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ladyveronikawrites · 17 days

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LOST IN THE CONCRETE JUNGLE CHAPTER TEN Bad Omens x Star Wars Pairing: Zebastian (Noah Sebastian) x F!Reader CW: THE END OF THE SLOWBURN; oral (f recieving), hot shower sex😏 Summary: You are the perfect senator's daughter- next in line to become his aide to learn everything about the Galactic Senate. But on your 21st birthday, your perfect life changes forever when the mysterious masked man you met at the nightclub was not who you thought he was. A/N: POV switching from second to first occurs often in the story. Shout out to my amazing beta team @mysticdoodlez, @roley-poley-foley, and @nerdraging4point0 your insight and cheerleading has been invaluable. Word Count:1.4k Crossposted: Wattpad & A03 Cast list

Master list

May the Force be with you✨

Zebastian leads you to his private refresher connected to his bedroom. Sleek charcoal tile lines the walls. Centered by the vanity sink is a large round mirror lined with red lights that reflect the ambiance of the room.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you hardly recognize the girl looking back at you. Wide eyes and a purple bruise forming on your cheek. Your hair is full of tangles and dirt. You examine the bruise more closely as the soft sound of water fills the room. Once steam starts to creep on the edges of the mirror, you abandon your ruminations.

Grimacing, you hesitate to lean down to remove your shoes.

“Allow me.” A deep voice rumbles from behind you. Startled, you stagger backward against the vanity as Zebastian crouches down at your feet. You suck in a shaky breath as you watch the usually intimidating man gently pull off your shoes.

“Thank you,” you smile down at Zebastian peering up at you, his signature dazzling grin spreading across his face. Your cheeks heat when he winks back at you as he places your foot on the tile floor. The cool surface soothes your aching feet.

As Zebastian rises he helps you remove your sling. You begin fumbling with the straps of your dress as a warm hand covers yours and guides the thin fabric down your arm. His body heat permeates the threads of your dress as he shifts to help you with the other strap. Zebastian turns away as you approach the shower, clutching the dress close to your chest. Goose pimples creep up your legs and arms as the fabric falls to the floor. The warm water greets you instantly and your sore muscles cry out for relief.

Stepping into the refresher after the senator’s daughter, her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open. Sure, this wasn’t really the time I thought I would see her naked for the first time; I would have preferred her to be spread out on my silk sheets bare and ready for me, but someone had to help her bathe.

And that someone is me.

She steps back into the steady stream of water, wincing as she tries to cover herself with her good arm. My eyes stay fixed on hers looking up at me, her thick lashes shielding her eyes from the water. Her jaw clenches as I lean over her to grab soap and a cloth. I can see the fight in her eyes; she wants to stop me- to do it herself- but when she closes her eyes and tilts her head slightly, I know that’s all the permission I need as exhaustion melts her to my touch.

“Can I touch you?” I mumble into her ear, nerves tightening my stomach as the memory of her fear-stricken eyes flashes before me.

“Yes,” she hums.

Gently caressing her shoulder, I lather her bad arm first as it dangles at her side. She winces at first so I make quick work on it to move to her chest. My dick twitches when soft sounds trickle from her mouth as I caress her breasts. Thank the void her eyes are still closed. Even though I would do anything to make more of those pretty sounds tumble from her mouth, I move swiftly to clean her other arm. I hesitate when I look down at her fingers, smooth and unmarred compared to mine; scarred and etched in ink.

Suddenly, my mind begins to wander what it would be like if my hands were around her throat; imagining the sounds that would erupt from her mouth. Another hum from her tears me from my filthy thoughts. It’s strange to fight back the urge to touch more of her body, to let my finger graze every inch of her. But I want her to make the decision for herself.

Everything she has ever known has been decided for her, until now.

My hand on her hip keeps her steady while I wash the softness of her tummy and circle the cloth down her thigh. Before crouching at her feet again, I instruct her to hold onto the wall to keep her balance as I lift and wash her foot. I do the same to the other ignoring how close her cunt is to me. Her thigh twitches slightly to adjust to the awkward position and arousal shoots straight into my gut.

Swallowing a groan, I adjust to caress the back of her thighs to keep me stable but when I look up at her, her body glistening beneath the water and her swollen bitten lips, I can’t stop myself.

Gripping her hips I pull myself up and spin her against the other wall and away from the water. She yelps in surprise as her back smacks the tile. Her eyes are wide but there's a spark that shimmers across her iris.

“Can I touch you here?” Leaning down, my lips brush against hers as my hand snakes between her legs to gently cup her sex. Her body shivers to my touch, back arching off the wall. Her body is screaming yes. Nipping at her bottom lip, I try again.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

“Yes, Ze-,”

My name fades into a soft moan as I crouch down and throw one of her legs over my shoulder. Spreading her folds apart with my fingers, I lick from entrance to clit, sucking the sensitive bud between my lips. She cants against me as I wrap my arms around her hips pulling her closer. The fingers of her good hand grip my damp hair while the injured hand rests on my shoulder.

I’m drowning in her touch and I can’t get enough.

Flicking the tip of my tongue over her clit earns me the most beautiful sound from her bitten lips. Leaning back slightly, I peer up at her through hooded lids to find her head rolling back against the wall, and her eyes closed in bliss as her mouth pops open with every labored breath. She’s close. Her thigh tenses when I kiss and nibble the delicate flesh- a distraction- as I slowly slide one finger inside her.

“Oh,” she rasps breathless, as her pussy walls adjust to the invasion. I lick at her clit once more before sucking it between my teeth and curving my finger just right and suddenly...

Pain.

Pain shoots through my shoulder when she digs her fingers into me at the same time she clenches around the digit thrusting in and out of her. She tugs on my hair as I press my fingers into her hips, not enough to bruise but to keep her stable as her body tenses with overstimulation. Her body spasms and her back arches off the wall when she screams my name and drenches my tongue with her juices. Groaning against her wet heat, I suckle and slurp every last bit of what she gives me. She tastes divine and I crave more; a drug I can’t shake.

A chuckle forms in my throat when my lost girl pushes me away from her. A wide grin spreads on my face when I take in the sight of her ethereal bliss. Her body glistens from the mix of sweat and water, her hair sticks to the sides of her face and her bitten lips are red and swollen. The satisfied sigh from her lips is all I hear once I turn the water off.

“Hey,” I say softly as I caress her cheek with my thumb, her eyes flutter open and her breathtaking smile spreads across her face.

“Hi.”

“Are you ok, did I hurt you?” My chest tightens with an unfamiliar feeling of concern as I guide her out of the refresher.

Her cheeks flush pink before she responds with, “Yeah I’m OK.”

She huffs a protest when I wrap her up in a towel, her usual spark returning- but is muffled by a yawn. After dressing quickly, my hand on her back leads her back to my bedroom where she flops down on the large bed in the center of the room.

I rummage through the walk-in closet to find a black tunic and loose cotton lounge pants. She mumbles a thank you before I return to the bathroom to collect her dress with the hope I can salvage it for her.

I lean against the door frame as I watch the senator’s daughter snore softly in my bed. Tranquility washes over her soft features illuminated by the city lights. Sighing, I push myself off the wall when my wrist comm buzzes.

Duty calls.

tysm for reading!

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nerdraging4point0 · 2 months

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Blood of Eden // Part Six // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @th0ughts-pr4yers @skulliecadaver-blog @hayleylatour @littlefoxkota @anameunmusical @talialovesmiw @sacredthefran @jilliemiw86 @darkmxgician

Under the haunting glow of a single desk lamp, Jolly brooded in his shadowy office, pouring himself a glass of amber liquor. Noah sat silently in the corner, shirtless, as their new plaything slept serene in the room next door.

"What do you know about her?" Jolly asked, swirling the liquid ominously.

"Nothing, master," Noah confessed into the darkness. "She broke into the lab the night we met. Oli and I hunted her down, but I can’t explain what possessed me..."

Jolly's eyes glinted knowingly. Holding up his hand to stop Noah’s rambling, "I have a theory," he uttered grimly.

Noah's brow furrowed as he rose from his seat, perching uneasily on the corner of Jolly's desk. Jolly sighed, massaging the tension from his temples before taking a long sip of whiskey. He had sensed it immediately - the moment he stepped into her apartment. Her blood was tainted. When she'd packed her bags to leave, he'd managed to retrieve the syringe from her things and sent it off for analysis. With a grave expression, he opened his email to show Noah the results.

"Nightshade. Mixed with several other chemicals to create some kind of depowering serum," he said ominously. "With the right measurements and equipment, this could mean real danger for all of us."

Jolly strokes his beard thoughtfully, his weary eyes fixed on the test results. "What troubles me is the serum has a powerful effect on her, if she were human I don’t think it would do anything other than make her violently ill.”

Noah cocked his head to the side looking to the wall, where just on the other side she was slumbering. “She is no mage,” Jolly continued “I've searched our records and found no birth or family history for her. Without consent, I can’t trace her lineage further. And even then, the serum in her blood hinders my efforts."

Noah inquires in a gentle tone, "How long before the serum fades?"

Jolly sighed, setting his glass down on the desk, slumping in his office chair. "I can’t say for certain." His brow furrows with concern and unease over the mystery surrounding this unusual girl.

Noah tensed, his head snapping up as he swiveled to face the office door. Jolly followed his gaze, sensing what had startled him. The door creaked open and she tiptoed in, arms wrapped around herself protectively. Clad only in her underwear and a tank top, her tousled hair falling around her shoulders. Jolly glimpsed the fear in her eyes as she halted just inside the office, her wary gaze fixed on Noah. She seemed hesitant, as if ready to flee at any moment.

She froze a few steps away from the desk, her feet like lead weights refusing to carry her any closer. Noah and Rosa continued their intense gaze, oblivious to her presence. "You're real," she breathed.

Noah rose slowly from the desk, turning with deliberate caution to approach her.

"Steady now," Jolly murmured, sensing her apprehension. Though he could prevent what she was feeling, some instinct gave him pause. She shrank back as Noah neared, his imposing height and brisk stride striking fear in her, her face turning pale.

"There now, it's alright," Jolly soothed, watching as Noah gradually closed the gap between them, his towering frame looming over her trembling form. "He won’t hurt you, pretty girl."

Her limbs were trembling, arms crossing over her body attempting to steady herself. Jolly breathed in deep, letting out a sigh before turning his eyes to Noah.

"Kneel," he ordered, his voice firm but not unkind. Noah didn’t need to look his master's way, he obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the floor. His eyes remained fixed on her, radiating the strength and compassion that allowed her to trust him completely.

“Go ahead,” Jolly said gently. Rosa slowly unfolded her arms, her fingers grazing Noah's cheek before cradling his face in her palm. With a tender caress of her thumb across his cheekbone, Rosa's breath escaped her parted lips as understanding dawned in her soft features. Noah purred contentedly, nestling into the comfort of her touch.

“That night, on the roof,” her voice cracked. Noah's hand encircled her wrist as he gently pushed her back. In an instant, his body shifted, morphing into the form of a four-legged beast. Sitting calmly with sadness in his large, dark eyes, the hound regarded her softly. Though changed on the outside, Noah still remained within.

Covering her face in shock, she staggered backward, tripping over her own feet and crashing to the floor. Jolly shot up from his chair and rushed to her side in an instant. Noah rose to his feet, but a wave of his master's hand sent him back down, sitting on his haunches and awaiting his next command.

"No, no, no. This can't be real. Just a hallucination, a figment of my imagination. It's not possible," she muttered, shaking her head and rambling in a panic as Jolly pulled her against his chest.

"Shhh, pretty girl. Rosa, take it easy. I can explain everything," he soothed, brushing her hair with his hands as she trembled in his grasp.

