#this is mostly about her jewelry and her white ribbed shirt

[chasingfictions]

COURTNEY EATON as LOTTIE MATTHEWS | yellowjackets 1x06 - "saints"

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

monster, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi and his bodyguard Jeon Jungkook punish you for being a smartass. Oh, I guess there’s some plot too. Maybe.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected sex [get tested please], creampie); abuse;  non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (black-haired Daechwita AU), longhaired!tattooed!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; Jungkook has a praise kink; you have a pain kink (maybe psycho tbh)

--

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“And?”

He tapped the air with his black card.

“Order anything you like.”

A beat passed in silence. You shut the leather menu you were holding and placed it on the table. You closed your eyes slowly and blinked at him.

“I don’t think this date is going to work out.”

You turned and were about to get up from your chair, only to have a gun pointed right between your eyes. The smile the guard gave you was almost angelic with his full lips.

“Jimin, get that gun out of her face.”

You gave Park Jimin a venomous glare. The sunglasses meant you couldn’t see his eyes even if you wanted to. The private room at the restaurant meant there were no one was watching.

“Shoot it. I honestly don’t care.”

“We both know that’s what you’re really aiming for.”

After a long moment, you turned back around to face him. Him and his scar over his right eye. A fresh reminder every time that you were the one who did that. His brown eyes seemed dead.

“How long do you plan on acting like a bitch?”

He spun the black card against the table. You hated it when he flexed how much money he had and he knew it. He didn’t do it because he was arrogant. He did it because he knew it pissed you off.

“I don’t know, how long do you plan on keeping me?”

He shrugged casually. The card spun and spun like a tiny black tornado. Then it made a sharp snap as he slammed it to the table. His eyes flickered up to you.

“Forever.”

Min Yoongi.

You were supposed to kill him and you got caught. The only time you had ever been caught. In your defense, it wasn’t because you were bad at your job. You almost had him. The scar proved it. At this point, it didn’t matter if you killed him or not. Your original contact was now dead. Min Yoongi owned everyone who as anyone in the city. Blackmail, money, whatever it took. Maybe mafia boss was too cliché of a title for him. You, on the other hand, didn’t care what he did. It wasn’t as if you were some kind of angel either. Min Yoongi was just supposed to be another number to add to the list of people you killed for money.

And, well, there was no meaning to that money now, considering he basically owned the banks.

You were pretty sure there was something wrong with you. Something was a little off. People didn’t become mercenaries out of the goodness of their hearts, after all. Maybe you caught on to killing a little too easily and felt a little too little. Maybe causing chaos was a little too fun. A little bit of an anarchist, perhaps.

Yoongi cocked his head at you, his black hair covering his eyes a little. He had been trying to convince you to work for him all this time, but you didn’t see a point in it. He had nothing to give you. Money? There was nothing to buy and nowhere to go. Fame? Not quite the title you wanted as a mercenary. Power? Fleeting as far as you were concerned. Freedom?

Oh, no, Yoongi wasn’t going to let you have that.

“You can play along or I can have Jungkook play with you. Take your pick.”

You flinched. The only reason Yoongi wasn’t six feet under was because of that little shit who interrupted you. Knocked your aim off, caused you to slash instead of stab. A single second later and you were trapped in his muscular thighs, passing out from a triangle choke and armbar combination. It wasn’t just that you were bested. It was that you were bested so easily and without even being able to fight back.

Fucking little bastard.

Yoongi smirked.

“I could go for a game of Go Fish right now,” you sneered.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you really want it to be like this, don’t you?” He tipped his head and Jimin stepped out. Panic shot through you like lightning. Aw, shit. Yoongi watched your emotions change in an instant. He hadn’t meant play in the innocent sense, after all.

“It pains me more than it pains you.”

You made a face at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

The door slid open.

“Hey, hyung, what’s up?”

And in Jeon Jungkook sauntered. Black oxfords snapping against the hardwood floor. Black hair long and messy, wearing black slacks, matching black vest, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He didn’t even bother to hide all the tattoos on his right arm. He gave you a cocky smile and looked over to Yoongi for instruction. Suddenly the short black dress Yoongi told you to wear was much too small and much too tight.

Yoongi tapped his fingers against the table.

Out of the two, you definitely preferred Yoongi. Mostly because Yoongi could be satiated.

You inhaled deeply. “I’ll behave.”

Yoongi’s lips curved into a sly smirk. “Begging, are you?”

“I was stating a fact. I don’t beg.”

Wrong answer. But, of course, you said it because you had too much pride to not to be a smartass. Yoongi smiled. His hand stopped moving.

“Are you hungry, Jungkook?”

“What about you, hyung? You haven’t eaten yet,” Jungkook asked inquisitively, hands in his pockets. “I couldn’t eat before you.”

Ugh. They all loved Yoongi like he was some sort of soft animal that needed to be protected. Even Jungkook, who Yoongi let do what he wanted because he was the youngest. You were sure Yoongi had to clean up some messes Jungkook made, which was why he wanted to use you. You were clean in conduct, diverse in methods, and apathetic to the cause. The perfect tool.

The problem was, he couldn’t convince you to do jack shit.

Yoongi took his card and calmly filed it into his wallet. Even though all of his guards were elegantly dressed, Yoongi was in an olive-green jacket, dark green shirt, and grey jeans. Silver accessories. No one could even guess how important he was.

And you? Tight, short, black dress with thin straps. Black heels. No jewelry. Smokey eye makeup and dark red lip. Not quite gaudy hooker, not quite rich wife either. A strange in-between.

Yoongi placed his hand flat on the table. Slowly, he turned It around and curled his fingers toward himself in a beckoning motion.

“Come here.”

You knew he was talking to you. He knew it, you knew it, Jungkook knew it. Jungkook’s dark brown eyes followed Yoongi’s hand, up the length of the table, and then to you. His lips curved into an amused smile. Like a predator to prey. You glared at the two of them. You never listened. You weren’t going to start now.

“You should listen to hyung, you know,” Jungkook purred, taking a step towards you.

“I hear every word he says,” you retort, standing up.

Yoongi tilted his head. Just a few steps and Jungkook kicked your chair aside, pressing his body against you. Hard, unrelenting, hot breath down your neck. You didn’t even look at him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Yoongi, facing him as you responded to Jungkook’s words.

“I told you I’m no longer interested in murdering him.”

Yoongi gave you an open-mouthed smirk.

“You regret it now, don’t you?” Yoongi drawled slowly.

One second you were simply standing there. The next you were twisting out of the way as Jungkook tried to pin you against the wall, knee up to defend against Jungkook’s inevitable kick. Jungkook growled, grinning as he dove again. You went low, elbowing him in the thigh to throw off his balance and slam him into the floor. Or would have, if Jungkook wasn’t sturdy enough to simply take it and he drove his shoulder into your chest. You hissed at the contact of shoulder to sternum, already bracing your body as you slid across the floor due to your heels.

You felt a hand grab you by the hair and yank hard, making you hiss in pain as you went down hard on your knees. Fighting Jungkook always took all your concentration. It wouldn’t be that way if he wasn’t such a skilled fighter. Yoongi, however, was an impatient and dishonorable man.

Yoongi held on to your hair and pulled up, dragging you to your feet and slamming you against the table. You let him do it because, well, it was going to become a beating if you continued. Also, Yoongi was more lenient when he thought he was the stronger one. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of you yelping in pain, even if your ribs felt like they were rattling.

“I think I would be worried if you didn’t try to fight for once,” Yoongi grunted, grabbing your upper arms and dragging you up the table. You tried to twist out of his grasp but Jungkook suddenly appeared between your legs and pinned your arms down.

“Ah, hyung, couldn’t you pick someone more… docile?” Jungkook complained with a pout as you panted with exertion.

Yoongi chuckled. “Are you trying to tell me you want her?” There was a dangerous edge in his voice.

“I’m only saying it would be easier for you,” Jungkook muttered, forcing your legs in their spread position as you were perched at the edge of the table. Hs eyes flitted to yours and it was obvious – the second Yoongi released you from his grasp, Jungkook would be ready to pounce.

“Take what you can get,” Yoongi growled. Coldness touched your skin as Yoongi flipped his switchblade out, slicing through the thin straps of the dress. You gritted your teeth as Yoongi’s face appeared in your vision. “I was going to let him eat you out but I’ve decided against it thanks to your antics.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled.

Yoongi shrugged. He pointed to your upper arm, tapping the implant under your skin with his blade.

“You can go in raw, Jungkook. Finally had Hoseok install it.”

Jungkook took his hands off your arms and began to unbutton his pants. “Seokjin-hyung is going to be really mad if we fuck in his restaurant,” he warned.

Yoongi scoffed. “Then I’ll let him have a taste too if he’s feeling upset.”

“This will not make me tame,” you hissed, looking up to him.

Yoongi gave you an almost-bored look. “That’s not what I’m looking for.”

You gasped as Jungkook yanked your dress up, ass hitting the table. Yoongi laid your arms one over the other above your head so he could hold them with one hand. The other laced around your neck, pushing your head up and forcing you to arch your back uncomfortably. Each silver ring cut into your skin painfully and you growled at him, even as Jungkook pulled out his switchblade and tore your panties to ribbons.

Yoongi leaned down, lips against your ear. His tongue slid out, curling around your earlobe. You stiffened, breathing swallow. He knew how to get you wet. He paid attention to detail, gently nibbling at your ear, listening to the change in your breathing as you gave in to him. You were human after all. You had your erogenous zones. You barely registered Jungkook cutting up the length of your dress, exposing your breasts to the cold. Your nipples hardened as Yoongi blew softly against your ear, whispering your name, almost pleadingly. It didn’t matter if he didn’t mean it.

“Don’t you wish it was me between your legs?” he breathed.

You sank your teeth into your lower lip, trying to control yourself. Your hand found his shirt and clutched a fistful of it in response. Yoongi chuckled and straightened, only to see Jungkook watching your pussy in fascination.

“Ah, so disappointing I can’t eat her out,” Jungkook pouted. “Looks so tasty.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Maybe next time, Jungkook.”

You could hear Jungkook’s pants falling to the floor, but you were still staring at Yoongi, holding onto his shirt. Yoongi seemed to notice your gaze and looked down at you with a smirk.

“What’s the matter? Ready to tell me you love me?”

You let go, scowling. “As–fuck!”

Jungkook entered you with one swift thrust, no stretching out, no warning, just hard dick shoved straight in. You gritted your teeth, breaking out of Yoongi’s grip and grabbing Yoongi’s shirt with both hands, struggling to adjust as Jungkook grabbed your hips and began to fuck you without remorse. You had never taken in someone raw before, and certainly not Jungkook’s rough, wild thrusts. Yoongi held you in place calmly by your neck as you struggled to not make a sound, feeling every vein and every thick inch of muscle pumped into you with vigor.

Jungkook, on the other hand, groaned lustfully as he fucked you, eyes closing as he felt your pussy clamp around him, tight and pulsing.

“Oh, fuck, hyung, it feels so good,” Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, muscles bulging in his dress shirt and vest. His right hand dug into your hip, tattoos flexing with his tanned skin.

“Are you a spoiled boy, Jungkookie?” Yoongi drawled, voice low. He always watched. It didn’t matter who it was. He liked to watch.

“Yes, hyung.” Jungkook liked to be watched. He had a little bit of a praise kink when it came to his hyungs. He loved Yoongi, as they all did. Maybe a little too much. “Thank you, hyung.”

And well, Yoongi was clever. Even through you never told him directly, it was obvious you loved pain in all senses of the word. Delivering it, receiving it, all of it. Giving you the birth control implant was your gift as much as it was his. He could hear it, the strained moans you stubbornly kept in your throat, the wetter and wetter slapping of Jungkook’s hips against your own, watching with interest as Jungkook’s angry red cock thrust into you over and over.

He held your neck, slowly tightening. Your mind was fogging up, forced to feel the painful pleasure of Jungkook repeatedly pounding you into the table, his cock swelling inside you. Black spots danced on the edges of your peripheral vision, clouding your thoughts.

Jungkook bit his lip, digging his nails into your hips as he came with a groan. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling hot strings of cum shooting into you, filling you up as he pulled out with a hiss, cum dripping out of you.

He was still hard.

Yoongi let go of your neck and pulled out of your grasp. Before you had time to collect yourself, Jungkook was pushing you on top of the table, flipping you over so you were on your hands and knees. Your shredded clothes fluttered to the floor, heels still on as Jungkook climbed onto the table, pants at his ankles. You could hear his cum plop onto the table from your dripping pussy. A loud scrape and you looked up to see Yoongi repositioning the chair so he could witness your face.

He caught your eye but before you could lash out, Jungkook grabbed one arm and pinned it behind your back, shoving his cock into you once more. You gasped sharply, biting your tongue as Jungkook began to fuck you again, slowly rolling his hips into your cum-filled pussy. He moaned, feeling the extra slickness of your walls painted in his orgasm. Yoongi observed with interest, not looking away. Jungkook leaned down, hand snaking between your thighs.

“Don’t you dare,” you growled, more to Yoongi than Jungkook, but both ignored you. You felt Jungkook’s nail scrape against your clit and you stiffened despite not wanting to reveal that he found the right spot. Jungkook chuckled, voice dropping several octaves.

“Scream for me.”

He pinched your clit and you clamped down hard on your tongue, squeezing your eyes shut as you slammed your fist onto the table. He thrust into you, hard, making you see stars. Every muscle tensed as you struggled to keep in your noises, furrowing your brow as Jungkook pinched and flicked your clit, abusing it. You could feel your pussy clenching and throbbing around his cock, unable to control yourself as you came with a muffled scream. Liquid gushed down both of your thighs, the squelching sounds becoming louder. It was obscene.

Yoongi’s trademark open mouthed smirk appeared as Jungkook came once again, driven by your orgasm. You were filled up once again by his cum, gasping at the sensation of so much inside you. And Jungkook still didn’t stop, slowly beginning again, moaning at the sensitivity of his cock from the back-to-back orgasms. He let go of your abused clit and grabbed your hips. The first slap made you hiss, nails digging into your palm. He kept going, smacking your ass in between thrusts to feel your walls tighten.

“Such a spoiled boy doing such a good job,” Yoongi purred. Jungkook whimpered at the compliment, looking up to see Yoongi nodding in satisfaction.

“Are you hard, hyung?” Jungkook whined, voice softening when addressing the older man.

“Mm-hmm,” Yoongi hummed, spreading his legs a little to readjust. Jungkook watched him closely, trying to see his erection through Yoongi’s jeans. The thought made him even harder inside you. You squeezed his cock and he groaned, shoving himself all the way inside you.

“Let me see,” Jungkook pleaded, raking his nails down your back. You grunted in pain and glared at Yoongi.

Yoongi chuckled. “You want to see it that bad, Jungkookie?” He dragged out the younger man’s name, low and teasing.

“Please,” Jungkook moaned, gripping your side so tight you gasped. “Oh, please, hyung.”

Yoongi glanced at you, amused at your silent scowl telling him to give the man what he wanted. He unbuttoned his jeans lazily. Slowly pulling down the zipper, lifting his hips a bit to slide it down enough to reveal his black boxer briefs. They could see it now, the growing erection straining against his underwear.

Jungkook groaned, rolling his hips into you and hitting your deepest spot. You almost moaned, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s crotch. Jungkook did it again, mumbling to Yoongi.

“Please…”

Yoongi palmed himself through his underwear, taking his time. He leaned back, exhaling deeply as he ran his large hand over his clothed erection. Jungkook was whimpering, desperate for more.

“Hyung…”

Yoongi cocked an eyebrow and sighed, giving in. He always gave in to the youngest. He pulled down his underwear, letting his hard cock spring free. You felt breathless at the sight. Maybe it was Jungkook’s multiple orgasms getting to your head. But it was always like this. Yoongi always made you wait to see his cock. He knew how to make you blind to your own desperation, growing the hungry desire to see Yoongi’s ringed hand encircle his throbbing, beautiful cock, eyes half-lidded in arousal.

