.

“You used the cups.” He commented as he looked at the tray again. Taking the bottle of Blanc and downing it in several large mouthfuls. He had lost track of time, even managing to forget his own hunger. As the tempest of notes swirled in his mind while he moved frantically them in his manuscripts.

“Yes, they are meant to be used you know?” She smiled at the tray her expression reminding him of their walk along the river whenever she glanced at the box under his arm.

“Why did you look so embarrassed when I purchased them? I did it for you and they are just cups.” His curiosity got the better of him as he asked what was on his mind.

“Well yes but you see they aren’t ‘just’ cups. You brought them when we were together and they are a pair.” Mc reached out and picked up one of the cups that was a little smaller than the other. Holding it as she had done back at the shop the smile on her face seemed to gain warmth from the hot chocolate in her hands. “In my time couples sometimes buy matching sets of things together and its seen as romantic.”

“I fail to see how buying something together matching or otherwise is romantic. You have such strange ideas.” He nearly snorted as he picked up the other cup, the heat of the beverage transferring to his grip easily thanks to the lack of handle.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it.” Mc complained as if she were talking to herself.

“…I’m pleased though.” He muttered as he watched her take a sip. For all he had denied her words, playing them off as some strange act. He couldn’t hide the smouldering heat that was rising to his face.

“What?”

“I’m pleased you thought of it in that way. I might not understand how things work from your time but the more I am with you the more I am reminded of how much I missed…” Avoiding her eyes he found himself wishing that the hot chocolate was something a little less hot. He might then have been able to disguise some of his bashfulness by drinking it fast.

“Mozart you haven’t missed anything. You’ve already lived a lifetime but you are here now.” Mc shook her head. She was always so ready to come to his defence even if it were himself who spoke against him.

She had been full of surprises today not least in the way she had continually taken him off guard with her actions and words. He normally hated the idea of something outside of music taking up his time but she was the exception.

No matter how much time he had it never felt like enough. He had added to his desire since meeting Mc. His wish to return, the focus of his new life now felt like it was discovering a revision that added resonance to a body of work. A new life following the path he had desired but this time imbued with feelings he had never experienced whilst he had been living.

“Meine Liebe.” He put his cup down and reached for hers. “I may have lived a lifetime before we met but I was not living until I found you.”

He placed the cups side by side on the tray again. He might not have understood how two pieces that looked so different fit together but he couldn’t deny it felt very apt.

“You know you can sound very poetic when you aren’t trying? Eep!” Mc had recovered some of her fortitude only to cry out as her back hit the crisp linen of his bed.

“Don’t forget who you are talking too. Whose room you are in.” His breath was hot, his face was flushed except this time he didn’t make any move to try to mask it. “I haven’t forgotten the noise that disturbed me earlier. Who disturbed me…”

“What?”

“You are mine and that includes the sounds of your voice. I can’t forgive him for making you cry out.” He trailed his fingers with their familiar callouses up her arms and over her form beneath him.

“Ngh…”

“Mc – Meine Liebe, sing for me. Let me hear your voice.” Her breathing was already becoming heavier with his slightest touch.

“What about your work?” Even as she forced herself to speak, she made no move against his advances.

“Finished. It seems I found my cure.” Words ended as their lips joined. The time for talk had passed and all that was left was a communication far more fluent in expressing their love.

Yes, he had been cured or perhaps cursed with a new problem. His passion and drive normally focused towards his music seemed turned towards her. The hot chocolate grew cold in its containers long before their night was over. Sitting on his desk, the two cups appeared to be the last remnants of his creative troubles.

He knew he would always be reminded of today whenever he saw those cups. Two mismatched items standing as a pair in a union that brought joy to the world. How very fitting for a love such as ours.

---

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nyctolovian · 4 years ago

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Summary: What if Jon was a Witch and Martin was a Runaway Royalty? Funnily enough, it doesn't make their first meeting any less unfortunate and terrible.

Warning: Since this might be something people are sensitive about, Martin is described as "fat" and "plump" in this fic. But not in a derogatory way? (Please tell me if it comes off as such oh dear.)

"Who the hell gave you the right to eat all my cookies?" Jon hissed, brandishing his broom at the intruder.

The man gulped visibly as his round chocolate eyes wobbled. The crumbs still dusted between the freckles of his pale cheeks irked Jon to no end.

He had been saving those butter cookies, savoring only a couple every few days. So you can imagine the shock and fury that coursed through Jon's veins when he returned to his cottage after a frankly needless travel, and found a large man sitting in his living room with an empty tin on his lap. Before the man could even react, Jon had shoved him to the floor and whipped his broom forward threateningly, demanding an explanation for the cookie thievery. If Jon had given the situation more thought, he might have realised his priorities were slightly out of order, but it was the only tin he had procured from when he last set foot amongst human civilization. And he abhorred the thought of going into a town after just three months for a mere tin of cookies.

"I-I-I'm really sorry… I…" the intruder stammered out. "I, um, stumbled upon this cottage… and no one came back for the past two days so… I thought it was abandoned and, well, stayed…"

"Abandoned?!" Jon shouted. "What part of this–" he gestured towards his numerous possessions with his broom "–looks abandoned to you?"

Sure, the cottage didn't have much furniture, but there was plenty of belongings that served to prove its occupancy. Most obvious was how it was filled wall-to-wall with towering mahogany shelves of well-kept books. No one in their right mind would simply desert such an extensive collection of ancient knowledge. This house was admittedly more library than home, but Jon's point still stood.

"Well," muttered the man, "it is quite messy and dirty to be honest."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the intruder, who hastily muttered an apology. It wasn't as though he was wrong though. If one were to believe Sasha James (whom, in Jon's experience, had never been categorically wrong), his living conditions were dreadful. It was as though a hurricane had swept through the house, throwing his belongings about, but deliberately left the dust and dirt alone. Books were scattered across all surfaces, couch and floor included, as several layers of dirt settled on the floor, shelves and table. Even some articles of clothing strewn on the floor and chairs have gotten jealous, and begun their own collection of dust as well. And maybe the air in this house was… a fair bit mustier than it should be.

Jon had never been much of a cleaner.

"I'm sorry. I really am," the man began again. "You're… not going to kill me, are you?"

"What? No!" Jon scrunched his nose in horror. "Of course not."

"Oh, uh, good." He let out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, when I first came in and saw all the books and crockery, I thought the owner of the house might be some kind of witch. I'm glad you aren't one. They can be quite creepy, and I frankly don't like the idea of being cursed by one."

Thunk! Jon hit the butt of his broom against the wooden floor, eyes narrowed. Drily, he corrected, "I am a witch."

"Oh." The fat man pursed his lips as he shrunk into himself. "That would explain some stuff."

With a huff, Jon rolled his eyes. It was tiring to constantly have people doubt or assume he wasn't a witch just because of the way he looked. Admittedly, most people in the witchery profession were women. He had only known three men who were witches, only one of whom he had actually met, and maybe one other non-binary witch. At least this time he hadn't been accused of lying. "Don't worry. I won't put a curse on you or anything absurd," he told the now deathly pale intruder.

The man let out a sigh. "Right. Thank you. Sorry," he said nervously as he stood up, hunching into himself apologetically. “ I'll… let myself out now.”

Jon wielded his broom once more and the man yelped pathetically. "Now, hold on. I'm not letting you go after you've treated my house like a hostel for two days and eaten all my cookies."

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I don't have a single coin on me…" He pointed at an unfamiliar bag beside the table. "I… I do have some parchment and quill though."

"Parchment and quill?"

"It… has a certain vintage feel to it."

"No need. I can subsist on pen and paper just fine." He jerked his head towards the overflowing mess of a study table.

The man winced. "I'm sorry… I really don't have much else with me."

"Right," Jon said, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't help but doubt those words. The fabric of the man's clothes looked rather expensive, and the garment was skilfully crafted to fit his stocky build. It was unusual to see a man this well-dressed without a single coin in his possession. But an actually well-to-do man wouldn't be stumbling into cottages in a forest and polishing opened cookie tins off, Jon would presume. "What's your name?" he asked.

The man's already big eyes widened further. "Uh, what?"

Impatiently, Jon groaned. "Your name. Do you have one?" he asked, acid practically dripping from his voice.

"Ah, um, yes," the man stammered out. "I'm Martin K- Blackwood."

"Martin K. Blackwood?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Are you answering or asking a question?" Jon snapped.

"Answering! Answering."

He huffed in annoyance, his eyes sliding across his kitchen. When he had left, unwashed crockery and cutlery were piled up into haphazard towers in the sink and on his tables. However, they were now properly washed, dried, and placed into his cabinets. So this home intrusion hadn't been an entirely unprofitable one.

With a glint in his eyes, Jon said, "I have a proposition."

***

Stupid Martin, he cursed himself. Why are you constantly making things worse for yourself?

First, it was the whole running away from home thing. He didn't regret that in particular, but he probably should have brought along more than 10 silver pieces. It was no wonder how after a mere week, all his money was spent or given to a group of famished scrawny children. Then, he had decided to cut through the woods in hopes that he could sustain himself on wild berries, none of which, he later found, looked convincingly edible. Then, he had stumbled upon a curious cottage in the middle of a dense forest and, upon finding it abandoned, let himself settle in. As was typical of his luck, it wasn't actually abandoned, and its owner was none other than a witch. Thinking back, he should have taken note of the tinge of change in the air when he first stepped foot, evidence of its steady pool of magic, and its otherworldly still-resident.

Most mortifyingly, however, Martin had flushed to a ridiculous shade of pink when the witch smirked and said he had a "proposition" because, holy crap, did Martin have an imagination. The puzzlement on the witch's face at his reaction before clarifying what aforementioned proposition actually was might have been the finishing blow to his dignity.

"You're not in some romantic comedy," he muttered angrily to himself as he scrubbed the study table with all his might.

"Did you say something?"

Martin looked up at the witch, who had retreated to the floor while Martin cleaned his study table. He had built a fortress of books around himself and had to straighten himself to look over its walls. There was genuine confusion on his features as he asked the question.

"Uh, no," Martin said, shooting him a smile and adjusting his spectacles nervously. "Just a rather nasty stain here."

The witch–"Jon, Jonathan Sims," he had been told–shrugged and returned to burying his nose in some spell book, his tousled hair cascading gently with the movement to frame his handsome face with a wavy shoulder-length curtain. His slender fingers flipped the page gently before curling thoughtfully over his stubbly chin.

With a sigh of resignation, Martin got back to removing the stubborn stain on the dining table.

It always were the prickly men that had the prettiest faces, weren't they? So Martin really couldn't be faulted for consistently developing unwise infatuations for them.

The image was still imprinted in his mind's eye, like an afterimage of too-bright light. Falling to the floor had kicked up a cloud of dust and the poet in Martin felt the air tremble with ethereality. And the sight before him was nothing short of divine.

Jon's lustrous greying locks tangled gently with the sunset glow from the ajar front door, and his silhouette was outlined with light. It highlighted how well the black pinstripe suit fit his slender figure and gave him a sort of cool sharpness. His thick eyebrows were tightly knitted in a rather adorable frown on confusion. His eyes were beautiful obsidian that reflected every shimmer of emotions upon its surface. Martin found his gaze slowly trickle down from those eyes to his thin parted lips as though guided by the sureness of gravity. Then, Jon brandished his broomstick and–bloody hell–Martin would be lying if he said that didn't spark an embarrassing warmth in his gut.

Being in close proximity with someone this hot was going to be detrimental to his health. Martin was pretty sure if he spent a second longer around this man, he would have fainted like an anaemic lady in a poorly fitted corset. That or lock himself in the washroom, preferably with the shower on, for a suspiciously long period of time.

Thank god, however, Jon had the fashion sense of a grandmother. When he emerged from his bedroom, he had changed out of his suit, into a dark green cardigan, overstretched beige shirt, and grey tartan trousers. (Tartan? Really?) Every single article of clothing was baggy and oversized beyond what was sensible for someone as small and angular as Jon. Martin had never seen anyone more swallowed up by clothing than Jon was. That was saying a lot since Martin had seen more jesters than the average person in their entire lifetime.

At least, he supposed, the colours of his apparel complemented his dark earthy skin, bringing out the richness in its tone. Martin might go as far as to say that what Jon was wearing now made sense. When Jon first appeared, he was posh and brooding dark colours, oozing with cruelty–a foreboding shadow that obtruded the autumn palette of forest and cottage. However, in his indoor clothes, he was an easy fit in the puzzle that was this house, with its quaint exterior and cosy interior.

There might also be something endearing about seeing such a slight person swaddled in soft fabric. And the smallness of the man as he sat criss-crossed on the floor did no favours for Martin’s sensibilities either.

Martin shook his head, physically objecting to his own train of thought. He couldn't afford to let his imagination run wild like letting loose a golden retriever with cabin fever. After all, if he actually had to clean up the house to compensate for his intrusion, he was going to be staying in this cottage for a long while. Because, despite his unquestionable familiarity with his broom, Jon had clearly not used it (or any cleaning tool for that matter) in the house for at least 4 months, and Martin was now left to deal with the aftermath of such a decision.