Golden light from the setting sun filtered into the apartment, bathing everything in its warm glow. Noah's head rested in her lap, his eyes closed in peaceful slumber. She had been gently running her fingers through his soft brown hair for the past hour, and the soothing motion had lulled him into a deep sleep. Though her legs were starting to tingle and go numb beneath his weight, she didn't have the heart to disturb his rest. Something about watching Noah's chest rise and fall steadily filled her with tenderness. So she sat perfectly still, despite the pins and needles in her legs.

It was all almost too much for her to take in at once. Mages, magic, multiple dimensions - Jolly's revelations earlier that day had left her reeling. She had wept until she was hiccuping and gasping for breath, completely overwhelmed. Noah had simply gathered her up in his strong arms when her legs gave out, carrying her back to the plush bedroom and laying her gently on the bed. He then settled himself in her lap, a comforting presence as she continued to process everything she had learned.

He lies next to her, his chest rising and falling steadily as he drifts into slumber. The rhythm of his breathing is soothing, a balm to her fraying nerves. But even as the room darkens with the fading light, her mind continues to race, thoughts crashing together like waves breaking upon rocks. She is torn between the comfort of his presence and the chaos of her own uncertainty. His tranquility is a stark contrast to the tempest that rages within her.

The door creaks open and in steps Jolly, his features illuminated by the soft orange hues. He moves cautiously, not wanting to wake the sleeping Noah. A smile spreads across Jolly's face as he spots the two of them snuggled up together on the bed. He tiptoes over and carefully sits on the edge, gazing down at the heartwarming scene with joyful affection. The tranquil atmosphere envelops them all as the day gives way to night.

Noah's eyes fluttered open to find Jolly's kind face smiling down at him. "It's time for you to go to work," Jolly said softly, though Rosa's heart sank. She didn't want this perfect moment to end. Rosa wished Noah could stay here with her forever.

Jolly reached out, brushing his fingers against Rosa's cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry," he murmured. "Noah will just be downstairs if we need him."

Noah sat up stretching his long limbs, taking her face in his large hands, his warm lips pressed softly against her forehead as he cradled her face. The tender kiss lingered for a moment before he pulled away, leaving her longing for more. Turning to Jolly, Noah placed one last gentle kiss on his master's lips. She watched wistfully as Noah hopped off the bed, stealing one final glance back into the room, his eyes filled with affection. As he disappeared down the hall, she sighed contentedly, cherishing the sweet intimacy they had just shared.

She whispers the question into the stillness of the room, her voice trembling, "Who am I now?" She does not expect a reply from Jolly, but he sighs deeply, gathering her legs into his lap. His strong hands begin massaging her feet, working out the tension that has built up within her.

"Now?" His deep voice rumbles in response. "You're here with me, sweet girl. Right by my side where I can keep you safe."

His fingertips dig into her arches, soothing away the ache she feels. "Noah and I won't let anyone or anything come for you. You belong to us. We'll protect what's ours."

His words wrap around her like a warm blanket, comforting and shielding her. A lump forming in the back of her throat, “You can’t save me from me.”

She feels her breath catch as his thoughts drift to what's coming. The moment when the shots wear off and it returns. A shiver runs through her. She doesn't want to think about it, but she can't stop the thoughts from swirling through her mind. The agony that awaits, the pain that will wrack her body. Rosa wraps her arms around herself, as if she could protect herself from what's to come. But she knows that when the medication fades, there will be no escape. The torment will find her again, just as it always does. She squeezes her eyes shut, wishing she could block it all out. But there is no blocking this out.

Jolly's voice came out in a low, predatory purr. He leaned closer to her, his dark eyes gleaming with possessiveness. "Oh yes, my precious one. I most certainly can."

The words dripped from his lips like honey, sweet yet dangerous. He looked ready to consume her, to claim her as his own. There was an alpha edge to him, a dominant protectiveness that both thrilled and frightened her. He would keep her safe, keep her close. She had no doubt.

His hands grip her thighs, parting them gently as he settles his muscular frame between her legs. She sits up on her palms before his hand presses into her chest, softly easing her back down into the bed.

"Easy, pretty girl," he murmurs, trailing kisses along her cheek and nose before finding her lips in a tender caress. His voice is a low rumble as he pulls back to meet her gaze. "Let me take your mind off your troubles tonight, baby. Just relax and let me make you feel good."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her with an urgent need. This was exhilarating yet unsettling - emotions she had never felt before. The Mage blood, Jolly had said. Magic calls to magic. The magnetic pull of her soul beckoned him, drawing her irresistibly into his orbit like a moth to a flame. He was the dominant force, exerting his gravitational power, pulling her ever closer like the moon to the earth. She felt helpless to resist, powerless against the primal attraction, needing to be one with him. His raw masculine energy called to her feminine essence, two halves of the same whole destined to unite. But it wasn’t just Jolly that consumed her with desire. It was the beast in sheep’s clothing, whose fire burned in his eyes when he looked at them both. She wanted Noah to envelope her in his strong embrace, to feel his fierce protection. The primal beast within ignited her own. This captivating man awakened something deep inside her, a connection she didn't yet understand but yearned to explore.

"How long before it wears off?" she breathes between fervent kisses, her hands hungrily roaming through his hair and down his muscular back, desperate for more of him.

"Who knows, darling," he growls in her ear, his lips trailing hot kisses down her neck as his strong hands caress her body. "Could be weeks, but one thing I do know..." He pauses to nip at her collarbone, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. "The more we get that delicious blood of yours pumping..." His fingers trail down her stomach, eliciting delicious shivers. "The faster you'll burn it off."

As Jolly’s hands glide up her torso, pushing her shirt higher, a shiver of anticipation courses through her. His touch ignites her skin, each caress stoking the fire within. “So soft,” he murmurs, trailing kisses down her neck to her chest, his warm mouth leaving a blazing trail across her flushed skin.

With a hunger in his eyes, Jolly's hands roamed down her curves, his fingers curling around the lace of her panties. In one smooth motion, he stripped them off, exposing her fully to his ardent gaze. Her legs wrapped around his waist as if they had a mind of their own, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together. She could feel his cock pressing against her thigh, moaning at the sweet pressure. She held him tighter, wordlessly pleading for more, and his knowing smile against her lips told her he understood.

"You want this as much as I do, don't you pretty girl?" he murmured, his nose brushing hers intimately. She nodded, their noses rubbing tenderly, ready and willing to give herself to him completely.

He gazed at her with desire burning in his eyes, his body aching to feel her surround him. "Come to me, sweet girl," he whispered hoarsely, rolling onto his back, shimmying out of his pants, and beckoning her closer.

She straddled his lap, her heart pounding as she took his thick, hard length in her hands. With gentle yet firm hands, he caressed her face, turning it so their eyes met in a moment of ecstasy. "Let me see that beautiful face as you take me in," he murmured, his voice thick with passion. Slowly she sank down, enveloping him in her velvety heat, gasping as he stretched and filled her so exquisitely. "That's it, gorgeous," Jolly rasped, his words stoking the fire within.

She gasped as he slid into her, the friction sending sparks through her body. "You feel so good, baby," he growled, his strong hands guiding her hips. She began to rock slowly, savoring the feeling of him filling her up. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, lips parted as he held back moans. She wanted more. Her body ached for release, and she knew he needed it too, that primal urge driving him wild. She rode him harder, faster, crying out at the exquisite sensations. He thrust up into her, muscles taut, focused only on their shared pleasure. She was close, so close, his hands and body pushing her towards the edge. "Come for me," he commanded, his gravelly voice soaked in desire. She shattered around him, ecstasy crashing through her in waves. Flopping down onto his chest as she caught her breath.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky and low. He kissed her deeply, passionately, their tongues dancing. She was dizzy, drunk on his kisses, his touch, the way he possessed her so completely.

"Mmm, you feel so good wrapped tight around me, baby," he groaned, thrusting deep inside her dripping heat. She whimpered, lost in ecstasy as he filled her again and again. His dirty words in her ear made her clench around him.

"That's right, come for me. I want to feel you let go."

She cried out as her pleasure crested, drowning in sensation. He held her close, murmuring praise and encouragement.

"So perfect, just like that."

His lips grazed her throat, teasing her tender skin. She clung to him, gasping his name like a prayer. He increased his pace, driving into her relentlessly.

"One more, pretty girl. I know you have it in you."

His fingers found her clit, circling with just the right pressure. Her body sang, arching and tensing as she rocketed over the edge again. His groan rumbled against her body as he followed, spilling deep inside her pulsing heat.

They collapsed together, replete. He stroked her face tenderly, gazing at her with adoration.

"You good, baby?"

She nodded, smiling dreamily. He had taken her apart and put her back together again, leaving her thoroughly satisfied.

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noahsebastian fanfic #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfic #joakim jolly karlsson smut #joakim jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson #urban fantasy #dark romance #romance #bad omens au #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #blood of eden

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mysticdoodlez · 9 months

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Kitty Noah headcanons

Kitty Noah knows Jolly is allergic to cats and hangs around him out of spite

For sure always wants to nap on Jolly's lap. Like, he'll get sleepy and leave the Nick's laps to find Jolly.

People outside of the band (excluding Jesse, Orie, Bryan, and Matt, who only egg on the antics to piss off Jolly) are like "Awww Kitty Noah likes you, look how attached he is to you" and Jolly has to sit their in suffering while Kitty Noah's going huehuehuehue...

He bit Jolly and caught an assault charge when Jolly tried to put him in the cat carrier. Jolly had to chug a cup of benadryl after. He's still traumatized.

So then who does Kitty Noah technically belong to? Ruffilo!

(He's known Kitty Noah the longest, so he adopted him in Virginia)

Ruffles knows Noah's tricks and the appropriate response/punishment

Possession of catnip? Ruffles breaks out the spray bottle

Public indecency? Cone of shame, baby

Assault, vehicular manslaughter, and desecration of a (mouse) corpse? I N T O T H E A N G E R C U B E

But even after all that, Kitty Noah still asks for uppies and Ruffilo will begrudgingly cave in.

At least until the next time Noah is perched on top of his cat tower with a sniper rifle.

Jolly and Ruffilo try to keep Kitty Noah's antics from Folio, because that guy refuses to believe that Noah is a lil shit.

Ruffles can list the mile-long list of crimes, and Folio will refuse to listen and believe it.

To Folio, Kitty Noah's only crime is that he's too adorable, and that's why Kitty Noah goes to Folio to cry in Folio's jacket hood, aka "The Kitty Pocket".

Kitty Noah steps in a puddle and Folio wraps him in a towel

But on the rare occasion that Folio can't defend Kitty Noah, he will wheedle Ruffles down to where the punishment is stuff like making everyone Apology Pancakes.

Which is fine and all until Jolly finds a bunch of cat hairs in his pancakes (put there purposefully)

Feel free to add your own, cuz I had to stop myself so I wouldn't seem too obsessive.

@cyrusunderscore @roley-poley-foley

#bad omens #noah sebastian #nick folio #joakim karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #bad omens cult #Kitty Noah #I have too much time on my hands #And I have no talents #I have to show my love for the band somehow

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flying-fox-of-westfall · 4 years

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Gin n Mischief

“Whatcha up to, Foxy?” Jasper asks, leaning his head into the door frame, and clearly hiding something behind his back. “Anythin’ special? ‘cause ifin’ it ain’t, or it can wait, I kinda got somethin’ ta show ya. An’ it ain’t Giz in a hat again, I swear. Though, that was purdy funny."

