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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

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♡100 followers special♡

Guys, I would like to thank all of you for all the support since I started this blog, you are the best <3 Btw this is the fic Elon Musk doesn’t want you to see lol, jk jk

Title: Humanity

Words: 3.6k

Summary: When you get sold to an odd looking robot after the last failure of a rebellion, things go better than you had expected. Until they don’t.

tw: robot/AI apocalypse au, dystopia au, slavery, slight non - sexual public nudity, discrimination, vulgar language, mention of death and child abuse (in the past), obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, angst

AD 3061y., 14 September

Your hometown was in ruins, shattered by the Forces and left without any source of food, clean water or reliable manpower. The rebellion had failed just like the first ten attempts and as much as you had wanted to believe this time would be different, your dreams stayed nothing more than a way to cope with the harsh reality. Any intelligent individual had either managed to flee before the prosecution or died in agony while trying. You could still hear their pained screams ringing in your ear, the desperate look in their pupils sealed forever in your mind along with the sound of heavy breathing slowly fading into the background like your own hopes for a better future.

The ones who decided to play meek and close their eyes to the inhuman torture happening in the area were spared, but what awaited them could potentially be worse than death itself. You were part of the flock of pitiful weak humans who had surrendered to the heartless machines wanting nothing more than to see mankind squirm and kneel underneath their mechanic heel like a bug. And now you would face the hour of judgment – tired and exhausted, heavy rusty chains around your bruised ankles making every next step a little harder than the last one. But you were certain that the most painful humiliating event hadn’t taken place yet and the thought made your blood run cold. You could recall the countless stories you used to hear on the streets from your friends about androids stealing kids and selling them like cattle to the most powerful leaders of society. Back then you would laugh at them, finding the ideas ridiculous, better fit for a conspiracy theory or a legend rather than an actual threat. But during that time life was easier – the robots were still your friends, just your average citizens, equal to the humans in every manner. It wasn’t until ten years later that some of them realized just how much better, stronger and smarter than the people they really were. That’s how the apocalypse started and that’s how it was going to end. These days the mortals were becoming extinct with the population cut down to one million. You didn’t have names or rights to any possession. Your mere survival had one purpose only – to entertain the machines so they could feel human again. And right now you were being dragged to Soraq, also known as the biggest slave market in the country.

----

It was just as terrifying as you had imagined it to be. The Capital was supposed to express wealth, luxury and maybe even happiness but your old human views were easily opposed when faced with the mud covering what was left of the pavement and the pale exhausted bodies of the mortals wandering the streets searching for a hot meal and a little bit of kindness it was clear no one wanted to provide. You reached out to help a young girl sobbing all by herself on the ground but the Officer roughly yanked your shoulder back and ordered you to keep going – his cold hard touch was enough to bruise your skin.

After a few long minutes of uncertainty your keeper finally stopped, pulling you up some black stairs leading to a small stage and if you weren’t too busy looking around for the others who were captured, you might have noticed the crowd gathered inches away from you. Soon enough you were forced to redirect your attention as you heard the approving screams and cheering below. There were hundreds of robots staring at you, smirking maliciously, pinning you with their cold calculating gazes. You finally realized that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a nightmare, something unreal you could easily run away from by opening your eyes. You were about to become property and the worst part was the way the cruel machines perfectly resembled people – they looked the same except for the dark red pupils each possessed which glowed when going into a fight mode. But unlike humans the androids had gotten rid of their most intimate emotions and fears, turning themselves into empty shells, shiny and murderous with no way to experience anything properly, be it pleasure or pain.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The Officers started off with a low chuckle, his heavy hand wrapped tightly around your arm. His voice should have been programmed to be monotone but now it had a playful edge to it. “Today our dear subjects have decided to be feisty yet again. They still haven’t learned their lesson it seems.” He grinned eerily, quickly followed by the mocking laugher of the crowd. Some even shouted slurs and insults but you tried to focus on controlling your feelings. You needed to stay calm if you wanted to survive. “We really can’t expect more from the mankind. They are primal after all, they just can’t learn from their mistakes.” The male robot paused for a second to fix his microphone. “It’s in their DNA code to be foolish and pathetic. That’s why we need to take better care of them.” He whispered the last line down your neck and despite knowing that the machines didn’t have actual lungs, you could swear you felt his cold breath on your sensitive skin.

“The woman is in her early twenties. Her background is unknown, but she certainly looks like someone you would want in your collection.” The android continued talking as if you weren’t there, his hands all over your tinier frame. The mass was yelling, but you only made out the words „down”, „strip” and „human”. Your eyes watered involuntarily and you let the tears stream down your cheeks in spite of the weakness they showed. It didn’t matter – it couldn’t get any worse so you could at least let yourself experience such little bits of comfort. In the next moment the Officer ripped your old ragged t-shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold autumn air. The hot red humiliation washed over you as the degrading whistles pierced trough your heart. It was such a cruel unfair punishment and you couldn’t even keep your composure long enough to not break down ugly – crying right there.

“The bidding starts at one thousand eros!” The robot’s evil voice echoed through the area, reaching the market borders. Suddenly all the attention was on your scared vulnerable half-naked self. More than ten androids raised their hands, making your stomach turn in terror. Most of them had unpleasant appearances, resembling old people, usually men. “Do we have two thousand eros?” The officer added quickly afterwards having seen the shown interest. This time there were only five bots willing to buy you for so much money – but the show was far from over. “Am I seeing three thousand eros?” Your keeper kept going, determined to drain your bidders off their wealth, but to his utmost surprise now there were only two robots with their hands in the air – one seemingly younger and the other looking all wrinkled and bitter at the world. You silently prayed that fate would work in your favor only this time and hand you over to the man who would treat you more like a living being and less like an object.

“Ten thousand eros.” Suddenly the android with a kinder appearance declared out loud, his cold stern gaze fixed onto you. The other male hesitated for a moment, probably wondering whether or not you were worth so much money, but at the end he cursed under his breath and slowly put his hand down with a sour expression. “Sold to K-010 for ten thousand eros!” The automatic voice of the Officer was ringing in your ear like an alarm while the crowd was shouting and cussing, some going as far as to criticize your new owner for giving up his monthly salary for a “cheap human whore”. Next he was invited on the stage to sign off all the needed documents leading to your freedom being ripped away forever and you were injected with a tiny chip which would make your location visible to your buyer at any given time. The android looked at you soon after and in one swift move he managed to place his leather coat on your shoulders, muttering at you to cover up. You obeyed, embarrassed by the reminder that your upper half was still fully exposed to all the hungry prying immortals. When the chains were finally removed, the robot took you by the hand and led you to a small white flying car with a yellow lily drawn on top – the brand was popular among the most powerful members of the Forces.

“Don’t even think about running away.” K-010 growled when he noticed the way your attention drifted to the nearby road before finally taking your seat. You knew it was pointless now that the tracking device was deep into your skin but deep down you still couldn’t kill the last bit of hope screaming at you to do something before you were too far away to find home again, wherever it was. “If you so much as look outside while we drive, I will use my lasers to turn you into ash. Okay?” You nodded meekly and sank into the soft comfortable seat, wishing that your body would stop shaking in fear but to no avail.