With a soft sigh, he went to change the water in the pail before moving on to cleaning the kitchen table, which was honestly worse off than the study table. That was a major understatement given the amounts of stains and bits left on the kitchen table. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the stubborn stains.

As he got rid of the last grime on the table, he stood upright and stretched his back, hearing it crack softly. His eyes settled upon the clock above the bookshelves. It was 8.45pm already. Concernedly, he asked Jon, "What time do you usually have dinner?"

The witch looked up from his volume, his dark hooded eyes blinking owlishly. As though just realising what Martin had said, he let out a quiet noise and glanced towards the clock. "Oh," he muttered. "I forgot."

Like a disappointed parent, Martin pursed his lips.

"Now." Jon nodded to himself as he rose from the floor. "Now would be good."

"I could cook."

Jon jerked to a halt, midway to standing upright. "Ah, yes." He plopped to the wooden floor like a stuffed doll before crossing his legs once more. "I should have some potatoes…"

Sheepishly, Martin said, "Actually, um, I ate them. But, uh, I can cook rice."

Jon jutted his chin out. Exasperatedly, he waved his hand and grumbled, "Fine. Do whatever." Grumpily, he returned to reading again.

After clearing the dining table as best as he could, Martin went to work with cooking. After examining the contents of the fridge, he decided on a simple meal with baked beans and some veggies and sausages since there wasn't enough time to defrost any meat.

While Martin was scooping out the uncooked rice, Jon suddenly spoke, "Do you really know how to cook rice? None of that white-people rice-boiling nonsense. I have a rice cooker." Then, in the most condescending voice, he asked, "You do know how to use a rice cooker, right?"

"If it assures you, I've worked in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant before."

Jon, whom Martin was fairly certain by now had quite the dramatic streak, visibly relaxed with a loud sigh of relief. "That's good." Then, he burrowed into his books again.

Turning around, Martin rolled his eyes and flipped on the tap to wash the rice. After filling the rice cooker with rice and water, he plugged the cooker to a socket and hummed with curiosity. "I wonder where the electricity comes from?"

"Magic."

Martin startled.

Jon's head was peeking out from behind his ever-growing book fort, which now reached just below his chin. There was a proud quirk in his eyebrow as he continued, "I decided living this deep in the forest doesn't mean I have to give up the conveniences of technology. So I've imbued this cottage with magic to keep the electricity running."

"Well, that would explain the lone WiFi network my phone detected."

"It's password protected," Jon said, as he wriggled a smartphone out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"

"No thanks," Martin responded immediately. Then, realising how strange he must sound, he added, "Uh. I have unlimited data."

Despite how ridiculous this must have sounded, Jon didn't seem to pay the blatant lie much attention. Instead, his attention had shifted to his own mobile phone. He typed furiously into the device for a few minutes before his phone began to ring. His expression soured and he muttered under his breath, "God damn it, Tim."

"What?" Martin blurted even though he had heard Jon loud and clear.

"Just a… troublesome friend. It's none of your business." Jon picked up the phone and began the call with the most peeved "Yes, Tim?"

"Right. Yes… Of course." Still, Martin couldn't help but perk his ears.

"Before you begin, the answer is a resounding no," Jon said. "No, I don't. ... It doesn't matter to me what the rewards are. … You can't– Ugh…" He squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I really couldn't care less. … I'm not your personal sniffer dog. Or the state's for that matter.” The perpetual small frown on his face deepened with bewilderment. “What do you mean you’re not…?” Then, with a huff, he muttered, “Shocking.” His lips however quirked up by an almost indiscernible centimetre.

Martin felt a pang of curiosity. This might have been the first trace of a smile that he had seen on the crotchety man. Noticing that he was staring, Martin ducked his head and busied himself with cooking the sausages.

Suddenly, Jon shot to his feet. "Don't you dare!" he hissed. "Tim, I'm warning you. … Fine." His tense shoulders relaxed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll… I'll see what I can do." To Martin's disappointment, Jon stepped over his fort of books and headed into his bedroom, where the conversation continued without eavesdropping ears. Pursing his lips,

Worry was a hungry hound nestled under Martin’s sternum. Perhaps his ribs were particularly sweet in its canine teeth because it frequently gnawed and chewed at his chest. But this might be the biggest and hungriest hound yet, though this time it spared him and merely nibbled.

Stop overthinking things, he told himself. Not every Tim in the world is going to be Tim Stoker.

***

Tim Stoker was unrelenting when he wanted something.

Jon had realised this long before when he had helped search for his brother but this was ridiculous. Threatening to reveal a hermit’s address, much more one that practiced the occult, was to strip a hermit crab of its shell. And revealing it to the Royal Guards of all people was to smash the shell with a massive hammer while the crab was still in it—needlessly cruel and most probably going to get him killed.

But Jon supposed simply helping Tim out would be much less inconvenient than moving house and cutting ties with the man. Besides, he wasn’t entirely a nuisance.

With a grunt, he knelt beside his bag, still unpacked from his previous trip, and grabbed his journal and a pen. "Alright," he said, setting the book on his lap and pinning his phone between his head and shoulder. "Tell me about this prince. Age? Birthday? Height? Weight? Something?"

"Um… 28, I believe? Not sure about his birthday… Height is between 180 and 190, I think? Uh… He's on the fat side… He's got curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, wears glasses, dimples handsomely when he smiles…"

A long-suppressed groan finally escaped Jon. After his draining trip to the Witch's Conference, he really didn't have the energy to listen to Tim describe what was clearly a small crush of sorts. "This is going nowhere. Just send me a photo."

There was a brief sheepish silence. "Haven't got one, actually."

"Alright, hold up," Jon cut him off. "How on earth do you have nothing on this man? He's a prince for god's sake. In fact, I've only been hearing about this whole missing prince debacle from you. How is this not on the news yet? It's as if you people don't even want him back."

"Well," Tim mumbled over the phone, "it's… a tad bit complicated. You know, how I said I'm not doing this for the state?"

"Mm."

"It's 'cause he ran away to avoid getting married off to another kingdom," Tim said. "Specifically the Nebula Kingdom."

Jon raised an eyebrow. The political ties of the Nebula Kingdom and the Kinsley Royal Family would put even the most volatile stock markets to shame. That was to say, they were mercurial at best. Having a marriage between the two nations would likely stabilise their relations, but if the groom scampered off, it wouldn't just look bad. There would have to be either war (fortunately, a non-militaristic one since neither country was physically confrontational), or massive compensations of the monetary sort. And the Kinsley Royal Family was not quite as wealthy as Nebula, so their best bet at the moment would be keep this runaway business on the down-low for now.

From the other end of the phone, Tim sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Yeah… So, honestly, only the most high ranking officials are aware of his disappearance. To everyone else, he's just caught a bad case of flu."

Curious, Jon pressed, "And how is a mere royal alchemist such as yourself privy to such confidential information?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine," Tim said. "So you can imagine how worried I am for him right now."

"I take it you're not carting him off to the palace the moment I find him?"

"Of course not," Tim said with an affronted tone.

Jon let out a hum. "And why the lack of photographs?"

"Well," Tim said. "There's the fact that he's pretty camera-shy. But, also, he's sort of… an illegitimate child of the prince. So things were kept on the very down-low when it came to him."

"Good lord." Jon squeezed his nose bridge with a loud sigh. He could imagine it already: keeping the illegitimate child a secret, ensuring no one could recognise him, and then using him as a marriage pawn when the time was ripe. With how notoriously prolific the prince was, no one could ever tell the difference between an illegitimate child and a regular concubine's offspring.

How a man could sustain such a virile lifestyle perplexed Jon, to be honest. But there were a great many things of the sexual nature that had that effect on the witch so he'd much rather think about actually decipherable things such as spells and potions.

Mentally shoving his distaste aside, Jon continued, "So how do you suppose I find this man without any useful information?"

Jon could practically hear the sunshine in Tim's voice. "Not sure to be honest! I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

"I'm a witch. Not a… private detective or sniffer dog or whatever you're taking me to be!" Jon grumbled. "Tim, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you have to give me something better than just a general description of the man."

"Right…" Tim sounded genuinely disappointed. "What about his stuff? I'm not sure about witchcraft but you guys use possessions and stuff for curses and such, right? If I manage to find something he left behind… would that work?"

Jon hummed in thought. "Wait a moment."

He scavenged through the books in his bedroom and found a leather-bound journal that was practically falling apart. Gently, he flipped through the pages and finally came across the section he was looking for.

"Well, if we are to use an object, I'd cast a searching spell on the seeker, which I suppose would likely be yourself," he explained, running his forefinger over the squiggles of the page. "There are then several criteria that the object has to fulfill. First, we need it to be of emotional importance. Then, it has to have a connection between the target and the seeker, meaning you should try to find a gift from this man. Not something you took without his permission or something that is borrowed. And even then, there is a chance of it being a dud."

"That's… not ideal," Tim winced out. "I'll see what I can find." His voice was warm and sincere. "Hey, thanks a bunch, dude. You helped me find Danny, and now Martin as well… I was lying about exposing your house address by the way. I'd never do that. "

"Yes, Tim, I know."

Tim bounced back into his cheeky disposition. "Love you too, Jon! Bye!"

Jon rolled his eyes and ended the call.

Martin… The prince had the same name as his unexpected intruder…

A frown settled upon his brow. What if…

There was a quick rap against his bedroom door. Jon got to his feet and opened it.

"Oh!" Martin–the intruder–gasped. "I thought you were… still on your phone… or something. Um, I was just… Dinner's ready?"

"Ah," Jon said with a nod. The two of them sat at the dining table. The food looked good actually, much to Jon's relief. Still, with some frankly warranted skepticism, he fluffed the rice with a scoop, and when he saw that it was nice and soft. He placed it in his bowl and began to eat.

Sitting opposite, the cook took a sigh of relief at the silent approval and dug in as well. Then, his phone began to ring and he swiped the screen absently. "I saw some tea in the cabinets so…" he muttered as he got up and carried two mugs from the kitchen counter to the table.

Jon took a sniff from the cup. Chamomile. Carefully, he took a sip, and his eyebrows yanked upwards with delight.

Martin's plump cheeks dimpled deeply with pride as he hummed and drank from his own mug as well.

Jon supposed he earned that. When he brought the rim of the mug to his lips again, his eyes fluttered half-closed as the fragrance of the tea surrounded his senses like an old but well-kept blanket, warm and soothing.

Wouldn't it be great to keep him around? His mind sponsored. Jon had to beat the thought down with a stick. He was a hermit and he planned to stay as such. Besides, Jon had a niggling feeling about this man's identity...

But this Martin couldn't possibly be a Prince Martin, Jon convinced himself Imagine such excellent tea-brewing skills squandered on royalty.

#magpod #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #witch au #royalty au #fantasy au #ace jon #nb jon #tma fanfic #my writing

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strongerwiththepack · 4 years ago

Text

Private Waters: Part 1

I hear it's Virgil Tracy Week 👀 Virgil's birthday seems to have inspired a wee fic from me today. Been dealing with a bit of writers block so this was a nice change. This is just part one but I'm hoping (really hoping) that I'll finish it by the end of the week. Hope you enjoy x

Summary: Virgil's birthday celebrations are interrupted by an unidentified boat sailing into their waters.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Read on FanFiction.net]

---

"Happy Birthday!"

Virgil was ambushed by his family jumping out from behind various pieces of furniture as he entered the lounge. He knew they'd been planning this but he put on a face of surprise anyway. No point being a spoil sport.

Alan bounded up to give him a hug with an ear splitting grin on his face. The kids' energy was contagious as he accepted the tackle-like hug and chucked.

"Thanks guys."

There was a round of hugs to follow and Virgil felt a deep appreciation that he had this time to spend with his family. Even John was down. He gave his space-bound brother an extra tight hug. It had been a while.

Birthdays were a tricky affair in their family. They always planned a celebration but rescues commonly got in the way. He was lucky things had been quiet today.

He looked around finally noticing an absence and gave Scott a questioning look.

"Kayo?"

"Got called away by Pen this morning. She'll be back later though." Scott assured.

Virgil felt a hint of disappointment that she wasn't here but that's the job. He'd make sure to see her later.

His Grandma came up and kissed his cheek. "Happy Birthday Virgil."

She slid out a thin parcel from behind her back and whispered by his ear. "For my favourite grandson."

Although her version of whispering wasn't exactly quiet.

Gordon exclaimed loudly. "Hey! We heard that!" While Scott laughed and John rolled his eyes.

They knew their grandma loved them all equally but it wasn't exactly a secret she had a soft spot for Virgil.

Gordon plonked a party hat on his head as they sat down. Not exactly gently, he might add, as he felt the sting of the string pinging up under his chin. He glared at his brother but Gordon merely put on an innocent look, commenting "oops".

They actually got a full morning of present opening and silly party games that Alan had planned. Majority of them may be grown men but they weren't above indulging in some childhood traditions.