Jungkook moaned again lustfully, his pace increasing again now that he knew that he was the catalyst to making Yoongi hard.

“Harder, Jungkook. Fuck her rougher.”

Jungkook obeyed, slamming his hips into you so hard that the whole table shook despite being solid wood. You choked on air, feeling the cum dripping out of you as Jungkook began to fuck you wildly and with reckless abandon, hitting your most sensitive spots. And Yoongi, in all his audacity, continued to watch, still holding his cock. He noticed your gaze and he stoked himself slowly, making you bite down on your lip to avoid moaning. You shoved your cheek against the cool wood of the table, shuddering as you came, overwhelmed by pain and pleasure.

Jungkook hissed, shooting you full of cum once again. The sensation of being so full intoxicated you and you let out and soft whimper, hoping neither of them heard you. But, of course, Yoongi heard you.

Yoongi purred your name softly. You looked up at him, breathing hard, legs shaking. At this point your makeup was messy and your lips a little smeared, hair messy from fucking. He grinned as you winced, feeling Jungkook pull out of you. Jungkook was still semi-hard, the animal.

“Come here,” Yoongi said once again.

You had snarky comments prepared. You had you retorts all filed away. But the sight of Yoongi holding his hard cock, eyes smokey with lust made you forget all of them. Every muscle hurt from your constant strain of staying silent, refusing to let them hear you cries of pleasure. But your resolve was cracking now, seeing Yoongi’s want. You crawled off the table, ignoring Jungkook who was readjusting himself behind you. There was only Yoongi.

“Hold it in,” Yoongi commanded.

You walked towards him, trying not to hobble in your heels. Even now, you were prideful of how you presented yourself. You clenched your pussy tight, not letting Jungkook’s cum fall as you approached the black-haired man.

Yoongi removed his hand and patted his thigh. Wordlessly, you slid onto his lap, your hand lightly guiding him to your entrance. You placed one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, spying his smug expression out of the corner of your eye.

“Need me that bad, huh?”

“Shut up,” you said hoarsely. Your throat was dry from breathing so hard.

Yoongi chuckled. “I need you too,” he breathed, lips against your cheek.

You sank down on him, eyes rolling back into your head as he filled you up. He was still mostly clothed, the rough denim rubbing against your thighs as you went down. Yoongi moaned in satisfaction, hands trailing up your sides and pressing his thumbs against your nipples. Against your better judgement, a cry left your lips as his cock shoved Jungkook’s cum deeper inside you. You could feel every contour of his cock, every vein pulsating against your walls.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Yoongi drawled, pressing your nipples down and moving them in small circles. It wasn’t enough. You wanted his mouth on them and he knew it. He smirked. Yep, he wasn’t going to do it either.

You rolled your hips onto his cock. He grinned, pinching your nipples tightly and twisting them. A soft mewl reached your ears – you. Oh, fuck. Yoongi smirked triumphantly.

“Use my cock and get yourself off,” he purred. “You deserve it.”

It was all a trick. A ruse to feed your ego and yet you still did as you were told because he knew how to manipulate you, especially after wearing you out with Jungkook. It wasn’t fair, but Yoongi never played by the rules.

You lifted yourself up and sank back down, breathing hard. All your muscles were sore and yet you still found the energy to thrust your hips into Yoongi, squeezing him tight as you rode him. Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples, fueling your arousal. He smelled so good, some kind of sharp pine, and it was driving you crazy. With a start, you realized the moans you were hearing were you, saying his name breathlessly over and over.

“That’s it,” Yoongi murmured, eyes half-lidded and smirk on his lips. “Cum for me.”

Shit. If you were in your right mind, you could refuse him, but you were so full of Jungkook’s cum with Yoongi’s dick so deep inside you that you could barely see straight. He kept pinching your nipples, flicking them hard as you went down, shocking your system every time. You came with a cry, gripping his shoulders hard as waves of pleasure raked though you, your entire body shuddering.

“Jungkook, hold her up.”

Yoongi removed his hands from your breasts, only to be replaced by strong, calloused ones. One tattooed, one bare. Jungkook held you firmly. You were panting, unable to look away from Yoongi’s eyes. His scar was an angry red. Those dark brown eyes looked at you like you were his queen, and yet it could all be a lie because Yoongi was a master manipulator. His black hair was pushed back, damp with sweat. He smirked at you, baring his teeth. You had a strange urge to kiss him, but you held back.

“Time to fill you up with me,” he whispered, hands settling on your hips.

The first thrust was slow, languid. Not enough. You bit your lip, feeling Jungkook roll your nipples slowly in between his fingers. Yoongi didn’t just want to fuck you. He wanted to drive you crazy. He wanted you to lose your mind. He sank in again, hissing with satisfaction. He made his cock throb inside you, your muscles clenching automatically in response. Jungkook ran his nail over your nipple and you could feel yourself becoming wetter with every passing second. Yoongi’s lips parted, a low, guttural growl clawing its way out of his throat. It was gravelly and deep.

“The implant was a good idea, wasn’t it?”

You gasped as he thrust in particularly deep.

“First time my cum will be mixing with Jungkook’s, deep inside you.���

Against your better judgement, you whimpered at his words. Fuck. Yoongi grinned, cocking an eyebrow.

“You like that, hm? Being pumped to the brim with cum?”

Before you could respond, Jungkook moaned behind you, pinching your nipples hard. You winced as Yoongi increased the pace, rolling his hips into you easily.

“Wonder how much you can take,” Yoongi drawled, eyes boring into yours. “Should I tie you up and let them all fuck you one by one? See how much cum you can keep in that pussy of yours before I fuck it all out of you?”

You hissed, feeling Jungkook grip your breasts and flick your nipples hard.

“Hyung, don’t get my hopes up…”

There was no way that the wet squelching noises between your hips were only your juices. You could smell Jungkook’s cum dripping down Yoongi’s cock.

“Or would you rather only have Jungkook?” Yoongi purred. He didn’t miss your eyes flashing at his suggestion. He chuckled deeply. “I’m always curious how far Jungkookie’s stamina goes.”

Jungkook was losing it behind you, groaning, pinching your nipples and ramming his clothed crotch into your back. He was rock hard, desperate for friction. Yoongi continued to fuck you, pace increasing ever so slowly.

“I want to see you on your knees,” Yoongi sneered, “Face into the ground, ass in the air, cum overflowing out of you and falling to the floor.”

You gasped, jerking forward from the force of Jungkook’s movements, your lips against Yoongi’s ear and his against yours. Harder, rougher. His lips touched your ear, tongue tracing your earlobe.

“And then I’m gonna fuck you,” he murmured, voice low and deep. “Fuck you until you can’t walk or see straight, and then wait for you to recover, only to do it again.”

You moaned into his ear, softly, falling apart to his words and his tongue.

“Yoongi, please…”

That wasn’t Jungkook. That was you, breathlessly begging into Yoongi’s ear, so quietly that Yoongi was sure Jungkook couldn’t hear you.

He waited, pumping his cock in and out of you roughly, smacking your hips together.

“Please fill me up with you.”

Yoongi made sure to chuckle right into your ear before he slammed you down hard onto his hips, shooting hot strings of cum inside, cock twitching mercilessly against your walls. You moaned his name, hands tangled in his black hair, whining as he pumped you full. He always had so much. You suspected he let it build up on purpose.

He pressed his lips against your ear. You could feel his infuriating smirk.

“Mine.”

-

click here for part ii --

masterpost

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Praesidium

A/N: Back to our regularly scheduled bullshit...We went into this with zero plan, zero ambition, and came out the other end with something resembling a drabble featuring Hitoshi Shinsou as a hot-shit, Kennedy-esque politician trying to escape from the “family business.” I’d like to thank @dymphnasprose​ for the inspiration, the banner, and for putting up with my crazed plot bunny hunting sessions in her DMs. Proudly part of The Smut Pile Mafia Collab-- huge thanks to @pleasantanathema�� and @present-mel​ for organizing it and keeping us degenerates on time for once. You’re the real heroes.

TW: Wax play, orgasm denial, tobacco use, death threats, graphic violence

=====================================================

You were always used to protection. Your family's name and wealth brought its own Kevlar shield; whether it was the broad shouldered bodyguards flanking you and your entourage during every frivolous shopping excursion or impromptu escape to one of the many vacation homes that dotted the globe, or the mere mention of your father and the weight of his near omnipresence in the highest echelons of high society, protection was almost always guaranteed. You could hear it in the hushed voices of the real estate giants and their trophy wives when you made your grand entrance to every socialite gathering. 

"There she is, Yanai's precious pearl…" 

Dripping in envy and awe, it was no surprise to you when you caught his eye. Heir and only daughter of the wealthiest family in the country, you knew your worth among the elite and so did he. You only knew of Shinsou Hitoshi by virtue of his reputation as a newcomer to the world of national-level politics, but his charm and charisma were undersold by every inch devoted to him in the papers. By all accounts, he left you dazzled by his lazy, almost sleepy smile and the low rumble of his succinct one-liners. 

He played the part of the laid-back Playboy to the hilt, and by the night of your first fundraiser gala Shinsou had you practically eating from the palm of his hand like a hungry stray. By your second date, you could practically taste the Harry Winston hiding in his Tom Ford smoking jacket by the time dessert arrived. Back then you never questioned how he managed to afford the heirloom, four carat diamond he slid onto your finger, nor did it occur to you how he managed to slither his way into the House of Councilors. Blinded by the magnetic sway he held over you and your well-paid collection of sycophants, the how and why seemed largely irrelevant so long as he kept you on his arm. In your waking moments, you could almost catch pieces of a broken conversation from your insomniac lover. 

"Find someone else...I'm done being your enforcer. I have an image to maintain now…"

Many a night he'd stumble in reeking of sweat and sulfur, dark liquor still burning on his lips when he pressed a kiss to your warm cheek as you slept in your shared bed. Morning invariably gave way to bruised knuckles and heavy dark circles as Shinsou hid his fading scars under his slate gray Armani suit. Prior to your wedding night, you thought you caught the rip of his silk and gravel voice grunting from a crooked alley. Following those familiar thunderclap grunts was the crunch of something hard and then a pulpy squilch that made your stomach twist in on itself. The begging that followed was unintelligible from your way to the nightclub, but his voice, your Shinsou's voice snarling a loaded promise of breathing tubes and chronic pain if the offending party didn't pay their due stayed with you until your bodyguard ushered you into the safety of your car. 

"Daddy, I can't do this," you cried. Your father dabbed at your eyes and shook his head at your tantrum. He wouldn't be so blasé about the arrangement or your uproar if he was the one who heard your groom's fist shattering bones just the night before. A vision in white brocade, the four carats on your left hand felt like ten tons weighing you down the aisle as your father all but dragged you to meet your husband at the end. As the crowd rose to receive your grand entrance, you couldn't help but stifle a quiet sob at the sight of Shinsou's surrogate fathers standing in the front pew. Yamada couldn't contain his excitement for his boy, but Aizawa glared on coldly when you met his gaze. Your father kissed your cheek and gave your hands a squeeze before abandoning you before your audience. Shinsou held out his hand, and you choked back another hiccuping sob-- how could you hold those hands the same way when they were capable of such senseless violence? Knuckles cracked and discolored with aging bruises, he groped for your hands and pulled you the extra two steps onto the altar, flashing you that same lackadaisical grin. It was a blur, a bad dream you couldn't wake from. Beyond the sporadic flashbulbs blinking in the crowd, you couldn't pull away from him. 

"I do…" Your voice didn't sound like your own, even as you felt it leave your throat. Shinsou pulled closer and rasped against your lips. 

"This is only the beginning, kitten." 

Kitten...

You couldn't deny how his pet name made you shiver. The single word held a scintillating promise of the night to come, yet all you could focus on were those hands and the crunch of anonymous bones under his blows. Would he ever turn those hands on you? As he gently slid his platinum wedding band over your ring finger, the mate to the ostentatious engagement ring occupying the spot, you melted under the tenderness of his touch. Your Hitoshi couldn't be capable of such violence. Your Hitoshi was a man of change, of reform who wanted to help bring his countrymen into a golden age. Your fingers numbly slid your ring onto your husband's hand and with the action sealed your own fate. The world swam out of view when he overtook you with a blistering kiss, hungry and needy against your lips. He didn't taste like smoke and scotch this time, a flavor you had grown to appreciate the longer you entangled yourself with him. He lingered for what felt like an eternity, the roar of applause and shared joy for the union a soundtrack erasing any fears you might have had prior. 

Your bridesmaids swooned over the intensity of Shinsou’s gaze throughout your opulent reception-- your father sparing no expense when giving away his precious pearl. Shinsou’s family kept to themselves mostly, with Aizawa only stepping from their shadowy corner to address your father over travel arrangements. Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed and that same cocksure grin blossomed over his features as you inched closer, hip pulled closer by that massive hand. “Hey,” you breathed with a soft smile. He returned it in kind and squeezed your hip through the eggshell Vera Wang gown and leaned in to whisper in your ear. Hair slicked back, all that tickled you was the heat from his breath as it fanned against your skin. “I can’t wait to get you out of that, kitten. Gorgeous as you are with it on, the thought of you in nothing but your jewelry has my mouth practically watering.” Predatory gaze amplified by that sex and gravel voice had you melting. He took you by the hand and bade you follow him across the floor of the resort ballroom. Cautiously, you glanced around the room, anxious that someone from the party would notice your sudden escape. Before you had a chance to object, Hitoshi held a finger to his lips and pulled you through the crowd and out of the room. “You really think I can wait any longer when you’re looking like that?” The wait staff cast cursory glances at you and your husband as he continued to guide you away from the noise and bodies keeping him from tearing your gown off and claiming you. “Hitoshi…” you whimpered, pinned with your back to the door of your honeymoon suite. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder and nearly purred at the gasp that left your lips. Fumbling for the key, Shinsou held you from falling into the open door and nudged you over the threshold with an eagerness you couldn’t place. Words were swallowed by hungry mouths and replaced with an exchange of passion tempered only by the quiet frustration of fingering over buttons and parting fabric to unwrap the prize of feeling your skin under his fingertips. Once released from your prison of beaded white silk and delicate lace, Hitoshi pulled away, raking his ultraviolet eyes over your nearly bare frame to further appreciate his prize. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more perfect.” Instead of shying away from his words, you moved with a certainty that was far from your own. Automatically reaching for his tie, you pulled him down to resume your heated devouring, earning a chuckle and a light spank on your lace-covered cheek in reply. “Impatient, kitten?”

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt nimbly, practically digging your nails into his chest just to feel him hiss into your mouth. Tongues waged a war to stalemate status as your husband gave your buttocks a squeeze before hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Your sex practically drooled against his toned abs through your useless lace panties. The trail of your gyrating on the ridges of washboard muscle pulled wanton moans from your kiss-bruised lips.