---

The journey was long and silent but it made you remember the days when music was still allowed and you used to turn the radio all the way up in your mother’s car. You would sing loudly until your throat hurt and your friends would ask you to just shut up and focus on the road. Everything was so normal and happy back then. The stinging nostalgia threatened to overcome so you tried to focus on something else. You finally faced your owner in an attempt to study his appearance. He was probably in his late twenties, his hair white with some black locks here and there, a fashion trend you usually didn’t care much for. You couldn’t afford to bother with your hairstyle when you were constantly running for your life after all. The robotic male had sun-kissed brown skin, he was taller than most human men and his lips seemed softer than most robots’. But the biggest mystery laid in his deep dark eyes, they looked scarlet at first but the more you stared, the easier it was to realize the color was actually brown.

“Are you a cyborg, K-010?” You asked in a small voice out of the blue, breaking the peace and quiet in the air. The android didn’t spare you much attention with his gaze fixed onto the open sky serving as a road, still he opened his mouth slightly to respond. “My name is Kyle, the numbers are just a formality.” He inhaled sharply as if he was reminiscing a bad memory. “And yes, I am biologically human – just with a few practical upgrades.” You had heard of such people before, the ones willing to become an experiment so they could join the high society oppressing their own neighbors, friends and relatives, setting the lands on fire and destroying the dying environment but you had never met one until today. Honestly, you felt betrayed. It was one thing to be some unfeeling machine’s plaything and entirely another to be owned by someone with a functioning heart even though they weren’t too keen on using it properly.

“Why would you do that?” You couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips in the next moment. “You should know what humans have to go through just to stay alive. Today hundreds of us were crushed and sold like some animals! Yet you changed yourself to appeal to their disgusting standards.” You raised your voice, the hot tears already spilling down your cheeks yet again, your fists clenched in pure anger at the foolish greedy man. He simply shook his head and leaned back. “I had my reasons, sweetheart. You don’t know anything.” With that the conversation had ended, you could try and argue or even blame him for being a selfish bastard but it wouldn’t have done you any good so you decided against it. It didn’t matter much anymore.

----

A few months went by slowly even though time meant little to someone in your position. Living with Kyle wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be – his mansion was big and spacious, luxurious even. You had your own room and you were allowed to explore the house in your free time. You didn’t have many duties to attend to, your work mostly revolved around cooking, cleaning and keeping company with your owner when he was too tired to keep the robotic mask on and just wanted something sweet, something weak, something more human around. He didn’t want much out of you so you tried to do your best and stay on his good side – there was always a warm meal waiting at the table at night, every window was carefully wiped from the previous dust and the glass was now shining brightly, and you would listen for hours on end to the cyborg’s ramblings no matter how dreadful it could be sometimes.

But it couldn’t be denied that the man had some odd habits, even if you were to overlook him buying a living being instead of simply hiring a maid. For example, you knew how thin the walls actually were because you could hear him cry almost every night. The half-robot would hold you close any time the news were too loud or a bottle of beer had fallen and shattered on the ground. Still you weren’t allowed to leave his home so all the doors leading to the outside world were locked while he was away or at work. And there were these weird long cuts on his shoulders you had managed to take notice of the first time your master had asked you to bathe him. You hadn’t meant to prey upon his naked form, but the task had been so awkward you needed something to focus on to drive the unpleasant thoughts away. The injuries looked deep and the man would close his eyes any time the soap made contact with them. Finally one day you gathered the courage to ask him what had caused the raw scratches. You were messaging his scalp gently, applying jasmine in his roots, trying to soothe his nerves and get to the information.

“ ’S not important. ” K-010 answered lazily while arching his back into your touch. More often than not the male would melt under your care and you couldn’t help but wonder just how lonely it was to be neither a human nor a machine. “She is dead now.” He whispered darkly, secretly hoping it wouldn’t reach your ear, yet it did. “Who is dead?” You questioned him after a while, stroking his wet locks until you heard him moan. You were getting better and better at provoking a reaction from the cyborg and despite knowing it was manipulative and a little devious, he was still the ruthless owner who held your one and only life in his palms. You needed to be sneaky if you wanted a safe, comfortable life.

“My mother.” Kyle added quickly before looking at the blue ceiling, the glossy material copying both of your reflections. The mention of the woman made the sensitive skin of his nape crawl but he kept talking. “The crazy bitch used to beat me every. She even tried to kill me a couple of times.” A slight smile appeared on his full red lips. “It didn’t work out in the end, unfortunately.” So that’s where the cuts were from – he had been violated in his childhood by no other than the person supposed to look after him. You had always hated abusive parents taking advantage of their authority and even now your own imagination made your heart ache at the picture it painted. A small boy being hit over and over until there his whole body was bruised and bloodied. A child with no one to turn to. It didn’t excuse your master’s evil doing but it certainly explained a lot. “Don’t make such a sad face, darling.” He cooed at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. “I will always be grateful to the Forces since they gave me the power I needed to finally free myself from her grasp. I even buried her myself after everything was said and done.” Kyle grinned from side to side like a little kid waiting to be praised for the picture they had drawn, except now the man was speaking of the way he had murdered his mother. You were at a total loss of words, suddenly too frightened to respond.

“What’s so special about being a human anyways?” The cyborg grumbled, sounding almost offended of the words you still haven’t said but were definitely thinking deep down. You were staring forward unable to draw away from that one crack in the wall, his words flying above your head. Your confusion was interrupted by the man quickly raising to his knees and catching both of your hands with his strong robotized ones. The cold touch of the metal combined with the camouflage of a soft skin was enough to mess your mind even further into the maze that was his dark gaze. Next thing you knew the male had you pinned on the hard ground, spotlessly clean and reeking of abstergent. You tried to squirm away but the hold of your wrists was too tight and strong to even make your struggling worth the trouble. “Just look at how weak you humans are.” K-010 taunted you, smirking teasingly, cruelly, yet there was something desperate in his eyes, something hidden. “You are so fragile I could probably break you if I were to press harder on your flesh.” He whispered into your ear, breathing down your neck as he dug his icy fingers into your collarbone and made you whimper pathetically at the dull pain. “People are foolish creatures, illogical by nature. They try to fight authority yet the moment they are left with a free choice, they find a way to run from their responsibilities.” The cyborg chuckled maliciously while digging his nails further into your skin.

“We might be doomed forever because of our emotions but there is something you fail to consider.” You finally spoke out despite your rapid heartbeat and fear so great it could defeat death herself. The predator already had you in his sharp claws and there was no pointing in playing coy anymore. The worst had come to worst. Your words caught the attention of the half-robot and he licked his lips in anticipation to hear what you had to say. “Unlike the androids we can still experience love. And at the end a life without love is a life wasted in the big picture. We might be mortal but you are the ones waiting to die instead of living.” You spat at the man fiercely, ready to face any punishment he would bestow upon your weak tired body for the sheer honesty. Instead he started laughed maniacally, the sound so loud it hit the ceiling and echoed through the house like a pained scream and so violent his shoulders shook to the sides. For the first time his eyes were glowing in a bright red color so saturated and vivid you couldn’t stand to look at them.

“This is really funny, my little human.” Kyle pronounced carefully, having calmed down. He lowered his head so that his lips were ghosting over yours, just brushing against them. “I belong with neither humans nor robots so why does my chest ache every time I look at you? Tell me, darling, am I in love?” His voice was harsh, husky – as if he was purposely trying to sound evil but the tears in his eyes pointed at another feeling. A raw painful feeling.