Virgil noticed John quietly excuse himself during a game of charades, and mentally sighed as he figured their festivities were about to come to an end. He could see Scott kept glancing the way John had gone too and knew his eldest brother was thinking the same thing. A rescue.

"Are we launching John?" Scott asked immediately when their brother returned.

John rolled his eyes at the assumption and explained. "No, it's not a rescue. EOS was just informing me that there's a boat that's crossed into our waters."

It wasn't much of a concern. The island is pretty much in the middle of nowhere but some boats occasionally stray into their waters. Usually, it's party boats that don't bother to research the areas they're sailing into.

Scott nodded, making to turn back to their game. Standard protocol was to radio the boat and inform them that they were in private waters and needed to turn around. John usually deals with it.

"Except there is a problem." John continued. "The boat doesn't seem to have a radio. It could be broken but EOS couldn't get through."

"Is there a chance of it being a threat?" Scott asked slightly tense now.

"Not likely. EOS identified it as a rental luxury yacht that's registered under an Australian family. Probably just lost but they are on a colliding path with the island so we'll need to turn them around."

Gordon sighed dramatically and stood up.

"I got it." He said and headed towards the door that led to the docks. "Don't have too much fun without me."

Virgil felt a pang of unease. "Uh wait up! I'll come too."

"It's fine Virgil, enjoy the festivities." Gordon tried to brush him off.

"I need some air anyway. A quick boat trip sounds fun."

"Awesome!" Gordon exclaimed. He loved it when any of them agreed to go out on the water with him.

Scott gave him a look as they left that clearly said be careful. He wanted to roll his eyes but he'd just had the same thought when Gordon was going to go so he couldn't say much.

They went out in their normal clothes since the whole point of keeping people away was to ensure the secrecy of international rescue. Bit of a give away to rock up in full uniform.

They took one of the speed boats and Gordon expertly manoeuvred then towards the boat in question.

It was a beautiful day. The light from the sun danced across the water as the boat skipped over the waves. He took a deep breath of fresh sea air as the wind breezed around them.

He should really come out here more often. Maybe he could convince Gordon to take him out scuba diving later this week. It had been a while since he'd done that.

It didn't take long before Virgil caught a visual of the offending boat in the distance. He looked back at the island, he could see the outline from here but there wasn't any detail. Good.

Gordon brought them to a controlled stop as the came up beside the vessel. Their boat was quite a bit smaller than the decently sized yacht but they could still see onto the deck. There were two men decked out in classic touristy clothes.

Gordon cut their engine and took the lead calling out.

"Hey there, how're you doing today?"

Up close it was hard to miss the beer bottles scattered around the deck. Virgil groaned internally. Did people not realise how dangerous sailing out in open water was? Adding alcohol into the mix was just asking for trouble.

He wasn't opposed to a couple of beers in the sun but by the way the men grinning and the fact they were practically wobbling to keep their feet under them on the mildly choppy waters he was pretty sure it was more than just a couple.

"Heyyy!" One of the men drawled in what Virgil placed as an English accent. "Just enjoying some fun in the sun."

Gordon, clearly as annoyed at the state these men were in as himself smiled loosely.

"Well I'm afraid you've strayed into private waters. You're going to need to turn around. Do you need any help with your route?"

"Duuude, I didn't know you could own water. That's awesome." The guy turned to his friend. "We should buy some water."

The other guy laughed. "You're wasted man."

These guys clearly weren't taking them very seriously. Gordon tried again.

"Listen guys, I'm glad you're having a good trip but it's illegal for you to be sailing here. Can I see your operating permit?"

Gordon's words seemed to finally snap them out of their stupor.

"Wow there man, we don't want any trouble. I'll get Davie, he's el captaino on this little boat of ours."

The guy chuckled at his words before heading below deck.

Virgil was relieved that neither of these men were in charge here. He only hoped the other guy wasn't as drunk as these two.

A new man appeared on the deck and Virgil took keen notice that he seemed stable on his feet.

"Gentleman, what can I help you with?" He greeted sincerely enough.

"Afternoon Sir, are you the permit holder of this boat?" Gordon inquired politely.

At the mans affirmative he continued. "Are you aware you're sailing in private waters right now?"

"My apologies, I wasn't aware. We'll change course right away."

The man said it like a dismissal but Gordon didn't take the hint. Most likely on purpose, there was definitely a lot of red flags here.

"Do you need any help plotting a route? I can show you the common tourist lanes if you'd like."

"Nah we're good thanks, the rental company plotted a route for us - must've just headed off course slightly. Good'day gentleman."

Virgil jumped in this time before they could make their exit.

"One more thing. We noticed you don't seem to have a radio. You really shouldn't be travelling in open waters without one."

The man gave a forced smile. "Oh yeah, it's busted. We'll be sure to get it fixes at the next port."

"Want me to take a look at it for you? I'm an engineer." He offered.

"No. I said we're fine."

Gordon narrowed his eyes beside him. "Look I'm not trying to be rude but could I see your permit? Just at a glance you're breaking a lot of regulations here."

A flash of rage passed over the mans face at Gordon's accusation and Virgil reckoned his brother was probably on the right track. He sighed. So much for a quick trip.

Before anything further could be said though there was a loud splash from the back of the boat.

"Roy!"

They both startled at the noise. Turning to see only one of the drunk men from before standing on the deck and a foamy patch of water next to the edge of the boat. It didn't take a genius to work out what had happened.

Gordon kicked off his shoes, diving into the water in seconds. Virgil leaned over the edge of their boat, ready to help once Gordon surfaced.

He had no doubt his brother would get the man. It's what they did after all.

"Oi!" He heard the captain shout.

He just barely spared him a glance, too focused on the water. But then he had to do a double take as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

He slowly stood up with his arms raised above him. This was not good.

The other man on the deck placed a wide plank between their boats.

"Cross over." He was instructed.

His eyes had been fixed to the man with the gun unwilling to look away but he hesitated then. Sparing a glance towards the water he desperately looked for his brother.

Gordon had surfaced and was staring back at him with a grim look. He bobbed next to the other man from the boat and Virgil caught a glimpse of something reflective in the guys hand. A knife.

He could now see the way Gordon was gripping his upper arm with a grimace. There must've been a struggle. He clenched his fists at their helplessness here.

The unexpected bang of the gun going off made him flinch as splinters of wood hit off his legs. The man had just shot into the deck at his feet.

"Across. Now." He screamed and Virgil didn't need to be told again.

He wobbled his way across on the unstable plank. Once he was within reach the man, who had clearly shed his clueless drunk persona, roughly yanked him the rest of the way. He lost his footing on the deck and fell forward.

The guy behind him took that opportunity to push him onto his stomach, pressing a knee into the centre of his back and pulling his hands behind him. He felt zip ties being tightly fastened over his wrists as he twisted his head to the side, noticing the guy with the gun throwing a rope ladder over the side of the boat.

"And you." He shouted over the side of the boat. To Gordon presumably. "No funny business or your brother here's gonna get a hole in em."

He pointed the gun towards Virgil to emphasise his point. The fact that this man knew they were brothers was not a good sign. He was starting to think something bigger than they'd thought was going on here.

Virgil gritted his teeth as the man holding him down shoved his head into the deck before getting off him and moving to the ladder.

He slowly moved to a sitting position, grimacing as the ties cut into his wrists. He was up just in time to see Gordon heave himself over the edge of the deck with a grim look on his face.

His brother had barely gotten his feet under him before he was roughly tackled to the ground in the same way Virgil had been.

"Hey!" Virgil grunted out of reflex at seeing his brother crash onto the deck but he was promptly ignored.

Gordon turned his head to him as his wrists were tied the same as Virgil's and gave him a grimace that said I'm okay but this is not a good situation.

Virgil gave a barely noticeable nod back to confirm he was okay too. Gordon lay dripping water onto the deck and Virgil noticed the cut on his arm he'd suspected earlier.

The red mixed in with the water and seeped onto the deck below him. Virgil hoped it wasn't deep, the water probably made it look like it was bleeding more than it was.

Once the ties were secure, Gordon was yanked up by his shirt collar and pushed down again next to Virgil, leaning against the side of the boat.

The three men regrouped across the deck and began whispering loudly to each other.

"Scott is going to kill us." Gordon mumbled as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

Virgil couldn't help but chuckle at his brothers attempt to lighten the mood.

"I think that's the least of our worries right now. You okay?" He asked, eyeing the cut on his arm.

"Yeah s'just a scratch."

That did not appease his worry in any way. Gordon wasn't one to admit to being in pain. But he let it slide for now.

They needed to work out why these men were here and what they were after. He internally sighed at the trouble they'd managed to get themselves in.

What a way to spend his birthday.

[Next]

#thunderbirds are go #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #myfic #why is formatting on the mobile app so difficult urghh

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orionwhispers · 5 years ago

Text

Beware Of The Dogs; Alfie Solomons Imagine

( A/N so my Alfie imagine started as a oneshot, then it became a 2 parter, then 3, and now possibly 4. Im sorry theres no Alfie in this part but the family dynamic was really important for me to write, and ill be releasing part 2 at the same time so ill link it below. thx for endless patience and love. you guys genuinely mean the world 2 me.)

PART II

PART III

The night you left was the last day of summer.

The sky was fading lavender, mirroring the wildflowers crushed under your high heels. You could see the faint outline of the moon, big and round and full, illuminating the trees beside you and reflecting off the empty wine glass in your hand.You enjoyed the temporary buzz you had from draining your drink, that short term numbness that made your whole body feel electric. You needed it. You needed a distraction from what you planned on doing.

It felt bittersweet, watching the evening darken as you reminisced alone. You could hear the hum of music from inside and see the comforting glow of a lamp lighting up the shadows around you. You wanted to wallow in self pity for longer, but the moon overhead was just as ominous as a ticking clock, reminding you that you’re running on limited time.

The house was quiet.

It seemed smaller somehow, emptier. You thought back to the night you were told you would be moving in with your Aunt, the start of summer, when the air was warm and you went to bed every night with tears in your eyes. It seemed so long ago, the day you realised just how overprotective your family were, just how much control they held over your life.

They wanted you out of Small Heath. They thought you would be out of harms way with your Aunt, they told you you’d be safer away from the family. It pierced through your heart like a dagger, knowing your younger brother could still roam the streets till midnight, your older sister could travel around the country whenever she pleased, but you were to be locked away like a dirty little secret.

It had all started when Billy Kimber had made a remark about you a few years prior, something vulgar and degrading about you being the youngest Shelby girl and maybe he should make you his wife. You remembered coming home from school to see Arthur’s knuckles black and blue, seething through his teeth, the family arguing around the table, falling silent when you stepped into the room.

You were the weak spot in the family.

You weren’t like the others, you were quieter, soft spoken and kind. It would be all to easy to manipulate you, to overpower you as you walked the streets, to press a blade into your throat and cut through the bindings of the whole family.You knew your family loved you, your siblings had practically raised you from the moment you were born, but there was such a thin line between protection and control. It felt as if the Shelby name was branded onto your forehead, a dirty tattoo scorched onto your skin that you could never remove. They had always taken care of you, but now it felt like the supporting hand on your shoulder was clasped across your mouth, stifling your screams.

Moving into Polly’s house had been a compromise. You had wanted to leave since you were a little girl. You dreamt of following in your sisters footsteps and leaving the smog and smoke of Small Heath, but you were practically forbidden. You screamed and spat at Tommy until your throat felt raw, you threw your shoe like a child at Arthur and you begged Polly for support but she turned her head away, unable to look at you. They were worried for you, you knew that, but it never healed the dull ache in your stomach, the unbearable pain that you would forever be treated as if you were a child incapable of making her own decisions.

You wanted to be a writer. You had since you first picked up an ink pen in infant school and would make up stories for a toddler sized Finn, laying in the bedroom you shared, listening to the pace of his breathing as you spoke of lives bigger than the both of you.You dreamt in colour, lines of prose leaking onto paper in your bleak bedroom, stories you would create that absorbed you inside. Whilst your siblings imagined mounds of wealth and fortune and power, you fantasied about a fairytale, true love and eternal happiness. You wrote to your brothers when they were fighting in the war, thick long letters that distracted them from the horrors around them, the kind of familiar interruption that sliced through the barbarity around and kept them going.You were too innocent, too pure, they couldn’t let you get hurt.

But that wasn’t their decision to make.

Tommy wanted you nearby, close enough he could keep an eye on you but far away enough that you wouldn’t grind him down with your persistent demands or attempts to rebel his authority. You were to move in with Polly and Michael, your cousin, who was a few months younger than you but treated as if he was decades older.

In the early days when he arrived in the fog of Small Heath, Michael became your closest confidant. You were delighted that your beloved Aunt had finally found her son and he was as warm hearted and soft spoken as she remembered, and you were enthralled with the newcomer, devouring his stories of the country whenever you got the chance. But it wasn’t long before you watched him becoming captivated by your brothers, that dizzying kind of hypnotism you had become all too familiar with, small smiles and glistening eyes, the kind of secrecy and camaraderie only shared between men.