He then took a little tentative step into the doorway to his room a little more fully, still hiding something behind his back. "But, ya gotta be admittin’, 'e looked super cute in my hat. Like a fat lil roley poley. Could ya imagine what he’d be like, wearin’ that hat, an’ wanderin’ around mousin’? I feel like he’d be like, the cutest little mouser. So dapper."

A few long steps took him further into the room. "So uh,” He hesitates, “You uh…busy…?"

Normally, Jasper would come home to find Claire sitting out on their makeshift rooftop balcony, a cigarette pinched between her lips, a glass of gin in her hand, and a tumbler of whiskey ready and waiting for him. They would spend a couple hours at the end of each day this way, catching the other up on their day while sipping from their respective glasses and peppering each moment with displays of tender affection while the sun dipped slowly beyond the horizon.

On this particular day, however, she greeted him from the comfort of the bedroom's lone armchair, legs curled beneath herself, leaning against the armrest with an elbow as she peered over at the red-haired ruffian with a thoughtful, albeit cautious smile.

"Oh, he was stinkin' adorable, ain't no denyin' that. Doubt he'd let ya do that again anytime soon, though," she teased, leaning forward in her seat and narrowing her eyes up at him.

"So, what'cha got there, Red? Hidin’ somethin’ behind yer back, or are ya just happy to see me?"

(( @jasper-quinn ))

#|The Fox and the Hound|#rp scenes #submission

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drag-queen-jesus · 5 years

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So I finally got around to watching that Disney Nutcracker movie... like.

(warning for Spoilers for Nutcracker and the Four Realms if you haven't seen it and still care)

(TL;DR - I didn't exactly care about this movie, here's why)

okay, thats not quite true, I mean, don't get me wrong, theres not much I loved about it, but its mostly harmless in terms of Disney's live-action roster of films.

I enjoyed the design of the castle, and I appreciated the step away from the source material, like at least its something different. That being said, I felt throughout the entire run time that it was trying too hard to be something else. I felt like I'd seen all this before, and then I put it together.

Nutcracker and the Four Realms feels too much like it's trying to be Narnia (2005), Alice in Wonderland (2010), and it just rubs me the same way Beauty and the Beast (2017) did, which is to say, the wrong way. And its not even ripping the good parts of the films it's trying to be (excluding BatB, there's nothing redeeming about that film and no one can tell me otherwise, this is the hill I will die on), the main, while leagues better than Mia Wasikowska and Emma Watson, still manages to fall into the realm of "I just experienced magic for the first time and my only reaction is a disinterested sort-of-open mouth". Seriously, she enters the magical world through her godfathers house while looking for her Christmas present, and she makes it a long way - like a good 15 minutes into the adventure - before she even expresses ANY sort of emotion about it, like, girl you just walked into the set of Narnia - you think I'm joking, don't you - and you don't even comment on it???? I remember watching the commentary for the Narnia film, and Georgie Henley saying that they'd blindfolded her and led her to the lamppost set so they could film her genuine first reaction, and you can feel it in that performance, her starry-eyed wonder feels real. Its a similar situation here, but again, Clara doesn't have any reaction to suddenly stepping out of a tree trunk and being in a winter wonderland. It kinda bugged me.

Then we find out that her mother is the queen of the magical world, and she's a princess. Cool, right? No reaction, nothing, no thought as to how odd it is that her mother is queen at all, its just brushed over. Okay, we won't talk about that either, look at the pretty scenery... except the very next scenes are in a dark forest that isn't very interesting, so now I'm just thinking how weird it is that she's just going with it and not asking any questions whatsoever, or being awestruck by anything. Its like how Alice in the Burton films through over half of that movie is all "this is a dream so it doesn't matter", Clara's whole thing is "well I need to find the key to this present my mother gave me, so none of this other stuff is important". Hello child, what do you even mean, all of this is important, and I'd like to know more about it, but no we aren't gonna learn anything about anyone in this film are we? Certainly not the nutcracker soldier, Phillip, ya know, the namesake of the story?

I'm gonna go off on a tangent for a sec, bare with me. So in the story of the Nutcracker (like, the ballet and the various other variations of the story), at least, any version I've seen, the Nutcracker has always been a prince and its always been Main Girl (there's a few different name variations depending on the story) that breaks a curse or spell or choose-your-reasoning over the nutcracker that made him... well, a nutcracker. Different things happen throughout the story depending on the version, but the nutcracker is always a nutcracker. This film follows a different beat, obviously, but here's just sort of a guy. We don't learn anything about him, he's not a nutcracker we have to break the spell over - they keep calling him a nutcracker, and I guess we see him in a flashback where he's a nutcracker ornament and not, you know, the actual nutcracker we see her little brother Fritz playing with earlier in the movie - he's not very interesting, but by the end of the movie it acts like we and the main character are supposed to care about him. And maybe I missed something, but I just didn't. Like congrats on being promoted to head guard or whatever, but I'm ready to move on.

Speaking of the movie treating itself as if important things happened, I don't know where I zoned out - I didn't - but somewhere at the hour mark everybody is talking as if important life-changing things have been happening the entire movie. And I'm sitting here thinking 'what are you talking about, nothing has happened'. We met three other characters who we will proceed to learn nothing about (and also my two favorite characters in the entire film who didn't get nearly enough screen time, hats off to the two guards), and therefore not care about when things get bad, and then we had a minor scuffle with the 'bad guy' (the one thing I can say is that I understand why people have a fear of clowns now). Everyone is acting like we're at the precipice right before the final battle, and Clara's all "i thought I'd find the answers, but I'm just as lost as I was when I got here" as if anyone over the age of 8 hadn't already figured out the 'everything you need is inside' is the most obvious metaphor you could put in a movie why did you have to make it so blatant if you were gonna do it anyway???

And THEN, we finally get to the biggest trope of them all, boy am I sick of this ESPECIALLY in Disney movies. They go and pull a 'the person you thought was bad is good, and the person you thought was good is bad' with the Sugarplum fairy of all people. This is the same thing that happened with Frozen and Zootopia, where it almost basically came out of nowhere (I'd watch it again to see if I missed anything, but honestly I don't think I did, I didn't see any hints), and there's barely any rhyme or reason to it. Like they give a reason. She's sad that Clara's mom left them and she has some kind of abandonment issues that I would've LOVED to see given just a bit more screen time but NOOOOOO here's another thing we won't talk about in any kind of meaningful detail. We don't really know why she turned against Mother Ginger (the original 'bad guy') specifically, and then the movie basically kills her, like, I don't agree with what you did, but dang.

The battle at the end, which I remember being a big part of the trailers that I'd seen, but don't quote me on that, was so very underwhelming. You had an army of tin soldiers come to life and set to go attack Mother Ginger, and you had not only the real army all locked up together that you could've released, but you had the "mouse King", the nutcracker and Mousrinks, Mother ginger, and Clara and her inventor schtick basically alone with the machine that brings toys to actual life, and we get shown her holding a box full of mechanical wind-up mice, so I'm thinking I know where this is going, she's gonna distract the tin soldiers, and bring the wind-ups to life to fight against the soldiers, its gonna be a big fight before the climax. But no, we get those weird roley-poley clown matryoshka things knocking a few of them over and then Ginger with a whip attacking the soldiers while Clara tries to turn off the machine (which I'm still not entirely sure if she did).

Cue one of the "she didn't leave me alone, she didn't leave you alone" speeches where the main tries to appeal to the villains better nature. Cue probably murder, I'm not actually sure since all the residents of the realms apparently started out as toys anyway. Cue the supposed heartfelt goodbye between the nutcracker and Clara. Cue Clara going back to the party and acting like nothing happened in what looks like its supposed to be a tongue-and-cheek way with her godfather who OBVIOUSLY knows that that magic world is a thing, but doesn't mention it. Cue an apology to the father and admitting that they both miss the dead mother, because of course there's a dead mother, it's a Disney film. Cue owl we don't know anything about flying away ala Labyrinth ending. The end.

It was all very... underwhelming. Like, I appreciated what it was attempting to be, and I really appreciated the CGI more that I have in any of their other recent live action anythings, but it just didn't work for me. Like I said, it felt like it was trying to hard to be something else, to the point in which it doesn't feel like it even has an identity as Disney's Nutcracker. That coulee been something, "Disney's the Nutcracker", but honestly it's so not its own thing that I forgot it was even a thing for a whole year, it didn't have anything that drew me in, it didn't have anything that originally made me even want to see it (I remember seeing the trailers while I was still recovering from BatB and even then I could tell because it marketed itself as "from the makers of Beauty and the Beast"), the only reason I even put it on was because I'm working on another project and I was curious about different adaptations of the story. Its not the worst offender Disney's put on their team, not by a long long shot, and it is mostly harmless - to the point of boredom - but I don't know if I'll ever go back it.

#the nutcracker #the nutcraker and the four realms #nutcracker #the nutcracker and the mouse king #nutcracker review

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astrologyshitpost · 6 years

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Signs as funny shit my friends say part 6

Aries: “I look like the fuck boy version of Jack Frost.”

Taurus: “When a woman is shouting she wants to divorce her husband on the bus.”

Gemini: “I just snuck a salad in my room...”

Cancer: “You are seeing 10 other guys, stop being angry and go back to your hoe days.”

Leo: “ BITCH I DON’T EVEN KNOW HER! Wait I made out with her bf, nevermind.”

Virgo: “I know a lot of gross straight people, don’t worry he’s a good pure cinnamon roll in a field or moldy donuts.”

Libra: “Like once blesses me with bae, I can chill. Right now, all I got is some other hoes. The lord says it aint time.”

Scorpio: “ Why ain’t he racing up there? I would go on my scooter. I would roley poley all the way.”

Sagittarius: “Has he forgotten how P R E T T Y I am?!? He just said goodnight to THIS face at 9:15 pm.”

Capricorn: “BOGO on parking tickets today! Hurry before they are all gone.”

Aquarius: “Don’t worry I’m safe and celery”

Pisces: “Why does it look like I’m in a hidden valley ranch commercial.”

#Zodiac #Zodiac Signs #zodiology #star signs #Signs #signs as #astrology #astrology signs #Aries #Tarus #Gemini #Cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #Sagittarius #Capricorn #Aquarius #Pisces #shitpost

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turndownforsatan · 5 years

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After DAYS of fucking grinding and running around the whole fucking known Tyrian world I was able to get the stupid fucking roller beetle mount. I don’t even like the way it looks! I think it’s ugly!! But I need it to get into certain areas and also am a completionist like that. But straight up I had to go through THREE scavenger hunt style lists of ingredients to grow the beetle big, make his saddle, then I had to fucking make him a MEAL so he’d LIKE ME. I don’t give a shit if he likes me!!! I own his roley-poley ass!!!! I straight up rage quit twice because a lot of the items you have to get from world boss battles that you have to wait for them to happen so I just had to spend hours waiting around and UGH

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #ryan liveblogs life #roller beetle

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fxycu · 3 years

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Fuel is Air Canada's single largest expense

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Use soapstone for heat absorption / retention within the house in order to keep it warm on into the night. They are not commonplace, but of course neither Mens JORDAN Hoodie is the combination of wisdom and bravery embedded in the Governor's directive. His trade had to do with the sea, though she never saw him set foot upon a ship. They are known as Wood Lice, Pill Bugs and Roley Poleys. She had managed to find out his address beforehand. An interesting feature is its ability to automatically backup your personal data from various social networks. They also enacted that a Jew who should pervert a Christian slave should be condemned to lose all his slaves. Ghost would return when he wanted to and not before. And have these fees put into writing, too. They cost more than standard 100 or 110 Silicon wafers that Intel uses. 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sublimerhymes · 4 years

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An Emu Hunt by Banjo Paterson

West of Dubbo the west begins The land of leisure and hope and trust, Where the black man stalks with his dogs and gins And Nature visits the settlers' sins With the Bogan shower, that is mostly dust. When the roley-poley's roots dry out With the fierce hot winds and the want of rain, They come uprooted and bound about And dance in a wild fantastic rout Like flying haystacks across the plain.