You couldn’t reply not only because you had no idea what to say after the confession but also because you couldn’t breathe properly with his pretty, wicked face so close to yours. Your silence only managed to stir the cyborg up further into his madness and he kissed you roughly, hungrily lapping and biting at your lips until they were sore and bruised, the robotic man more than happy to lick the small drops of blood off. For a moment you considered kicking or shouting for help but there wasn’t anyone willing to in the radius of kilometers. No one of significance cared much about the few remaining mortals. “I could never love you.” You uttered weakly, half – heartedly pushing the man away. You were all alone in this and there wasn’t really a point in fighting someone so much bigger and stronger, yet a sad little part of you hoped that Kyle would leave you alone if you made it clear enough just how much his actions were hurting you.

“It’s fine if you don’t love me by choice.” Your master replied calmly in a cold piercing voice. His hands were wandering through your form stopping at your hips to draw them into his. The pretty dress you used to like so much was now crumpled and reeking of him, torn apart from your shivering body and thrown away. You wished you could cry but all the adrenaline had left you too uneasy to process the pain and fear. Kyle whispered in your ear while stroking your hair gently and it made you feel like a trembling sheep before a starved butcher. “I own you, little human.” He placed a small kiss on your hot sensitive neck. “And I have enough love for both of us.”

#yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere ai #yandere ai x reader #yandere cyborg #dystopia #yandere love #yandere concept #yandere oneshot #yandere OC #yandere male oc #yandere oc x reader #yancore

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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A Beautiful Little Fool | dark!Sebastian Stan x reader (The Great Gatsby AU)

well, The Great Gatsby entered the public domain today, so I thought I’d besmirch it with some filthy dark smut. overall I did not put too much effort into relating my story to the plot or themes of the novel, just the setting and basic instigating actions, so don’t look too hard for an obvious allegory or familiar characters. this stunning moodboard (and, best of all, the incredible edits of seb as gatsby) was made by @nsfwsebbie who was also so kind as to beta for me and be my sounding board, thank you so much!!

summary: a reclusive millionaire throws extravagant parties in hopes that his lost love will attend and he can get one more chance to win her back. one can get used to getting whatever they desire, a little too comfortable with the idea that money can attain anything.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: smut (noncon/heavy dubcon), forced infidelity, a touch of breeding kink, period-accurate sexism (if anything it's a bit more toned down compared to 'period-accurate'), very slight yandere energy, obsession, one (1) slap

all my works are 18+, if you are under 18 please do not read

I was within and without; simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.

You could already hear the music and you were still a block away. “Sounds like quite the ball,” Walter observed, and you clung tighter onto his arm as you walked with him along the damp pavement. “Seems like the rumors might just be true about Stan parties.”

“All the rumors are true,” you informed him quickly, pulling your shawl up to protect your shoulders a bit better from the chilly evening breeze, “except for one.”

You took in a slow, deep breath as you observed the mansion from the outside; partygoers were mingling about in the yard and gardens, even though it was much too cold to be outside for very long, in your humble opinion. Walter opened the door for you, being polite that way, but you found yourself hesitating before you stepped in out of the dark and the cold into the overwhelming light and warmth of his mansion.

You thought maybe you could avoid him, at least for the first hour or so of the party, but it was like he had been waiting at the door just for you to arrive, twiddling his ring-adorned thumbs in that gaudy tuxedo of his.

“Darling!” Sebastian greeted with a beaming grin, outstretching his arms (a cane in one hand, and a drink in the other) to wrap you in an embrace. “You’re late!”

“Fashionably,” you defended with a nervous laugh, pulling back from the hug a little sooner than he seemed to want you to. You almost forgot Walter was standing right beside you, and an awkward beat made you suddenly remember they ought to be introduced. “Oh! Sebastian, I’m not sure you’ve met my fiancé, Walter Penner.”

“Pleasure,” Walter offered his hand for a handshake, smiling warmly. “Your home is stunning, I must say. You… really know how to throw a party.”

Sebastian just shrugged like it was nothing before returning the handshake, but his cheeks were a little pinker than they were before— maybe it was just the draft you’d let in when you and your date had entered the front door. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he assured, “I’ve been hearing so much about you from your lovely fiancée here, I’m excited to see if it’s all true.”

“Walter said the same thing about you, outside,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, and your date cast you a brief glare of embarrassment.

“She’s never been too good at keeping secrets,” Sebastian chuckled, “yours, mine, or hers.”

The negging comment made your cheeks warm a little, wondering if you should defend yourself, but Walter spoke instead. “You must be used to it by now, I hear the two of you have been close friends since you were children.”

Memories of summer flashed in your mind, of green soft grass between toes and secret hideaways in trees and warm sunshine casting the countryside in a golden glow. It seemed like that was all so far away now, the hilly landscape replaced with industry, the sun outshined by the electrical lights that seemed to cover nearly the entire mansion these days.

“Yes,” Sebastian agreed, tearing you from your train of imaginative thought and turning to address you, “you’ve known me since I was just a penniless dreamer with two good legs.”

You were a little surprised he was so comfortable admitting that he didn’t come from wealth. Maybe some people thought it was more inspiring that way, but others would say that it was impossible for him to truly shed his place in society as a poor sharecropper’s son.

But then again, they would say the same thing about you, and you’d become engaged to the wealthiest bachelor in Manhattan, as well as a man you were lucky enough to say you were truly in love with.

Sebastian let the two of you go and enjoy the party for a while, though you were sure you could feel his eyes on you all the while. Walter went and fetched the two of you some drinks, while you waited beside a small statuette that Sebastian must have collected some time, tilting your head as you observed it. He had an eye for art that you couldn’t relate to, although you at least understood why he might enjoy a bronze cast of a beautiful nude woman.

As some young women flocked in a group beside you, their conversation became impossible to ignore. “He’s single,” one of them announced, “and fabulously wealthy. The perfect man.”

“Yes,” another agreed, “but he’s so reserved.”

“I like that!” the first defended.

“I think you’d like anything about somebody who could afford to throw a party like this,” yet another accused with a smirk. A fit of giggles made it seem like the rest agreed with that sentiment.

“You’re all just jealous because he was looking at me,” she frowned defensively. “He’ll want a wife sometime, and I’ll be here waiting.”

You were almost compelled to butt in, but if you told them the truth they probably wouldn’t even believe you. Some papers had reported that the elusive Mr. Stan was disinterested in dating or engagement, but usually attributed it to eccentricity or promiscuousness. What they had not discovered was that he was still hung up on his childhood love, the girl next door who had captured his heart as a boy and never given it back— not for a lack of trying.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it, in fact you had returned his affections many years ago when he left to fight in the Great War. It seemed that with you and Sebastian, it was always the right person at the wrong time; and maybe, deep down, you knew that Walter had been the wrong person at the right time, but your love for him was true if forced. He didn’t make you laugh like Sebastian could, but in the end it was best that the two of you stay friends and that he finally take up any of the lovely girls vying for his affection. Maybe some were only seeking his money… okay, maybe all of them were only seeking his money, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a girl worth his time in the bunch. An ambitious man like Sebastian wouldn’t have much trouble forging a real connection with someone like the woman standing beside you know, gossiping about how secretive and handsome he was.

When the chit-chat stopped, you looked up to see what had garnered their attention… only to find Sebastian standing right beside you. “I bought this in Sicily, thinking it was an original, but I learned recently that it’s a fake,” he informed you. You furrowed your brow in confusion until he pointed forward and you realized he was referring to the statue you’d been staring at.

“Oh! Right,” you mumbled.

“I still keep it on display because as of yet, nobody else can tell the difference,” he admitted. There he was lifting that façade again, letting his guests see a glimpse of the dirty truth he usually hid away.