You sat at home, your hands black with ink in an empty house. Tapping your foot across the worn out flooring, a Blinder standing guard outside the front door whilst Michael was allowed to visit the races and spend nights drinking until the sun rose. You thought your similar age would mean that you and Michael would form solidarity over his protective mother and your precautious brothers but just like you had watched with Finn, Michael was an exception, welcomed into the ruthless gang with open arms whilst you gawped from the sidelines.

You would curl up on the floor, the telephone pressed to your skull as your ranted and raved to Ada. You could hear her sigh, soft and kind but crackly from the connection, making you miss the warmth of her body and her comforting smell. She had gotten out. She was firmer than you, she knew how to talk to Tommy, her relationship with Freddie had cemented her independence and maturity and she escaped to London as soon as she could. You didn’t blame her, she was protecting Karl, but you still felt an unwelcome heat in your gut if you thought about it for too long, the realisation that you were completely alone in your fight for freedom.

The brothers had always been protective of her, indents on their knuckles from brash boys that lurked in the alleyways as she walked home from school, watchful eyes following whenever she left alone, but she never experienced the same kind of shielding as you. You had been so young when the business first started that by the time you reached your teens, the chains had already been bound around your wrists. You became a woman around the same time that enemies were sniffing around the streets and simple business turned to bloodshed, you knew your name had been slung around as a bargaining chip from men who revolted you, you knew you were the cause of many family arguments that started with slamming doors and ended with tears.

Truthfully you were scared. Your family was changing, your brothers who playfully swung you over their shoulders and cleaned your scraped knees when you fell off your bike had been altered by the war. Your Aunt was brash and distant, and your sister had severed herself from the rest of you, her mind occupied with her child and her political views. Once, you had asked John to let you assist him with the books, you were good at arithmetic, top of your class, but that didn’t matter, all that anyone saw when they looked at you was a potential victim.

When John got married, something inside of you shifted.

You noticed Tommy watching you that night, as Ada got drunk and bellowed at him, as Polly smoked and danced barefoot and as the fire crackled and roared, his eyes flickered to yours. You wondered how long it would be until your beloved brother would trade you for a business deal like he did John. You weren’t a fool, as much as he loved and protected you, Tommy was ruthless when it came to business. You wondered who would be so much of a threat to the family that your hand in marriage would be used to settle a dispute. At that moment you weren’t old enough, you knew that Arthur would put his foot down and pull you out of the mud if Tommy suggested anything, but you couldn’t help wondering what might happen in a few years, when Tommy inevitably ruled the world and you were displayed so innocently by his side, something to sweeten the deal.

You felt so defeated that night, as Ada gave birth and the boys went to the Garrison you downed half a bottle of whisky, you loved the burn at the back of your throat, the heat inside of you, and the way the room spun and your eyes blurred. You drank until your stomach flipped and you couldn’t stop the tears and Finn found you collapsed on his bed, sneaking in beside you and pulling you close, letting you weep onto his shoulder.

After that monumental night you felt yourself fold like origami. You lurked in the shadows, only moving around the house when it was empty and spending all of your free time with friends, loving the temporary normality they gave you. But things got worse. Stolen guns and fixed races and a police officer who rode around the streets on a white mare brought turmoil into the routine you had grown fond of, and it wasn’t long until you were pulled into a family meeting and your future was once again ripped out of your hands.

So you made the decision to leave.

It had started at the peak of summer, when the sun was high and your morale was low and you spent every morning alone, the fire inside of you rivalling the heat of the air. You’d wake up to an empty house, the rest of the family on their own escapades whilst you were left to your own devices. Boredom overtook your senses. You’d brew yourself a mug of tea, stirring in sugar until it clumped at the bottom like wet sand and then you’d tip out the contents, watching as it travelled down the drain. You would write in your journal until the pages grew heavy and your hand hurt and the spine tore from the weight, the pages overflowing with your scrawled handwriting. It wasn’t until you flicked through the weekly newspaper with your feet hanging over the edge of Polly’s velvet sofa did a plan start to form in your mind.

There was a small row of sentences that caught your eye as you flipped over the pages of political conflict and global finances. You could have missed it, but something inside of you drew your pupils to the text that day, you were certain of it. It made you jolt upright, your palms prickling as you folded the paper in half and held it up to your nose for closer inspection, cautiously glancing around the empty living room as if one of your siblings would be lying in wait. There wasn’t much information, just a simple statement about a new publishing company in London, a city that seemed so enchanting to you, and their need for a new receptionist. You tore the page out, gently flattening the seam you had ripped, before darting up the stairs two at a time and hiding your treasure deep under your mattress. That night after Polly and Michael came home, with flushed faces and confidential conversations, you devoured it over and over again, dreaming of the possibilities.

You operated in secret, ringing on a Thursday morning when you knew everyone was occupied at the betting shop. You played with a loose thread on your stocking as the phone connected, the low hum soothing you as you chewed on your lower lip. His name was Edmund. The publishing company had been his fathers and after his passing it was now his, he spoke rapidly and kindly, delighted that someone had called for the job. You hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly, listening and answering eagerly to any questions he might have had, discussing your favourite books and authors, hearing his tales of the city. He asked if you could start the first Monday of September and the phone slipped from your fingers and clattered onto the floor, you cursed and apologised quickly, your entire body flushed the colour of beetroot from both elation and embarrassment.

It wasn’t until the very end of the conversation when Edmund realised he didn’t have your name, you stilled and felt your eyebrows reach your hairline, almost biting your tongue to stop yourself from accidentally telling the truth.

“Rose...Rosie!Rosie Smith.” You lied, thinking back to the red haired girl you had sat next to in primary school, completely baffled but ultimately happy with your brain for conjuring her up at the last second.

“Well, Rosie. I look forward to working with you.”

The call ended and you squealed into your sleeve, the noise muffled from the fabric. You were terrified but filled with joy, your heart practically leaping from your chest. You pressed your head against the wallpaper, exhaling loudly and curling your toes. This was your chance.

In the days that followed you tried your best to remain nonchalant, determined not to arouse suspicion. You sat on your bedroom floor, counting pennies you had saved to send off to Edmund for a deposit on a flat, daydreaming of what it might look like. You rummaged through your wardrobe, planning outfits and accessories that would match your new life and newfound freedom. Underneath the false bravado however, you were terrified. Guilt would rise up inside you when you least expected it, when John, Esme and the kids would come over for a Sunday roast, the little ones clinging to your legs whilst your older brother playfully ruffled your hair and pinched the skin on your elbow. You’d feel a wave of unpleasant sadness when you would wipe Arthur’s knuckles clean after a bad day, talking to him in low tones as he nursed a bottle of something strong, taking care of him like he did when you were just a child.

You even found yourself tolerating Tommy’s firm hand, rolling your eyes when he ordered you about instead of lashing at him like you once had. You often wondered if he knew something was off, the way that you would join the family at the dinner table or laugh in the garden with Johnny Dogs when mere weeks ago you would have barricaded yourself in your room rather than surround yourself with your blood. He never said anything, just watched you curiously as if you were another business conundrum to solve, those brilliant cogs in his mind trying to figure you out.

Finn would come over whenever he could, exhilarated from his new life, slouching on the sofa as he scoffed vanilla biscuits and spun tales about everything he had done that day. In those moments, watching your younger brothers’ eyes glint and shine as he reminisced about everything so brutal that he was a part of, did you somewhat understand your family’s overprotectiveness. You longed to keep Finn wrapped up in cotton wool, part of you wanted to sling him by ears and drag him to Tommy, demanding that he quit the gang and scold Tom for ever letting your youngest sibling be a part of something that could kill him. But the night would end, Finn would kiss your cheeks and tell you he’d see you again, and he’d head to the Garrison or a new club with Isaiah. He’d wander the streets high as a kite, whilst you were stuck alone in a house that didn’t belong to you, a Blinder standing guard outside, punished for sins you hadn’t committed.

You had everything sorted. Your bag was packed and you’d asked your best friend Isabella to purchase a train ticket under your name, opting for one that left just before midnight so you could make your departure as painless as possible. You’d hidden all the evidence under your bed, in an empty shoebox left over from your birthday, a pair of expensive heels bought by Tommy as a bribe to keep you placid. You hated how he tried to keep you quiet with material items, but dammit, the man had good taste.

The night you left, you burned everything. You watched every trace of your secret catch alight and then shrivel into ash, every tiny thread that could lead to your whereabouts gather into a heap at the bottom of the fireplace, smoke filling the room. You bit back tears as you noticed the family photo on the mantle, a present from Polly one Christmas, all of you squashed together, the boys stoic under the lights, the girls glowing with beauty. You were wrapped under Arthur’s arm, Tommy’s palm flat against your back, holding you in place. At the time you had squirmed, finding it dominating and aggressive, but looking at the black and white photograph now, you thought it looked comforting.

You didn’t have time to dwell in your feelings, the large grandfather clock in the hall chimed, signalling that it was getting later and you would have to make a move. You had already almost been caught, and your whole body was on edge, a chill making its way down your spine. The rest of the family were out, it had taken weeks of planning to make sure they were all out of range on the night you needed to leave. You’d planted a seed in Johnny Dogs head that he should throw a party, inconspicuously dropping hints whenever the excitable man was around. It didn’t take long before he had persuaded Arthur to close the Garrison for the public one night and invite the whole street round to drink and dance.

You had feigned illness in the few days that led up, moping around more than usual and coughing and spluttering if anyone came too close. You seriously considered becoming an actress because even the all knowing Polly was fooled, tutting as she placed a hand on your forehead and made you cups of lemon and lavender tea to ail your “sore throat”. That morning as you boiled eggs for your youngest brother and cousin, you sniffled and limped like you were in the running as an extra in a Charlie Chaplin movie.

“I don’t want to catch whatever you have!” Finn said, squirming away from you as he dunked his toast into his dippy egg, yolk exploding over the rim of the cup and onto Polly’s fine china. “I have to be well for tonight.”

“You get invited to one party and you suddenly think you’re in with the big dogs.” Michael muttered, dragging his fork along the plate, scraping up every last crumb and making you wince at his lack of manners.

“Oi! I’ve been a Blinder longer than you have.”

“Oh, is that so? Well...”

“Put a sock in it will you? You’re both behaving like animals and I don’t need another bloody headache.” You scolded, placing your head in your hands and groaning for effect.

They both mumbled lacklustre apologies but you didn’t miss the sly kick Finn made to his cousin under the table, the corners of his mouth turning up in mischief.

“Are you coming tonight?” Finn asked, recoiling as you leant forward wiped the dirty corners of his mouth with the pad of your thumb. “Tommy says you can.”

You rolled your eyes, and wrinkled your nose in displeasure, “Well that’s awfully kind of him.” You grumbled sarcastically, “How honourable of the bloody king to say what I can and can’t do!”

“You know he just wants to protect you.” Michael said, looking at you over the top of his teacup. You raised an eyebrow at the sheer adoration in your cousins voice, knowing that Tommy probably seemed incredible to someone he wasn’t trying to control.

“That’s very nice of him, but I actually think I’m going to call it an early night, it will be nice to have some uninterrupted sleep for once.” You lied, peering at the boys with faux annoyance.

Finn licked his spoon clean, slurping loudly and you smacked him on the back of the head, pulling his hair gently when he protested. “You should come.” He murmured, chewing on his bottom lip as if it held a new loaf of bread for him to devour. “It won’t be the same without you.”

His words were so simple and kind that you felt your heart shatter. You knew leaving was the right thing to do, you had to leave Small Heath or risk your sanity, but Finn was the one nagging voice in your skull that made you want to stay. You pushed your chair over to him, listening as it squealed against the wood flooring, and grabbed his face in your palms. “I love you, Finnegan.” You said, looking him straight in his big eyes and using the nickname you created when you were a child. He struggled gently against your grip, squirming from embarrassment but you saw the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You placed three sloppy kisses across his face, wondering when he got so big and you brushed your thumb over his cheek all whilst he wriggled against you.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?”

“It’s only the Garrison!”

“Finn.” You said sharply, “Promise me?”

His eyes searched yours, a thin layer of confusion across his features, pupils darting for some kind of explanation. You pinched his cheeks playfully and he nodded, your hands raising with the movement.

“Yes! I promise!” He relented, sticking his tongue out like he was five again.

“Good.” You smiled, placing another dramatically long kiss on the heat of his forehead, laughing when he pushed you away, Michael watching with patient yet curious eyes.

“You better not have got any bloody lipstick on me!” He exclaimed, dramatically wiping his face and checking his reflection in his spoon. You elbowed him, feeling a rush of love and protection that enveloped your body like a tidal wave. You knew that leaving was going to be like ripping a plaster off a wound, painful at first but necessary if you wanted to heal. You knew that you couldn’t be there for Finn, not completely or in the way that he deserved, if you spent any more time drowning in your own sadness, falling into a shell of yourself.