And the horses shudder and snort and shift As the bounding mass of weeds goes past, But the emus never their heads uplift As they look for roots in the sandy drift, For the emus know it from first to last.

Now, the boss's dog that had come from town Was strange to the wild and woolly west, And he thought he would earn him some great renown When he saw, on the wastes of the open down, An emu standing beside her nest.

And he said to himself as he stalked his prey To start on his first great emu hunt, "I must show some speed when she runs away, For emus kick very hard, they say; But I can't be kicked if I keep in front."

The emu chickens made haste to flee As he barked and he snarled and he darted around, But the emu looked at him scornfully And put an end to his warlike glee With a kick that lifted him off the ground.

And when, with an injured rib or two, He made for home with a chastened mind, An old dog told him, "I thought you knew An emu kicks like a kangaroo, And you can't get hurt -- if you keep behind."

#banjo paterson #australian poetry #australian poem #rhyme #poetry

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[SF] They Came From The Moon

Note: I don't care about the real-life details of the real event that's being reported on right now. This is my inspired take on it. Enjoy.

It all started when we went back to the moon. And now here I am, about to die. There’s not too many of us left, I don’t think. At this point, they’ve pretty well exterminated us. And they won’t stop until they get every last one of us. I’m certain of that. I’m surrounded now, and I’m not going to get away. There’s nothing I can do.

These damn things are indestructible. You can shoot them, stab them, bomb them, nuke them. And they just keep coming. The most indestructible creatures known to man. And to think they started out microscopic and insignificant.

Fucking tardigrades. Water bears. Moss piglets. Monsters.

Of course, it’s our own fault. These things were perfectly content, blissfully unaware, non-sentient little bugs who never hurt anything or anyone. Fine tuned over bazillions of years of evolution, the little bastards were perfectly adapted to, well, everywhere. Water, frozen and boiling, volcanoes, tropical rainforests, you name it. People say only cockroaches and twinkies would survive world-wide nuclear holocaust, but so would tardigrades. These things can live in the vaccuum of space for jebus’ sake.

At some point we decided it was a fan-fucking-tastic idea to shoot them off to the moon to “see what would happen.” Humans. Balls, we’re stupid sometimes. Not that our smartest minds could have foreseen the events that would happen to transpire a few decades later. At that time, it was no big deal. The tardigrades were dehydrated and cryo-frozen in epoxy, and sandwiched between plates of nickel. And then these plates - no larger than a DVD - were blasted off to the moon, where an Israeli ship crashed into the lunar surface. Oops.

Oh, and also sandwiched between those plates of nickel? Human DNA.

Human DNA and tardigrades. Together. Forever. Why you ask? Fuck knows.

And now here we are, a couple decades later, facing certain extinction. I don’t know if anyone knows how they became what they are - indestructible, slimy, 12 foot tall, sentient (REALLY fucking sentient) tardigrades. I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. Although now that I think of it, there very well may no longer be any human scientists around. So maybe I’m the closest thing to a scientist now. Maybe I’m the smartest human left on this monsterbug-infested planet. And I’m surrounded by them. Not so smart, I’m thinking.

What we do know is that a little over seven years after that initial tardigrade-dump on the moon, we went back for them. We always intended to of course. Scientists wanted to see how the lunar environment - weaker gravity, temperatures nearing absolute zero, the bombardment of radiation (so, SO much radiation) - would affect the biology and chemistry of those little shits, and apparently that of human DNA.

So these discs came back to Earth. A fully automated combination lander/rover/rocket blasted off from Kennedy Space Station in August, 2026. Space X’s latest and greatest at that time. It gently reverse-thrusted it’s way to the lunar surface 42 hours later. The rover unfolded itself from the lander rocket, set its 12 treaded wheels on the dusty, grey ground, and embarked on its mission. It took a little while, but eventually it made its way to a series of craters that upon first glance looked empty. But half buried and scattered throughout the two largest craters, were four DVD sized discs that the rover came for. Nothing else survived. No debris from the crash, no additional components. It was designed that way in case of a crash. You know, don’t contaminate alien worlds and all. Just the discs. Almost as if it was intended that way.

With the discs rounded up and safely stored away, the rover made its way back to the lander - now lunar rocket - and mechanically secured itself into a specially designed niche on the side of the ship. And off it went, right back to whence it came.

So they came back. Seemingly no different than when they blasted off the first time. NASA and Israeli scientists initially reported that the cryo-frozen tardigrades appeared to sustain very little, if any damage, and that they were still blissfully alivedead in their cozy little petri dishes. Re-hydrated, they went right back to their unassuming tardigrade ways, sucking nutrients from mosses and lichens through their face-holes and floating around lazily in saline solution. That’s the last I had heard back in the day, and hadn’t thought anything of it until the mushroom clouds appeared.

That was about two years ago, I’d say. I haven’t kept track. Maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less. It’s either late 2039 or early 2040 now. Winter. Only there’s no snow, there hasn’t been since last winter when nuclear fallout toasted most things and dried it to a crisp.

Those blasts killed most things. Not a whole lot of us survived. Not a whole lot of anything survived. But a few of us did. Cockroaches, and some people who had the wherewithal to shield themselves in time. And a few of us who can only chalk it up to dumb luck. I was out fishing when it started. Deep, deep in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. Considering packing it in for the day, fish-less, when I noticed the sky darkening and grey-green smoke rising between two peaks in the distance. Forest fire was the first thing that came to mind. Until the smoke quickly took a form that is unmistakable. As the mushroom-cap billowed upwards, I turned and ran. Had it not been for old crazy ass mountain man Liam, I’m sure I would have radiation puked myself to death within days or weeks.

That guy was a riot. And I mean, a machine gun totin’, bear trap loadin’, full blown lunatic of a man. The guy turned his small peaceful cabin and surrounding lands in the middle of nowhere into Fort Fucking Knox. That’s what he called it. Only he wasn’t guarding gold (maybe he was?), he was guarding himself. From them lib’ral snowflake soshulists comin’ for his guns. And his rights, he tells ya what.

So by a strange cascade of events that I don’t have time for here - mostly me runstumbling through the brush - I found my way to Liam’s bunker. More like, he found me. At gun point. The man, staring at me down the barrel of a Kalashnikov; greasy, stringy white hair flowing from under a disgusting old red trucker cap with worn once-white lettering on the front. I couldn’t make the words out, but it looked familiar from a time long ago. I thought I could vaguely make out the phrase “...GREAT AGAIN.” After much deliberation I was successfully able to convince him that indeed I was NOT one of them soshulist motherfuckers. I told him our govmint turned on us and were nukin’ us goddammit. I had no idea what was going on, I had to tell him something.

Liam’s place - Fort Fucking Knox - happened to come equipped with a state of the art nuclear fallout bunker. Of course it did. One of those they sold in mail order catalogs back in the 1950s. Better than duck-n-cover. So we holed up for a while. We ate a shit load of baked beans. Luckily, Liam preferred to keep to hisself and for the most part, that’s what he did. We listened to the chatter on his shortwave receivers, which is how we came to understand - mostly - what was happening. Liam didn’t keep TeeVee, or internet, or satellite. Just his goddamn CB radios. Probably a good thing, because I’m pretty sure these things would have found us sooner if he wasn’t so goddamn paranoid. They were smart. Very smart.

Not a whole lot more to report, honestly. Some time has passed, and Liam dies from some shit. No idea what. One day he just wouldn’t wake up. For the best though, I was gonna kill him soon if he hadn’t. I couldn’t take any more of his conspiracy theories, or his baked beans.

Over time the chatter on the CB radios went quiet. They were all getting found. I even listened to a couple good ol’ boys broadcast their own terrifyingly gruesome deaths. The Water Bears found them. It didn’t take long, they found them all.

Now, the bunker is surrounded. I have guns - Liam’s guns - and I have explosives. I have actual hand grenades. I’ve been out of the bunker a bit these last couple weeks, I don’t think the radiation is too bad, I’m only puking once every couple days or so. I’ve taken guns out looking for things to shoot. No animals anywhere, no birds chirping, not even a cricket.

And that’s how I fucked up. You see, I was out looking for anything to eat besides baked beans, when I rounded a group of huge boulders. And I saw it. That thing. It was huge, at least as big as the largest boulder I was standing next to. At first it didn’t know I was there, and it was preoccupied with something I couldn’t see. Then it froze. And much quicker than it had any right to, based on its fleshy marshmallow man contours, it half-twisted around to face me. It’s alien face - is it a face? - staring directly at me. The bung that is it’s mouth/face-hole slowly puckering in anticipation.

We stood there frozen for many milliseconds. Then I acted, pulling Liam’s only AR-15 around and semi-automatically squeezing off as many rounds into its pudgy rice pudding torso as I could. More rounds. I was on my ass on the ground now, the assault rifle having knocked me over. But I kept shooting. It folded in, like a roley-poley and collapsed face-down. I could see brown green goo dripping from the exit wounds on its reverse side. Thankfully, no one came and took away Liam’s guns.

Then they slowly, but surely, closed up. The wounds. They healed right before my eyes, and the thing started to tremble and move. I took off. As fast as my aging knees would let me, I stumbled back through the wild, crashing through the steel barbed front gate of Fort Fucking Knox. I didn’t stop until I was down in the bunker, locked from the inside.

That was two days ago - I think. Not like I’ve slept, and I’ve stopped looking at the clock. I’m not even sure what time or day it was when I got back to the bunker after shooting that thing. I knew, of course, that they were indestructible. I heard as much from the handhelds. Guns, bombs, nukes. Apparently, we (the govmint) retaliated by shooting nukes at Canada. This after the bugs already nuked Canada and most of the rest of the world. Wasn’t much left of ‘Mercia then either. But we still had our nukes.

They wanted to see if we could nuke those bastards. Because perhaps our nukes were better than those Russian nukes that already gave their college-try. Apparently not. Or if the nukes did get ‘em, more just came in their place.

Fucking machetes. One good ol’ boy hacked one up with a machete. Then as he was proudly broadcasting his victory on channel 13.5, the thing got him.

And now, here I am. Surrounded. I know I am, because I’m watching them on the closed circuit monitors. I’m going to die. Not sure if today, or tomorrow, or when, but I’m going to die. At least I’m in the bunker. I’m certain they can’t get in here. Reinforced concrete and steel. Underground. So I’ll just watch them, LEARN them. For my own edu-ma-fuckin-cation. I’ll eat these beans, though I’m only seeing about half a dozen more cans. I’ll drink whatever water is left, also not much. And then I’ll die. Either I’ll starve or die of thirst, or maybe I’ll rig up this whole damn place and blast myself and them to kingdom come. Or just myself. I turned around and puked into an old stainless steel turkey fryer.

I guess we’ll just see what happens. You know, it’s a bit ironic, don’tcha think? For decades now people have been freaking out over the climate changing. Me too. Now I’m in a bunker in the middle of a wasteland. And we didn’t even do THAT shit. People have been freaking out over viruses - these “super bugs��. The flu is goddamn scary these days, for sure. People die from that. At least, they did. Super bugs. Ain’t that some shit. I’m looking at the real Super Bugs right now, in all their closed-circuit, black and white, low resolution glory.

Fucking Tardigrades. Tardigrades from the fucking moon. And yes, we did that shit.