“Feels like you are. Drenched for me already. Who knew my heiress was such a needy slut.” You whined under the degradation he heaped on you as he placed you on the pillow-top bed and guided your hands above your head. Shinsou pulled his tie over his head and wrapped it lovingly around your wrists, brushing his lips and teeth along the gently blushing skin along your blue-blood veins as he finished securing you to the headboard. He moved slowly, teasing every inch of exposed skin with languid grace. A panther in human skin, Shinsou sunk his teeth and sucked purple bruises along your ribs and thighs, parting your squirming legs casually. You felt the weight of his wedding band on your inner thigh and wriggled away from the cold of it. Hitoshi tsked from below, grin tugging on his lips as he pulled your panties down with his teeth. Tenderly, he rubbed a sole finger along your drenched folds. You bucked into the sensation and writhed for more, only to have your husband pull away and drag the slick-stained digit along his tongue. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, kitten.” He blew on your clit, earning a choked moan. “You’re on my time now.” He withdrew, leaving you to whine for him to return, only to be answered by the closing of the bathroom door. You stared at the gold leaf ceiling, seconds dragging on like hours until he finally returned holding a candle, lit cigarette caught between his teeth. Hitoshi took a drag and guarded the flame from his dark red candle as he took a seat beside your whimpering form. He set the candle on the headboard and gently held your face in his hand, blowing smoke into your mouth. The intimate gesture, sharing the air in his lungs made you swoon. Distracted, you barely registered him removing your bra or how he grazed your pert nipples with scarred thumbs. You opened and melted into his attention, desperate for more. You caught his gaze, eyes glazed over with unadulterated adoration, and let out a strangled wail when the first drops of scarlet wax dripped over your shivering breasts. 

The shock of sudden warmth encasing your tender flesh in candy apple red kept you reeling into the next pour. Your Hitoshi leered above you, rapt in your reactions as he brought his free hand to rest on your bare mons. His long fingers grazing along your sopping clit and the continued dripping of hot wax on your skin had you writhing in place. His dark, rumbling chuckle made your blood sizzle under your skin as he admired his work. 

"I think she likes it," he purred, now moving with intent. Arching into the duvet, you pouted sweetly at your husband, legs gently rubbing together as if it would further entice him to continue. "Who knew my kitten was such a kinky slut?" 

"'Toshi, touch me more!" 

His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, and he pulled his hand away from your glistening sex. Frustrated whimpers echoing through the suite, you were cut short by another trail of red wax burning down to your navel. He took another slow drag from his slow-dying cigarette and smirked. If it weren't for his hardening cock poking your hip through his tuxedo pants you would have never known how hopelessly he needed every moan and whine he pulled from your tight body. Past games, he would have blinded you, muffled his voice behind black silk and noise cancelling headphones, but tonight was different. 

"Know your place, kitten. You're in no position to make demands."

You bit your lip and stifled another whine as the wax cooled in the mold of your belly button. Shinsou kept the candle hovering just over your bound body, constantly watching you with the same, slow-simmering lust burning in his deep violet eyes. He stopped short over your dripping pussy and licked the nicotine from his lips. You could see the plan unfold in his head before he had a chance to put it in action. Anticipation had every hair tingling as you waited for his next move. Before he could act, there was a stern rap at the door. With all the petulance and frustration of a child forced to share his favorite toy, Shinsou rose from the bed and trudged to the door. 

"Little busy in here."

"Business waits for no one." The intruder's voice was black ice on a fall morning, cold and sharp as Hitoshi shrank back from the door. His shoulders tensed as he scratched the back of his neck, an anxious tic he couldn't shake from childhood. "You can play with your toy when we're done."

"I told you I've gone straight. No more back alley deals, no more blood on my hands. I'm done."

Your blood ran cold and it crept into your belly to make a new home gnawing through the viscera. Unable to make out much more than the broad back of your husband at the door, you strained to listen to the conversation before the cocking of a gun took your breath away. 

"You're done when I say you're done. Never forget who bought you those votes, how you skated into your parliament chair, high councilor." The voice's tone was harsh, mockingly so with an edge of condescension that earned a defeated growl from your Shinsou. The owner of the voice stepped closer, peering over your husband's shoulder with a frigid smirk that nearly made your heart stop. Aizawa raked his dark, abyssal eyes over your exposed body, resting hungrily on your sex drooling into the plum duvet, and turned back to his surrogate son. "Be a shame if something happened to her. All those billions siphoned away…" From your spot on the bed you could feel the noose tightening around both your necks the longer Boss Aizawa spoke. 

"...all to attend a funeral as the dutiful, lovesick widower with his wife's blood on his hands." 

"Enough! That's enough...you win."

Shinsou buttoned his shirt quickly and cast a longing glance over his shoulder at your quiet sobbing. He never wanted you to know the underworld he clawed out of to finally live in the light. It wasn't enough to want change and leave the bloody past where it belonged. Some ghosts had a way of coming back to their old haunts. Tuxedo jacket slung over his shoulder, Shinsou slicked his hair back and turned his back on you, leaving you bound to the headboard with wax, his own Jackson Pollock masterpiece drying on your skin. You could feel your heart breaking with the gentle closing of the door, and the barely audible, "I'm sorry," whispered ruefully by your retreating husband. Protection was something you used to take for granted, but as you found that night and many after, it was something few in your precarious position could do without. 

[calamitykaty]

Don’t Forget

CHARLIE X READER

WORD COUNT: 2399

WARNINGS: SOME SWEARING...LOTS OF ANGST, SOME FLUFF

REQUESTED: NO

“Promise you won’t forget about me when you make your dreams come true?” Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as she clung to him desperately. 

Charlie’s thumbs swiftly swiped the tears that gathered under her eyes. 

“I would never forget you, couldn’t even if I tried, love.” He promised and gently stepped out of her embrace as his flight was called for boarding. 

She wrapped her arms around her body, her knuckles white as they dug into her ribs. A quiet sob escaped as she watched her best friend disappear into the airport crowd. 

She had been friends with Charlie since they were practically in diapers. She was there for every major milestone of his and he was there for all of hers. She was there when Charlie played his first open mic and he was there for her first dance recital. He held her when she went through her first heartbreak, the same way she held him when he got his first “no” after a huge audition. If you asked Charlie, they went together like Peanut Butter and Eggs. 

She remembered crying for what felt like weeks when Charlie broke the news that he was moving to California to chase his dreams of acting. It wasn’t that she didn’t know the day would eventually come but she expected to be right there with him, along for the ride. Life didn’t work out that way for her though. She had suffered a career ending knee injury that took her from the largest stages in Canada to the sidelines of helping other dancers into costume changes backstage. 

Charlie kept his promise for the most part, at first, anyways. But then the first year had flown by  like nothing and their daily video chats slowly turned into weekly calls before calls turned into texts every now and then until texts turned into instagram comments and occasional likes. It wasn’t long before her calls were sent straight to voicemail by the boy and she felt her world slowly slipping away from her. She couldn’t blame him for living his life. Mostly, she just blamed herself for investing so much of her life into him. 

“Y/N!!!” Charlie's voice echoed through the phone, a large smile plastered on his face before he turned the camera around “Look! Palm trees...PALM TREES!” the boy yelled with giddy excitement. 

Her laughter filled the air in response. She missed him already but wouldn’t let him know that. 

“God, I can’t wait until you come visit. You’re going to love it here! The people...the food...the atmosphere...it’s just so electric here” 

“I can’t wait, Char”

The boy turned the camera back around so it was facing him “I miss you” he spoke softly and there it was, the words she was dying to hear. 

“You and me against the world, eh?” 

“Always, Y/N, Always.” 

“Hey, Y/N, we're gonna grab some lunch,.You want something?” She was pulled back to reality by her supervisor. 

She shook her head and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. The last show of the season had just wrapped the day prior and she was tasked with organizing all of the costumes and getting them back into storage. She quickly got back to work, pulling dresses from the rack and placing them in dress bags, making sure each was labeled correctly before putting them in order on the storage rack. She did this for each costume before moving to jewelry, shoes and other accessories. She pulled her phone from her pocket at the feeling of it vibrating. 

“Did you hear Charlie landed a netflix series?” Her sister, Lane, texted her. 

The corners of her lips tugged up into an involuntary smile and she sent back a simple thumbs up emoji before stuffing the phone back into her back pocket. 

She could feel angry tears welling up in her eyes and bit her lip trying to keep them at bay. She was happy for Charlie, truly. But the hurt she felt from finding out that he finally got his big break, a potentially life altering role, from her sister instead of from him was almost unbearable. Y/N wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed her purse from the desk across the room, fishing her car keys out of the side pocket. She silently made her way across the parking lot to her baby blue Subaru Outback, the car that Charlie had convinced her to buy just so her car would match his orange one. 

Y/N quietly sang along to the song on the radio as muscle memory guided her to the local market where she needed to buy a few necessities. She clicked the little lock on her key fob twice, the car beeping to signal the doors had locked. She grabbed a cart and pulled her shopping list out of her purse, though she had every intention of just wandering around aimlessly and grabbing things as she saw fit anyways. She grabbed a box of tampons, some body care essentials and turned down the next aisle, her eyes looking down at the list, 

“Granola..” she muttered to herself and let her eyes wander down the aisle until she found what she was looking for. She tossed a canister bag of honey and vanilla granola into her cart before turning down the next aisle. 

“Y/N, is that you honey?” 

She looked up to find Charlie’s mother standing at the opposite end of the aisle. A smile broke out onto her face as she pushed her cart to the blonde haired woman. “Hi, Mrs. Gillespie” she pulled her into a hug. Charlie’s mom squeezed the breath out of her, the type of hug that only mothers give. 

“How have you been, dear? We haven’t seen you around lately.” 

She looked away, a tinge of guilt on her stomach. Part of Charlie being her person for so long was his family being like a second family to her, but it also meant that when Charlie disappeared from her life, she too disappeared from theirs. 

“Just been busy, I guess” She lied. “I should get going, it was nice seeing you Mrs. G”

Mrs. Gillespie gently squeezed her shoulder “Well, don’t be a stranger, yeah?” 

Y/N mustered a smile and nodded her head though her smile just as quickly fell when her ears picked up on a familiar laugh coming from behind her.  Y/N hurriedly turned the aisle and let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She felt her hands shaking and contemplated just abandoning her cart and coming back to the market another time. 

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and clicked on the instagram app and searched for Charlie’s page. He had posted a picture two days prior of him hiking the Fundy, the caption read Good to be back home. Missed my people and my favorite place to hike. Y/N clicked on the picture, bringing up all of the people he tagged on the post, a mixture of family and friends, but most notably not her. 

“Hey, stranger…” Y/N muttered through the phone, the first time Charlie had answered her call in nearly three weeks. 

“Hey…” Y/N could hear loud music in the background 

“Is this a bad time?” she asked nervously. 

“No...I mean...w-well, kinda…” Charlie admitted. “I’ll call you tomorrow?” He offered in exchange. 

“Y-yeah, ok.” Y/N sighed, the phone disconnecting before she  could say anything else. She had kept her phone next to her at work the entire today the next day waiting for a phone call that never came. 

She pushed on through the rest of the market and grabbed all of the items that were on her list before heading to the self check-out. She could see the two Gillespies at the other side of the store, benign checked out by a teenage cashier. She quickly scanned her items and bagged them up before placing her debit card in the card reader and punched her code in before grabbing her receipt and making a hasty beeline for the exit, trying her hardest not to be stopped by Charlie's mother again. 

Her plan worked and she made it to her car without being stopped. She clicked the unlock button on her key fob before opening the hatch on the back and began loading her groceries into the back. She had almost escaped scot-free but when she closed the hatch her eyes landed on the boy, leaning against her car with a smile plastered on his face. 

“Charles.” She nodded curtly and turned around to take her cart back to the coral. She could hear his footsteps chasing behind her as she pushed the cart where it belonged. She felt the boy tug at her waist, turning her around to face him. 

“Hey, stranger” Charlie whispered down to her. 

She gently pushed against his chest, creating space between them and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Don’t touch me, Charlie.” She meant it to come out of her mouth with venom, for it to sound hateful, and mean but instead it came out as a scared plea. 

Charlie frowned, his eyebrows knitted down in confusion. He reached out a hand again but dropped it back down to his side when Y/N stepped further back from him again. She could feel the sting of tears start to prick at the back of her eyes and cursed herself, the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of the boy. 

“Y/N…” Charlie begged as she walked away from him and quickly got into her car. She placed the key into the ignition and pulled out of the parking space, leaving the confused boy behind in her rear view mirror. When she got home, Y/N, abandoned her groceries in the car and headed straight to her room when she crawled under the covers and let her body finally feel all of the emotions that she had held in, her body shook with each hiccup caused by her sobs. Her phone quietly dinged next to her every 30 seconds for a few minutes until the texts turned to phone calls that she let go to voicemail. 

She woke up to a weight shifting on her bed, her eyes slowly fluttered open and landed on the boy laying next to her with worry in his eyes. She had forgotten that she had given him a key to her apartment the year before he left. 

“What are you doing here?” Her voice quivered. 

Charlie reached out, his hand cupping her cheek, the pad of his thumb lightly running from side to side against her soft skin. Y/N flinched at his touch causing him to remove his hand.She wanted to yell out to him, to push him away and tell him that she never wanted to see him again but she just didn’t have the energy to fight him. 

“Why was I so easy to forget?” she settled on, her voice raspy and broken. 

He knew he had hurt her but had spent the last year pushing it to the back of his mind, reassuring himself that when he got back to town that everything would just fall back into place. He never took into account the magnitude of pain that he had caused his person. 

“Y/N...I-i’m sorry” Charlie blinked back his own tears “y-you’re not forgettable--you’re everything to me, you’re my person.” 

“I’m not” Y/N whispered, “not anymore, Charlie.” Her eyes avoided his as she turned onto her back to stare at the stark white ceiling. 

“Congrats on the netflix role” 

‘I was going to tell you” Charlie sighed. 

She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her cheek. Y/N pursed her lips “sure.” She could feel the anger in chest start to ignite again and tuned so her back was facing him.

“You don’t get to come back, Charlie, and act like you didn’t erase me from your life over the past year.”

‘That’s not true, Y/N, I didn’t--”

“It is! And you know it!” She cut him off, her voice growing louder. She swung her legs to the edge of the bed and stood up, Charlie following suit. 

“It’s not like you ever came to visit me in California, this isn’t all on me, Y/N” Charlie argued.  

Y/N shot daggers at the boy, her hands raked through her hair. “Are you fucking kidding me, Charlie?” She spit with venom “You NEVER invited me! YOU stopped taking my calls, YOU stopped answering my texts, YOU decided you didn’t want me anymore.” 

Charlie's face softened “T-that isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it though?” She hissed in response with a bitter laugh.

“It was too hard” Charlie admitted selfishly “I couldn’t get you out of my head a-and I was blowing auditions because of it. I--I was really homesick..for you…” He closed the distance between them and pulled Y/N into his arms despite her pushing against his chest, he held tighter until her arms wrapped around his waist.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” Charlie whispered over and over and kissed the top of her head. The pair clung together for what seemed like an eternity before Charlie pulled back and cupped her face with both of his hands, the pads of his thumbs wiping away her tears. 

“Come to Vancouver with me?” His eyes searched hers. 

“Vancouver?”

Charlie let his lips curl up “It’s where the series is getting filmed, come with me...I don’t want to lose you again” he pleaded, his eyes flicking down from her eyes to her lips and back up again. 

“Yeah..ok” Y/N hesitantly agreed as she leaned in meeting Charlie halfway, their lips connected. Charlie dropped his right hand from her cheek and grabbed her hip, pulling her closer to him. Her hands weaved around his neck as her mouth opened, inviting Charlie in to explore before she pulled back and rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” Charlie admitted sheepishly. Y/N rocked up on her toes, her lips ghosting across his “next time don’t wait so long” she responded before connecting their lips again.

Let me know if you wan to be added to my taglist!

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[flautistsandpeonies]

Golden Reflection

Read the Previous Chapter [Here]

Word Length: 3,362

Summary: The consequences of the Jin’s machinations have left her with many painful memories.

2 Days After the Trial

 Jin Ling was trying to walk again today.

Happy giggles left his mouth as he pushed himself up off the ground. As if trying to test the strength of his legs, he dipped up and down a couple time, laughing all the while.

Jiang Yanli laughed from her chair, “a-Ling, “she sang, “Come here”

Delighted at the sound of his mother’s voice, Jin Ling lifted his arms and stubby legs started towards her.