By nine o’clock the house was empty.

You heaved your suitcase out from under the bed, groaning at the strain in your arms and hauled it down the stairs, careful not to leave any scuff marks on the paint. You kept your mind busy, putting away dishes and mugs, wiping down the cabinets and emptying the bins, anything to keep you distracted. You had downed a glass of wine and were enjoying the fuzzy feeling of your tongue when the front door whined on its hinges, a shadow filling the hall.

You froze.Your spine straightening and your palms beginning to sweat, you glanced at the suitcase by your feet, swearing loudly and pushing it under the dining room table, covering the sides with a lace tablecloth. Michael entered, his head snapping up at the sight of you, raising a brow under the yellow light.

“What are you doing up? Thought you were sick.”

“I am.” You said, wringing your hands together and trying to cool the flush that had risen to your cheeks. “I just came down for a drink. What are you doing here?”

“I borrowed John’s lighter, forgot to bring it with me.” he smiled, gesturing to the glass in your hands, “Oh right, everybody knows alcohol is the cure for any illness.”

You grinned gently, the light not reaching your eyes. You considered lying, spinning more tales to make yourself seem innocent, but you didn’t see the point in digging yourself down any deeper.

“Mike? Will you do me a favour? Keep an eye on Finn...Please.”

He nodded, looking you up and down. He was clever, one of the brightest young men you had ever met and you didn’t doubt that he had an inkling as to what was going on.

“I will. Promise.”

He smiled, digging around the drawer to his left and pulling out Johns signature brass lighter, flicking the lid and letting the flame dance in the dark. His eyes softened slightly as he made his way to the door, gentle words falling from his lips.

“Take care of yourself, (Y/N).”

You watched him as he strode away from the house, all broad shouldered and tall, a millennium away from the soft spoken boy you had met just over a year ago. His silhouette cut through the dark and through your hazy eyes you swore he looked just like Tommy, with his similar gait and self assured confidence. It made you feel jealous, how easy it was for Michael to slip into the family, find his footing amongst those scrambling up the ladder whilst you still feel like you’re drowning. You loathed yourself for admitting it, but you felt as if Michael was more of a Shelby than you were despite stronger blood running through your veins.

You were snapped out of your trance however, by the bright white light of the moon casting down through the windows. You sighed, grabbing your purse and pulling out two letters, sealed and stamped with the expensive wax Arthur had bought you for Christmas. You placed them on the top of the table, letting your fingertips graze over the names written in ink. There were two, a longer, more personal one for Finn and another for rest of the family, letting them know you were safe and asking for them to not look for you. You told them that you would be back one day, but as you grabbed the handles of your trunk and took one final glance at the house you had spent far too long trapped in, you weren’t sure if that was the truth.

#alfie solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot

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cilliansaccent · 5 years ago

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Class of Temptation - CHAPTER FIVE

Leave a like, reblog or comment below to show your support and love! Enjoy…

PLEASE READ:

No mention of Cillian’s true family or relatives. All names are made up.

This is a TEACHER x STUDENT fanfiction, it’s going to be kinky and very taboo!

I will write whenever the mood grabs me, so I apologise if there are long breaks between chapters :)

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Background: Tessa is a twenty-three-year-old model from a broken-up family, living in London with her best friend and starting a course on Drama and Theatre. Though, when she gets closer to the super hot Mr Murphy who is her much older teacher, there is a battle of lust and love between them. They’ll have to figure out what to do with their tight relationship as other issues begin to rise and nip at their heels…

Word Count: 1,704

!!Warnings!!: None.

Chapter Name: Tessa The Messer

Brief Chapter Outline: Tessa starts to stress over her work and her studies as well as some very mean girls... She also contemplates on her life.

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As the third week had come to a close, Tessa was exhausted. This week was jam-packed as her and Julain prepared their project together. Which meant many after hours of work together in the library or at her apartment. Esther had also met the guy which she tried to hit on a few times. But Julian had come out to Tessa about being gay, and Tessa had been extremely supportive of him. Their friendship only grew tighter.

But as the weekend neared, she had to take an early flight on Saturday morning to Germany for a shoot that lasted till Wednesday when she had class. So now, in the Taxi, she had to travel from the airport to her uni. It was also pouring down rain and she hadn't brought an umbrella with her. Great. She checked the time, ten minutes late, twenty minutes late, thirty minutes. She got out of the Taxi and shot across the green grounds. She had on some light grey jeans, thigh-high boots, a white shirt and a black leather jacket and an oversized scarf around her neck which she used to cover her hair as she raced into the building. Once in, she took a moment to gather her breath as she dragged her small suitcase with her. She had no time to go home and drop the thing off so she had to go in like this. She could hear Cillian's voice as she pushed open the door and stood there like a moron, "Hi, sorry I'm late." She gulped as all eyes turned to her. "Glad you could make it. Take a seat." Cillian nodded as she sat beside Julian. He gave her a shoulder bump and smiled. She knew Cillian was not impressed with her, she had not been the best during class. Especially with those bitches that sat at the front and constantly making faces or chatted whenever Tessa had to perform a scene. It made her always fumble and she again resorted back into her little bubbled. And on top of that, she had missed two classes this week, almost missing today's class as well. It was also midsemester very soon, and there was to be a small test in the coming weeks Just a theory one, about an hour and a half. Tessa was sort of behind on her work as well, becoming lazy at this point in doing it, especially with her note-taking. And she wasn't going to now ask Julian for his notes, she didn't sit right with that. She wanted to do it on her own. Once class came to an end, Cillian surprisingly didn't call Tessa up after class. So she headed to the library with Julian to do more work on their scripts and sorting out when and where they were to begin their practice together.

It had been now a whole month and a week since Tessa had been going to class, Julian and their play was coming together well but still had a lot to work on as they learned new techniques and ideas. Tessa still kept to herself or kept her head down whenever Cillian called upon someone to act out a scene of their current reading material. On top of it all, her father had sent many more letters to her, telling her of what he was up to and all that. He even had the nerve to send a box of clothing to her in which she simply gave it away. She didn't want to deal with that shit in her life, she had enough on her plate. Her studies and her modelling career took up most of it so she really had no time to dilly dally on stupid things. Even going out with Esther had slowed down as Tessa was always attempting to study her best. Most of the time she passed out on her bed. But today, Cillian was determined to get Tessa back on her feet. He knew she had potential in her, he just needed to force her out of her little bubble. "Tessa," He called out. He was sitting back against his desk, his ankles crossed and the reading material in his hands. He had a black shirt and a green woollen cardigan of some sort on top. He watched Tessa through his glasses, seeing her eyes widen. "Julian. Step up. I'd like you to attempt this scene for the class." Julian stood and urged Tessa to do so, giving her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. Tess was shitting herself but she forced her legs to move as she went to stand in front of the class. And began to do the scene with her best friend. She fumbled a lot, overcome with nerves which caused her to drop the book a lot. "Okay, okay. I think that's enough." Cillian stopped them, "Take a seat. Lucy, James. Come on up, let's finish this off." Cillian waved another pair of students. Tessa felt shame heat her cheeks as she sat down, Julian tried to comfort her but she was too much within herself to notice. She just wanted to get out of here, away from the snickering girls who had been hounding her the last week or so. Her dream came true and the class ended. She packed up her stuff quickly as Cillian wandered over, "May I have a word with you?" He asked. "Uhm. I can't. I got uh... a shoot to get to." She lied, shoving things into her backpack. "It won't be long, Tessa. It's quite important." Cillian was worried for Tessa. She had come late for numerous classes now despite the heads up he got. He believed the reason why she was so shaken and scared was that she was behind. "I really can't, sir. I-I need to go." She slung her bag over her shoulder and darted out quickly. "Tessa." Cillian started but she was already out. "I'll talk to her," Julian said, giving his teacher a smile. "Please do. Check where she is at." Cillian said with a deep frown. The girls were already at their spot as they surrounded Tessa who was now backed up to a wall. "Lookie here, girls. Tessa the Messer once again showed us her light." Sofia laughed. "She was about to piss herself." She shoved her. "Just fuck off." Tessa tried to get through but she was pinned against the wall by one of the other girls. "What did you just say to me?" Sofia snapped, gripping her hair and yanked her head back. "Nothing." Tessa gritted her teeth, going still. Memories of her younger-self being treated in the same fashion. All she could was succumb to their hate and abuse. "That's what I thought." Sofia let her go and shook her head, "You better not step out of line." She said as she took out Tessa's wallet and took a wad of cash from it. "This is from your stupidity." The girls stalked off and left Tessa alone. She leaned against the wall heavily, fighting back the tears. "Tess!" Julian jogged up to her, "Hey- What is the matter?" He saw her watery eyes and messy hair. "Nothing. Just tired. Something in my eyes." She rubbed them hastily. "You sure? You know you can always talk to me." Julian reached out to touch her but she stepped back. "I need to go. I don't want to be late." She gulped as she started to walk down the hall. "Tess! Hey! Wait up-" He went to grab her arm but she spun and yanked her arm back. "Don't grab me like that." Her eyes wide and brows furrowed in shock, "I'll talk to you in class tomorrow." She said firmly and stalked off, leaving Julain stunned and confused. She was falling back into that hole of shit and despair. She had gone for some years now without falling, she was recovering and growing stronger and stronger. But the past few weeks had gotten her to tip more and more. The demand for her work weighed on her shoulders and the thoughts and planning for her upcoming assignment pressed harder on her. Esther was in America for another week and she was always busy so Tessa had no one to really talk to. She didn't want to burden Julian either, he had enough on his plate as well with family issues and his work starting to crumble. Maybe this was indeed a bad idea to study Drama. Or maybe her life was just a joke and the idea of her father wanting to return into her life was the badluck. She had no idea. The only idea she had was.... was what? She literally had no idea. Her mind was a cyclone of thoughts and feelings, she had no idea how to grasp them firmly. But one thought stuck with her. In this world, no matter who she worked with... she was entirely alone. Ever since her sisters had left her with their shitty father, Tessa felt alone. Even with her ex, she was alone. She had never felt proper love, no stable love, actually. It would always be beyond her fingers, even with Esther who wanted to keep things casual between them. And whenever she gazed at Cillian... her soul yearned for a gentleman like him. He was kind and caring to all his students, even if they seemed to try and take advantage of him. Whenever he wasn't looking or if they were to work on something, she found herself admiring him longer and longer, almost catching his eyes as well. But it was no use, she wouldn't find someone like him unless she would be seen as some weird young chick lusting after a much older man. She had no time for it. No time. Except she couldn't help but crave those ideas, not even for just love but... a warm, naked body that she could turn to every night. To touch or kiss... She dreamed a lot of those things, but it would always make her sad when she realised how cold her bed was. She was a very lonely girl in a big, vast world. Very lonely, indeed.

#cillian murphy #teacher x student #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #fanfiction #tommy shelby

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idontfindyouthatinteresting · 5 years ago

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For fic writers, artists, or people who just want to know what on earth is going on with this game, I’ve created some resources, this is the Character Profiles but there is also a…

Glossary / Plot Outline

ALL OF THESE CONTAIN HUGE SPOILERS - THEY ARE THE FACTS AS I KNOW THEM - READING THIS WILL SPOIL THE GAME FOR YOU. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. If there’s anything that’s wrong let me know with a source to the correct answer, but I haven’t written anything I’ve not been sure of, but this is all based on my memory of the game, if there’s characters that should be added, please let me know.