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#Blogger #Story

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flickfeast · 6 years

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Trailer Park: Christian Bale Looks Like Dick in Vice

Christian Bale looks like a real Dick in the first trailer for Vice #trailerpark #vice

The famous (possibly apocryphal) story is that, after starving himself to 54kg for psychological horror The Machinist, Christian Bale immediately packed on over 100kg of muscle so he could tackle the role of the Dark Knight in Batman Begins. This is because Christian Bale is a crazy person. Hopefully he had a better time perfecting the roley poley Dick Cheney physique he’s rocking in the first…

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#Adam McKay #christian bale #Sam Rockwell #The Big Short #vice

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nerdraging4point0 · 3 months

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Blood of Eden // Part Two // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Head on his paws, he had his body flat on the cold cement of the alley nestled into the shadows with his eyes locked on the street ahead. The early morning fog was rolling in, and he could see the vapors of his breath in the air. They'd been sitting in the alley by the lab all night. Since the break in four extra hunters were posted, only driving Noah to annoyance. It wasn't the hunters but the distraction she'd caused him that night.

Shoulda killed her.

He growled a little, remembering the girl he'd left to die on that roof. She had looked right at him as her eyes rolled back, and she passed out. He spent a long time debating his next move. She was beautiful with her red hair and gray eyes, but the fear in her eyes pained him to his core. Leaping across the roof to his partner, he re-fastened his muzzle as they climbed the ladder to the streets below to return to their post. She'd bleed out on that roof or think twice before breaking into his master's lab again.

Oli tried to get Noah to explain why he did what he did, but not even Noah could describe it. Running through the streets, he had seen her turn down into some shit-ass neighborhood. Oli suggested they let her go, but when Noah found the velvet band she'd lost out of her hair, he had to pursue it like a force from another world.

She'd seen him, his face, Oli's face, like she was seeing through the haze that was their master's magic. As a hunter, his two sides, both beast and man, remained as one, but only one at a time could be visible; the other stowed away in what was described as the fifth dimension. She had seen both; he felt it. When she jumped off the roof and hung from the ledge, the possibility that she could have fallen to her death, he hadn't thought much before removing his muzzle and leaping to the next roof to latch his jaws into her shoulder and thrust her up to safety.

A bark of laughter and a soft clutter came from behind him; Noah turned his head to see the commotion, and Oli stepped out of the shadows to his left, following his line of sight. One of the hunters stretched out her limbs, spying the two of them watching; she stretched out her rump on purpose, curling her tail in the air. Oli snorted, shaking his head before sitting back on his haunches and lifting his leg to scratch his ear. Noah rolled his eyes, dropping his head to his paws again. The scent from the smooth black band around his left leg wafting into his nose, soft jasmine and clove circling his olfactory; that's not how she tasted. Her blood was fiery like cinnamon but burned like cheap whiskey and had a grit like dirt.

What will he say when you get home?

The thick accent of Oli's voice pierced through his brain. Noah huffed, the dust from the alley coming loose and blowing into a cloud in front of him. He didn't want to think about it. He'd disobeyed a direct order. Hunters only remove their muzzles with permission; to violate that order, there is no telling what punishment may present. Equipped with trackers and wireless radios, masters often communicated with their hunters throughout the night; Jolly was usually too busy for that.

As masters go, Jolly was lenient compared to the others; some hunters had masochistic, if not borderline abusive, treatment; Jolly was softer, maybe a little rough when they got physical, but never anything that made Noah fear what he would do when he returned. It wasn't often Noah ever did something wrong; he could count on one hand how many times he'd disobeyed his master in their last thirteen years of partnership. And less on that hand could he count the times Jolly was truly angry with him; he was only ever disappointed. But disappointment can be a cruel punishment on its own.

Oli was just as lucky as Noah; his mistress was a beautiful woman inside and out. They had genuinely fallen in love with one another, and the collaring ceremony was nothing compared to the wedding they had shared. It wasn't unheard of for masters and hunters to marry, but breeding wasn't possible-they were sterile for a reason. The Mage were blood purists; they preferred to keep their magic to themselves.

Noah kept his eyes ahead, watching Skytower in the distance, the sun starting to gleam off the highest floors first. When the cars on the street grew in numbers, and the sun began to shine through the fog, a static came through his ears.

"You are relieved of duty; you are to come straight home." Jolly did indeed sound disappointed. Noah's ears fell back on his head, and he whined. Oli sprung to his feet, stretching his front legs forward and shaking his shaggy fur. Noah stood slowly, his limbs stiff from lying still practically all night; he had to force himself to stretch, letting himself stand on his own two feet before heading straight for home.

Skytower was only three blocks south of the laboratory, hard to miss with its 45 floors towering over the city. Noah's eyes locked on the 38th floor's west side windows; that was their floor. Jolly and he shared a four-bedroom apartment, with one of those rooms doubling as an office space for Jolly to work. Mage had some of the most high-paying jobs in the world; how else would they establish order in the chaos? Jolly's job was one of distinguished power. Born as a cousin to a royal Swedish family, he was a lord in his home country. He handled affairs from home, all from abroad, and with the remainder of his time, he worked on finances for the lab's experiments and research. Their close relationship made Jolly more interested in the hunter initiative and their health. They got some of the best medical treatments and even gave suggestions to make hunters more optimal.

Oli paused when they reached Skytower, holding the left side of his muzzle so delicately listening to his intercom with a smile broadening in his cheeks. Reaching behind his head he unclasped the leather mask from his face. Shaking out his hair and stretching his jaw, he turned to Noah, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Listen, bruv," Oli clapped him on the shoulder, "I need to get coffee for me and my mistress. Take whatever punishment he gives you. And advice: just feign stupid, beg forgiveness, and move on."

Noah reached behind his head to remove his leather mask as his partner disappeared down the street.

"Leave it on." The disappointed voice of his master pierced through his ears, and he dropped his hands slowly, squaring his shoulders before walking into his massive home. Awkward silence engulfed him in the elevator as he climbed the thirty-eight floors by himself, his anxiety increasing with every ding signaling another floor.

Stepping into their apartment, birch storm flooring with equally neutral furniture graced their living room, the low light of the gas fireplace shining over their apartment. Noah could smell the freshly brewed coffee, but when he didn't see Jolly in the kitchen or the living room, there was only one other space he could be in.

Noah turned down the hall, passing by his own bedroom, bathroom, and the spare room before stopping at the door to Jolly's office. It was open, and the lights were on; knocking was unnecessary as he stepped in.

Jolly wasn't facing him, turned in the chair with his back at the desk, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. Noah could hear the slow sips he took from his mug of fresh espresso, swallowing so gingerly that Noah could almost forget he was upset.

"Eventful evening." The statement hung in the room, and Noah dared not answer. Feign stupid. Oli's advice rang through his ears; now all he needed was for Jolly to turn around, and he could beg forgiveness.

Jolly turned slowly in his office chair, setting his clear mug on the glass coaster before standing from his chair. Dressed in navy blue slacks and a charcoal gray dress shirt, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was still damp from his shower. Noah could smell the citrus and mahogany wafting off him; he swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling himself twitch in his pants.

His master closed in on him, hands in his pockets, their eyes level with one another as he closed the space between them.

"I don't care why. I don't need you to speak." Jolly lifted a hand from his pocket, running his fingers through Noah's hair, caressing down to cup his cheek. "I do, however, need you to kneel."

Jolly placed both hands on Noah's shoulder; their weight helped to push Noah onto his knees on the floor. His nose brushed the already noticeable bulge in his master's pants, and he could feel his mouth salivating. Peeking out of Jolly's right pocket was the dark rope Jolly kept in the top drawer of his desk. Feeling his tail wagging and his heart racing at the sight, Noah was more than eager to touch the floor.

Noah kneeled on the floor, breathing heavily through the leather on his face. Jolly strolled behind him, caressing his cheek and neck before bringing Noah's arms behind his body, crossing the hunter's wrists over each other and securing them with the burgundy rope. The anticipation rose in Noah's chest as Jolly wrapped his arms around his body, reaching to undo the clasp of his pants before pulling them down. With his lower half exposed, Noah's skin prickled with gooseflesh, shuddering under the brush of his master's fingertips on his thighs.

"You disobeyed, didn't you?" Jolly's harsh whisper brushed Noah's ear. The hunter hung his head. He heard the familiar clink of the leather belt and the soft thud of clothes hitting the floor. Noah's breathing increased, feeling himself harden at the thought of being taken roughly. His master circled him; he'd discarded his pants and underwear cock slowly being stroked by his slender fingers. Leaving Noah on his knees in the middle of the office, his master stepped back creating several feet between them as he leaned on the edge of his desk, stroking himself slowly, eyes locked with Noah. "Shall I explain the rules?"

"You look so pretty in that muzzle of yours." his master cooed, stroking his hardening cock in his hand. Noah mewled, dropping his eyes to the floor as his cheeks reddened.

"Bad boy. Look at me." Jolly growled. Noah lifted his eyes again, seeing his master's hand stilled. "Rule one, you look away. I have to stop, and you know I don't like to stop unnecessarily."

Noah nodded slowly nodded his head, feeling his ears fall back and his tail droop. He watched eagerly as his master started to pump his swollen head once again, kicking himself off the edge of the desk to come closer to Noah's face.

He could feel the drool pooling in his mouth, the sensation of opening it as his master approached was second nature, but the leather on his face made it impossible for his jaw to move.

"That's a good boy." Jolly praised. Noah watched as the pitiful whine he let slip only made his master's hand speed up and his cock twitch in his grasp. "I like it when you whine. You always sound so needy."

Noah's own cock was hard and throbbing between his legs; he wanted to be touched, needed to be felt up and down in slow strokes. But with his hands clasped behind his back and his master having no give, it was apparent that was impossible.

"Rule two. You don't ever remove your muzzle without permission." Jolly pumped himself harder, focusing more on the head of his cock than his shaft. Groaning as he looked into his pup's eyes.

"You don't like having that on your face, do you? You'd rather have my cock in your mouth, wouldn't you?" Noah whined again; inside him, his tail was excitedly thumping on the ground.

"You won't disobey me again?" Noah shook his head vigorously. No, not if it meant being rewarded. He'd listen, he'd be good.

Jolly moaned, positioning himself behind Noah, the hunter growling eagerly.

His master's hand clutched the nape of his neck, the pressure pushing him down to bend in half as he kneeled on the ground. A low groan rumbled across the walls as Noah felt the warm ropes land on his lower back, dripping down his skin and between the cheeks of his ass. Jolly's grip tightened as his hand started to shake, slowly coming down from his high. Noah felt himself dripping precum onto the floor, desperate for release and feeling his lower abdomen tighten with feral need.

"You get yourself cleaned up," Jolly gave the side of his thigh a light slap, untying the bonds of his wrists before standing up from behind him. "I have to work this afternoon. We'll take care of you tonight."

Jolly redressed, stepping over Noah on his way to his desk; from deep in Noah's chest, he whined, crawling on the floor towards his master. Jolly paid him no attention, sitting in his oversized office chair in front of his laptop as if nothing had happened. Noah gathered his pants, pulling them up over his tender and stiff cock, head still cast down to the floor. He turned to leave the room, wiping the sweat from his brow when Jolly's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You can take off your muzzle for the night. And Noah," Noah turned slowly to look at his master, "Rule three, don't touch yourself. I need you, needy."

Noah nearly choked on the saliva pooling in his mouth as he left the office. Down the hall, he closed the door to his bathroom, stripping off the clothes from the night before; looking down at himself, he was stiff as a board and couldn't do anything to fix it.