“What’s inspiring this openness, Sebastian?” you asked him with a nervous giggle. “Are you high on something?”

“Just your presence,” he returned with a flirtatious grin, “and a bit of opium.”

You knew he was joking, although the ladies eavesdropping nearby didn’t seem so sure. “Yes, I think an opium addiction would suit you nicely,” you rolled your eyes, “to go with all this excessiveness you indulge yourself in.”

“I think I’ll just stick with the champagne for now,” he decided. “Have you had some yet? It’s exquisite.”

“Walter went to fetch me some,” you remembered, glancing out into the crowd to see if you’d find him there looking for you.

“Oh, perfect!”

You weren’t sure what was perfect about that.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you, in private, if I can,” he explained.

That idea didn’t sit right with you. Even just speaking to him now without your fiancé nearby was a bit scandalous, but at least there were plenty of people nearby to witness to the fact that nothing especially untoward had occurred. Being truly alone with him sounded much more dangerous. “You can,” you replied solemnly, “but I can’t say that you will.”

“Please,” he whispered, just a hint of his desperation becoming apparent. You nodded and he smiled back at you, guiding you across the foyer and up the stairs. He grabbed a drink from a waiter and handed it to you as you dutifully followed him upstairs, glancing down over the banister at the merriment before he led you into his room, the sounds of the party fading to near silence behind the door as he closed it behind you.

"Do you like the party, darling?" he asked as you swallowed a gulp of champagne which tingled at the back of your throat and did less to calm your nerves than you’d hoped.

"Yes," you nodded, "your parties are always… lavish."

"It's all for you," he informed you with a gentle smile. "All this: the music, the fireworks, the champagne—" he motioned to the glass in your hand— "it's all for you."

"For… me?"

He stepped closer with a chuckle, that light little chuckle that you’d grown to understand meant ‘oh, you silly little thing.’ “Of course. Who else? I love you, darling, I’ve loved you all my life— you know that.”

“And I’m engaged to Walter,” you reminded him. “You know that, too.”

His smile faded slightly, and you saw him trying to shake that anger that was always waiting just below the surface. “Yes, I know that. I’m not stupid—”

"You must be if you think this is going to work, that I’ll leave him for you because… because what? You threw me a party?”

“I threw you a thousand parties. Every single one, it was all a show— all the dancing and the small talk, I don’t need it. It could just be the two of us, for all I care.”

“I could hardly imagine we’d finish all the booze…”

“Don’t joke with me. Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re funny either way; you hardly speak with me, you hardly know me, and you think you love me.”

You gasped as he stepped forward, grabbing your wrist tightly. A sharp sound made you understand that your champagne flute had fallen to the floor and shattered, but you didn’t see it because you couldn’t look away from his icy blue eyes piercing through you as they burned with rage. “I love you. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like I love you. And you’re gonna love me, too.”

Protests died in your throat as the air was knocked from your lungs when he pushed you back into the wall. He forced his lips over yours, holding the back of your neck so you couldn’t turn your face away. Your free hand beat at his chest before it, too, was pinned by the wrist while he sighed and moaned against you, pushing his tongue between your lips. A swift kick to the shin deterred him more effectively, knocking him back just enough to let you run for the door. Your fingertips just barely brushed against the cold metal of the doorknob before he grabbed you at the waist and pulled you back. “Help!” you screamed hoarsely.

“Nobody’s gonna hear you,” he laughed, pressing his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck. “The party’s too loud.”

He spun you around quickly, leaning in for another kiss. “Walter!” you yelped, purely out of instinct, but he stopped you with a hand clamped over your mouth.

“How dare you say his name,” he hissed. “How dare you bring him into my house?”

You couldn’t answer with his strong fingers holding your mouth shut, but you could mumble indistinctly as you began to cry.

“Has he fucked you? Hm?” he interrogated coldly. Afraid of giving no answer at all, you hesitated before shaking your head. Sebastian smiled a little bit as he let his hand slip down from your face, his expression softening.

“He’s… he’s a real gentleman,” you explained weakly.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Sebastian chuckled incredulously. “Never thought you’d want someone so… traditional.”

“He treats me right,” you continued.

“That can’t be true, if he hasn’t taken you properly,” he smirked. “God, you don’t even know how good you can feel, do you? Poor girl. I have half a mind to throw you over that bed and show you right now.”

“N-no, Seba, please, you wouldn’t,” you stammered anxiously, watching his eyes drift from your own down to your lips, and your neck, and your chest. You knew the plunging neckline was a bad idea.

“You haven’t called me that since we were children. I miss that, when you still cared for me.”

“I’ve always cared for you, it’s you that pushed me away,” you reminded him. “But it’s okay, we’ll be close again, like we used to. We’ll be friends. Just… just let me go, we should go back outside… your guests are expecting you.”

“What was that game we used to play back then?” he wondered aloud, ignoring your suggestion entirely. “It was your favorite.”

“Ch-checkers?”

He grinned, more devilish than before. “No… it was ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’”

You looked away, wincing at his mocking laughter as he held you a little tighter; the back of your dress was rather low, meaning that his rough hand was stroking your exposed back which made the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up.

“Do you still remember how to play?” he purred as he spun you back and tossed you onto the bed. You tried to sit up but he was already on you, reaching under your dress to grab at your pantyhose.

“W-wait,” you whimpered, but he had already found your undergarments and begun to pull them down your thighs.

“These legs,” he growled, “god, I can’t get enough of ‘em. You know what you do to me, sweetheart?”

He answered his own question rather quickly as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to where he was kneeling on the bed— pressing the back of your thigh against the hard shape tenting his trousers. You grimaced and looked back up at the ceiling, but he grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pulling your face back down to look at where he was hovering over you.

“No, no, darling, don’t look away,” he cooed, “I want you to see this.”

He lifted your leg as he turned his head to the side, never breaking from your gaze as he started to kiss your skin, moving up your calves and dipping lower to reach your inner thigh. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, but you felt it sending shivers up your body as he moved closer and closer to somewhere he was very much not supposed to be. “Seba,” you whimpered, not sure what you were pleading with him for but hoping it would get through to him anyways.

He just smiled wider, letting his teeth nip the delicate skin just beneath your hips. You yelped a bit before biting down on your lip to keep quiet; you knew that if someone walked in now, you wouldn’t be able to say that he’d forced himself on you… not when you were lying back and letting him do this to you.

Just when you thought his mouth couldn’t get any closer to the part of you that was suddenly throbbing of its own accord, he pulled back and pushed up your dress even more, growling at the sight of you spread wide for him. “What a gorgeous pussy, darling.” It didn’t seem like a sign of approval though, when he brought his hand down against it with a harsh smack, forcing you to cry out and throw your head back. It hurt, at first, but then it felt so oddly good and you couldn’t explain why. When he did it again, the pain and the pleasure were even more intense than the last time, making your legs quiver a bit. “Oh, you like that,” he realized proudly. “You’re getting so wet already.”

He hit you again, and again, until you were sobbing and begging for him to stop— not just because he was hurting you, but because you knew if he didn’t stop, you would reach your peak and that could not happen under any circumstances. You couldn’t like this. If you came, he would be able to tell so easily; he was literally staring right between your legs, there was nowhere to hide from him.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he groaned, “I need to get a taste of you.”