“That’s right...oh no!, “a loud laugh sounded as Jin Ling fell on his bottom

Undeterred, pudgy arms pushed themselves off the floor and started again.

“Mama, “Jin Ling called with grabby hands

Yanli held her arms out, “A-niang is here., “she giggled, “Good boy.”

Encouraged by her words, the ten-month-old wobbled with frightening speed. Trying to get to his mother as quickly as possible, he didn’t notice a toy on the floor and tripped and fell right on his belly.

“a-Ling!, “Yanli gasped in shock

Pushing himself up, Jin Ling no longer laughed and smiled. A pout was on his tiny face and tears had formed in his eyes.

“Waaah!, “the baby cried

Their happy moment broken, Yanli sighed at the familiar sound of her son’s wailing.

Placing her hands on her chair’s wheel, she pushed herself over to the child.

“It’s okay, a-Ling. A-niang is here., “Picking him up, she began to rock him back on forth on her lap

“Waaah!, “Jin Ling continued to cry, waving his arms about

“Hmm, does it hurt?, “Yanli gave a sad smile, “Where does it hurt? Here maybe?”

Yanli kissed Jin Ling’s forehead, then his nose, then both cheeks. Lifting his shirt, she gave him a raspberry.

Jin Ling gasped in shock, “Ma!”

Yanli started to tickle him, “Hmm, what is it?, “she smirked

“Ah, “Jin Ling laughed involuntarily, “Ma...Mama!”

Desperate to stop the tears from continuing, Yanli tickling and kissed every part of her son that she could reach. After a few minutes, Jin Ling was a soft ball of happiness once more.

“Mama, Mama, “Jin Ling laughed and grabbed her fingers

Yanli chuckled, “Alright, alright, “Hugging A-Ling, she set him on the floor, “Go play.”

Crawling on his hands and knees, Jin Ling wormed his way after to a shiny play set. It was a play size version of Lanling and Koi Tower; made mostly of blocks, it was a favorite of A-Ling’s play time.

It was also Jin GuangYao’s one month present.

Sighing at the sight, Yanli could do nothing. While she wanted nothing more than to throw the set into the nearest brazier, she could never take away something that made her a-Ling so happy.

“Ba!, “Picking up a white block A-Ling started to wave it around, “Bo!”

“Yeah, “Yanli grinned, “You like that, huh?”

Jin Ling laughed at her and threw the block at her feet.

“How about this, “Yanli picked up a stuffed snake, “How about what your uncle Cheng got you?”

a-Ling acted as if he didn’t see it and picked up another block.

“How about this?, “Picking up a rattle-drum, Yanli asked, “From Zewe-jun?”

a-Ling tossed another block.

“Or this from Chifeng-zun?, “she showed him a puzzle set

And another.

“How about I get that music box from your grandfather?”

And another.

“a-Ling!”

“Ma!”

Sighing, Yanli gave up, and Jin Ling continued to play with his block set. It seemed that out of all his presents, Jin GuangYao’s was not only the favorite among the family, but among the entire cultivation world.

However, in Yanli’s mind, there was still a gift missing.

The sound of her child’s playtime slowly droned out as Yanli started to get lost in her thoughts.

‘a-Xian’

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1 Week Before Yanli’s Wedding

Jiang Yanli woke up early that morning. She made a pot of lotus root and pork rib soup while eating breakfast, packed paper and ink in a bag, took an herbal bath, moisturized with creams, had her make-up and jewelry done, and had her wedding dress fitted to perfection. Throwing on a thick black cloak, she wrapped her arms around Jiang WanYin’s waist as Sandu lifted into the air and started into the direction of Yiling.

Their first stop was the Burial Mounds. Crows shrieked as they flew overhead, and the corpse barrier let out a collective howl as they neared it.

“Stay back for a second, a-jie, “Jiang WanYin huffed, “It should let us through if I-”

One of the corpses wailed and swung a clawed handat him. Jiang Cheng quickly jumped back to avoid the blow; the cadaver let out a loud growl before stepping back into its place in line.

“Damn it, “Jiang Cheng shouted and unfurled Zidian, “Son of a bitch-”

“Wait, a-Cheng, “Yanli raised a hand while eyeing the corpses nervously, “Let’s not mess with it. Let’s check the town. Maybe a-Xian went out.”

Jiang WanYin snarled as if he wanted to lash and strike every corpse in front of him, but nodded at his sisters words and sealed the whip away.

“Fine”

Taking his sister back up onto his sword, they flew towards Yiling. The town’s gate that greeted them was in disrepair; shops and homes were dusty and dirty. The people around were not living in the most suitable of conditions.

The Jiang sibling immediately went to the markets in hopes of spotting Wei WuXian. Unlike in Yunmeng, there weren’t many merchants along the paths. There was no friendly atmosphere, and the products being sold didn’t look to be of the best quality either.

Yanli wrapped her cloak tighter around herself when a merchant woman selling apples glared her way, “Do you think we’ll find a-Xian today?”

“If that bastard truly gives a damn, he better show, “Jiang WanYin crossed his arms glaring his way at a man claiming to be a disciple of the Yiling Laozu

Yanli smiled and shook her head at his words. Walking over to what looked to be a potato vendor, she asked,

“Hello, may we ask you couple questions?”

They spent the entire day asking anybody that would stop and listen about Wei WuXian. At some point, her feet started to hurt in her shoes and the edges of her cloak were getting crusted with dirt. Hours passed, the soup grew cold, and sooner rather than later, the sky started to purple and dim.

There was still no sign of Wei WuXian.

Jiang Cheng snarled, “Let’s go, A-a-jie. We’re wasting our time here.”

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

1 Month Before Jin Ling’s One Month Celebration

Laying in her bed, Yanli rocked her sleeping son. Little A-Ling let out little puffs as he dreamed away to his new world.

Suddenly, the sound of shoes stomping down the halls had Yanli looking towards the door. Soon after, her husband flung the door open, let out a frustrated huff and then closed them more gently as if remembering the new born in the room.

Yanli raised a brow, “A-Xuan, what’s wrong?”

Jin ZiXuan growled and clenched his fists. Looking down, Yanli saw a white and golden invitation crumbled in it.

“He ignored me, “Jin ZiXuan growled lowly, “that son of a bitch didn’t even show!”

Carefully getting out of bed, Yanli walked over to her husband and replied, “I’m sure that there’s an explanation for it. Maybe he didn’t know you were there?”

ZiXuan shook his head, “Impossible. I let off fire works, messenger flies, and anything else I could think of.”

Yanli frowned, “Well maybe he-

“a-Li, “ZiXuan sighed, “It’s time to face it. He’s not going to answer you.”

Yanli shook her head so hard Jin Ling rocked slightly and frowned, “No, no! That’s not...”

"a-Li, “ZiXuan put his hands on her shoulders, “I know that he was like a brother to you in the past, and a part of you still cares about him, but it’s time for you to face the facts. He’s moved on. He’s changed”

“No!, “Yanli nearly shouted, “a-Xian wouldn’t...he would never abandon A-Ling!”

“He doesn’t even know a-Ling exists, a-Li, “ZiXuan huffed, “And what type of family member frees Wen Ruohan’s soldiers? Who knows what he’s planning up on the Burial Mounds. a-Li, you have to face that whoever and whatever he was like when we were children, that person is gone.”

This time, Yanli really did shout, “No. I’m sure that....I’m sure that if I could just talk to him, a-Xian would...he would listen to me. He would come home.”

“Waaah!”

Flinching, Yanli and ZiXuan looked down at the little bundle in her arms. a-Ling’s cheeks were red in distress and little droplets fell from his eyes.

“Ah, a-Ling!, ”both parents exclaimed in dismay

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The Day After Jin Ling’s One Month Celebration

“Why do we have to go to Langya today, a-Xuan?, “Yanli blinked as a fur cloak was thrown over her shoulders, “Shouldn’t we spend today opening A-Ling’s gifts?”

“I want to give you my own gifts, ‘Jin ZiXuan laid a kiss upon her forehead, “for bringing such a wonder into this world.”

Yanli huffed at the man’s antics, “And what if you buy something that is currently hiding in a box in our room?”

“Then I’ll go buy something else, “ZiXuan smiled

“Oh a-Xuan, “Yanli giggled and shuffled Jin Ling in his fur blanket

At the bottom of Koi Tower’s steps, a beautiful carriage was waiting for them along with an armed guard.

“Here’s the first present, a new carriage so that everyone will know that it’s us, “Jin ZiXuan smiled while helping her inside

No expense had been wasted in the creation of the carriage. The base was stark while the trimming was golden. Etched into it were glimmering azaleas and the prominent Sparks Amidst Snow, golden tigers and cranes, and blessings. Even the wheels were carved with elegant designs.

“We’re going to Langya today, “ZiXuan nodded at the driver

“Yes sir, ”the driver nodded and whipped the horses into moving

The journey out of Lanling was the same as any other. Civilians gawked at the expensive carriage before them. Woman laughed, smiled, and threw flowers at the beautiful couple before them. Merchants called to them so that they might take a look at their wares, the normal for any member of the Jin family.

Soon, the hustle and bustle of the city faded away and they were surrounded by cliffs and trees. Birds chirped around them as the sun shined and glinted off the polish of the carriage.

“What do you want to do when we get there?, “Yanli asked while leaning against the love of her life

“I think we should find a hotel first, then go to the markets, “ZiXuan replied while wrapping an arm around her waist

“That sounds nice, “she nodded smiling down at Jin Ling who wiggled in his blanket

Pulling his wife a bit closer, ZiXuan kissed her hair. Turning to the windows, he admired the area moving around them.

Lanling was a region filled with many rich merchants and civilian gentry families due to it’s location near the water, harboring many ports. The entire area was cultivated to look as beautiful as possible to display the residents’ copious amounts of wealth. The people living there were used to seeing ostentatious sights even while on the road.

“What is that?, “Jin ZiXuan pointed to a glint in the trees

“I don’t know, sir. I’ll check it out, “one of the guards replied, unsheathed his sword and broke from the group

“It could be bird with some coin, “Yanli suggested while snuggling her son who let out a little yawn

“Could be, “ZiXuan replied, “But you can never be too careful these day-”

“Ahhhh!-”

Jumping, the entire entourage turned in the direction of the departed guard. The carriage driver halted the horses and blinked his eyes in confusion and fear.

“It’s not nothing, “Jin ZiXuan opened his side of the carriage and got out, “a-Li, stay here, we have no idea what this could be.”

“Alright, “Yanli nodded in agreement holding her son tightly

Closing the door, Jin Zixuan nodded at the driver to stay put. The man nodded back, but seemed to shake, unsure of what was truly happening. Making a hand motion, the guards formed a protective circle around the Jin heir while ZiXuan walked in the direction of their disciple brother’s scream.

“I hope it’s nothing serious. “Yanli smiled at the carriage driver

“I hope so as well, Madam, “he looked back at her with a wary smile

They waiting for what seemed like hours, but in reality only a few minutes had passed.

*Pop!* *Crack!* *Sizzle!*

Jiang Yanli jumped at the sudden sound. Craning her neck to the sky, the familiar Sparks Amidst Snow blazed in the sky.

An emergency flare.

“What?, “Yanli was afraid to get out but worried none-the-less

“They are coming back, “the driver stood and leaned forward

Jin ZiXuan and the guards were running towards them. Looks of shock and fear were spread over all their faces.

Yanli gasped in horror, “a-Xuan!”

“Corpses!, “the driver screamed in horror

Charging towards them in a frenzy seemed to be hundreds of corpses. They growled and wildly swung their arms at the prey racing to get away from them.

“We have to run!, “Jin ZiXuan screamed towards them

Getting back the the carriage, the guards took out their swords and prepared for the mob of the dead coming for them. Grabbing the horse’s reigns, Jin ZiXuan tried to force them in the opposite direction back to Koi Tower.

They’re here!, “a guard grunted, pulling out a talisman

The corpses howled at them. Claws out-stretched, they charged.

“Get them back!, “another disciple shouted

Talismans and blades flew as they guards were determined to protect their charges. The mob of corpses seemed to grow even as one fell two more took its place.

“Get out, get out, “an escort shouted when a corpse jumped and started to bang on the roof of the carriage

The carriage driver screamed and jumped from his post. Attempting to run into the woods, a corpse sensing his yang energy broke off from group and caught him in the back. He was swiftly devoured, and his screams sent shivers up the spines of everyone there.

The horde started to pile against the side of the carriage, growling and pushing their sharp claws against the expensive wood.

Holding Jin Ling tight to her bosom, Yanli threw open the open opposite side’s doors and prepared to jump and run. Suddenly, her world tilted, and the carriage creaked and slammed to the ground.

“Aaahhhh!!!, ”the sound rattled the minds of the Jin disciples

A sharp pain ripped through Jiang Yanli’s back as the heavy wood and metal slammed down on her.

“Waaah!, “Jin Ling cried loudly as dust flew around them

“a-Li, a-Ling!, “Jin ZiXuan cried out, kneeling beside her

The corpses snarled and started to surround them blood, dripping from their mouths and claws. Yanli started to wiggle underneath her prison, but to no avail. The carriage had her firmly crushed.

“a-Xuan, “tears had started to fall from her eyes, “Take a-Ling and run!”

“No, “her husband stood and unsheathed Suihua, “Get them out of here, “he snarled at their entourage

“But ZiXuan-”

“Now!”

The guards crowded around her. Three worked to lift the carriage while the other two pulled her out. In front, Jin ZiXuan stood his ground against the ever growing horde.

“Can you run, Young Madam Jin?, “one of them asked

Yanli cried, “I..I..., “she gasped in pain while Jin Ling continued to cry in her arms, “My legs...I”

Shaking their head, a guard lifted her into their arms, “No time. We have to go.”

“But...a-Xuan, “she cried out when she saw her husband not getting on his sword to follow, “a-Xuan, come with us now!”

Jin ZiXuan slashed a fierce corpse in half, “Stay safe, both of you, “he smiled back at her, “I love you”

“a-Xuan!”

“Take them and go!, “Jin ZiXuan dove straight into the legion

“a-Xuan!, “she screamed as her husband’s figure started to dim from her sight

“a-Xuan!”

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A Couple Days Later

The ceiling in Jiang Yanli’s room was too bright.

The young madam of the Jin sect lay in her marital bed, dark bags under eyes, a needle in her neck, and bandages wrapped from her torso to her ankles. On the right side of her, two maids stood attentively with their hands folded on top of the other waiting for instructions. On her left, Madam Jin sat in a chair, eyes red from crying, holding a sleeping Jin Ling who’s face was also red from stress.

“The doctor has informed me that they’ve done all they could, “Madam Jin spoke softly to the grieving woman, “You can’t feel anything below the waist?”

Jiang Yanli said nothing and continued to look at the ceiling.

“I’ve ordered a craftsman to create a suitable chair for you, “Madam Jin continued moving Jin Ling in her arms when he started to whine in his sleep

Jiang Yanli did not reply.

“The doctors said that the dust only irritated a-Ling’s lungs; he will be fine, “the Madam continued

At that, Jiang Yanli looked at her son, his little face scrunched up eyes puffy from crying earlier.

“He’s crying for you, a-Li, “Madam Jin reached over and ran a hand through Jiang Yanli’s hair, “He wants his mother.”

Yanli turned her head away from her, looking to the other side of the room. On a glimmering cream colored mantle sat a gold, white, and red sword. Before being given to her, the sword had been cleaned of any blood and viscera.

Before, the sight of the Jin heir’s spiritual weapon wowed her at the blacksmith’s craftiness, how they managed to make it both beautiful and powerful. Now, the sight of Suihua disgusted her. Jiang Yanli would be rid of the blade in an instant if it meant having her husband back.

If it meant having a single piece of him back, now that nothing of him remained.

Madam Jin pursed her lips at Yanli silent statement, still herself grieving for her departed son. The older woman looked down at her grandson and kissed at his forehead before starting to speak again.