Sam Porter Bridges - Also known as ‘Sam Strand,’ ‘Sam Porter,’ ‘Sam Bridges’ / DOOMS - Lvl 2 / Repatriate / Porter (Bridges, then Independent, then Bridges)

The son of Clifford Unger and Lisa Bridges. Born to a still mother and placed into a BB pod, Cliff attempted to rescue Sam from the Bridges facility and failed resulting in both their deaths. When an infant Sam made it to the Beach, his bullet wound to the stomach was fixed, causing a cross scar on his stomach which is still present in adulthood, and was sent back into the ‘real’ world by Amelie and therefore made into a Repatriate. When back in the ‘real’ world he was brought up by Bridget (Amelie’s older ‘Ha’) as her son. Sam has nightmares in his youth and he ends up on Amelie’s beach where she helps him. Amelie gifts him a dream catcher to try and help him with his nightmares. He had a partner and an unborn child (a son he was going to call ‘Lou,’) lost prior to the start of the game. When the game starts Sam has no attachments, is living as a porter. He has a delivery to Capital Knot City and gets caught up in the death of the President, the woman who raised him, she asks him to complete the chiral network to bring the UCA together again. Sam acquires his BB during these initial tasks, from someone in corpse disposal who passes in a void out Sam survives. Sam is asked to incinerate BB because they believe BB is faulty, but doesn’t. Sam is pursuaded by Amelie to complete the task as laid out by the president, but not because Sam wants to bring America back together again, but because Amelie asked. Sam has to travel cross country connecting the Chiral network, he continues his job as a porter, making deliveries as he goes to help people and to persuade people to join the UCA. Sam has lots of success doing this, and word quickly spreads giving people hope. Sam begins to discover through his connections that the situation and the science aren’t as simple as he thought. He also starts to see what be believes are BB’s memories where Cliff is attempting to free BB from the control of Bridges but they aren’t sure what they mean. He works closely with Fragile, manages to defeat Higgs who heads up a terrorist organisation and makes it to the West connecting things up as he goes. Sam creates a close bond with BB and expresses a desire to live with BB, rejecting the idea that BB is equipment. After travelling all the way West Sam is told he needs to come back East, to meet up with all the scientists he’s met along the way in an attempt to end what the Death Stranding started and avert the extinction of humanity. They learn that Amelie is the key to the extinction and is causing it. Sam is transported to Amelie’s beach to convince her to give humanity a chance. Sam manages to do this, and Amelie will hold up the extinction as long as possible. Sam is rescued from the Beach and returns to life as a porter. After the inauguration of Die-Hardman as the new President, Sam learns of Die-Hardman’s betrayal of Cliff, and is then told that his BB, who he affectionately calls ‘Lou’ after his unborn child, has passed with the strains of their journey. Sam take Lou on one last delivery to the incinerator to stop Lou becoming a BT. Deadman deactivates Sam’s cufflinks so he can leave Bridges if he wants. Sam connects with Lou’s pod in an attempt to wake her up and see’s memories of Cliff attempting to save him as a baby, managing to talk with Cliff properly and they discover together they’re actually father and son. After this Sam burns his cufflinks in the incinerator but can’t bear to burn Lou and breaks the pod and resuscitates her successfully. Sam leaves with Lou giving up with life with Bridges. In connecting America back together again, Sam learns that humanity is worth it, worth saving and that if the whole country is worth saving, maybe he is too. Sam for a large part of the story has a fear of touch which affects him profoundly, but by the end of the story it seems to affect him less.

Fragile / DOOMS - Lvl UNKNOWN (Greater than Sam) / Porter Company Owner (Fragile Express)

Fragile DOOMs gives her the ability to teleport to her Beach and then teleport in the ‘real’ world, so she is able to travel long distances quickly. She took over her father’s porter company, Fragile Express, to continue her father’s dream of bringing America together again. Fragile worked with Higgs for a long time, but was betrayed by him as Higgs hid an armed nuclear bomb in her cargo bound for Middle Knot City. The bomb detonated and the city destroyed. Higgs takes Fragile hostage, and has a second bomb which he gives to her in the middle of South Knot City, Higgs causes timefall and tasks Fragile with running the bomb, in her underwear through Timefall to save the city, or to vanish and save herself. Higgs only give Fragile covering for her head so everyone always knows her face. Fragile saves the city, but exposes her body to Timefall which drastically ages her skin. There was a lot of speculation about whether Fragile Express was a terrorist organisation or used by Higgs, so the company causes a lot of controversy in certain areas of America. Sam isn’t sure what to believe and doesn’t trust Fragile for a long time. Higgs attempts a false delivery again to get Sam to take a bomb to Fragile, but they discover it ahead of time and Sam throws the bomb into the tar pit. Sam and Fragile build trust over this. Fragile helps to send Sam after Higgs in an attempt to rescue Amelie on the condition that Fragile can finish Higgs off. Sam delivers Higgs to Fragile, weak but alive. Fragile gets information from him, but cannot bear to shoot him despite her desire too and offers to leave him stranded on the beach forever or he can shoot himself. Fragile offers to take Sam back east but Sam decides to go with Amelie and is stranded. Fragile transports the team working to end the extinction to Capital Knot City, hugely weakening herself and putting herself in a coma, and can’t manage to get Sam. Fragile then sends Sam to Amelie’s beach to stop the extinction at the end, at great pains to her. Once the extinction is avoided, Fragile gets the first private contract for Porters from the UCA, she offers Sam a job with her which Sam refuses in order to go off grid. Fragile says that Sam doesn’t have run and hide anymore, that he’s changed, got something to fight for.

Clifford Unger - Also known as ‘Cliff,’ ‘Veteran’ / DOOMS - None / Soldier

Cliff is in the American military, fought in many wars contemporary to us. Fought with Die-Hardman and was his Captain, Die-Hardman credits Cliff with saving his life repeatedly. Cliff is married to Lisa Bridges and Lisa falls pregnant with their first child together, Cliff leaves the military in order to be there for his wife and child. Unfortunately Lisa falls ill and is turned into a still mother, their unborn child removed from the womb at 28 weeks. Cliff is told repeatedly they’d attempt to get BB and Lisa out of their states, but this was a lie. Cliff is told this by Die-Hardman, that BB will be taken away and used as the base code for a Knot City and he gives Cliff a window to end Lisa’s life, a mercy, and take BB and try and get him out of the hospital. Cliff attempts this, but fails, is shot and captured by hospital/Bridges security. Cliff removes BB from his pod, and he survives against the odds, Amelie shoots Cliff to try and get BB back but accidentally shoots BB too. Cliff is seen on the beach in the distance when Amelie sends BB back into the ‘real’ world. It is presumed, but not shown that Amelie convinces Cliff to work for her in exchange for being able to get his child back again. Amelie gives Cliff powers and Cliff sets about attempting to find his child in the world. Cliff’s military background means that he connects with beaches created from the mass slaughter of millions of soliders in battles and his connection with Sam, as Sam is secretly his son, drags Sam into these battles. Both Sam and Cliff are of the belief the BB Cliff is looking for is Sam’s BB (Lou), and Sam fights Cliff to try and weaken him so Sam is allowed back to the ‘real’ world and Cliff tries to take Sam’s BB (Lou) by mistake. Bridges are of the opinion for a time that Cliff is actually controlling Higgs and the mastermind behind the extinction event. In the last battle, Cliff and Sam bond over their care for what is perceived to be the same BB, and Lou expresses a happiness to stay with Sam, which Cliff accepts, he hugs Sam and disappears. Cliff is next seen when Sam is accessing what he believes to be the memories of Lou who was dead at this point. Sam thinks he’s just watching the memories, but he’s able to influence them, he puts himself between Cliff and Die-Hardman’s gun. Cliff realises that Sam’s full name is ‘Sam Porter Bridges’ and puts the pieces together that Sam is actually his son. Cliff puts himself between Sam and the gun and Amelie shoots him, killing Cliff and what has been discovered to be the infant Sam at the same time. Cliff has associations and seems to gain his power from the BT tar, and has an army of dead soldiers he can command. He also uses Amelie’s substitute BB’s - the creepy dolls. Cliff’s motivation is simply to get his son back and show him the world. He gets peace from knowing that Sam has done that, lived a good life, done good things and helped connect America. At the end, Cliff says that he’s always been a stopping point, obstructive like a cliff face, but Sam has always been his bridge to the future.

Deadman / DOOMs - None / Doctor (Bridges)

A Bridges doctor, who was grown from embryonic stem cells and flesh harvested from cadavers. Because of his he has a Ha, a physical body, but no Ka, no soul. Deadman has a self-confessed dislike of BB’s, and Lou is aware of this and leaks artificial womb fluid all over him deliberately. Deadman says that he has no mother, no family, no friends, no beach. But in helping to save humanity he gains friends, and a bond with Lou. Deadman does a lot of research for Sam, finding out information he shouldn’t have access too and digging up details on Die-Hardman for him. Deadman pulls Sam off of Amelie’s Beach back into the ‘real’ world, he helps when Lou gets sick and helps them get better for Sam and helps Sam disappear at the end of the story for a life with Lou undisturbed by the UCA. Despite Sam not liking touch, he voluntarily hugs Deadman at the end of the story which clearly has a profound effect on him, finally building connections with people who aren’t dead.

Malingen - Also known as ‘Mama’ / DOOMs - Lvl UNKNOWN / Hardware Technician (Bridges)

Twin sister to Lockne with whom she has an intense bond, they’re believed to be one Ka separated between two Ha’s. Malingen created the Chiral network and Q-pid hardware, is a genius of unknown proportions. Malingen had no viable eggs, and her sister was unable to carry a baby to term, so when her sister needed a surrogate, Malingen stepped up to carry her child. Whilst awaiting a C-section a terrorist attack meant the hospital was bombed, Malingen was trapped inside and gave birth whilst trapped in the rubble, the baby passed and became a BT whilst still connected to Malingen. Her child’s crying caused Mama to be found and rescued, but she was unable to leave the site because of her child’s connection with the site and the other side. Mama’s child is a harmless BT whom she can cradle and touch, but this is because Mama is dead, hiding her status by not wearing her cufflinks properly. There is an issue with the Q-pid, which requests Lockne’s help to fix, but Lockne and Mama grew apart after the issues with their child. Mama knows that to get the Q-pid fixed, she needs to see Lockne, to build their bond again and convince her to help bridges. Mama creates the umbilical cord cutting cufflinks for Sam using Sam’s own blood and gets Sam to separate her and her child by cutting the cord. Mama only has a short time to live without the connection to her child, and Sam transports her to Lockne and Mama passes once she meets her sister again. As Malingen and Lockne are on Ka, Mama is still able to converse with Sam through Lockne.

Lockne / DOOMS - Lvl UNKNOWN / Software Technician (Independent, then Bridges)

Twin sister of Malingen with whom she has an intense bond, they’re believed to be one Ka separated between two Ha’s. Lockne wrote the software enabling the Chiral Network and the Q-pid, is of equal genius to her twin and runs Mountain Knot City. After issues with the UCA she wouldn’t accept joining until Malingen was brought to her, and accepted joining as one of her final wishes. Lockne felt Malingen return to her after her Ha finally passed and continued help to fight the extinction event with her and everyone else. Lockne takes care of Lou whilst Sam goes to convince Amelie to stop the extinction.

Die-Hardman - Also known as ‘John Blake McClane’ / DOOMS - None / Head of Bridges, President of the United Cities of America, Former Soldier

Formerly a soldier in a unit with Clifford Unger for the American army and credits him with saving his life on multiple occasions. Die-Hardman then joined Bridges, and was part of the security team supervising the hospital where Cliff’s wife and son were being treated. Die-Hardman gave Cliff the advice and window needed to attempt to escape. This escape is a failure, and Die-Hardman is ordered to shoot Cliff by Bridget, in the first timeline we see, he does this. Die-Hardman continues to serve Bridget until her death as the President of the UCA. He wants to finish her work and attempts to persuade and help guide Sam across the US. Die-Hardman is primarily the one giving Sam orders during the story. As time goes on, Deadman and Sam become less sure they can trust him, because of his involvement with the BB program and potentially hiding files. Die-Hardman is taken to Amelie’s beach but he manages to smuggle a gun. He comes face to face with Cliff once more, Cliff doesn’t kill Die-Hardman on sight which is what he expected, Die-Hardman believes this means Cliff has forgiven him. Die-Hardman is spared from the beach and reappears in Captial Knot City weak but alive. It’s unknown what happened to him. When we next see him he’s being inaugurated as the President of the UCA, in his speech, he thanks Sam for his work as an ‘unsung hero’ but doesn’t name him directly as he knows Sam wouldn’t want that. After the ceremony, Die-Hardman catches up with Sam and they discuss Cliff, Die-Hardman breaks down with the weight of what he did and expresses that he thinks that Cliff would have forgiven him and Sam reacts badly, Sam recovered the gun Die-Hardman left on the Beach, and gives it back to him, advising Die-Hardman that “the gun won’t work here.” When Sam manages to get back into his own memories, he’s able to be present there as an adult and effects them, he puts himself between Cliff and Die-Hardman’s gun, this forces Bridget to take hold of the gun and the trigger over Die-Hardman’s hand and shoots Cliff. Die-Hardman wears a mask for most of the story, it’s believed that his face is badly burned which is why he wears it, but actually it’s Bridgets mask, worn by Die-Hardman so people wouldn’t recognise him, after being inaugurated he removes the mask.