A Lukewarm shower washed away the night before and the last few minutes. As he tossed his clothes from the night before into the hamper, he pulled the band from his pocket, wrapping it around his wrist. Thumbing through his clothes, he found it amazing how monochromatic his wardrobe was, from white to black and all the shades of gray. Throwing on a loose pair of pants and some white sneakers, a matching crew neck top with a black unbuttoned baseball jersey for good measure. He grabbed his ball cap and sunglasses as he walked out the door. He just wanted some air, to get out and get his mind off things; he'd walked a few blocks, realizing his feet already knew where he was going if his mind didn't.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noahsebastian fanfic #joakim jolly karlsson smut #joakim jolly karlsson fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #urban fantasy #dark romance #noah sebastian fanfic #jolly karlsson #romance #bad omens au #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #blood of eden

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nerdraging4point0 · 3 months

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Blood of Eden // Part Four // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

"You've helped enough."

She snapped, getting up from the floor.

Noah turned the key in the lock, slowly pushing open her apartment door; she walked under his arm like a bridge, not even bothering to look at him. Watching her cradle her wounded limb to her chest as she walked by, he hung his head shamefully.

"Sorry about that."

He wasn't sure she had heard him as she disappeared into her tiny space to a room down the hall, muttering something to herself the entire way. Noah took notice of the mixed-matched furniture, the dark blue loveseat, the cream couch with burnt orange and dark green pillows, and a glass coffee table sitting in the center of the room on top of a worn argyle green area rug.

Scattered along her walls were pieces of eclectic art, large frames filled with a collage of smiling faces of what he presumed were friends and family; it seemed her life had been busy between trips to the beach, theme parks, nights in the clubs, at the bar, graduations and birthdays. The guilt in his chest made him incapable of looking at the pictures anymore; if she'd died on that roof, he would have been responsible for all those people missing her.

He could hear her cursing under her breath, tape ripping, and then the whimpering. He would have offered more help, but she didn't seem thrilled the first time, so he shut his mouth. Propping himself against the wall next to her kitchen, he had a perfect view down the hall and was in the ideal position to defend her front door.

She came out of the room in a new set of clothes, struggling to put her arm through the sleeve of her khaki hoodie.

"Oh," she sounded disappointed. Her face was pale, barely capable of keeping her eyelids open as she shuffled her way down the hall. "You're still here."

He stood by as she entered her kitchen, searching her counters before opening the fridge. It was practically empty, but she didn't seem bothered. Jolly always kept their fridge stocked with Noah's favorite things; he was always curious when Jolly found the time.

"I need a shot," she mumbled.

"You shouldn't drink. Your blood tastes terrible." Noah offered.

She paused. The fridge door hung open before closing it, slowly shaking her head. She opened a cabinet above her sink and pulled down a large teal plastic box. Noah stepped closer, watching her pull supplies from the old container: a few gauze pads, a wipe, some type of blue elastic, and a syringe full of a neon purple liquid.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Something that's going to make you go away." He could hear the tears in her voice. The beast inside him whimpered. She turned around and jumped back, nearly dropping the syringe on the floor.

"What?" he stepped back, startled by her reaction. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"It's PTSD. PTSD and hallucinations. It's not real. Go sit down." Noah got the sense she wasn't talking to him. Grabbing the syringe and her supplies, she stepped past, avoiding him, to sit on her couch. Rolling up her sleeve, she expertly secured the elastic around her arm without even opening her eyes. Noah took a seat on the couch next to her, watching as she felt around in the crook of her arm, grabbing the syringe and lining the needle with her pulsing vein.

"Why do you do this?" he asked.

"To survive." she sighed, letting the needle pierce her skin and drain the fluid in her veins. He felt the urge to put his head in her lap, have her stroke his hair, and find ways to comfort her.

Removing the needle and setting it on the table, she teetered a bit before slowly lying on her left side, pulling one of the pillows under her head.

He watched as she fell asleep with little effort, the soft snores evidently meaning she was exhausted. Noah picked up the syringe, unscrewed the needle, and brought the contraption to his nose.

He recoiled instantly at the smell, a toxic earthy scent; this is what is making her blood taste so bad. What could she possibly need it for?

Picking himself off the couch, he wasn't sure what to do, his feet drawn to the box still sitting on the kitchen counter; looking into her box, he saw two other syringes with that purple concoction at the bottom. A small stack of bills was folded in half in the side pocket. Was she dealing or just buying?

Turning to the sleeping beauty on the couch, she looked nothing like the photos on her walls. Sure, her hair was longer, but it was dull; she was obviously curvy, maybe voluptuous; now, as she lay on her couch, she looked like a shell of her former self. Looking at her face, he could tell it had been a while since she smiled. Deep grooves under her eyes from lack of sleep and stress make the lids heavy over her brilliant-colored eyes. As the hours passed and he watched her sleep, the drive and urge to be near her faded; he missed Jolly and wanted to go home.

He dropped her keys on the table, locking her door on his way out. He took a leisurely stroll on his way back home. He wanted to go home, but something was driving him to go back; passing a corner vendor selling tacos, he stopped to pick up a few. Sitting at the makeshift bench, the taco truck had set out, he enjoyed his lunch, taking down the eight tacos without a breath. He was famished between the morning's distractions and a frustrated state of mind; he'd skipped breakfast.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled out the black device; its thin body barely fit in his hand as he slid open the screen to reveal his texts.

Where'd you run off to?

Jolly's text was declamatory. Noah slipped a finger through the ring of his collar. Jolly knew where he was, and he always would. Collars were equipped with the finest tracking system in the city; not even underground trams interfered with their transmission.

Needed a walk. And food.

West 42nd seems like a long walk for food.

Noah hadn't realized how far her apartment was from home; as he turned around, he discovered he couldn't even see the skyscraper through the surrounding buildings. Shocker.

Had to clear my head.

Oh, pet. Was I harsh?

Harsh? No, it was well deserved; Noah disobeyed the rules. Seemed fair he would be punished for it.

No, not at all

Have you been following Rule #3?

Noah could feel the twitch in his pants, the blood rushing between his thighs, reminded of the way he'd been left this morning. Again, Jolly would know if Noah had tried. The collar tracked his vitals, offering a full report to his master every six hours.

Yes, master.

Good boy. Come home. I work late tonight, but I will take care of you.

Noah never got up and tossed away his trash so fast.

Jolly straightened up in his office chair, resting his elbows on the clutter surrounding his desk. It was late. Noah had left on duty hours ago, and their home was quiet. Noah was constantly pacing the house, blasting his music, and maybe even watching TV in two rooms simultaneously. Jolly would often sleep when he was out on duty, but he'd been hard at work tonight. His vision blurred; when he closed his eyes and rubbed the corners, he could still see the spreadsheets of costs, budget, inventory, and plans for the lab experiments all over his desktop screen.

He was sick of working the numbers for the fourth time today. Something wasn't adding up; it hadn't been for two months now; it was minuscule at best, a few hundred here, a few hundred there. But without getting to the root of the problem, it continued to grow, and soon, they would be overrun in debt if it didn't get managed. Against his better judgment, he'd used money from his own account to balance out the difference, hoping it wouldn't bite him in the ass later.

A new window popped up on his screen, a red dot pulsing on a grid he recognized as the city.

Noah.

He opened the new screen, seeing the subtle alert that Noah had left his post. He'd crossed over to the next block and was still going; Jolly clicked open the tab holding the city's main alerts, observing the bank security; no breach. Jolly clicked into Noah's tracker, reviewing his vitals in real-time. He could see his heart rate increasing and his oxygen steady, with no log of wounds.

"Where are you going?" he whispered to himself.

When the red dot stopped at the corner, Jolly pulled up his phone, dialing Jethro's number. Two rings and the security man answered.

"Get me all the angles for 24th and Woodman." Jolly barked, and a few loud tappings on the other end of the line came through the receiver as Jethro worked his magic.

"Sharing."

One large image cut into a grid of four different angles popped up on Jolly's screen. He threw his phone on the desk, lacing his fingers together to rest under his chin as he watched.

She was climbing into a horticulture shop, disappearing behind their chain link fence. And there was Noah at the corner. Patiently sitting on his haunches, his head tilted as he watched her. Jolly punched in a few codes, just a few things that Jethro had taught him. He wasn't a tech man but a quick learner when he needed something and didn't want to bother anyone.

The codes rewound the security footage, zooming in on the girl climbing the fence. Long dark red waves tied back into a ponytail, dark jeans, and a hoodie with a backpack hanging off her shoulders. He watched as she winced each time she used her right arm to scale the fence, rubbing her shoulder as she jumped to the ground again.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one?" Jolly hummed to himself.

He let the footage play out, maybe twenty-five minutes before she was back, scaling the fence again to leap down onto the sidewalk as before.

She lost her footing, falling back onto her ass. Off his haunches in an instant, Noah closed the distance between them; she panicked, scotting herself back till she was caged in by the fence she'd just climbed. Jolly watched as Noah approached her, his head hung low, ears up; when she scrambled again, he lowered onto his front paws, bowing in front of her as he scooted closer.

She remained still, watching Noah with intense eyes. He was close enough that if he lashed out a paw, he'd scratch her face. Instead, he dropped his head into her lap. They stayed still for several minutes, Noah's tail slowly swishing from side to side. Jolly watched as her hand reached up, hesitating over his head.

"That's it, pretty one. He likes his ears scratched."

She obviously didn't hear him, her hand slowly lowering onto his pet's head anyway, touching Noah's ears, giving them a tentative scratch. Jolly watched Noah's vitals, his heart rate lowering and his breathing steady. His tail wagged as he leaned into her touch.

Suddenly, Noah was on his feet, turning to look behind him. Another hunter had come around the corner; Jolly's monitors showed Noah's heart rate skyrocket and his adrenaline surge.

Noah followed his fellow hunter as they scurried back to their posts, turning once to look over his shoulder before darting off. Jolly's eyes remained fixed on the girl still sitting on the ground, zooming in on her face.

"What a mystery you are, sunshine."

#bad omens cult #bad omens #bad omens band #noahsebastian fanfic #joakim jolly karlsson smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #joakim jolly karlsson fic #noah sebastian smut #urban fantasy #dark romance #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #jolly karlsson #romance #bad omens au #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #blood of eden

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nerdraging4point0 · 28 days

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Scorpion and the Scales // Chapter Six // Polyverse AU

Tropes and Tags: MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only MDNI, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken 2@missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @th0ughts-pr4yers @bloody-delusion-expert

RICK'S POV

The February wind outside howled like a pack of wolves as flurries danced past the frosty windowpane. The tour was great, but it's nice to be back where everything is familiar. I was lost in my thoughts at my desk, a mug of now cold coffee sitting off to my right when Vin’s name flashed on my screen. Sitting at my computer desk in my bedroom studio, I was deeply focused on reviewing and editing some music video footage I had recently shot. Our band just released a new album, and I was brainstorming more creative ways to promote it through visually striking music videos. As both the lead guitarist and an aspiring filmmaker, I was eager to take a hands-on role in the video production process. My mind was racing with ideas - perhaps I could assist the director, or even take full creative control and direct the video myself. Fueled by my passion for both music and film, I became completely engrossed in piecing together rough cuts on my editing software, trying out different sequences and visual effects. Just as I was fine-tuning a particularly complex montage sequence, the ringing notification jolted me out of my deep concentration.

I pushed the green button on my phone, putting it on speaker so I could keep working on my computer while I talked. "Hello," I answered absentmindedly, my eyes still focused on the screen in front of me as I edited videos.

"Hey man," came Vin's cheery but muffled voice through the phone, the sounds of his chewing making it obvious he had food in his mouth. I knew he must be bored or feeling lonely since he never called just to chat otherwise.