“The disciples that went with you said that the corpses weren’t mindlessly attacking you, “anger immediately filled the woman’s words, “That they looked to be controlled.”

Yanli sent a sharp look to her mother-in-law. Madam Jin shifted Jin Ling in her arms rocking him as she continued.

“They think Wei WuXian sent them after you, “Madam Jin said through gritted teeth

No matter how much Yanli wanted to dispute the woman’s statement, she couldn’t, mind moved to mush by the pain medicine running through her. She did her best to shake her head at the other woman.

Madam Jin ignored her, “And that’s not all. Jin ZiXun has fallen ill; he’s been cursed with the Hundred Holes Curse. He says Wei WuXian did it, knows he did it cause of his grudge against him.”

Yanli was still shaking her hand, her breathing deepened.

“Young Madam Jin?, “one of the maids leaned in

“Should I get the healer?, “the other whispered

Madam Jin was still talking, “This cannot stand. I won’t let it stand. How dare that son of servant?......a-Xuan, my boy.......oh, ZiYuan was right about him; nothing good comes from street trash.”

Madam Jin stood up, clutching Jin Ling against her chest, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and face turning red. She breathed heavily as she paced towards the bedroom’s door and back, over and over.

“GuangShan’s sent disciples to give that son of a whore an ultimatum, but that won’t be enough! It’ll never be enough! I don’t care about the Ghost General or those damned Wens; I want that trash’s head!, “Madam Jin was near ranting

The two assistants leaned down closer towards their young madam, worry overwhelming them as they noticed her breathing change. Yanli turned her head towards them, frantically moving her eyes to convey to them to stop her mother-in-law.

Madam Jin was a ball of unrelenting anger, “I’ll have him strung up. I’ll have him roasted for all of Lanling to see. I’ll scatter his ashes right on the steps so I can stomp on them every single day!”

Jiang Yanli felt as if she was being crushd down once more.

“Madam Jin!, “one of the servants called to the woman

“What?!, “the Jin Sect Madam screamed back

The servants were frantic, “Young Madam Jin!”

Eyes shifting down, the enraged woman quickly noticed her daughter-in-law bawling in her bed, tears rushing down her face in a never-ending stream.

Madam Jin gasped, “a-Li!”

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

Present

“Ma?, “The feeling of a little hand tugging on her dress had Yanli nearly jumping out of her skin

Looking down, A-Ling stared back at her with wide eyes, “Ma?”

Yanli smiled, “A-Ling, it’s okay. A-niang was just...thinking.”

Jin Ling blinked and then smiled, “Ma!”

Seeing the bright, beaming smile, Yanli couldn’t help but think, ‘He reminds me of a-Xian like that’

She was brought out of her musings by another tug. The baby was swinging a block around in his hand; suddenly, he shoved it into his mouth.

Another smile found its way back onto Yanli’s face and she laughed “a-Ling! What are you doing!?”

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Author’s Notes:

-Fun Fact: This chapter and the previous were once all one chapter. the reason it took so long to publish them is because I felt that there wasn’t enough detail, but the chapter was already so long. So, I ended up splitting them in two and you guys got a double update.

-Another Fun Fact: There used to be a bit more Jin GuangYao, but it had to be taken out for continuity.

Read my Other Prompts and WIPs [Here]

[nfldunn]

     𝙸 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴—𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉     roswelltask 002     ( @rocketfm )

𝑂𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐼𝑁𝑆 & 𝐹𝐴𝑀𝐼𝐿𝑌.

Full Name:   Gunner Raleigh Dunn

Reason for name:   Mostly stereotypical toxic masculinity, Gunner’s father wanted a “strong” sounding name for his son, believing that it would make him strong.

Nickname(s):   Gun, Dunn, QB, Midas

Date of Birth:   November 1st, 1988

Age:  32

Gender + Pronouns:   Cis-Male, He/Him

Place of birth:   Rockport, Massachusettes

Parents:   Sandra Burns-Dunn & Brock Dunn

Siblings:   N/A

Relationship with family (close? estranged?):   Estranged. Only currently speaks to his cousin who lives in England, as far as biological family is concerned.

Pets:   N/A

𝑃𝐻𝑌𝑆𝐼𝐶𝐴𝐿.

Height:   6 feet, 1 inch

Build:   Athletic, Muscular

Nationality:   American

Ethnicity:   3/4 White, 1/4 Filipino / Spanish / Catalan / Basque / Chinese

Distinguishing Facial Features:   Jawline & Strong, Sometimes Messy Eyebrows

Hair Color:   Dark Brown

Usual Hair Style:   Messy, usually with a minimal amount of product because he runs his hands through it a lot.

Eye Color:   Dark Brown

Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birthmarks, scars):   Lightly Tanned, Almost-Olive Skin. A few scars on his hands and also spread over his back and shoulder.

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses):   Anger Issues & Intermittent nerve issues in his injured shoulder that can, at times, leave him in a sling from pain.

What do they consider their best feature?:   His Biceps

Worst they’ve ever been injured (what, how did it happen)?:   While the injury that ended his career was by no means the only time he’d been injured badly enough to put him in the hospital, it is the only injury that truly left him with a lasting impact. It was during an important game for the season, when, upon one of his teammates getting their hands on the ball, he’d made the decision to tackle a member of the opposing team because he was in the best position to do so, and save the ball from the other team. But the momentum from the tackle had sent them off the field, and upon realizing where they were heading, he’d shifted his and the other player’s position in the air so he took the brunt of the impact when they collided with something on the sidelines. The impact, mostly focused on his shoulder, effectively shattered the bones there, and he’d needed to be surgically pieced back together like a jigsaw puzzle.

𝐴𝑃𝑃𝐸𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸.

Favorite outfit:   Decently tight jeans, white t-shirt, and a leather jacket

Glasses? Contacts?:   N/A

Personal Hygiene:   Two showers a day - one when he wakes up, and one after his daily workout. He also has a skincare routine that he does every day, twice a day.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?:   He doesn’t usually wear jewelry, but he does have his ears pierced. He has a large tattoo that covers most of his back of a tree - with an intricate root system beneath the “ground” that’s visible, that says “no tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell.” He also has a tattoo of a raven on his non-injured shoulder, with a dragonfly right next to it, and delicate script forming a bracelet around his left wrist that says “you say i killed you - haunt me, then.” because the man is a classical novel nerd. And, finally, he has a roman numeral ‘thirty two’ tattooed on his ribs, near his heart, for his jersey number.

What does their voice sound like?:   I’m not even gonna try to explain it, okay, it’s low and gravelly and y’all can listen to it yourself if you really wanna know. The mans straight up sounds like he’s got a sore throat 100% of the time.

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.):   He generally speaks fairly quietly - loud enough to be heard, but generally on the quieter side, unless he’s pissed and starts yelling.

Accent?:   Classic New England accent. But he also has a tendency to drop the ‘g’s from the end of his words, in a more typical Southern habit.

Unique mannerisms/physical habits:   He has a habit of flexing his hands into fists whenever he’s thinking, but generally, he doesn’t have a ton of habits that are unique to him.

Left handed or right?:   He’s ambidextrous, meaning he can use both of his hands equally as well, and doesn’t have a particular instinct towards using either of them.

Do they work out/exercise?:   Almost obsessively. He works out every single day, and usually can’t be caught dead skipping a day.

𝐵𝐸𝐿𝐼𝐸𝐹𝑆 & 𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐸𝐶𝑇.

Known Languages:   English, French, Filipino, & Spanish

Zodiac:   Scorpio

Gifts/talents:   He has always been a very talented football player, a natural almost as soon as he’d started playing, and is also quite gifted at chess, though that’s something that no one really knows about him.

Religious stance:   Agnostic/Athiest, if not a bit antagonistic towards the idea of a higher power.

Political stance:   Liberal, but like with most things, he doesn’t speak of it in public, so no one would really know. Many people in the past assumed he was a conservative because of the sport he played, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Pet peeves:   Quiet, easily intimidated people.

Optimist or pessimist:   Pessimist

Extrovert or introvert:   He has a “switch” he can turn on and off as the situation needs. He’s generally an introvert, but when put into a situation where being an extrovert would help, he can put on an act to become one without much struggle.

𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐴𝐶𝑌 & 𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆𝐻𝐼𝑃𝑆.

Relationship status:   Single

Sexual orientation:   Bisexual

Ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate:   He generally gravitates towards stronger, more dominant personalities, though it’s been so long since he’s been in a relationship that it’s generally not something he even thinks about anymore. Someone who’s outgoing and can spar with his prickly mood swings is usually who catches his attention, though.

Ever been in love?:   Once, and while it ended amicably enough, it ruined his views on relationships.

What’s their love language?:   Both physical touch and gift giving.

Most important person in their life?:   It’d been his grandmother at one point in his life, but now that she has passed away, he doesn’t really have anyone - a bit of a lone wolf type.

𝑉𝑂𝐶𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁.

Level of education:   College degree in Classic Studies, with an emphasis on Classic Literature

Profession:   Sports Reporter at Rocket Radio Station

Past occupations:   Professional Football Player

Dream occupation:   N/A

Passions:   Football, Reading, Chess

Attitude towards current job:   It keeps him occupied for a little every day, and is about as close as he’s comfortable getting to his past career, which he appreciates, but he’s not exactly passionate about it.

Spender or Saver? Why?:   He’s a little bit of both. He doesn’t have to worry about money, mostly due to smart investments back when he was famous, but he doesn’t necessarily go around just spending money to spend money. If he wants something, he buys it, and doesn’t really have to think much on it.

Which is more important – money or doing something they love?:   He’s never had to choose, because the thing he loved made him money - but if he had to choose, if he could only have one, he’d choose doing something he loved.

𝑆𝐸𝐶𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑆.

Phobias:   N/A

Life goals:   To fade into oblivion, now

Greatest fears:   Intimacy

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her:   Gunner, for the most part, has no shame - so he generally doesn’t find very much, if anything at all, embarrassing.

Something they’ve never told anyone:   His animosity towards his father had started forming at a young age, mostly culminating in screaming matches between the two when he was a teenager, and that was why he left Rockport for college and never even considered turning back.

Biggest regret:   Not trying to make a long distance relationship work with his high school boyfriend, when he left for college.

Compulsions:   N/A

Police/Criminal/Legal record:   Nothing that actually landed on a record, but he did spend brief stints in “Family House”, a place for kids (mostly deemed “out of control”) to go when they couldn’t manage to get along with their parents, essentially giving them a safe place to go outside of their home and to give both parents and child a break from the tension, as a substitute for the foster system, but he only ever spent a few days there at a time.

Vices:   Alcohol

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝐹𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸𝑆.

Hobbies:   Chess

Favorite color:   Charcoal Grey

Favorite smell:   Motor Oil

Favorite food:   Steak and Fries

Favorite book:   Pride and Prejudice

Favorite movie:   Uncut Gems

Favorite song:   (I Just) Died In Your Arms by Cutting Crew

Coffee or tea?:   Coffee

Favorite type of weather:   Thunderstorms

Most prized possession:   His collection of Super Bowl rings

Most used word or phrase?:   Fuck

[sammyspreadyourwings]

Eternity (I give to you)

It’s still the 5th. This one took me a minute to actually have time to sit down and write, but it got done. Also this doesn’t Offically take place in the Harmony AU, but. If you want it to, you can make it so. There’s a link that kind of looks like what I was picturing, without spoilers ofc.

Brian has never been good with buying gifts. He overthinks them until he ends up putting them back and buying something generic. Like the year he could have bought John a broken down bass, that they could have repaired together (he’s sure it would have sounded off but how fun it would have been) and then instead bought him a very fancy pack of the tea flavor he prefers.

Roger usually takes pity on me and tells him what he can get him. Dinner at some point during the week usually works out for them, or even lunch. They take at least one meal together in the space between their birthdays.

Then there’s Freddie, the absolute love of Brian’s life.

With the success of Queen and money no longer an issue, Freddie has taken to the mindset that if he wants it he will just buy it. Brian doesn’t mind it, however stressful it is when the purchases clutter up the walkways because they aren’t sure where to put them. It simply makes it impossible to buy Freddie a gift with any meaning attached to it.

Dinner and wine is something that they do once a week as a date night and they always got to a nice restaurant. A habit formed back in their Hot Space era and never broken.

He could buy Freddie artwork, but his taste changes with the wind and Brian doesn’t really want to start any kind of disagreement.

Freddie is touched with grand gestures, Brian bought him a star one year, but the paper is pressed between the albums in their music room.

Jewelry and clothes are always better left to Freddie himself. It saves him both the sizing headache and the lecture on combinations and styles. He likes fashion, and the grand clothes they pick for stage wear, but when it comes down to it, he can’t pick out the cuts or fabrics that would look good with each other. Freddie has Elton for that most days, either way.

Brian pauses, his pencil tapping on the list of potential gifts. The only thing he had managed to write down that hasn’t been scratched out is jewelry. Freddie wears it, certainly, but it usually is only once before he picks out a new piece. Except there’s one thing… Brian shakes his head. He couldn’t.

He reads through the list. It’s the only thing he can think of.

Except that it is so cliché that he can just imagine the ribbing he is going to get for it.

He dials the number before he can think about it.

“Hello?”

“Roger?”

“That is the number you called,” Roger replies.

“Yes.”

He pauses and stares at the list again.

“B? You call for a reason?” Roger inhales shakily, “did something happen?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Is he really going to ask Roger? Brian sighs, it feels right, and he is running out time to get something together.

“Are you free?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“I can be,” Roger replies, “I was just catching up on my reading. Why?”

“I want to,” Brian bites his lips and glances at the list again, “I want to go ring shopping.”

“Bri?”

“For Freddie.”

“Well, I assumed you weren’t going to propose to a mistress,” Roger laughs.

Brian grimaces and clears his throat.

“Anyway, ring shopping?”

“His birthday is –”

“I know when my best friend’s birthday is. Do you want to buy him a ring? Brian that means… you know what that means.” “I do.” “Oh, you’re serious. How long?”

“Thirty minutes,” he shrugs.

“You made up your mind in thirty minutes?” Roger barks, “miracles do happen – of course I’ll come with you. I’ll drive. Be over shortly.”

The line goes dead and Brian carefully rips up the list because he knows Freddie likes snooping in his paper’s. Mostly to find songs that he is hiding from him. His plans for a surprise have been ruined more than once because of this habit. It earns him a lot of soft kisses when Freddie learns.

Brian stands and decides that he should look professional. He doesn’t actually know how you’re supposed to look when buying rings. He’s deciding between jackets when Roger knocks on his door.

“Hello – and John too.”

John waves, “Roger called me.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“I assume it’s for Freddie.” Brian rolls his eyes and bites his cheek before stepping out and locking the door. Roger is dressed down, except for the dark green suit blazer he is wearing. John looks comfortable in the short sleeve band shirt from their last tour. Brian glances down and his trousers, sharply pressed.

“Come on. We’ll never leave if you start thinking about your fashion. We should get this done before Freddie comes back.”

“He’s doing his solo work, right?”

“I think it’s a meeting about the album cover,” Brian shrugs.

“Well, let’s go,” Roger bounces.

💎💎💎

Brian hasn’t been in a jewelry store since he helped Roger pick out a ring for Dom. He can tell that John remembers the same thing with a tiny grimace on his face. That hadn’t been a great time in their relationship. Even without all the details they refuse to share, Brian can guess how close they came to breaking up.

The clerk greets them with a smile before swaying her hips over. Obviously, they’ve been recognized and Brian spends about four seconds dreading the tabloids getting ahold of this. He’ll have to keep Freddie away from them for a week.

While making sure he doesn’t make it look like he’s having an affair.

“How may I help you?” The woman asks.

“I want to look at the rings?”

“Any occasion?”