Heartman / DOOMS - Lvl UNKNOWN / Research Scientist (Bridges)

Heartman lives and works in a distant lab, South East of Mountain Knot City. When Sam meets him Heartman is dead, an AED device he permanently wears over his check shocks his heart and he wakes up. Heartman advises Sam that he was undergoing heart surgery in a hospital when an attack destroyed the hospital’s generator, and Heartman was dead for 21 minutes. His wife and child were killed in the attack and Heartman lost them on the Beach. Since then, every 21 minutes his heart goes into cardiac-arrest and he dies, he’s dead for 3 minutes before his AED shocks him back. During this time, he searches Beaches for his wife and child. Heartman dies and is resuscitated 60 times a day, he has a collection of media which can be consumed within 21 minutes, he says that largely bodily functions can be fit into a 21 minute window, with the exception of sleep and sex. Heartman’s heart is drastically malformed because of the strain it’s under and is more

BB-28 - Also known as ‘Bridge Baby,’ ‘BB,’ ‘Lou′ / DOOMs - None / Bridge Baby

BB-28 is first seen being used by a member of Corpse Disposal, Sam goes with CD and they’re attacked by BT’s, the CD person using BB-28 is taken by BT’s and he throws the BB away to save them. Sam survives the attack as he’s a repatriate and uses BB-28 to get back to Capital Knot City. Sam is tasked with taking the Presidents body for incineration and they include a still living BB-28 in the cargo for incineration as they believe BB-28 malfunctioned, leading to the void out. Sam doesn’t want to incinerate BB-28, and is attacked by BT’s in the incinerator, he uses BB again to get back to Capital Knot City, and says that he’d continue to use BB. Sam and BB bond through deliveries, avoiding BT’s and travelling together. BB’s usually don’t work for people with DOOMs, despite this Lou and Sam work well together and their connection is undeniable, Sam starts to refer to BB-28 as ‘Lou’ which we find out is the name Sam and his partner would have given to their unborn child who passed. When Sam gets to Mountain Knot City, Deadman says that Lou needs treatment as they’re drifting off balance and leaning more to the world of the living than the dead like other BB’s, and Sam said that this isn’t a problem for him as they want to live together. Deadman is able to restore the balance, but in doing so he wipes Lou’s memories of Sam and they have to rebuild their bond again. But they do this without issue. As the circumstances with Cliff become more apparent and they continue to visit him in the supercells, it’s believed that Lou is Cliff’s child, the lullaby that Cliff sings to his child makes Lou happy with Sam whistles it to them. As Sam travels to Capital Knot City again Lou gets more unwell, is unable to connect fully in their incubator. Sam leaves Lou behind to go Amelie’s beach with Lockne for safety. When Sam returns from Amelie’s beach and Die-Hardman is inaugurated, Deadman advises Sam that Lou has passed away, presumably from the stress of the journey. Sam takes it upon himself to deliver Lou to the incinerator to stop them becoming a BT. Sam at the last minute rescues Lou from the incinerator, breaks open their pod and attempts to resuscitate Lou, with only a 30% chance of success, but is successful. Lou is awake and alive when Sam steps out of the incinerator. It’s revealed in a post credits scene that Lou’s full name is Louise. Lou controls Sam’s Odradek which waves BT’s goodbye once they’re defeated and gives a thumbs up when you’re clear of BT’s. When Higgs shoots Sam, Lou uses the Odradek to protect him from the bullets. You can rock Lou, and Lou will give you likes. If you fall off a high ledge or walk in too high water Lou will cry and you need to soothe her by rocking her. Too many attacks from BT’s will give Lou autotoxemia and she needs to go back into her incubator in a private room to recover.

Amelie Strand - Also known as ‘Extinction Entity,’ ‘EE,’ ‘Bridget,’ ‘ Amerigo,’ / DOOMs - Lvl UNKNOWN / Extinction Entity, President of the UCA

Amelie’s story is complex, to start with, she’s shown as someone who soothed Sam on the beach as a child when he had nightmares. She ran Bridges Expedition I which set up the Chiral Network, but was taken hostage in Edge Knot City and is unable to leave because of the terrorists. Sam can speak with her through Chiralgrams and Amelie convinces Sam to travel West and connect up the Chiral Network, Sam does this for her and her alone, as Bridget, the President of the UCA, brought them both up and Sam feels for her strongly. As Sam travels West he hears lots of stories of how wonderful Amelie is but that no one has seen her physically for a long time. Heartman and Sam come to the conclusion Amelie is an Extinction Entity, able to create an extinction and end humanity, that she is powerful and her Beach is greater than any other humans. As Sam gets to Edge Knot City, he reveals Amelie’s location to Higgs who supposedly takes her hostage on the Beach. Sam travels East again so Fragile can jump Sam to Amelie’s Beach, but they realize that actually, Amelie tasked Higgs with speeding up the end of the world, and gave him his powers. The creepy doll’s are Amelie’s version of Bridge Babies with ties to her beach and therefore it’s discovered that she also brought Cliff into the fold, again in an attempt to speed up the end of the world. Sam manages to get to Amelie’s beach, and Amelie said that she didn’t feel she had a choice, extinction was inevitable, and she thought she was doing a kindness by making it quick, Sam convinces her humanity is worth it, and convinces Amelie to hold back extinction as long as possible to give humanity a chance to evolve to avoid it. Whilst Sam is awaiting rescue from the beach, Amelie explains her true story. Amelie reveals Bridget is not her mother, but in fact they’re the same person. At 20 years old an operation meant that Amelie’s Ka and Ha were seperated, her Ha - ages and therefore becomes Bridget so people aren’t suspicious. Amelie and her Ka are stuck on the Beach, but can project herself forward. Amelie created the Chiral network as a part of the Bridges 1 Expedition to speed the extinction process up but increasing the amount of Chiralium in the world. Amelie planted the Bridge Babies at the centre of cities and that’s what she needed Cliff’s child for. When Cliff and the infant Sam are shot by Bridget, Amelie finds Sam on her beach, and sends him back to the ‘real’ world and in doing so grants the world with DOOMs and makes Sam a repatriate. Amelie then helps Sam through the nightmares and gifts him a dream catcher, Sam as a child gifts Amelie with a necklace, Quipu, which becomes a tailsman for their connection and helps them find each other on the beach. Amelie is left on the beach, holding back the antimatter back for what could potentially be hundreds of thousands of years.

Higgs Monaghan - Also known as ‘Peter Englert’ / DOOMs - Lvl 7 / Ex-Porter, Terrorist, Leader of the Homo Demens

Higgs was abused by his father, who he killed and watched become a BT. He worked with Fragile, but betrayed her and became a terrorist, tricking her into sending a nuclear bomb into Middle Knot City. Higgs is a separatist, claiming to be working for the independence of Edge Knot City and wants to stop UCA expansion. Higgs tortures Fragile by sending her into Timefall in her underwear to avoid another city being bombed. Higgs is found to have been given his powers and orders by Amelie, to speed up the extinction. Higgs has the power to summon timefall and BT’s and can control them. Sam chases Higgs to the beach to rescue Amelie when Higgs claims to kidnap her and weakens him, refusing to use weapons to do so. Fragile gives Higgs the choice between being stuck on the beach forever or shooting himself and Higgs chooses to shoot himself. Amelie is presumed to have created the terrorist cells to make the UCA believe building the Chiral Network was the best thing, when in fact that helps to trigger the extinction and also to find an excuse to being using Bridge Babies again. The UCA discontinues BB’s because of ethical grounds, but says that since the terrorists bring the technology back, they must start using them again, when in fact the terrorists are using Amelie’s doll sensors, linked to her beach and drawing their power from there. Higg’s terrorists have no desire for Cargo like MULEs, just to capture Sam and stop him.

#Death Stranding #Hideo Kojima #Mads Mikkelsen #Norman Reedus #Character guides #characters #profiles #resources #info #mine #SPOILERS #SPOILER ALERT

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arthurmorganismaboah · 5 years ago

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Outlaws Never Die - Chapter 2- Cowpoke and the Hussy.

___________________________________

You awoke early, the cold air wrapping itself around you. You had probably only slept for an hour. The wind and snow howling even louder outside as if it could get any worse. The fire had since died out as you lay there shivering, teeth chattering, gripping hold of your coat and the blankets Arthur had given you.

“Y/N, come here.” Arthur’s voice was low, and raspy you realised you had just woke him up with your teeth chattering and you felt bad. He hardly ever got enough sleep. “Y/N, please come here.”

You could barely see him now the fire was down to its last embers, but you could see his outline and his arms open. Scooting up closer he embraced you in his arms. You could feel how strong he was and although it was freezing cold, he felt so warm. He put his head on top of yours, holding you in a way you had never been held before. You felt safe.

“Is that better?”

You nodded and nuzzled into his chest and his breathing hitched. “Thank you, Arthur”

“Mmm?” He was half asleep, his sleepy voice gave you butterflies in your stomach, you’d never heard it before and there was just something about it that made you tingle all over. “Don’t thank me, Y/N. Try and get a bit more sleep before the sun comes up.”

You just nodded and relaxed against his body. Feeling warm and safe, you drifted back off to sleep.

***

Micah came bounding in the cabin. Stomping feet, his hands hooked around his gun holster, not even trying to be quiet. “Come on. Wakey, wakey.” He grinned as your skin crawled.

“Ohh. Look who it is! Cowpoke and the hussy!” You would have usually had a go at him for calling you such a derogatory term, but he did it so much you just gave up with him and wouldn’t sink to his level.

“You got yourself a lady friend there, Morgan? Was wondering where you snuck off to Y/N. Could have come to my cabin instead, I would have warmed you up good and proper.” Arthur’s whole body tensed up and you felt it.

“Oh, go away, Micah. Nobody likes you except Dutch.” Arthur groaned out burying his face in your hair to protect his eyes from the bright light of the outdoors. Micah still standing above where you both lay.

Micah kicked Arthur’s boots, “come on cowpoke. Dutch wants a word. Now!” He turned around on his heals not before looking back at you and winking. “You know where I am, Y/N.” He really was a pathetic excuse of a person, always getting on people’s nerves, causing problems for so many people in camp, constantly getting bounties and putting the gang at risk. Arthur got up, stretched and picked up his holster sliding it around his waist. You watched every second, every movement he made.

“I’m sorry about, Micah. I’ll have a word with him.” He brought you back to reality.

“It’s okay, Arthur. Really. Micah is, well... Micah. I’m used to his constant drone now, however annoying it might be.”

Arthur smiled picking up his hat and placing it on his head. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Don’t pick up on his offer he just made there, please? I’d hate to watch you with someone like him...”

Your heart was thumping in your chest, why was Arthur saying that? Was he... was he jealous? You looked at Arthur. How he tensed up when Micah said about him warming you up properly.

“Oh dear, God! Never! I would never swoop quite that low.”

Arthur breathed out heavily. Was that relief? Or was he just cold? Was I looking into things too much? Probably. Arthur would never like someone like me. I was ten years younger than him, inexperienced. I’d never even kissed anyone. I didn’t dress like a girly girl, every girl around camp carried themselves around perfectly. Amazing dresses, pretty makeup, nice done up hair, always riding horses by side saddle looking majestic and almost like royalty. You might as well have been one of the men compared to the other girls.

“Good, Y/N. I’ll catch you later, okay? Please look after yourself in this weather and don’t stray too far from camp. Promise me?”

“I promise.” You watched Arthur leave and you were alone again. Your hair smelt faintly of Arthur. Stale cigarettes, whiskey and just him. You felt warmth inside your chest. There was just something about him that you couldn’t put your hand on. Standing up and dusting yourself off you looked into a small, broken mirror that was hanging on the wall and started fixing your bed head as much as you could, sticking down stray hairs and running small knots through your fingers. It had been awhile since you last washed your hair and you were hoping you would be able to soon.

Stepping outside the cold air hit you again, it was weirdly quiet around camp but there wasn’t much to talk about these days. Everyone was hungry, cold and no one had much energy with being cold to the bone throughout the day. You stepped inside the girl’s cabin and only Karen was sitting on a cot.

“Y/N! There you are! Where did you sneak off to last night?” Karen questioned neatening her hair and dress, “Everyone else is with Abigail. She’s worried about Marston; he hasn’t been back”

“Still? Is anyone going to go out and look for him?” worry laced your voice, the group had already lost people black in Blackwater, you didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Arthur and Javier went out to look for him... talking about Arthur, I saw you outside his cabin... you have a soft spot for him, don’t you?” she grinned as she sat down with a bowl of stew. I was starving.

“I... I... no?” you tried to sound convincing, but it was never easy for you to lie. Karen smiled at you and shook her head with a mouth full of stew.

“hey, don’t worry. I’ll not say nothing to no one. Arthur is one of the good men here.” She sat stirring her spoon around her bowl, “You should get some stew. It’s really warming as always; I am sure you’re hungry.”

“yeah, I'll go get some. Catch you later, Karen.” You smiled and left the cabin and went to get some stew from Pearson. It was amazing how he could make the simplest of ingredients taste somewhat good. It was warming and just what you needed in this cold weather.

“I could really do with some more supplies Y/N. Think you could go out with Charles and catch something for us?”

It had been so long since you had been out hunting but you would do what you can for the group, you were a pretty good shot and it would get you out of the camp and away from everyone worrying. You just wanted to forget about what was going on at the minute, you didn’t want to worry yourself silly about Arthur as you always did.

“Sure, I’ll go and get Charles.”

***

You had been travelling with Charles for a while, further from camp just in case wolves came. The last thing you wanted to do was bring wolves back to camp. You were riding a spare horse that Dutch has found the night before, a cute palomino with a dark sandy coat. She was now your horse and you could see yourself becoming very fond of her very quickly.

“This area looks good, there’s some grass uncovered here, and we aren’t the only ones that need to eat” Charles got off his horse, “We should go on foot from here, makes much less noise.”

You followed Charles with your bow clutched in your hands as he did the tracking. You weren’t great at tracking, you could do it, but it would just take a lot longer and you didn’t have the time for that with only a few more hours of daylight.

“There.”