You, being foolish and innocent in these regards, thought he was going to kiss you again. In a way, he did; he grabbed your thighs tightly as he leaned down and latched his mouth onto your aching, swollen sex, moaning loudly as he explored you with his tongue. Your eyes shot wide open, your hands reaching down to push him away only to falter halfway through and dig into his hair instead. Between his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, it was like you couldn’t keep track of all the ways he was touching you. Each moan from him vibrated right through you, until you were moaning even louder. It was shameful, and your heart ached to know you were betraying Walter like this, but you were lost completely in the throes of pleasure that Sebastian was giving you.

Forcing your eyes shut only made the feeling more intense as your hands tightened into fists, gathering the satin-y through beneath you in your clammy palms. But opening your eyes and looking back at him wasn’t much help either, with the way he was staring back at you so intensely. You’d never seen his eyes so dark before, not in all the years you’d known him, and it made your skin crawl.

He stopped briefly to catch his breath, his prideful smile glistening with your arousal; it was awfully lewd, and you hated how attractive he looked all disheveled and hungry like this.

“You really ought to be spoiled,” he decided, his voice deeper and rougher around the edges. “It’s a waste if nobody’s making you come like this every day, getting a taste of this sweet little cunt.”

That word made you wince, and you realized you were more offended by what he was saying than what he was doing, oddly enough.

He got back to it with more vigor than before, pushing his tongue into you as you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming. How could something so wrong feel so thoroughly right, so perfect? You hated him just as much as you loved him in that moment, and you wanted him to stop just as much as you wanted him to keep going. The tricky thing was that you didn’t get to decide if you loved or hated him, or he stopped or continued. Your body and mind were his playthings, pliable to whatever he wanted to take from you.

Apparently, he wanted to take more from you; when he had pushed you to your peak against your wishes, and done so much more easily than you would’ve liked to admit, he sat back and tossed away his jacket, freeing him to shirk his suspenders and unbutton his trousers.

“N-no, Seba, you can’t—” you whimpered mindlessly, attempting to crawl back away from him on the bed.

“You’ll let me devour you until you come, but don’t want me to get mine, too?” he grinned. “Greedy little girl.”

He grabbed you and pulled you back down into him, gripping the neckline of your dress and tearing it down the front in a few quick rips. You fought back but it was laughably useless, your strength nothing against his.

“I hate when you wear things like this— things he bought you,” he explained with a snarl. “These pearls, too, he got you these, right?”

There wasn’t even time to answer before he grabbed the string and snapped it, sending the pearls flying everywhere and rolling across the floor. You felt more naked without them than you did without the dress. Still, you felt especially naked when he pressed his hips forward and his length slid through your folds. “No,” you sighed, “no— stop, it’s not funny anymore.”

“Funny?” he grimaced. You yelped when he grabbed your jaw tightly, forcing you to look back up at him with wide, watery eyes. “I love you. You hear me? I love you.”

“I know,” you sighed shakily.

“Say it back,” he demanded. “Say you love me, too.”

“I can’t,” you shuddered, crying when he released your jaw to slap you harshly across the face.

“I’m sorry that I had to do that,” he sighed. “I don’t think it’s right for a man to strike a woman, even if it’s with an open hand, but you need to get some sense into you. I know you love me, darling. You just need to say it.”

That false impression of mercy faded quickly when you only responded with silence.

“Say it!” he yelled, dripping with rage.

“I love you!” you finally cried, and he made swift work of reaching down to push his cock right up against your entrance, driving forward with brutal force. Your back arched and your head fell back, your hands gripping at his half-buttoned shirt— some kind of silent plea that he slow down a bit, perhaps. It didn’t seem to work, each thrust deeper and faster than the last already. The only sounds now were his quickening breaths right beside your ear, his skin slapping against yours, and your weak little cries that you choked out each time he pushed himself all the way into you.

It stung and burned inside you, just like your eyes stung with fresh tears and your chest burned with some incomprehensible storm of emotions. You wouldn’t call anything about this a relief, and yet there was something cathartic about it as well.

“He’s not gonna want you once he knows what I’ve done to you,” he whispered in your ear, tickling your leg as he pulled it to wrap around his waist. “Once he knows I’ve taken your innocence, made you mine.”

You whimpered as sobs made your chest convulse, but said nothing; you knew he was right.

“He’s not gonna want you once I’ve knocked you up. Nobody will… but me.”

You started to struggle underneath him, pushing at his shoulders helplessly. “No, you can’t— you have to stop.”

“You’ll make such a beautiful bride, darling, especially if you’re already showing,” he grinned, bringing his hand to rest just below your bellybutton— just over your womb. “I’ve dreamed all my life that you’d carry my child,” he admitted wistfully.

Crying did more to egg him on than anything, it seemed, as you barely managed to speak enough to plead with him not to finish inside you. Maybe you were naïve, but not so much that you didn't know how easily you could become pregnant if he didn't pull out, or how quickly your engagement would be broken off and your reputation ruined if that happened.

He ignored your denial and moved faster, running his hands all over your body with a few brief detours to grope your breasts and pinch the hardened nipples.

As his lips attached to your neck, you felt his teeth sink into your skin as he sucked just by your pulse. “Don’t,” you whimpered, “you’ll leave a mark.”

“Good,” he mumbled, breaking away from his work at your neck to teasingly nibble on your ear. “It’s no trouble to me if everyone knows what I’ve done to you. I want them to know. Don’t you think they saw us come into my room? Maybe if you moan loud enough they’ll get to hear you coming for me.”

It should’ve made you try even harder to stay quiet— and it did, it just didn’t work at all, and soon your moans were echoing around the room as he smiled down at you. “Close again, already? You’re so sweet for me,” he praised, somehow angling his hips just right to hit the most sensitive places inside you, your walls rippling and convulsing around him.

“You have t-to stop,” you breathed, holding the waves of pleasure back with everything you had.

“I can’t,” he groaned, “you feel too good. It’s okay, darling, just let go…”

He continued with a string of whispered praises, but you couldn’t hear it anymore as your body began to erupt in jolts of pleasure, your arms and legs shaking uncontrollably where they were wrapped around his neck and hips, respectively.

“Keep going,” he encouraged gently, “you sound so beautiful when you come, darling.”

But the sensation threatened to consume you, burned you from the inside out until you couldn’t take anymore. It was overwhelming to the point that you lost all control over your words, needing this to end more than you needed to preserve any dignity you had left. “Please,” you sighed, “please come, Sebastian…”

He laughed a bit, kissing your ear again. “Sweet girl, I knew you’d come around. Want it inside, darling?”

You shook your head, he laughed again.

“Yes you do,” he sing-songed condescendingly, “you want to have my baby, don’t you? Wanna leave that awful man and be with me, like you should?”

He must’ve known there was only one way to get you to agree to that.

“Remember, darling,” he whispered, “it won’t end until you say yes.”

“Yes,” you choked out, “I want to be with you, Seba, I want your baby— just please come and get off of me.”

He grinned and fucked you faster, the slapping of skin so loud now that surely anyone in the hall would hear it. His own moans were quiet but desperate, breathless as he started to pump and flex inside you, his warmth coating your insides as he groaned your name weakly. He laid on top of you, motionless, for quite some time until finally sitting up and pulling out; unfortunately, you were too weak to do much with that freedom, just laying there and staring up at the ceiling as numbness chilled your extremities and fogged your mind.

“You just stay here and catch your breath,” he instructed gently as he gave you one last kiss before sitting up, readjusting his trousers and suspenders before finding his jacket on the floor to put back on. He circled the bed to look out his window into the gardens, seeming much too relaxed and satisfied with himself.