I reached over to take a sip from my mug of now tepid coffee, grimacing at the lukewarm liquid that was no longer hot enough to be enjoyable. As Vin rambled on about his day so far, I found my focus divided between his meandering story and the editing work I was trying to finish up. His tone was aimless and wandering, confirming my suspicion that this call was just his way of combating boredom on a lazy afternoon. I made occasional noises of acknowledgement, letting him continue his monologue as background noise while I clicked and dragged video clips into place.

“Hey, so I got a call from Seth this morning. I guess he’s supposed to do a podcast with Chris tomorrow and called to confirm but the dude didn’t answer. I tried calling him and his phone is dead.”

I stopped working, turning in my seat to look at my phone with a furrowed brow. "You haven't heard from him lately have you?" Vin asked.

"No," I racked my brain for the last time I spoke to him and to be honest in our time off- all three weeks of it- I hadn't heard a peep from him. He'd been radio silent, social media silent, he was like a ghost. This was highly unusual for Chris, who was normally very active on social media and kept in frequent contact with friends. The fact that Seth had called looking to confirm a podcast recording and gotten no response was troubling. Chris wasn't the type to miss appointments or fail to return calls. A knot of worry began forming in my stomach as I thought back to our last conversation right before the break. Chris had seemed distracted and evasive, not his normal upbeat self.

As I gazed at the ominous clouds through the large window in my home office, I could see the flurries hadn’t yet started to stick to the ground. The sky was filled with menacing, steel-colored clouds that appeared swollen with moisture, ready to burst open and release their wintry payload at any moment. Though I was unsure just how much snow we'd be getting, the clouds foretold that it would be a significant amount - likely enough to disrupt travel plans and force people indoors.

Vin continued rambling excitedly through the phone about his successful streaming channel, oblivious to the weather outside. As he chattered on, I grabbed my heavy winter jacket from the closet and slipped it on over my hoodie to brace for the cold. I jammed my feet into sturdy boots and interrupted Vin mid-sentence to let him know I was headed over to check on Chris before the storm hit. Vin understood and we exchanged quick goodbyes before hanging up. I snatched my keys and wallet and headed out the front door into the freezing air, making sure to lock up behind me.

The apartment was eerily quiet as I unlocked the door, my voice echoing off the high ceilings as I called his name. No response. Where could he be? I scanned the living room to my left, noticing his expensive gaming system had been left untouched, neatly tucked into its designated space under the TV stand, the controllers precisely lined up next to it. My eyebrow raised in surprise - he never left his gaming system so tidy. The bright flashing lights and sounds of racing cars or epic battles were typically blaring at this hour as he lounged on the couch. His absence was odd. I wandered slowly through the open concept space - past the leather couch and recliner, both somehow free of his usual piles of laundry and takeout containers. The dining table was spotless, cleared of the stacks of mail and bills that normally covered it. I peeked into the kitchen expecting to see dishes piled up and counters covered in crumbs. But it was impossibly clean. The spotless marble gleamed under the lights, not a single dirty mug or plate left in the sink. The entire place felt sterile, like a model apartment ready for showing. Where was the comfortable clutter and busy energy that was usually present when he was home? Where were the signs of life? The apartment was untouched, everything perfectly in its place. Too perfect. Too quiet. Too still.

The takeout boxes from that vegan joint down the block are piling up in his trash. I open the fridge hoping to grab a snack, but it's practically barren - just a few protein shakes lining the door and not much else. The empty shelves and lack of fresh food signal that he hasn't been grocery shopping in a while. I gaze at the sparse contents, disappointed by the lack of options. Over the wind howling outside, I hear soft footsteps approaching. I stand up and gently close the fridge door, careful not to make any noise. As I turn around, our eyes meet and she freezes, poised on her tiptoes across the living room. Her eyes are wide, and her body stiff with tension. She looks caught off guard to see me standing in the kitchen. I offer a faint, awkward smile, unsure what to say. We stare at each other for a long moment, the howling wind outside filling the heavy silence between us.

I can't take my eyes off her. She's wearing nothing but Chris’s horror mania shirt, her smooth legs on full display. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, looking slightly mussed in an alluring way. I know I've seen her before, but in this moment, I can't remember where. A deep blush spreads across her cheeks as she meets my gaze, making her even more irresistible. She starts fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, suddenly shy. But I'm drawn to her like a magnet. I want to be the one making her blush, making her nervous in that tantalizing way. I imagine what it would feel like to run my hands through that messy hair. She's a vision I can't look away from. I need to know who she is.

The apartment door opens and Chris comes in one hand holding a paper bag with what has to be food and coffee in his other. His brown eyes bug wide as he takes in me in his kitchen and her in his living room. The door closes slowly behind him as his lip curls into a smile, “Well, this is awkward.”

Setting the coffee and food on the table, Chris steps between me and his mystery girl, whispering something in her ear and she pads away back to his room.

He turns to me. "What are you doing here, man?"

He's not mad. I've seen Mad Chris before, and this ain't it. I shrug. I gesture around the room. "I expected to find you in your boxers, surrounded by vanilla Coke cans and takeout boxes, face glued to the TV as you school some noobs at Halo. I didn't expect..." I point toward the bedroom. "Who is she?"

Chris grins as he picks up his coffee. "Eve. Remember that concert in Denver almost a year ago?"

"The one night stand you wouldn't shut up about as you dragged your sorry ass out of the hotel?"

Chris has always had a knack for pulling gorgeous women. Hell, I didn't even bat an eye when he was dating Emily or Melanie - I was completely wrapped up in my own relationship at the time. But this new girl of his...man, she's something else. The moment I saw her, I couldn't peel my eyes away. Her nervous smile, her cute face as she blushes, the way she moves...Chris hit the jackpot with this one. I hate to admit it, but I'm crazy jealous. For the first time, I find myself wishing I was in his shoes.

He'd gone on for hours about how spectacular the sex was, how it had been like a heavenly experience. I couldn't really understand. Sex for me was so...different. I never got myself physically involved with someone without knowing them enough to be certain I could make them writhe. For me, intimacy required a deep connection and understanding of my partner. I needed to know what made them tick, what drove them wild with pleasure. But for him, it seemed the act itself was enough. The sheer thrill of the moment overpowered any need for a profound bond. As long as the passion burned hot, he lost himself completely. We all seek intimacy in different ways, I suppose.

Now that I was connecting the dots it made sense all the days he’d be texting on his phone. him smiling down at the screen, his thumbs busily typing away messages to someone. His facial expressions and body language implied that some of those conversations were more intimate or exciting in nature. At the time, I was preoccupied with my own relationship troubles after a difficult breakup, leaving me feeling lonely, insecure and admittedly a bit resentful of other people's happiness. I simply looked the other way, too absorbed in my own problems to care or investigate further.

Now that I know he is alive I feel like I am suddenly a third wheel. I straighten my jacket and head for the door, ready to make a quick and quiet exit before they notice I'm leaving. But just as my hand reaches the doorknob, her voice stops me.

“Leaving already?” She's still wearing his shirt, though now with leggings peeking out from underneath the hem. Her long hair cascades over her right shoulder as she runs a brush through it, working patiently through the tangles. I turn to face her, but find myself struck speechless. No words come, either to my mind or my lips. I'm frozen, unable to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

My hand is frozen on the doorknob as she steps closer, close enough I can see the beautiful color of her eyes. She throws the combed locks back over her shoulder giving me a reassuring smile. “It’s snowing like crazy, I’m sure Chris could have more food delivered. Stay for a while, please.”

I stand paralyzed, unable to turn the knob and exit into the blizzard outside. The howling wind rattles the windows as snow piles up, sealing us inside. But it's not the storm that roots me in place - it's her. As she approaches, her eyes lock onto mine, luminous pools of emerald that see right through me.

I don't like feeling so exposed, I like to be sure I know what I'm doing, saying, wearing before I go anywhere, talk to anyone. I take so much time planning how my outfit will look, although my wardrobe is all black it is complimentary black, each piece fitting perfectly with the next. I carefully coordinate every detail, from the textures and drapes of my fabrics, to the subtle sheens on my leather accessories. My style is precise, polished, intentional. Even my hair is meticulously styled, whether I decide to shave it close or let it grow out a bit. My shoes are both functional and stylish - sleek boots or oxfords that allow me to stride with purpose. Everything I do is calculated, I run through every step, every word, every motion that I will take when I go somewhere. I visualize each scenario, planning my actions and reactions. I examine every angle of how I will be perceived. The satisfaction I feel when my external presentation aligns perfectly with my internal sense of self is profound. The confidence I exude stems from the control I exert over each aspect of my persona. My wardrobe, my grooming, my mannerisms - they are an artful composition designed to eliminate any unease. I find freedom in the mastery of my image and interactions. What some may see as exhausting is for me energizing - it is deeply fulfilling to meticulously shape how I am viewed by the world.

In this unexpected moment, my mind goes blank and I find myself utterly unprepared. All the carefully crafted excuses and explanations I had ready vanish into thin air. A wave of fear washes over me as I fumble for words, stuttering and stammering incoherently. I grasp for any plausible justification, rambling about the treacherous drive and hazardous weather conditions, but the absurdity of cautioning you against venturing out in the very storm I'm about to confront myself quickly dawns on me. My mouth flaps uselessly, spewing disjointed fragments like a fish flung onto land and gasping for breath. I'm flailing helplessly, lost in this unforeseen situation. Finally, my brain catches up and I clamp my lips together, silencing the nonsensical babble. An uneasy silence settles between us and I shift uncomfortably, racking my mind for something - anything - sensible to say. But I come up empty. The carefully constructed facade I had prepared so meticulously has shattered, leaving me exposed and unprepared in this unexpected moment.

She smiles so softly tilting her head as she asks me to stay one more time. The snow provides the perfect excuse to linger a little longer in her intoxicating presence. She must feel it too, the magnetic pull between us that demands more time together. As the flakes continue to fall outside, blanketing the world in white, inside sparks a flame that melts my frozen hesitance.

I suddenly remember why I came, turning to Chris as I shove my hands in my pockets. “Seth called Vin, said you didn’t answer about your podcast scheduled for tomorrow.” Chris was busy shoving something in his mouth pausing mid bite with eyes wide. He swallowed hard mumbling curses under his breath as he dropped his food on the table to drag his phone out of his pocket.

I watched as he frantically scrolled through missed calls and unread texts, no doubt seeing the reminders about tomorrow's podcast that he had ignored earlier. A look of frustration and self-annoyance crossed over Chris' face. He was upset with himself for overlooking something so important. As he processed the situation, Chris seemed to sink into a state of stress and anxiety. His eyes held a faraway look, likely imagining the work he'd have to hustle to get done before tomorrow's recording.

"You said you wouldn't be busy while I was here," she sounded wounded. "Now I feel guilty." Chris turned to her with an apologetic look, realizing that his oversight had not only affected his work responsibilities but also his personal commitments. He opened his mouth as if to explain or make amends, but no words came out. I could see the remorse on his face and knew he felt terrible.

“Well, hey, i’m free tomorrow. I have some errands to run and maybe she could tag along…” I find myself offering to have her tag along to run errands, even though I know so little about this person. Typically, I prefer my solitude when taking care of mundane tasks and avoid having others accompany me. Yet, in this moment, I feel compelled to extend an invitation. She intrigues me, and I'm curious to learn more in a relaxed, casual setting as we check off items on our to-do lists. I want to observe how we interact outside structured conversation - note the cadence of our chatter, what makes her laugh, what irks her. The everyday offers a glimpse into personality. In the routine of errands, guards drop and authenticity emerges.

“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” Her eyes dart nervously between the scuffed hardwood floor and Chris's warm, reassuring gaze from across the room.