Brian shrugs, he doesn’t imagine there’s that much difference between rings. The clerk nods and waves her arm in the direction of one of the display cases. Roger and John both follow him with their hands in their pockets. The rings glitter from the light in the display. There’s just so many of them.

Roger leans over and starts pointing out random rings. Usually, Brian would trust him when it comes to Freddie’s fashion sense, but they all seem wrong. It quickly becomes clear that Roger is just pointing out the most expensive ones he sees.

Not that price matters too much.

John pinches Roger on the side.

“Stop being a nuisance. We’ll let Brian pick and then give him our opinion.”

The clerk smiles setting the rings back in the case.

Brian crouches and starts looking through each ring carefully. He’s drawn to the brilliant yellow diamonds. They remind him of Freddie, and he makes sure to point to the teardrop one. Really, they’re lovely, and Freddie would adore it. Except it’s very blatant as to what it is. He walks down the case, pointing out rings occasionally.

John and Roger both watch the display case fill up. Brian thinks all of them would look lovely, but they Aren’t Perfect.

“This one is nice, Bri,” Roger says holding up a beautiful twisted band, solid gold with tiny diamonds forming leaves.

Maybe if this was Jim, Brian frowns.

Roger sets it back, “Brian, whichever one you get. It’ll be loved.”

Brian nods. He knows that. Freddie would be moved by the sentiment and wear the ring proudly. It’s just that Brian wants to be 100 percent satisfied. Which he rarely ever is. John sighs and crosses his arm as he leans against a pillar.

“Brian,” John says, “trust yourself.”

He takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he thinks about what Freddie would love. Something simple and elegant. Freddie might be the world’s best frontman and loves extravagance, but Brian’s always loved the way he looks on Saturday mornings when they have nowhere to be. Hair messed by sleep and eyes softened without the make-up, how the shirt hangs off of him because it’s Brian’s but it’s nothing but soft gray cotton.

Brian thinks about how Freddie’s voice sounds the best when it’s soft and the melody is simple. When the song is so beautiful that he doesn’t need vocal acrobatics to sell it.

Freddie to him is Queen’s frontman, but he’s also the man that picks up his cats swaying with them and sings good morning to them in a bathrobe with coffee filling the house in a wakeup call.

He opens his eyes again and looks back at the case. His eyes are drawn to The Ring. When the clerk grabs it and sets it in the middle of the box, both John and Roger lean forward and share secret grins with each other.

“That’s perfect, mate,” Roger says.

John nods, “see, you knew.”

💍💍💍

Brian thumbs the velvet case in his pocket. Freddie wants to stay in tonight. The Big Celebration is tomorrow when more of their guest list could make it, and Brian didn’t have to worry about a hangover on the weekend. Instead, with Phoebe’s help, he made a simple dinner. He picked out a menu that went with Freddie’s favorite wine and found their good candle holders.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Freddie smiles before kissing him on the cheek, “this is lovely. Thank you, Brimi.”

Brian smiles and guides Freddie to the table, pulling out the chair before sitting across from them.

“You know, this reminds me of our first date,” Freddie says unfolding the napkin.

He grins. Their first date had been on the floor of Freddie’s room in the flat he shared with Roger, too scared to go out. They had pulled the card table in and used cheap scented candles to make it feel more romantic. The dishes had been take-out containers and paper plates. Brian had spilled their cheap wine on his white shirt two minutes into the meal and jumped every time Freddie so much as looked at him.

Tonight, they use fancy china and drink wine that Brian has trouble pronouncing in a mansion with velvet curtains and a central heating system that works. Unlike the Brian who had just stopped curling his hair, and still felt too nervous in his own body much less touch someone a stunning as Freddie, Brian places his hand down on the table face up. He twists their legs together with ease bought by time. Freddie clasps their hands together.

The fact that he loves Freddie Mercury has never changed between the years.

“Good. I wanted to remind you where we came from,” Brian said.

“Ah yes, I wanted to be reminded of the awkward guitarist and too shy singer.”

“Reflection is good.”

“The future is better.”

Brian grins again. The fork clinks quietly on his plate, “about that?”

“Did you finally unlock time travel, Dr. May?”

“Ah, that mystery still eludes me,” Brian laughs, “but I do know who I’d like to spend my future with.”

Freddie lifts an eyebrow.

His hand wraps around the box and pulls it out before sliding it across the table. Freddie’s eyes widen, and he drops his fork before reaching out and grabbing it. He detangles their hands to pick it up and flip open the lid.

A double-banded ring sits in soft yellow silk. He had chosen the color specifically because of how it reminds him of Freddie. One band is white enamel and the other black. They’re connected by a strip of silver where they cross each other. Freddie picks it up, as though he is afraid it will break.

“Brian?”

Brian wets his lip, his heart attempting to beat out of his chest. He doesn’t think that Freddie will reject him, but this means so much to him.

“I couldn’t think what else to give you,” Brian says quietly, “but then I thought that I could promise this forever.”

Freddie holds the ring to his face, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know I promised forever, already. Back when we were younger.”

“Under those horribly scratchy hotel sheets in Sydney, I remember.”

They both get lost in their thoughts for a moment. Brian had promised forever and then very nearly broke it a few months later when he got sick in the states.

Freddie drops the ring in his hand and then extends his fingers towards Brian.

He slips it onto the middle finger.

“Oh?”

“When we can finally get married, I’ll put a ring there.”

He smiles at Freddie’s surprised laugh. Brian squeezes his hand before dropping it. Freddie lifts the hand to his face, staring at the tangled bands, twisting it every which way.

“It feels heavy,” Freddie says after a few minutes.

“That’s because it’s a promise of forever.”

“You give me forever this year, what will you give me next year?” Freddie teases.

Brian shrugs, “I’ll promise forever then, too.”

[queenofcandynsoda]

One Piece OC: Charlotte Bechamel

Charlotte Bechamel

Epithet: Banshee

Age: 18

Birthday: August 20th

Hair Color: Light Blue

Eye Color: Teal

Height: 6’5” (196 cm)

Appearance: Bechamel is a young woman with light blue hair and teal eyes. Her right eye was damaged by her mother, Effilee, and have it removed, causing her to wear an eyepatch. Before she gets committed, Bechamel has dark bags under her eyes from constant distress, starvation, and lack of sleep. She was also underweight by twenty pounds and emaciated to the point that her ribs were showing.

Daily: Bechamel wears an open dark blue jacket, black and white tank top, as well as a bandolier across her chest. She also wears black pants and a dark purple bowler hat, as well as an ammunition belt on her waist. After Effilee stabbed her in the right eye, Bechamel wears a black eyepatch.

Asylum: When she went to Coconut Asylum, her hair is straight and disheveled as her eyes look dead. She wears the light blue asylum patient dress as she carried around a baby doll that resembles Monray. She wears a medical eyepatch.

Recovery: After being released, Bechamel’s hair would be braided. She wears a light blue summer dress with a pink waistband and a pair of sandals. Instead of a bowler hat, she wears a bright hat with various flowers. Her eyepatch is now white.

Formal: For formal events, Bechamel wears a violet dress with dark jewelry and heels.

Young: As a child, Bechamel wore a light purple shirt and blue shorts with white sneakers.

Affiliations: Big Mom Pirates (Former); Charlotte Family

Occupation: Pirate (Former), Assassin (Former), “Housewife”

Bounty: 270,000,000 Beli

Devil Fruit: None

Moves: None

Skills: Bechamel is very fast and durable. She has several weapons, such as two revolvers, two walkers, a shotgun, four daggers, and several throwing knives. Though, she mostly prefers two walkers. She is very stealthy and can be hard to track and detect.

Personality: Bechamel was an unstable, delusional abused woman. She has a cheerful guise to hide her depressed and unstable mind. She’s unaware that her brother hates and resents her for being the “favorite” or that her father stabs his eye. Though the resentment tones down when he learns that the abuse increased towards Bechamel. When Roux returns, Bechamel develops incestuous feelings towards him, especially when he killed their father. Which also leads to jealousy to his girlfriend, Burberry. In every tragic event, such as funerals Bechamel always howls in sorrow. She also howls when she's going to kill someone She howls more often when she was committed. The only one to stop her howling is Roux. After her psychological break, her mind “split” into the “Housewife”, under the mindset of her being married to Roux and taking care of a baby doll that looks like Monray, and the “Prisoner”, the mindset that she’s trapped in a locked room while her parents still abused her. She is gradually recovering after Effilée’s last trial. Bechamel is becoming a stable mother figure to Monray, who was born months after Macken’s death. Because of Pudding, she has little memory of her parents and is happy to move on.

About: Charlotte Bechamel is the first daughter of the fifth daughter, Effilée, and her husband, Macken. She is the older twin sister of Roux and the older sister of Monray, who is an infant. Since Bechamel and Roux were young, Macken molested them without their mother being aware of it. When they were eleven, Roux runs away, believing that Effilee can’t protect both of them. Effilee learns of the abuse by Roux’s letter left after he ran away. However, she hid the letter. She was her parents’ “favorite” child, causing Roux to resent her. Compared to himself, she was more of a well-behaved child. However, being the “favorite” leaves her to be very worse off.  Macken continues molested her as Effilee lashes out on her and neglects her, including not caring if she has food or clean clothes. The reasons why Effilée resents her are because Bechamel is very beautiful, causing people to look over her for her daughter, and Macken pays more attention to Bechamel instead of her. Bechamel was hidden for years as her three aunts, Mondee, Amande, and Hachee, kept trying to check on her well-being. Effilee keeps denying them from seeing her. After Roux returned home, he learns of the continued abuse and kills Macken. Months later, a week after she gave birth, Effilee stabs Bechamel in the eye in a fit of rage, causing her to be arrested and sentenced to ten years on her first trial. Before her mother’s second trial for the previous abuse and neglect, Bechamel tried to sleep with Roux. Not only her rejected her but he also compares to Macken in order to snap out of her delusion. Bechamel, instead, tries to attempt suicide but her brother stopped her. She was then committed to Coconut Asylum. There, she was diagnosed with Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD, and depression. Roux helps her to recover as much as he can, even getting his uncle Pudding to remove a portion of her memory of her parents. She is currently recovering as she starts raising Monray as her own.

Wanted Poster: Bechamel is seen with running mascara on her face with blood on her face.

[the-canary]

Hunger - B.B

Summary: Being at a wedding should be a happy occasion, but not if you're constantly reminded about why your soulmate doesn't love you back. (Soulmate AU! Reader/Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: +2.8K

Masterlist

A/N: i got the idea from an earlier challenge i did, but i didn’t get the prompt specifically for this. i tried to ignore the idea but this is what i get for listening to florence and the machine, so i suggest listening to "hunger" while reading this. there are some mentions of anxiety and body image issues as well, so please thread with caution. 

Please enjoy and feedback is always welcomed.

“I don’t wanna be with you,” his words sting and your heart stutters shut,”I don’t need this.”

Bucky expects you to scream at him, but maybe he doesn’t know you that well and he just lost his chance. Because all you do is take let a shuddering breathe and remain silent, it was the best way you could handle anger, before dropping your hand and hiding the marking once more.

“I don’t hate you, James,” you murmur softly, like you trying to placate a small child, because you know what he is trying to do. It had taken a long time, but you can read certain parts of him easily especially his self-loathing, “But, you deserve the world, even if it isn’t with me.”

J.B.B

J.B.B

He had only seen the marking once, over a year ago, but he always wondered if it burned when he was looking at you, like the old wives’ tales he used to hear back in the 40’s -- ones he tried his hardest to not believe due to the lack of initials on his own left wrist. However, you don’t seem to notice him, as you keep dancing with Sam on the dance floor in a pink dress and a golden jewelry that were covering your right wrist, a huge smile on your face -- of course who would be sad in a wedding? Well, James Buchanan Barnes could be as you turned around to start dancing some soft rock ballad with Tony, your former boss and the groom of the wedding. It wasn’t often the Avengers could have a respite, and everyone --well mostly everyone-- was taking advantage of it.

“Maybe, you should try talking to her,” Bucky doesn’t need to turn around to know who is reprimanding him, Steve had being doing so since the very beginning, “I’m sure she’s never hated you, Buck.”

“It’s not that,” he insists because by now he was learned that you aren’t one for hatred, but for self-deprecation and avoidance. He hadn’t gotten more than a few words with you since the incident, “It’s never been that.”

“You’ve been trying to protect her, huh?” Steve takes the words right out of his mouth, because all this avoidance and dancing around the issue of being with the one that was supposed to be only for him is really his form of protecting you -- from HYDRA, from the new enemies that came with being an Avenger, but most of all himself because he couldn’t be that charming young man that had secretly longed for his perfect soulmate and a white-picket fence. He didn’t deserve any of that.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky draws out before taking another swing of whiskey, wishing he could get drunk as he watches an unknown dark-haired man move in and try to dance with you. You’re flushed and all smiles as you accept, and Bucky barely takes notice of the cracking noise the glass begins to make.

“Well, you’re kind of messing up,” his best friend remarks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but all he can really do is shake his head. Bucky doesn’t find it in himself to answer, instead just letting out a small hum of acknowledgment because there must be something wrong in Stevie’s head if he thinks one magical night will suddenly change all the damage he had caused in the year since that revelation, since he learned he was actually lucky enough, but some strange fate, to be bestowed with such a wonderful woman as a soulmate.

“Ya know, your soulmate isn’t supposed be the one that hurts you the most,” Steve murmured softly, like he’s talking from experience before leaving his oldest friend to go back to meet his own date.  

“No good punk.”

It’s one of those rare events that Pepper Potts and Stark Industries has set up for the Avengers to visit a local hospital in the center of the city. Hang out, take some pictures and everything should be fine except everything isn’t ���fine” for Bucky as some parents seems apprehensive to let their children near him and the the loud noises are starting to be a bit to much for him. He takes an unsteady breathe and starts to feel a comforting sensation blooming underneath his rib cage. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him with that look asking are you okay?

Bucky can’t help but nod as you return the gesture, but what takes him off guard for the moment is you walking closer to him. His heart starts beating a little faster because you haven’t talked since the incident and of course you wouldn’t do it here cause you’re a damn professional -- he had seen that in the time he has known you. There are a million thoughts running through his head, but they all stop when you smile politely and the small, dark-haired boy in front of him.    

“Okay, sweetheart,” you crouch down to the boy’s height as his bright eyes look at the former Winter Soldier, “We’re here, wanna tell Mr. Barnes what you told me?”

“You’re my favorite Avenger!” the child yells out and it takes a moment for Bucky to realizes what he just said, “And your arm is so cool, especially since…”

“You can do it,” you hum out softly and touch the small child’s head to console him a little. Blue eyes look at you in amazement and back to the little boy as he rolls up his long sleeve shirt to show a prosthetic running from just below his elbow.

“You’re just like me,” the child grins and Bucky is stunned into silence before he keeps talking to the kid the introduces himself as Jason. More children come along and Bucky finds it a little hard to keep up with all of them, as they pull him away towards the activities he can’t help but look in your direction, as you were a proud smile that makes your eyes crinkle a bit more the usual before a woman comes up to thank you.  

It’s another hour of watching you make rounds greeting certain people throughout the room that you finally decide to take your seat not to far away from the center table. There’s a tight feeling in his chest as he watches you take deep and steady gulps of air, as your hands tighten into fists for a moment. He remembers once how at awe he was with the woman that could be considered the now Mrs. Stark’s right-hand woman. However, he knew better than that now, Bucky that there were things that kept you up at night and work through morning. You feared never being perfect enough, and it had taken you a long time to accept this current version of yourself.

“I used to starve myself all the time when I was younger,” he remembered overhearing you talking with Wanda once, your voice cracked and raw from a recent breakdown, because even if he didn’t have your initials on his skin, the pain glowed brightly within his chest, “I wanted to be perfect when I found him. I took me so long to realize that it didn’t matter...that he would love me no matter what, but it still didn’t fucking matter in the end...I’m always alone in the end.”