“W-Walter,” you remembered suddenly. “He’ll be looking for me.”

“Hm, doesn’t seem like it,” Sebastian frowned, “I can see him now, having quite the conversation with a fine young woman.”

“What?” you shivered, sitting up to look at him as he stared down into the yard.

“I’m looking right at him, darling. I figured you knew about his… reputation…”

You did, but you never really believed it; the papers lied about Sebastian all the time, so surely rumors about your fiancé could be just as unfounded.

“I need to go,” you decided as you jumped up off the bed, trying to cover yourself with your torn dress.

“Sweetheart,” Sebastian cooed sympathetically as he looked back at you, “where are you gonna go dressed like that? Or, should I say, not dressed like that? I know my parties can get a little wild, but we try not to have any nudity.”

You hated that he was right; you were trapped here, until you found some way to dress yourself. And frankly, leaving his room dressed in different clothes than when you came in was nearly as bad as leaving his room naked.

“I’ll get you something to wear, just give me a moment, alright?” he offered, stopping to give you a peck on the forehead before slipping out of the door and back into the party.

He took a deep breath when he shut the door behind him, closing his eyes briefly to stabilize himself before putting on a smile and rejoining his guests. A lot of people tried to stop him on his way, congratulated him on the party or asking him mundane questions, but he shrugged them all off as he continued his search for Walter Penner. He found him looking rather lost somewhere by the west wing of the house, a drink in each hand.

“Two at a time, I like your style,” Sebastian boomed as he patted Walter on the back affectionately. “The drinks, I mean. I don’t believe everything I read in the papers.”

“Good,” Walter chuckled, “because it isn’t true— about girls or drinks. The second glass is for my lovely fiancée— you haven’t seen her, have you?”

“Oh, I believe I have,” Sebastian put on a face like he was thinking about where he’d last seen her. “She was just leaving.”

“Leaving?!” Walter pshawed.

“Yes, she said she’d forgotten something she had to do and scurried out the door. I tried to stop her, but you know how she is when she gets her mind on something.”

“Hm,” Walter frowned. “I suppose I’m meant to go looking for her.”

“Take a coat, it’s cold out there,” Sebastian offered. “And if you see her, do tell her I give her my best.”

“Always,” Walter nodded, setting his drinks down and merging back into the crowd as he navigated out of the party. Sebastian hummed a little tune to himself as he made his way back to his room; he could hardly wait to see you again already, tell you all about how your unfaithful betrothed had run off with one of his more promiscuous friends, but he had to be careful not to run too fast on his bad leg. He figured you wouldn’t believe it, truly, but you’d give in to the story anyways if it was reason enough to justify your affair with him. You had a talent for accepting whatever reality served your purposes best, and he was happy to give you whatever you wanted. He figured you’d want an extravagant wedding, too; that would be easy enough.

Ascending the stairs and resting his hand on the knob to open his door, he braced himself to see you there and finally know you were his— and only his, forever. All he’d ever wanted, just on the other side of a door. If a poor boy can become a millionaire in spite of everything, and he can finally get his girl in spite of a pesky engagement, then maybe anything’s possible. It was you that had told him since he was a boy that dreams were just dreams and couldn’t come true; such a fool you were, a beautiful little fool— the best thing a girl can be, and now that you were his girl, he intended to cherish your foolishness rather than attempt to educate you. Because truthfully, you were a smart girl, and only a fool for him.

#sebastian stan x reader #dark!sebastian stan x reader #dark!sebastian stan #dark!sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan dark fic

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an-army-of-nightmares · 3 years

Text

Porcelain Jekyll au

This is gonna be long so heres a tldr

TLDR: Jekyll gets taken to a sort of real nightmare party full of dolls, if he misbehaves they'll kill him and if he's a perfect gentleman he'll turn into a doll. There's a branch where he's rescued and two where he turns into a doll

•The au starts with Jekyll going to sleep, timeline honestly doesn't matter as long as Frankenstein, Jasper, and Jekyll are all around. Could start where tgs currently is? But Jasper doesn't accidentally wake Jekyll up in his panic

•"The Party of Dolls" is basically a supernatural nightmare? I haven't found a better explanation but basically it's a nightmare that's real and happening, while still "just" being a nightmare. It takes you to like a different dimension while you sleep basically? (The party of dolls isn't the only one but that's not relevant)

•The dolls invite specific people, they invite people who want to be perfect. People who dont want anyone to hate them or find a flaw. Jekyll fits this perfectly

•Jekyll is taken to the party. He tries to be polite despite being unnerved. There's another human at the party, he doesn't learn the man's name before the man gets ripped apart by the dolls for shouting

The dolls target specific people, but they can still take "fodder", people they know will immediately break the rules. So that their actual guests can learn what happens if they are impolite. The dolls also surround guest on all sides, and have them in the exact middle, so that the guest cannot just run out

•Jekyll is terrified, now knowing he'll die if he does something wrong, he tries his best to be perfect

•Unknown to Jekyll, if he's "perfect" he'll start turning into a doll. Ultimately it's a die or die situation

•Jekyll does start to notice the porcelain creeping up him, its be hard not to. He is very much (silently) panicking. But,, the more porcelain on him the more calm he becomes, the more he acts as if this is a simple party and nothing is wrong

•Eventually he reaches a point where he'd actively resist being taken away from the party, but still not fully covered by porcelain

A quick note, Hyde can't do anything about the situation. He wasn't invited and the dolls are suppressing him so much he can hardly even tell what's happening, or leave the mindscape. He's absolutely terrified about this because he can Feel something is wrong and everything is just becoming more and more suffocating

Now onto the branches! There are 2 and a half branches for this au!

Branch 1: Jekyll gets rescued

(Assuming this takes place at Chapter 11 Page 8)

•Jekyll is asleep on the couch, Jasper rushes in the room like his panic on the page except this time Jekyll does not wake up at Jasper's sudden entry. Jasper, noticing Jekyll is asleep, silently contemplates on if this problem is really worth waking Jekyll. Because on the one hand he's probably overreacting in his mind, but on the other Jekyll is really the only person he can panic to?

•He decides not to wake Jekyll, and wait until it's properly morning or noon?, now that the panic is a bit subdued he probably still has stuff to ask Jekyll

•He goes up to find Jekyll is still asleep, and Zosi frantically pawing at Jekyll's chest, occasionally nibbling him, and seemingly really wants to wake Jekyll up. Jasper tries to wake him up but it seems no matter how hard he tries Jekyll stays asleep

•Seeing how Lanyon probably isn't in the Society at the moment (and besides Jasper is pretty sure Robert dislikes him) and he's currently avoiding Rachel. Jasper cant ask Jekyll's friends if this is normal behavior. Why doesn't he ask the lodgers? Maybe a combination of they all seem busy and still being a bit intimidated by them? So he goes to his last best bet, Frankenstein. She's, kinda a doctor and has traveled quite a bit, so she may know whats up with Jekyll and why Zosi is panicking

Note: This whole decision happens in like a few seconds while Jasper is panicking

•Frankenstein does not ease Jasper's worries

•Ah, I guess there has to be some sort of tell, something that makes it clear someone is in one of these "supernatural nightmares" and that Jekyll is specifically in the party of dolls. Idk yet what that tell would be. But Frankenstein knows and thats all that matters

•They take Jekyll back to the attic, lock the entry, and make preparations for a rescue mission

•Frankenstein will be going in to try and distract the dolls while Jasper will be looking for Jekyll. Creature is there as plan B in case the dolls get hostile towards them (as Creature is fully capable of lifting them all up and running out of there. And the dolls are very likely to get hostile towards them)

•They get in, how? I have no clue. But they do. Probably a potion?