“If Rick is offering it’s not a bother, he wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it.” Chris reassures her with a smile as he puts his phone to his ear, “Seth, hey man, sorry about that…” his conversation trails off as he paces to the back of the apartment.

Of course that man knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I’m still standing there awkwardly in the door finding my eyes dropping to the handle as if it will be a quick escape from this uncomfortable situation. "I should go," I feel the words roll out of my mouth and almost instantly regret them, "I’ve got projects at home I need to finish before tomorrow. I’ll be back around 11, we’ll head out then." I don't let her respond or persuade me to stay again, instead taking the door knob in a vice grip and slipping out of the door and down the hall before she can say anything. My heart pounds as I make my hasty exit, feeling a mix of relief at avoiding further awkwardness but also regret that I couldn't bring myself to stay. All the way home I mentally kick myself for offering to take her out tomorrow in the first place. Now I can't cancel as that would be rude, but I can already feel my mind start to anxiously overthink the situation - what am I gonna do, what am I gonna say, what will I wear? My stomach ties itself in knots as I imagine all the ways I could embarrass myself, but also the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it will go well after all. I try to push the swirling thoughts from my mind, take a deep breath, and focus on finishing my work so I'll be ready for whatever tomorrow brings.

#bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #Chris Motionless fic #Chris Motionless smut #ricky olson smut #ricky olson fic #miw band #miw #chris motionless #chrismotionlessfanfic #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white smut #polyverse

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ladyveronikawrites · 2 months

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LOST IN THE CONCRETE JUNGLE CHAPTER FIVE Bad Omens x Star Wars Pairing: Zebastian (Noah Sebastian) x F!Reader CW: hostage/interrogation scene Summary: You are the perfect senator's daughter- next in line to become his aide to learn everything about the Galactic Senate. But on your 21st birthday, your perfect life changes forever when the mysterious masked man you met at the nightclub was not who you thought he was. A/N: POV switching from second to first occurs often in the story. Shout out to my amazing beta team @mysticdoodlez, @roley-poley-foley, and @nerdraging4point0 your insight and cheerleading has been invaluable. Word Count:2k Crossposted: Wattpad & A03 Cast list

Master list

May the Force be with you✨

Lounging on a red leather couch in the office my sleek matte black wrist comm alerts me of a message. ‘Green’ is all the message says from an encrypted line. Jax. I reach for my data pad that is on the small table beside me. Immediately the black screen lights up and shows me a fuzzy image at first and then it clears.

Her.

Nash and Revan have been on the surface of Coruscant for about a month- watching her- waiting for my order. Daily they complain about how miserable they are on the surface. Despite the long days, their bodies have not adjusted to the natural sun, even as it sets for the day. The lower levels of Coruscant use artificial sun and energy to power them.

Now I can see what they mean. The image shifts to Revan who is pacing by the small round table they are sitting at. From Jax’s discreet body cam, I notice Revan’s hair is tied loosely atop his head accented with small braids woven throughout. I chuckle to myself because I know Jax braided Revan’s hair when he met up with them earlier in the week. I am certain Revan fussed about it the whole time, just like he always does. But Revan won't admit he enjoyed it.

"Can you hurry up?" Revan grumbles looking straight at the cam, straight at me.

His eyes are tired and sad. I know he is struggling with the situation, still getting over the attack I orchestrated. The role he had to play was to rough her up; to violate her. Even though he hated every minute of it, he played the part well. They all did.

She fell right into my trap.

Jax turns again and I can see Nash sampling what appears to be Corellian Whiskey. I shake my head. Even on a mission, he finds ways to drink. I notice the vendors nearby are closing for the night and Jax turns back to the artisan shop. There is a closed sign on the door.

Time to execute the plan.

I watch as Nash and Revan walk over to the door until Jax passes beside them into the nearby alley. The sun has set and the alley is only lit by moonlight. From a few meters away I can hear Revan talking to an older human woman who answered the door.

She shrieks as I imagine Nash and Revan have pushed their way into the shop.

Jax is leaning on the parked landspeeder so I can only see the concrete wall and a few feet into the store from the side door. My breath quickens with anticipation.

Muffled screams, scraping wood against the floor, and a loud thud from a flipped table. Feet shuffle through the shop.

The side door bursts open as Nash and Revan drag the girl with them. There is a hood over her head and her hands are bound.

“The lost girl has been found, boss.” Jax’s stoic tenor is the last thing I hear. Then the transmission ends.

“By his blood, he is chosen!” Everyone echoes, raising clenched fists into the air exposing the red dagger tattoo on their wrists.

I stare intently at the ceremonial stone in the abandoned warehouse recalling my initiation night. The night that changed my life forever; my father’s passing and then meeting her. There is something about her, I can’t stop thinking about her.

Frustration tightens my stomach as I glance down at the ever-present scars and the bands of black ink that came with them. Tonight, I can’t be the man I want to be but who I must be.

“She’s awake,” Jax’s voice fills the empty air.

Jax has always been the level-headed one of the group; the calm and cool water that snuffs out the wildfire in my veins. Anger pulses through me as I remind myself of who I have to become to get the answers I want.

Jax tosses a glowing orb at me when I walk by. The small room we are keeping her in has no other light source than the luminescence in my hand.

I storm into the room letting the metal door slam against the wall. She shakes in the chair, letting out a small whimper. How adorable. I throw the glowing orb in the air and it illuminates the room with soft white light.

There she is, the lost girl; the outsider. Memories of her dancing in my nightclub curl the corner of my lip, if only for a moment when I’m jostled back to reality by her rustling in the metal chair.

“There’s the lost girl,” I smirk when I rip off the hood.

The anticipation of her attention is making me delirious. Her eyes bulge wide as she scans over me with her gaze, my familiar mask, and my dark outfit.

She tries to beg and plead through the cloth gag around her mouth. She rattles against the rope binds that will soon make her wrists raw if she doesn’t stop.

I can’t stop from chuckling to myself as I examine the binds. Nash did well this time, even with that damned cybernetic arm. Watching her struggle does something to me that I can’t quite describe.

I crouch down low at her level to search her face. Maybe she’ll give herself away before I ask a single question. Her breathing becomes labored and tears well up in her eyes.

“It’s ok to cry,” I feign sympathy as I caress her cheek.

Anger flashes through her eyes as she thrashes about in the chair. She has some fight left and I want her to let loose.

I lightly push away the hair to expose her long neck. I pull my mask off and throw it on the ground. Instinct and desire take hold of my body as I lean down and graze my lips on her neck. The taste of her sweat-slick skin turns me feral.

“Stay still,” I whisper into her ear. “Or this will go from bad to worse.”

I breathe in her scent one more time because I can’t get enough. I place the blade of my kal against her neck and she goes rigid. Perfect. In one swift swipe, I make a small cut. She yelps softly as the pain courses through her.

I let out a small groan as a small bead of blood gathers at the incision. Something primal takes over and I lick up the blood dripping down her neck.

Ecstasy swirls in my mind and adrenaline pumps through my veins as I cut the gag loose from her lips. My mind is still hazy from the chemicals when she cries out “What do you want from me?!”

Her hasty question pulls me from bliss…again. Red-hot fury takes its place when I lean over her and grip her jaw. "You don't get to ask questions,'" I bite out.

Her crafted expression is void of emotion, but her blushing cheeks give her away. Her breath hitches and she shivers against my touch. My dick twitches.

Disgusted with myself, I push myself up causing her to rock in the metal chair. She squeals as the chair rights itself. Her noises alone will be the death of me.

I clear my throat and ask “What’s your name, Lost girl?” She doesn’t flinch this time when I approach her. Good, she finally remembers her father’s teachings. More of a challenge for me.

“Going quiet on me now?” I raise my voice right in her face. “Too bad I want to hear you-.” A knock on the door cuts me off.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT!” I yell as I shove the cart of knives beside me.

I scream in Jax’s face as he opens the door. He doesn’t flinch, he just nods slightly. His unyielding composure makes him incredibly intimidating; but for me, it's incredibly irritating.

As the door closes behind me I have to bite down a groan as her muffled screams ricochet off the walls. My wrist comm buzzes and a shadowy figure appears on the hologram.

“I hear you found the senator’s daughter,” the staticky voice breaks through. “I need the answers now. You may be the leader of the Scarlet Dagger but you still answer to me.”

The transmission abruptly ends.

The room is silent now when I approach. Jax is standing in the corner casually flipping a dagger in his hand.

“She’s a feisty one,” Jax laughs without humor. “She claims to have no idea who your father is and what happened.”

Her head is slumped over. I watch her shoulders rise and fall with each breath. Of course, she doesn't. She has no idea who her father really is.

🗡🗡🗡🗡

Piercing bright light from the sun sears your vision when you finally come to. You tug at the rope binding you to the metal chair. When your vision clears, you see masked figures lurking throughout what appears to be a warehouse. Panic rises in your stomach as you look for the nearest exit. You shout through the cloth gag to get anyone’s attention until …

A hologram of your father appears in the center of the room meters from me. “Father!” You try to yell but it comes out raspy and ragged. You shake against the binds to get his attention.

“There you are! Are you alright?” Your father asks his eyes wide as Mikkah steps into view, his face is without emotion. Tears tumble down your cheeks and anger sparks at your insides.

“Your daughter is fine for now, Senator,” A familiar deep voice comes behind me. You yelp in surprise as a cold metal hand wraps around the back of your neck.

“Please don’t hurt my princess,” your father pleads.

Mikkah’s eyes move from you to the shadowy figure pacing nearby. Suddenly another strong hand grabs your jaw and your vision becomes filled with him.

The world stills around you as you examine his maskless face. His lips are a thin line, and his dark eyes search yours. Tattoos spread down his neck and defined shoulders.

All too quickly, he crouches down, brings his lips to your ear, and whispers, “Your father calls you princess.” A shiver slithers down your spine. You try to turn away as the metal hand tightens around the back of your neck.

“What do you want, Zebastian,” your father demands.

Zebastian.

Zebastian laughs to himself as he paces beside you. “You don’t get to ask the questions, Senator. Isn’t that right, princess? He sneers, turning his gaze back to you. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your heartbeat quickens.

“What happened to my father?” Zebastian’s voice booms beside you.

“I don’t know what you mean,” your father says cooly.

“Wrong answer, Senator.” Zebastian sneers.

Abruptly, the metal hand leaves your neck only to have a warm hand make contact with your cheek, jostling you in the metal chair. You scream as the pain trickles through your face. Tears form in your eyes as drool drips down my neck.

“Dammit Zebastian!” The vein on your father’s neck begins to bulge. “He’s dead.”

All at once, Mikkah disappears from the frame and something small and metallic shines in the corner of your vision.

Without warning, the fabric tears and then goes slack. You spit the gag out as different emotions surge through you.

“Tell your daughter why you did it,” Zebastian says flatly. Your father pauses for a brief moment. Something cold and flat lays against your neck.

“Please…” Your father begs. Zebastian’s body turns rigid beside you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Zebastian says lowly pressing the blade’s edge against your neck. You wince with anticipation, but he does not move.

“Your father found out I work for the Empire,” your father blurts out.

Your vision starts to darken as you gasp for air. Your entire world crumbles in an instant as you stare at your father. The man you love and admire has betrayed you. Anguish consumes you as the tears flow relentlessly down your cheeks.

“Princess, please say something.” Your father pleads as Zebastian cuts your ties freeing you from the chair. “I will come to get you. Please anything.”

You rise from the chair and take a step closer to the hologram. “I’m not your princess anymore,” you spit out.

The holo goes black and you fall to your knees burying your face in your hands as you sob uncontrollably while despair washes over you.

You can't go home.

You can't stay here.

tysm for reading❤️🗡️

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