It had been only then that Bucky saw a change in your personality because while you were still soft and polite, there weren’t any longing glances at his direction anymore. You didn’t talk to him any longer than necessary and usually it was only with someone else in the room. You acknowledge him, but Bucky grew painful aware of the fact that you didn’t need him to live your life. It hurt him so much, but watching you from afar talking about all the places you have gone to and the people you had met, Bucky couldn’t help but feel proud for you.

He watches you stand up and grab another champagne flute from one of the many waiters, as you turn and smile at Steve and his date. However, all your attention turns to Tony as he stands in front of everyone with Pepper besides him, and in all honest it’s probably the happiest you has seen both of them in all of your years for personally working and knowing them. It made you happy that through all their trials and tribulations, they had never given up...that they always gave each other a chance.

You chug down the champagne as Tony begins to speak. However, you’re not really paying attention until he gets to the middle of his speech.  

“...We all have a hunger, a deep longing that we call loneliness and a lot people try different ways to fill it up -- drugs, drinking, women, power. You name it and I’ve probably tried it,” Tony laughs as the room stays silent, “But filling up that hole isn’t a temporary thing, it’s about constantly loving someone and working to be worthy in their eyes, but also being there when they need you. It’s taken me a long time to learn this, but I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful woman at my side to teach me all that and more.”

Tony turns to look at Pepper who is rubbing away the tears in the corners of her eyes before its gets any worse. Blue eyes glance around for a moment to see you standing near the garden’s entrance way, clapping slowly to Tony’s speech. He can almost see a glimmer of ache in your eyes before they turn to steel once more. You begin to head out as the festivities start again, and something in Bucky’s mind clicks.

Maybe, you were getting tired of being strong all the damn time too? You both struggled with a lot, but wouldn't it be better to be together than hurting each other all the time, even if it was inadvertently. It had to be one of the reasons soulmates were created in the first place, right?  Bucky curses his own stupidity and that Tony Stark made him realizes all that, though he would personally take that little piece of information to his grave.

It’s Friday night and instead of going out without your friends, like you had promised you were catching up on paperwork two weeks ahead of time in the Avengers’ kitchen, though only Steve probably knew why you had stayed -- Bucky had come back from a mission and he wasn’t looking so good. The burning feeling of your mark only confirmed your theory. It took all your paperwork for the week and two episodes of your favorite mini-series for the clock to hit 2 am and the screams began like clockwork. There was a deep ache in your chest at the sound and as much a you wanted to run to his room, you knew it wasn’t necessary -- you weren’t necessary.

You see Steve leave his room from the vantage point that you from the kitchen and begin to set up within the time limit that the two of them stay within Bucky’s room before they leave to take his mind off of something else. You set the electric tea kettle and get his favorite flavor and mug, alongside some sugar and honey since Bucky likes to alternate between what he likes to use.

A chill grips your heart for a moment and you know you are running out of time, you place a spoon down and quickly grab your things before running back to your office.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve motions his shaken friend into the kitchen. The blond sees the set is already prepared and he can’t help but smile for a moment as his oldest friend lets out a whimper at the sound of soft footsteps leading you away from him.

Bucky walks outside the lavish country mansion to see you sitting in one of its many gazebos overlooking a pond. The summer air is cool and breezy and the stars are shining brightly, but a suffocating feeling that he hasn’t felt in a long time begins to make his ribs constrict in pain. He had only felt this pain once before than was more slightly more than a year ago. He sees that your shoulders are hunched towards your body and wonders if you have been crying. He takes a see as you turn around to look at him with a defeated loon on your face.  

“What do you want?” is the only you manage to get out, as you rubs your hands across your eyes to stop the few stray tears from ruining your makeup.

“I wanted to talk,” Bucky wrings his hands together in momentary anxiety but takes your silence as a signal to continue, “I know it’s been a long time, but I still feel like I need to explain why I did what I did a year ago, and maybe even make amends.”

You stay quiet and keep watching him with those pretty eyes of your and then he starts talking.

“I just want you to know that I’ve been waiting decades for you, sweetheart,” there’s a desperation in his voice that matches the look you’re giving him and he can’t help but get a little choked up at the thought that you really were made just for him, “If it had been 70 years ago, I would have given you the everything I could, but I’m not that boy anymore. I’m dangerous and there are people after me all the time. It would kill me if something happened to you.”        

“So you’re trying to protect me?” you scoff at the notion, as Bucky frowns “As much as I appreciate the thought, Barnes. I’ve worked with Tony fucking Stark since before I met you, since the Vanko incident and I’ve been through a whole lot more. So, don’t make up excuses about protecting me when you’re just trying to hide to save yourself.”

“What do ya mean?” he asks even though he already knows the answers.  

“I feel your emotions half the time, ya know?” you explain hotly, as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “That you’re not good enough, that you don’t deserve any of the good things that might come your way.”  

“I--” he starts speaking, but you cut him off.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve the world,” you whisper softly, and Bucky knows that you have always meant it, but you aren’t going to be so lenient with him either.

“I used to do a lot of things in order to stave off my loneliness, James. I’ve been alone for a long time and I’ve gotten used to it, so don’t come asking to be part of my life only to walk away when it feels convenient for you. Do you understand me?”

“I know… and I’m so sorry,” he scoots closer until you are sitting on a hair’s breadth from each other. There is a tired look in your eyes, as you push a strand of hair behind your ear and Bucky’s right hand twitches because he wishes he could be doing that, and a lot more, at the moment instead.  

“I never needed you to be sorry,” you declared and his eyes go from staring at you to staring at the floor because he knew you didn’t need him at end of the day (who did?), but your next words stop him “Just be there.”

“W-hat?” is all he can say because he was surely expecting another type of reaction from you.

“I don’t care about the Winter Soldier. I don’t wanna know about the war hero, James Buchanan Barnes,” you pause, grabbing his scruff and pulling him dangerously close to you,”They’re all apart of you, yes but I wanna know about the Bucky here and now. Just be my Bucky.”

“I wanna try. I swear,” he presses his forehead and you can’t help out but let out a tiny sob at his declaration.  

“Slow and steady, then?” your eyes flutter to meet his bright and hopeful blue ones.

“Slow and steady, doll,” he smiles, eyes twinkling as he places his hands on your hips. The two of you get up slowly, not wanting to part, and sway slightly for a moment, Bucky looks up above at the night sky and tries to imprint the moment in his mind -- the one that he has waited so long for. That is until your sudden laugh catches his attention.

“I fucking hate you, old man,” you hit his right shoulder affectionately, as you keep staring at him with those expressive eyes that show him nothing but love and adoration “Making me wait so long.”

“Technically, I’ve waited longer,” he remarks shyly, as your eyes grow over suddenly remembering such a fact.

“Well, shit. You’re right,” you keep laughing as Bucky spins you around, the lights are spinning as you get slightly dizzy from all emotions running through your body, but all that seems to stop when he places a soft kiss on your lips.

“And I’m done waiting, doll.”

“Good, good. Me too, ya big idiot.”

[raeliyah]

Exalted Secret Santa 2018

First, snippet -- with full descriptions, reference pictures, and links under the cut. Anon-asks should be enabled so feel free to ask me anything if you need more info!

If none of these guys strike your fancy, I also have the rest of my exalted characters, with reference images and descriptions, here:

https://refsheet.net/redkite7

Caleb “Wraithshot” Raith Dawn Caste Solar Exalt of the South, longrider lawman, Righteous Devil gunslinger, Badlands Gentleman with a heart of battered gold, giant flirt

Qismet ibn al-Nusar, The Veiled Eagle Night Caste Solar Exalt of the west, self-appointed judge and executioner of corrupt supernaturals, leader of the Brotherhood of the Righteous Death, terse and broody

Zaela Tokari, Queen of Adrelith, of the Meridian Isles Zenith Caste Solar Exalt of the East, friend of Dragon Kings, precious cinnamon roll, youngest daughter, too young to be queen, too young to be Exalted, mousy and self-effacing but will stand up to everything from Deathlords to Elder Lunars in defense of her friends (no art yet)

Caleb “Wraithshot” Raith

Dawn Caste Solar Exalt

Caleb’s Pinterest Inspiration Board

Caleb’s easy. Think of every western trope and smash them all together. He’s a cowboy bounty hunter; a self-proclaimed lawman in a land where there is no law, riding circuit on a handful of towns in the South he considers his and protecting them from whatever evils lurk in the desert.

Physical Description

Caleb stands at 5′11″ and is on the leaner side at ~185 lbs. He’s fit, like a brawler (been in significantly more than his fair share of bar fights) or a ranch hand - someone who works at hard physical labor most days.

Caleb looks like he’s in his early 30s

Being the son of Northern immigrants, Caleb’s complexion is mostly pale, a reddish-burned tan anywhere the sun would shine - arms to the elbows, back of the neck, face mostly.

He’s also freckly across his face, shoulders and upper back, mostly from sun.

His eyes are clear honey-colored brown, more gold towards the pupil from the influence of exaltation.

Hair is black at the roots, growing out into sun-streaked brownish blond. He usually keeps it cut pretty short but if it goes too long without a trim it gets curlier. He likes a clean-shaven face but given his lifestyle he’s pretty much always got a day or three of scruff.

Caleb… basically looks like Chris Pratt.

He’s always got a smile of some stripe - warm, mischievous, leering, insincerely-wide - something.

He’s also very mouthy, and usually has something to chew on, whether it’s a piece of straw, a match, a toothpick, a cigarette (50% chance of it actually being lit), a twig - something. He’s never met a lollipop or chewing gum but he would love them.

Scars, see reference image: He's got a fair few that have never healed all the way. Added to that a nose which was broken in some bar brawl and never healed straight.

Left arm, from wrist to elbow: long nearly parallel white lines.

The remnants of pressure cuts through his right eyebrow, right side of his lips, and the left side of his chin, leaving gaps in the scruff. 

A bullet-scar just above and to the left of his navel. 

The remains of various slashes and stabs decorate his ribs. Most of these fade to nothing quickly, but he’s in fights often enough there’s always something.

The upper portion of his back is a mess of scars look like they were left from him getting dragged quicklike backwards over rock (because he was). A stylized rattlesnake tattoo on his right shoulderblade is only half-seen through the scars. 

Caleb dresses in layers - shirt sleeves, a vest/waistcoat, and either a faded blue or red serape tossed over his shoulders or a brown longcoat. Pants are either canvas or faded denim, and boots are less cowboy-style and more combat- or motorcycle style with a heel for riding. He does wear spurs, but they’re blunted. He’s usually covered in trail dust and sweat, sometimes blood, despite efforts at cleanliness. Feel free to embellish the standard Cowboy gear with arabesque/middle eastern ornamentation, because it is Exalted…

He always carries two modified flame pieces (six-shooters… he’s got six-shooters) on his hips, and the belt’s buckle is large and obnoxious, mostly because he keeps a couple extra rounds of ammunition within it. He also has an artifact rifle (based on a Winchester M1873; lever action, but otherwise unspecified) named Medicine Man that is either slung across his back or is in a sheath on his horse’s saddle. He makes his own ammo for all his weapons. He is a student of Righteous Devil Style, having mastered up to the form charms, but his sifu disappeared and he’s not found another, nor is he skilled enough to pick it up without tutelage.

He does own chaps but whether or not he wears them on any given day depends on how hot it is and how much hard riding he’s anticipating. He has a hat he’s rather fond of, but it’s not anything truly special.

There may or may not be a bandana around his neck/on his person at any given moment, and he often wears a chip of blue crystal with an antelope petroglyph etched on it around his neck on a leather cord. It’s a token from his friend, a springs goddess named Rivela, and a reminder of a partner he lost.

He rides a buckskin warhorse named Dirt who he pretends not to be particularly attached to, but in fact he really really is. Dirt is his horse. Dirt adores him and is always trying to steal his hat. Dirt will also steal anyone else’s hat nearby, but he prefers Caleb’s.

Anima: Caleb’s anima banner is a hailstorm of bright burning metal, like large forge sparks, raining down on him and even appear to bounce off his skin and clothing. Golden smoke and flame rise from the ground at his feet wherever the sparks fall.

Full Description including Personality, History, Art, and links to Fic and Character Playlist Here.

Qismet ibn al-Nusar

Night Caste Solar Exalt Revenge-driven assassin, self-appointed judge jury and executioner of supernaturals who prey on innocents. Leader of a band of mortal assassins with the same motives.

Qismet's Pinterest Inspiration Board

Qismet's Character Playlist

Physical Description:

Qismet is shorter than average at 5'9" built lean and tough like an acrobat at around 150 lbs

he’s kinda touchy about his height

Qismet looks to be in his mid-to-late twenties.

He's darker complexioned, bronzed from a lot of time under the Western Sun

Examples: (Oded Fehr)(Cristian Codrin)(Avraham Aviv Alush)(Francisco Randez-also his face inspiration)

His hair is so dark brown it might as well be black, cut close but still has a bit of a wave to it.

Style example:(One)(Two)* Eyes are the same: so dark brown they might as well be black. Tend to go lighter, almost honey-colored, when he's channeling essence.

Qismet has fairly narrow features, a generous mouth with cupid's bow lips (see reference images) and a crooked nose, somewhat overlong. He would look great if he smiled but he hardly ever does. Eternal Brooding Face

Face Inspiration: Francisco Randez (One)(Two)(Three)(Four)

He has a thin blade scar vertically through his lips on the right side

Tattoos: One, on his right shoulder, the symbol of his assassin's order. Two, on his left bicep: a greenish kraken crossed out by two black swords (indicative of his vendetta against the Lintha).

Clothes and Accessories:

Qismet has two distinct "modes" -- his working guise, as The Veiled Eagle, equal parts vigilante super hero and feared villain, depending on who's looking, and his regular everyday self. The Veiled Eagle's identity is an open secret on his home island but if he's not in 'costume' the folk there know not to bother him as anything more than Qismet.

The Veiled Eagle:

As the Eagle, Qismet wears long open vests and tunics and leather armor (cuirass, pauldrons, greaves) in shades of charcoal to dove gray, with a hood and mask over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed, though the skin around them is usually darkened with greasepaint and charcoal. This outfit is patterned roughly after the Assassin's Creed styles. (Inspiration Images: (Mayan Armor)(Original AC Outfit)).

There is a single splash of blood red among the grays as a sash: normally wound around his waist or crossed from hip to shoulder.

Weaponry:

As the Eagle, Qismet also carries a lot of weapons. Most notable are his two artifact Moonsilver Bracers, the Eagle's Sheathed Talons. These artifacts are made of black siaka leather and covered with moonsilver filigreed plates making the shape of a mantling eagle. They extrude a long knife in combat and also serve as armor for his arms (they're basically Hidden Blades with Exalted flair).

He also wields the paired soul-steel short Daiklaves, Anguish and Agony (see reference image in refsheet.net gallery). He struck a deal with the spirits within when he took them from their former owner. They spend a night and a day of peace within a consecrated temple on the nights of moon dark every month, and in return he will never be chained by sorcery or necromancy until his Task is complete. If he fails to give them peace, they'll turn against him.

As Qismet:

When he's not 'working', Qismet tends towards sleeveless cross-front tunics and vests, loose-cut trousers and short fitted boots, thin-soled for good climbing. He still wears the red sash around his waist, knotted on one side, and always has the artifact bracers.

He tends towards cool, de-saturated colors (because they're cheap), but isn't picky: if it's free of obvious dirt and won't get in his way, he'll wear it. His lieutenant/lover Samira has been slowly stocking his wardrobe with nicer things since ostensibly he's an important figure in their region of the west and should occasionally look it. Really, have fun with clothing design.