A deer not too far away grazing on uncovered grass, the snowstorm was clearing, and you would be able to move from here soon. Pulling the arrow back from your bow you let go and the deer fell.

“Good shot, Y/N. we will leave that one there for a minute and get one more.”

Following Charles some more for a few feet another deer was minding its own business feasting on the grass. Pulling your arrow back once more and letting go, the second deer fell.

“You really are a good shot, Y/N. I’m impressed. Are you okay to grab that deer or do you want me to do it?”

“no, its okay, Charles. I will do it.” You approached the dead deer and took your arrow. You didn’t like killing things, but it was either that or let the whole camp starve. Everyone has their place in this camp and things just needed to be done. Stowing the deer on your horse you both made your way back to camp knowing you were going to be well fed tonight.

#Arthur morgan #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #y/n #micah bell #slow burn #slow build #eventual romance #loss of virginity #virginity #fluff and angst #love

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the-voltage-diaries · 6 years ago

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Make Me Burn - Eisuke Ichinomiya [Request]

There you go, @leoamber66, @kbtbbposts, @stay-positive16

Warning: NSFW

“... fuck,” Eisuke said, scrunching up the note left by a certain someone on his bedside table before vanishing away into the early hours of the morning. ‘Let us forget what happened last night’, was what the note said. Glancing at the table clock to see it read 6:45 A.M., Eisuke got up to get started on the new day, trying his best to shake off the image of his secretary writhing under him in pleasure.

It had all started three days ago, when he had seen Elena, his then girlfriend, cheat on him. He had returned from his business trip two days early, hoping to surprise his girlfriend, spending time with her on the day he was born, 29 years ago. What he wasn’t prepared was the gift Elena gave him; a sight that broke him more than he thought he was capable of. There she was, the one he proudly called his, on his bed; naked, writhing in pleasure as some guy rammed himself into her like a hungry beast.

Elena, upon seeing Eisuke, had begged on her knees for forgiveness, promising to never cheat again. Eisuke had only pushed her away violently, having his trust broken... yet again. His body had turned cold and rigid, imitating his heart, and as he had turned around and walked away from Elena, he had lifted up a hand to wipe away the single tear that had managed to slip out.

Eisuke shook his head as he turned the shower on, wanting to get rid of the bitter taste the memory had left in his mouth. He flinched in pain as hot water came rushing down on his body, making his skin burn. He did nothing to stop the pain, for it made him feel alive. It made his dead soul realise that he was still capable of feeling emotions. He closed his eyes, remembering the face of his secretary, how her biting remarks turned into moans of pleasure as his fingers worked their magic on her last night.

After giving himself a day to calm down after facing Elena’s betrayal on his birthday, it was nearly eleven-thirty at night when Eisuke took out his mobile, wanting to ask Soryu to join him for a drink, venting out to him in the process. What he didn’t know was that he had accidentally sent that text to his secretary, (Y/N). It was when she had texted him back, agreeing to come up to the penthouse, had Eisuke realised who the text had gone to.

Fine. Give me 10 minutes. Eisuke kept looking at the text time and again, not believing that his generally closed-off secretary was actually willing to join him for a drink after work hours. Much to his shock and unexpected relief, she had come, that too in record time. Dressed in a hoodie and loose trousers, (Y/N) looked much more casual and approachable than she had ever looked in the 6 years he had known her.

Raising her eyebrows in amusement, she had said, “Are you planning to keep me out here the whole time or what?” Smirking, she had pushed him aside by his shoulder, making herself at home in his living room. Eisuke wasn’t the least bit bothered though, for they had gotten pretty close in the six years she had served him as his secretary. He could probably even say that after Soryu, she was the most trusted person on his list.

“You sure do seem comfortable, Ms. Secretary,” Eisuke flashed his usual smirk, feeling better already for some reason. Grabbing two glasses of champagne from the table, he passed one over to (Y/N) before sitting down on the couch, some distance away from her.

“What’s wrong, Ichinomiya? You’re not the one to just text anyone so late at night, asking them to have a drink with you ‘cause you want to talk,” She said, taking a sip from her glass. After bantering with her for a while about knowing him, he took a deep breath, finally deciding to let it out.

“So, Elena and I broke up,” He said, looking up to see (Y/N)’s eyes go wide with shock. Before she could ask why, he answered it, “She cheated on me. I found her fucking some stranger, in my goddamn bed.”

“THE FUCK?!” (Y/N) had screamed, not believing her ears. Eisuke seemed shocked too, for he had never heard (Y/N) curse in all these years. “But... she was the one who hinted at marrying you, right? For god’s sake, you even brought her a ring to surprise her!”

Eisuke and Elena had been dating for five long years, and just as (Y/N) had said, Eisuke had wanted to marry Elena. She had been his everything, his support, his rock, his companion, his best friend, everything. But this was before she cheated on him.

After telling (Y/N) everything that had happened two days ago, he took a deep breath, waiting for his secretary to say something. As he looked over to his (Y/N)’s face processing everything, realisation of him trusting her enough to tell her everything struck him down hard. Just a few hours ago he had thought about everyone betraying him, but here he was, looking across at a face showing genuine anger for something that had happened to him, not (Y/N).

Slowly as the night progressed, one glass had turned into one too many, and before either of them could do anything, they both were drunk. Looking across at (Y/N), Eisuke felt some sort of heat in his chest. She had stuck by his side like glue even when shit had gone down, never once backing away from trusting him.

Once I trust someone, it’s hard to break it, Mr. Ichinomiya, she had said. As Eisuke kept looking at her slightly flushed face, probably matching his own, he could only think of the deep sense of security and safety she had silently offered him in all the long years, ever since the day he had gained her trust. Had anything ever gone wrong, somewhere in his heart, Eisuke had felt assured that he’d have (Y/N) by his side every time. She had not broken that faith even that night.

Feeling unexplained emotions, Eisuke had suddenly felt the urge to kiss (Y/N) thin lips, the ones that always had a sarcastic retort at ready. He suddenly felt the urgent need to kiss her neck, mark her as his, and his only. He wanted to run his fingers down her sides, he wanted to watch (Y/N), who always looked so poised and composed, come undone.

His eyes widened as the word came to his mind for what he was feeling - desire. Strong, unguarded desire. Little did he know, (Y/N) wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. She had never dared to utter a word, but even (Y/N) felt attraction towards her boss, but not because of those riches he loved to show off. She liked him because he had showed his vulnerable moments. He had proven that he was a human too, and he had his fair share of anxiety and breakdowns too. But the day Eisuke had introduced her to his then girlfriend, Elena, was the day when she had decided to bury her emotions within her forever. Now, though, as she sat there on the couch of Eisuke’s penthouse suite’s living room, she could feel the lid to her raw affection for him slowly come undone.

While she was busy wondering all this, she had failed to notice Eisuke close in on her, tugging on her wrist to pull her towards him, and before she could get her wits about her and stop her emotions from running amok, Eisuke had tugged her in by the waist, planting his soft lips firmly on her thin ones. Her eyes widened in surprise, before they closed on their own, her lips moving to kiss him back.

As Eisuke’s hands traveled along her sides, her eyes opened wide once again, her hands pushing Eisuke away, “Eisuke, no--”

“Shh already,” Eisuke said, grabbing her wrists and returning his lips to the place they were at before; her lips. Eisuke’s passionate kisses turned gentle, as if coaxing (Y/N) to relax into him, his tongue prodding at her mouth, aching to meet her own.

Eisuke’s kiss did it’s magic on (Y/N), as she closed her eyes, relaxing into him, trusting him to handle everything. Just once. Even if he can be mine for one night, please, let him, she thought, parting her lips and allowing Eisuke’s tongue to entwine with her own, rubbing against each other, their lips in perfect harmony.

Things gradually turned from gentle to heated as they made their way to his bedroom, discarding their inhibitions in the process. Once they were standing near the bed, Eisuke slowly took off (Y/N)’s hoodie, taking his time to let the picture of (Y/N), nearly half naked, with the water from the aquarium reflecting off of her toned abdomen in the dark of the room. As soon as he had taken her hoodie off, she pulled him close, kissing his lips, trying to quench her desires.

The sight of (Y/N) in her black sports bra, matching trousers, and messy open hair turned Eisuke on more than any female had ever done. He went on his knees, looking up at her, in her eyes, smirking as he kissed just below her belly button, his fingers tugging at her trousers, slowly pulling them down, his lips following the path.

(Y/N) whimpered, her fingers finding Eisuke’s hair, pulling him up as soon as her trousers hit her ankles, her fingers busy undoing the buttons on Eisuke’s shirt, kissing his collarbones, chest and abs and more of his skin peeked out. Eisuke was now more turned on than ever, for this woman did something to him. Her kisses made him feel not only heated, but also in some sense, safe. He felt he could be himself with (Y/N), in a sense that he didn’t even feel with Elena.

Grabbing (Y/N)’s face, he kissed the daylights out of her in an attempt to get rid of the overly emotional thoughts. He smiled when he found her lips kissing him back with the same fervor. Her fingers went down to lightly stoke along the outline of Eisuke’s crotch, making him groan from the sudden touch. She smirked, her touch becoming a little more firm as Eisuke’s hands traveled down to her abdomen, his fingers stoking her sides, making her whimper.

Her fingers took their time in undoing his pants, increasing his frustration at the lack of her touch. As soon as she had gotten his pants out of the way, he pushed her on the bed, his lips finding themselves at her ankles, slowly kissing their way up her smooth skin. His underwear felt tighter as he looked down at the beauty under him, in her black bra and matching panties, her hands gripping the sheets tighter with each touch of Eisuke’s lips. He got up, and freed the sheets from her grasp, placing her wrists on his shoulders. Eisuke kissed under her earlobe, nearly coming undone just from the mewl (Y/N) let out.

Going back to her knees, Eisuke continued to kiss her legs as his fingers played with her sides; one of her soft spots. Kissing his way up to her inner thighs, he took his time, smelling her oh-so-inviting core. Looking down, he saw a small dark patch already forming on her panties. Smirking, he gave the spot a light peck, internally shivering at (Y/N)’s responsive groan.

His lips went back to hers and his fingers worked to take off her bra, leaving her top half bare for him to etch into his memory. Bending down to kiss her right nipple, he whispered, loud enough for her to hear, “Spread your legs.”

As soon as she had followed his command, his right hand went down to stroke the wet area over her panties, making a shiver run up her spine. His fingers continued to massage her folds while his mouth was busy kissing her neck, his other hand focusing on pleasuring her left breast. (Y/N) whimpered from the amount of pleasure she was receiving, when she felt Eisuke’s fingers slip inside her panties.

A moan left her lips and Eisuke’s middle finger entered her folds, his thumb finding her clit. He rubbed circles around her clit, making her arch her back in absolute ecstasy. before Eisuke could go on though, (Y/N) flipped them over, making him lie under her, her hands slowly moving down to his. Eisuke closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of (Y/N)’s fingers massaging his balls, the friction caused by the fabric of his underwear adding to the pleasure. Her hands slipped inside his boxers, gripping his already hard member, as she slowly began to stroke him. She increased her pace as she felt his release coming, but then slowed down.

Eisuke, frustrated, flipped the over once again, removing his boxers and her panties completely in the process. The both of them were way too turned on and frustrated for any more games now, and he entered her with one stroke, making her moan out loud. He groaned, enjoying the tightness and warmth (Y/N)’s core offered him, his fingers toying with her clit.

(Y/N) screamed, her body not used to so much stimulation, and her fingers gripped Eisuke’s hair, holding onto him. Her hips rose up to match his rhythm, the both of them losing their hold on reason when faced with desire.

Eisuke rocked into her, getting even more turned on when her fingers started plying with his nipples, twisting and rubbing them, and he rammed himself into her harder with each passing second. The both of them melted into each other as their orgasms rocked through their bodies, making them see white.

Eisuke fell on top of (Y/N), enjoying the feeling of her heated body against his own. Taking a moment to come down from his high, he laid down beside (Y/N), wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, finally drifting off to sleep after two long, sleepless nights.

This morning, (Y/N) woke up to find herself in a certain someone’s embrace, the events of the previous night flooding her mind as her eyes widened in horror: she had slept with THE Eisuke Ichinomiya. Quickly getting out and dressing up, she left a not by his bedside asking him to forget that night ever happened, wanting to die in a hole of embarrassment. As soon as she had written the note, she rushed back to her place to get ready for another official day.

Dressed in a grey shirt, black trousers and black suit jacket, (Y/N) was busy typing away at her laptop when she heard the door to the office open. Getting up to greet her boss, she tried her best to not let the memories of the previous night affect her.

As she turned to walk out of his cabin, Eisuke grasped her wrist and pulled her back, much to her surprise. Turning around, she was about to push him away when he pulled her close by the waist, whispering something in her ear that made her eyes widen with shock as she felt a chill run down her spine.

“You are now my girlfriend.”

#eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb #smut #kissed by the baddest bidder #cheating #make #me #burn #fanfiction #soryu oh

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