•Jasper quickly finds Jekyll and tries to convince him to leave. Much to Jasper's concern, Jekyll doesn't want to leave, and keeps brushing the danger off

Frankenstein and Jasper dont know much about the nightmare. Its likely all they know is that its filled with dolls and people who are "invited" are never seen again/found dead

•Frankenstein's distraction consists of pointing out flaws in how the dolls act. The dolls keep finding excuses, but eventually become agitated with her

•Japser notices the porcelain on Jekyll and loudly panics, attracting the already agitated dolls attention

•Creature picks them all up and runs towards the doors. Jekyll is greatly struggling against this rescue attempt, but once they get out of the building and onto the stretch of yard before the exit Jekyll calms down significantly

Jekyll did not actually calm down, but rather Hyde managed to weasel control after they left the building. Hyde absolutely does not want to be at this party, and Jekyll's struggling could've jeopardized the rescue

•They get back! Whatever porcelain was on Jekyll falls off him with ease. He's angry for maybe half a day or more. But when the doll's control completely leaves him, he's nothing but relieved

Sidenote: It seems reasonable that this whole experience would leave Jekyll with a fear of going to sleep. Perhaps give him something that can deter these types of nightmares? A desire for the comfort of another person, at least in the room, while he's asleep?

Branch 2: Jekyll fully turns into a doll

•Well either Jekyll went to sleep at his own home or some place where no one would think to look for him, as if he was right in the society they'd certainly take notice that something is wrong

•Jekyll fully turns to porcelain. Once he's a full doll they give him new clothes (the sand/beige colored suit I tend to draw porcelain Jekyll in)

Previously, Jekyll had been wearing the suit he wears at any formal party, like the ball in An Army Of Nightmares

•Porcelain Jekyll gets back to the real world. This is not entirely out of the ordinary for the dolls to do. If a guest was reasonably young or famous they'll be returned once a doll, to make themselves more known or respectable before they "die" and go back to the party full time

•Zosi notices something is Wrong while Jekyll is asleep and tries to wake him up to no avail, Zosi can't bark for attention and he's scared of leaving Jekyll alone, the few times he does go out to find someone he's largely ignored or avoided, or they misinterpret what the zombie pup wants. When Jekyll does wake up, Zosi immediately notices that it's not Jekyll, at least not anymore. Zosi knows he's supposed to get rid of any evil creatures, but this was once Jekyll. So the pup runs away and avoids him instead

•ooo I dont want to describe this whole branch? This has already taken way longer for me to write then I want XD, just check out this reblog chain about it bsksndks

•

Branch 2 ½: Jekyll dies

•Jekyll fully turns into a doll, however instead of entering the real world his real body simply dies. He's found rotting in bed. "Jekyll" however, is still in the party. (Fun fact, this was the original plan for the au)

-----

Extra notes:

▪All the dolls in the party were once people, except for maybe one or two? A handful? But it has long since been lost who's who. And it never mattered

▪Lanyon would not have ever been invited to the party. He doesn't seem to want to be a gentleman, and he knows too much about etiquette to be fodder either

▪Jasper is a proper candidate to be invited, and in branch 2 "Jekyll" is giving him alot more lessons on how to be a proper gentleman, planning to invite Jasper to the party at some point

▪The party always has a host that they cycle though, the host talks to guests a bit more than everyone else

▪Porcelain Jekyll gets to keep his new clothes when returning to the real world

#porcelain Jekyll au #the glass scientists

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dragoneyes618 · 3 years

Text

Ben didn't have official days off, but every so often he (and his mother) made himself ignore any pileups of work that may have been looming and relax. King of Auradon he may be, but he was also a teenage boy, and everyone needed some down time once in a while.

So now he was sitting in an armchair in one of the small, private sitting rooms that Belle referred to as her "hideaways." It was a small room, with comfortable chairs, beautiful curtains, and hanging lamps. And, of course, piles of books.

His mother was in her own chair across from him, reading. As he was himself. As even his father was, sitting near the door.

His mother was right, Ben mused. There was nothing quite like a good book.

Someone coughed.

Ben looked up.

A woman was standing by the doorway.

That in itself wasn't so unusual. There were many people who lived and worked in Beast Castle, after all, although this room was off-limits. But it wouldn't be the first time someone had snuck in, usually to read one of the books. Belle never punished anyone who did that-in fact, she always gave the perpetrator as many books as he or she wanted.

Ben vaguely recognized the woman as one of the new servants. He didn't know her name, though. He felt bad about that. He always did his best to know the names of all the workers in the castle. Their literal job was looking after his family; the least he could do in return was call them by their names. This woman, however, tended to avoid people, and so he hadn't learned her name yet.

She was elderly, with a lined face and hair that was almost completely white, with just a single strand of black running through it, tied up in a bun. She looked as though she could use a cane, although she wasn't leaning on one at the moment. She wore an old-fashioned dress, all black but with white lace.

Also, she was holding a pistol in her right hand. That was definitely unusual.

It too looked old-fashioned-the kind of pistol that had exactly six bullets, that you needed to manually reload and put in gunpowder each time you used that, that wouldn't work if it got wet, and that had an even chance of exploding when you fired.

Still, a gun was a gun. And she would only need three bullets to kill all of them, if she was so inclined.

"You-" the Beast sputtered. "How-Guards!"

Nothing happened.

"I'm afraid your guards are somewhat indisposed," the woman said, training her gun on the Beast. "They won't be coming to help you anytime soon."

"You didn't..." Belle whispered. Ben swallowed nervously; but they would have heard gunshots, right?

"Oh, they're all right," the woman said. "They're just a bit...tied up at the moment." She laughed. "I didn't do it myself, of course; my family still does have allies, you know. Even now."

"What do you want?" Ben asked.

Both his parents moved toward him, as though to shield him; but he was king. Surely dealing with dangerous assassins was his job?

The woman focused on him. Her face was lined not just with age, Ben realized, but with grief and stress. Her black eyes seemed to scorch into him.

"The boy king," she said musingly. "The one who overturned a generation of wrongs-or tried to, at least. Too late for most. But, as some say, better late than never." She sounded sarcastic.

"No one pays attention to the servants, do they?" she mused. "No one wondered who I was, or where I had come from. It was ridiculously easy getting a job here. I suppose you've gotten complacent, with all the villains on the Isle?" she sneered.

She looked at Ben. "What do I want? I want to have my say."

"Then-speak," Belle said. The longer this strange woman kept talking, the more time there would be for someone to find them, or discover the guards.

The intruder nodded at the Queen Mother. "My name is Madeline. Madeline de Vil. But you probably know me as Malevola."

Malevola de Vil.

"So you have heard of me," Malevola said with a wicked smile. "What do they say about me? That I was one of the greatest fashion designers of the last century? That I was the best owner of the House of De Vil in three generations? That I was a respected member of society? That I would do anything for my family?"

Her face darkened. "Or do they say that I, like all those bearing the de Vil name, are cursed? That I care more for fur than my family? That I am frightening, mad, evil, just like my daughter?"

Ben found his voice. "Cruella de Vil."

Malevola glared at him. "Don't call her that."

"But-that's her name."