He very occasionally wears a shark-tooth pendant, but he's not big on jewelry or adornment in general.

Anima:

A ghost-white and violet sea-eagle, whose head obscures Qismet’s face and whose movements echo the Solar’s. 

Further Reading:

The Eagle and the Marionettist

Infectious - Drabble, features several characters

Silver Sun Era - Storium Game

A History of the Brotherhood of the Righteous Death

Zaela Tokari, Solar Queen

Zenith Caste Solar Exalted - Mousy former-Princess given Divine Power - Too Precious for this world - Too young to be Queen and feels it 

Zaela’s Pinterest Board

Physical Description

Slim and willowy at 5′4″ish and 120lbs-ish - built like a dancer or musician

Medium-brown hair at the roots and lower layers, bleached gold by sun (and anima) light, with those instagram beach-style waves. Comes down to about her shoulderblades

Turquoise eyes, that fade to nearly white when she channels essence

Heart-shaped face with expressive eyes

Her complexion is tan with a bit of a copper tone to it

She exalted at 17 and still looks it

Zaela wears draping gowns in vaguely greek or ancient egyptian-esque fashion, in cool greens and blues and golds and white, accented with delicate jewelry wrought from gold and gems and flowers (natural or artificial). They are usually of light materials, silk,mist linen, and brushed cotton, suited for her jungle island kingdom. 

She usually wears her hair in multiple loose braids, or half-up and adorned with tropical flowers (or whatever’s in season, if she’s travelling far from her home Isle). Nothing in her appearance would mark her as anything other than the favored daughter of a well-off family, but she does on occasion wear the orichalcum, white, and green jade lotus crown of her kingdom. It’s a little too ostentatious for her tastes. 

Anima:

A flock of tropical birds, in jewel tones limned with gold, who spiral and swirl around her. 

Fun Fact:

The ghost of her former shardholder, Prismatic Lotus, used to reside in their royal family chapel, trapped there during the Usurpation. Lotus fled to safe harbor within Zaela when the chapel was attacked and Zaela exalted--she now carries the spirit of her ancestress with her. Lotus acts as mentor, guide, sometime-posessor and obnoxious First Age brat in turn. But mostly she is helpful. 

tagging @shiftingpath for secret santa organizational purposes -- thank you for all the work you put in to this every year; I very much appreciate it! and you!  I will probably be editing this to make sure all the links are working properly and everything’s formatted correctly so apologies in advance

[scriptflorist]

Zhu'ad, Nonstandard Hero and Confounded Part-God

I figured I’d toss my current favorite into the inbox for consideration. The setting is pretty heavily high fantasy so I’m not sure if that may be a problem. Thank you for opening your inbox, and for all the effort you put into helping others so much!

Name: Zhu'adulawt Nop’ etmet

Nickname: Zhu'ad, Jahad

Alternate identity: Consort to the Reborn God, The Rage of Joy

Birthday: Equivalent would be March 31st.

Zodiac: Aries Sun, Aries Moon

Birthplace: Enian’s Peak, a city similar in climate to Sao Paulo, Brazil. The people are rather different however, as the majority of the populace are a mixture of devils, demons, and mortals.

Dwelling place: On the road.

How do they live: She travels with several companions, including a man she considers to be her brother, and her husband. She regularly keeps last watch over the camp, wakes the others just before dawn, and works through her morning exercises. Once they’ve hit the road she keeps an eye out for trouble while entertaining conversation though she’s not the most inclined to participate until they stop for the midday heat. Over the break she’ll work through her forms and help any of the others with tasks while talking. After starting off again she repeats her behavior of morning travels before relaxing for the evening. She’s much more chatty over the evening responsibilities and last meal though she always carves out time to do maintenance checks over her weapons, armor, and bags.

Appearance: When in the field she wears mostly full plate that covers her entirely, and it can take her sometime to be comfortable enough to wear what she considers standard clothes. She has little patience for anything she considers baggy, skirts and dresses as a rule are right out,  too much fabric, loose or otherwise, bogs down her movement.

She tries to keep some of her home’s fabric wraps on hand as she much prefers them to what the rest of the continent considers a “shirt.” The wrap winds around her neck, shoulders, ribs, and breasts, leaving her midriff bear as well as her arms. She prefers her wraps to be light in color if she cannot get a pure white as well as her pants as she likes the contrast with her darker skin. She wears old calf-high boots that are a worn brown.

Her hair is rather long and kept pulled back in a high, single dutch braid. It is red, though leans towards a dark amber rather than a pure red. Her stubbed horns are a bright amber at the tip and darken rapidly to a near maroon at the base.

Zhu'ad is sandy-brown with warm red undertones to her skin. Her eyes are heavily angled, the inner corner obviously lower then the outer. Her pupils are a starburst shape and her inner iris is yellow while the outer transitions to bright amber. Her nose is broad from bridge to nostrils and is rather strong, also, slightly crooked. She has wide lips though her bottom is heavier than her top. Her chin, and chin cleft, are rather prominent as she has a diamond face, but the fact that she keeps it jut forward may have something to do with it.

She is muscular and confidently carries countless scars. To an untrained eye she’s obviously some kind of fighter, but to a trained one she may as well scream that she’s a weapons-master. The callouses on her hands reveals that she primarily uses a large blade and that she’s ambidextrous with it rather than favoring one arm.

She is not particular to jewelry as its a hindrance to her in her line of work, however, once she is married she wears the black color around her neck with pride.

What’s in their bag/pockets: A bedroll, flint, hemp rope, a few crumpled sheaves of loose parchment, quill, ink pot, sealing wax, water whetstone, oil whetstone, pipe, tobacco, and journal.

Species: She is ¾ths human, ¼th demon (succubus specifically).

Features of the species: While her mother (½) and grandmother (full) carry many of the physical traits of their people Zhu'ad does not. The only suggestions that she’s not fully human are her starburst pupils and stubby horns.

Some of the abilities that carried over are her excellent sight in the dark and her ability to “smell” magic.

Name of parents: Ni'ini Nop’ etmet (Mother) and Umuhd Pasal (Father)

Name of siblings: Only child.

Others next of kin: Ma'rali Nop’ etmet (Grandmother)

Not-in-blood-but-in-bond-family: Aris of Stonebridge

Family history: Zhu'ad grew up well cared for, loved, and not understood in the least. Their people are rather matriarchal, so while Zhu'ad cares for her father he really had little to do with her rearing and she sees him fondly, though distantly.

Both her mother and grandmother tried very hard to understand Zhu'ad but she may as well have been a raccoon among cats. Similar enough, in a way, but clearly not belonging. Charming, even-tempered, and manipulative, the family trade is trade, both in goods and political favors. Zhu'ad, from an early age, showed little to negative aptitude in most of the qualities necessary to participate in the family business. Instead she showed great aptitude in several physical skills and when allowed to practice these improved in her other studies.

Desperate to support Zhu'ad her family found her the best mentors in several martial arts while making it clear they expected her to listen to her other tutors as well. As Zhu'ad grew up it became clear that most conversation between her and her family were a simple script of polite but shallow questions and answers. They loved her, but not one of them could understand her drives, interests, or desires.

This led to Zhu'ad growing into a well educated, but ill-tempered and depressed young woman. She had no career outside of serving as her Grandmother’s sword-arm, she had no friends as she found she disliked the majority of the populace around her, and little to drive her. Life was difficult and becoming unbearable until her Grandmother ordered her to join an ally, Aris of Stonebridge, on his quest.

Favourite colour: Emerald green, though it changes to the pale blue of her husband’s eyes, not that she ever says that aloud.

Favourite animal: Striped Hyena, White-backed Vulture, and Honey Badger

Favourite book: Exile’s Honor by Mercedes Lackey, Astro City: Confession by Busiek, Anderson, & Ross

Favourite film/show/series: Gran Torino, Babylon 5, Hard Candy, Rush Hour

Favourite genre: Action, Comedy

Favourite food: Candied Yam, Spiced Pork Tenderloin

Favourite place to be: Out somewhere in the unmapped wilderness, whether plains or hills or the side of some mountain, preferably at night with the stars glittering above, a small fire crackling a little ways away, and her husband laying next to her as they make up constellations.

Personality: To any outside observer Zhu'ad appears brash, prideful, and has a mean streak. She bears no shame about being demon-born and in many ways wields her heritage like a weapon against those who would try to shame her for it. She shows no hesitancy in going after people’s literal and metaphorical weaknesses, and holds those with physical prowess in a more obvious esteem.

Behind the crafted facade Zhu'ad is intensely private of her true feelings and relationships. She does not make connections to others easily or lightly, but when she does it’s to a fault. Her loyalty and affection run deep, deeper than even she truly understands. Due to her abrasive nature she has rarely had a chance to have her true feelings returned, but once among Aris and his traveling companions she finds her feeling mirrored.

She has a wicked sense of humor, willing to laugh at others misfortunes though she is rather prickly about her own in the short term. Since joining the group she has become much more self-aware of her own flaws and hang ups, as well as developed a willingness to laugh at herself.

She tends to leap-and-think simultaneously, leading to her realizing something was a bad idea only as she is doing it. She is rather resilient to most things, however she finds herself quailing when it comes to personal emotionally intimate and charged situations which she finds herself more oft in once with the group. It unnerves her, even after a few years, how willing the people around her are to be truthful and earnest about their feelings.

Her first language, for all her knowledge of them, is violence. She finds touch, painful or not, to be the most honest way of communicating, and so will find herself at odds with people in ways she doesn’t entirely understand. To outsiders she can be abrupt and startling, her choices seemingly bizarre and impulsive, but when asked she can almost always produce a chain of logic, that while odd, holds together under scrutiny.

Misc:

She knows 6 primary languages and many of their dialects. She never thought it odd she could pick up languages so easily though her tutors and family were stunned. She still makes a habit of learning dialects and languages after she joins Aris on his quest as it’s come in handy more than anyone thought it would. 

Zhu'ad has a quirk others have noticed, but that she’s blind to herself. Knowing so many languages allows her an extended vocabulary into words that don’t approximate across languages. When there is an idea she’s trying to express she will use the most accurate word she knows for the idea, whether or not it’s from the language she is speaking at the time.

She mostly trained her physical gifts in her youth, but she had a fondness for hassling her tutors and getting them to teach her about history, theories of magic, geography, and languages, though not always in the order they meant to.

She has absolute pitch though has no inclination to music or singing (much to the lament of her family).

She has always had a near perfect sense of balance.

She finds, after joining the group, that she enjoys sketching the various places, people, and things she sees on her journeys. She also starts writing what amounts to cultural crash courses on the various places they go. At first this is just for herself as she finds it hard to keep track but begins making copies to give to important people.

At first Zhu'ad found the idea of worship and religion distasteful. She thought little of the Titans and considered organized religion a joke, and  still does, but she’s found, through her travels, a small kernel of faith in the Elder Gods who ask for nothing, and keep the world turning.

Her story/character-arc sees her change from stereotypical hot-headed, asshole warrior, to a weapons-master unflinchingly willing to die to save her world. Her husband is a reborn Titan that is slowly awakening to his abilities. As time passes and he grows in power, because of their connection she too gains a portion of divinity that sees her become not-quite-a-god, but definitely no longer a mortal.

(PS I hope I did all that right, and I’m really sorry this got so long. Oi.)

______

Hey rmene!

Thank you too for your submission! Now let’s see what we can find.  The section misc relates both to what you wrote in your own misc section and what I couldn’t put into any other category. You didn’t write a lot about her husband and marriage, so that was a bit more guesswork, but I figured you might have some use for a few relationship-themed plants. So I made you a small section for that, hope you will find it useful!

Consort to the Reborn God / The Rage of Joy

celandine – joys to come, future joy

crab-apple blossom – ill-tempered

jasmine (cape) – transport of joy

sorrel (wood) – joy

st. john’s worth – animosity, superstition

whin – anger

Enian’s Peak, a city similar in climate to Sao Paulo, Brazil

The national flower of Brazil is Tecoma chrysostricha.

Given it’s not actually Brazil in your story, some sources also name Cattleya labiata and Wikipedia names Handroathus albus as the national flower.

On the road

traveller’s joy – traveller’s joy, safety, rest

Based on how she lives

canary grass – perseverance

violet (dame) – watchfulness

watcher by the wayside – never despair

flax (dried) – utility

glycine – your friendship is pleasing and agreeable to me

heath – solitude

Based on the fact that there’s quite some red in her description

camilla (red) – unpretending excellence, you’re a flame in my heart

fraxinella – fire

hyacinth (red) – playful joy

iris (flaming) – flame

iris (German) – flame, ardour

mulberry (red) – wisdom

pyrus japonica – (the) faerie’s fire,

red valerian – readiness

salvia (red) – energy

Based on what’s inside her bag/pockets

hemp – fate

Based on family history

acanthus – the fine arts, artifice,  the arts (also fits her ability to pick up languages quickly)

bellflower (chimney) – aspiring

bougainvillaea – passion

cherry – good education, education

cherry (cornelian) – durability, duration

goldenrod – (careful) encouragement, precaution, be cautious

hollyhock (white) – female ambition

imbricata – uprightness, sentiments of honour

mistletoe – I surmount all difficulties/obstacles, I climb to greatness, I will rise above all, parasitic

oak (white) – independence

rue (wild) – morals, manners

sloe – difficulty, austerity

Striped Hyena

Have roots in folk magic, for example in Pakistan and Afghanistan striped hyena hair is used as a charm against sickness or for love magic.

angelica – inspiration, magic

circaea – spell

enchanter’s nightshade – spell, witchcraft, sorcery, fascination

fern – magic, sincerity, fascination, confidence, shelter

garlic – get well, ward of evil and illness, courage

holly herb – enchantment

iceland moss – health

witch (hazel) – a spell

Based on her personality

alstroemeria – devotion

ash mountain – with me you are safe, prudence

austurtium – splendour

balsam (red) – touch me not, impatient resolve(s)

bay (wreath) – reward of merit

berberry – sharpness/sourness of temper, sharpness, sourness, petulance

borage – bluntness, rudeness

columbine (purple) – resolved to win

copihue – there is no unalloyed good

coriander – hidden worth/merit, concealed merit

daisy – loyal love, I’ll never tell, purity, beauty, innocence

gillflower (mahon) – promptness

gorse – cheerfulness in adversity, endearing affection

lantana – rigour, sharpness

lavender – devotion, love, distrust, mistrust, acknowledgement

osier – frankness

sorrel (wild) – wit ill-timed

xeranthemum – cheerfulness under adversity

Misc

auricula – painting

cedar of Lebanon – incorruptible

cilanthus – worldliness, self-seeking

coronilla – success to you, success crown your wishes

daphne – glory, immortality

gardenia – refinement

hawkweed – quick-sightedness

honeysuckle (coral) – the colour of my fate

laurel (mountain) – ambition

lint – I feel my obligations

liquorice – I declare against you

marianthus – hope for better days

marigold (cape) – presage

marigold (prophetic) – prediction

mercury – goodness

oak leaves – bravery

penstemon azureus – high-bred

rosebud (stripped of thorns) – I fear no longer I hope

volkameria – may you be happy

willow (French) – bravery and humanity

Husband related

clover (white) – think of me

diosma – your simple elegance charms me

furze – love for all seasons/occasions

gladiolus – you pierce my heart, generosity, I’m sincere, flower of the gladiators

heliotrope – devotion, I love you, devoted attachment, intoxicated with pleasure, I turn to thee, infatuation, faithfulness

milk vetch – your presence softens my pains

persicaria – restoration

primrose (Chinese) – lasting love

rose (bridal) – happy love

spindle tree – your charms are engraven on my heart

- Mod Jana

Disclaimer

This blog is intended as writing advice only. This blog and its mods are not responsible for accidents, injuries or other consequences of using this advice for real world situations or in any way that said advice was not intended.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Striped_hyena