"No, it is not," Malevola said, quietly, menacingly. The hand holding the pistol remained steady. "Do you really think that I would give my own daughter a name like Cruella?" She shook her head in disgust. "No. What runs in the de Vil family, particularly with the females, is that people-and by people I mean the general public, people who don't even know us-they give us nicknames.

"Not friendly, endearing nicknames. Perhaps nicknames isn't the right word. I don't know. I was ten when people started calling me Malevola. Ella was twelve when they called her Cruella. My own mother, her name was Dinitia, but do you know what people called her?" Malevola sneered, but in that sneer was anger and hurt at lifetimes-not just her, but many members of her own family-of mockingly being called the wrong name. Perhaps parody was the word she was looking for. Or travesty. "They called her Dementia. You think my daughter is cruel? At least she calls others by their proper names."

"They fear us, you see," Malevola went on. "And they scorn us. So they either name us to fit their beliefs about us, or they mock us, so that they can pretend we don't frighten them."

"I'm sorry," Belle started.

Malevola whirled on her. "You think I have finished?! I have barely even started!"

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she continued. "You have done me, and many people, a great wrong." She sounded like she was trying to be formal, like she'd rehearsed this in her mind.

"What have we done?" the Beast asked.

And just like that, her composure was gone.

"What have you done?" she hissed, her knuckles white, her eyes wide. "What have you done? You take my children from me, and you ask what you have done?"

She laughed bitterly. "The enchantress who cursed you was right. You are a beast inside and out."

The Beast paled; that was his worst fear.

"First, you took my Ella," Malevola went on. "You took her, and you locked her up, and you said she was a danger and a menace to society and that we should be glad you were taking her away. "For stealing dogs." Her voice shook. "Even young Anita said that the punishment didn't fit the crime. But no, you take her, you do not help her, and you send her away to an island full of murderers."

"She's a villain," the Beast tried to reason.

That was the wrong thing to say.

"She is my daughter!" Malevola screamed.

Ben suddenly understood why people feared the de Vil family. Malevola truly looked like her family's surname.

"And my son, Cecil, came to you," Malevola continued. Her voice was dangerously calm now. "And he begged you, lowering himself, a bearer of the de Vil name, for you. He asked you to help her, to be kind to her, to do something else-anything else-but you refused. "Tell me, Beast, what is the line between villainy and insanity?"

The Beast did not answer.

"And with no other option left," Malevola continued, "my Cecil volunteered to go to your cursed Isle, to be with Ella, to help her, because he could not leave his sister alone. You agreed to that. And you sent both of my children to the Isle."

"Did you plan," Malevola wondered, "for there to be no communication from the Isle at all? Did you want us all to forget about them, to pretend the villains never existed?

"I had no letters. My own were returned, marked Return to Sender. There were no phone calls. Nothing. The de Vil family has much influence, but I could do nothing.

"Do you know what it is like, not to know if your own children are alive or dead? I would not wish that on my worst enemy."

She locked eyes with the Beast. "Twenty years I have waited for word of my children. For twenty years I have not known if they live, or if they were killed within days of arriving on the Isle. And now your son brings my grandson over..."

She sighed. "He looks like Ella. Cecil, too. He has the de Vil hair. All the de Vils, we look like each other. It is yet another reason people find us strange. But my grandson, he is frightened of me. We never knew each other. You took that from me, too. He fears I am too much like Ella, for he tells me that Ella has deteriorated..."

She could have been a hundred years old.

The Beast stepped forward. "If you are here to punish me, then-do so." Belle gasped, but he continued. "Do not make my wife and son pay for my crimes."

"You are brave," Malevola conceded. She looked almost surprised. "But no."

She looked at Ben. "I do thank you, you know. You brought my grandson off the Isle, and he brought me news of my family."

She looked back at the Beast, meeting his eyes directly. She did not speak for a long moment.

"You misunderstand me," Malevola–Madeline–said finally. "I am not here to kill you. I am here only to cause you the same pain you have caused me."

Moving swiftly, she turned, pointed the gun straight at Ben, and fired.

#descendants #the isle of the lost #carlos de vil #cecil b. de vil #cecil de vil #malevola de vil #madeline de vil #madeline malevola de vil #cruella de vil #king ben #ben descendants #king beast #belle #benjamin florian

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

towards a tomorrow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #28 - bow ]

[ illya & kirishimi ] ★ [ 2,062 words ] ★ [ period drama au ]

for matchi’s period drama au. briefly mentions illyanaud, laurelis and kaye.

bow- to bend your head or body forward, especially as a way of showing someone respect or expressing thanks

kirishimi didn’t care for frilly dresses or etiquette unless it was to make a statement - so she gets lessons from the most ladylike friend she knows

“Gods, shite! How do people breath in this stupid thing?!”

Amongst the light breeze of the midafternoon wind, the melodic chirping of the songbirds and the sound of water splashing freely from the white marble fountain, Kirishimi’s less than ladylike words pierce through the air as she puffs her chest in with a low grumble and is followed by the soft and gentle bell-like chimes of a younger girl’s giggles a few feet next to her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think the corset can be loosened any further, I made it as loose as I could for you already.”

“Can I just take it off then?” Kirishimi asks, hopeful even as the shorter lalafellin girl shakes her head calmly with am apologetic frown, her vibrant violent eyes swirling with sympathy.

“I wish you could but... Laurelis designed the dress with your corset in mind.. It just wouldn’t fit if you didn’t-”

“Shite.”

Yet another swear tumbles carelessly out of Kirishimi’s lips, and Illya lets out a soft, barely audible sigh before flashing her taller friend yet another gentle smile.

“How about a short break then? I think you’ll feel a little better if you take a breather.”

“Yes please!”

Without even a seconds’ hesitation, Kirishimi grabs the frame of the hoop skirt beneath her bright orange dress with her hands and marches to the gazebo before slumping down onto the white garden chair and kicking her matching pair of high heels off. She leans down to massage the soles of her feet with a grimace, feeling light indents where the rim of the heels had dug into her feet and wondering if there was going to be blisters forming under her hosiery by the end of the day.

In contrast to the almost unruly way she’d retreated under the shade of the white and purple gazebo, Illya in comparison was the very picture of elegance. With only the tips of her thumb and index finger, the young lady lifts the hem of her frilly lavender dress before climbing the steps up to the gazebo. Despite wearing lacey embroidered heels that seemed like they were even more of a pain to wear than her own, Illya’s balance was perfect, each footstep graceful and deliberate so much that Kirishimi could barely even hear the little tap of her heels against the floor.

Even the way she sat upon the chair, taking her time to tuck her dress beneath her thighs before sitting herself down and folding her hands neatly upon her lap - it wouldn’t have made Kirishimi felt self-conscious any other time before today. But it was exactly because she was here now, for the exact same reason she’d even agreed to commission an over the top ball gown from Laurelis that she swear to never wear outside of it’s intended use, that she quickly decided to correct her posture.

The taller woman feels out of place - as she typically does, but especially next to her considerably more demure, ladylike friend. Surrounded by the jewel toned walls of the Skawi mansion, the flawless marble tile paths that circled the garden and practically shined in the sunlight and the bed of delicate spring flowers that filled the air with a light floral fragrance, it would be hard for her not to feel even a tiny bit like a fish out of water.

“Thanks again, Illya. For agreeing to teach me.” Kirishimi opts to speak, breaking the long hanging silence as if in sheepish apology. She knows she isn’t the best student, and so the least she could do was be cooperative and nice to the girl who is graciously lending her her time and efforts.

“You’re very welcome, Kiri.” With a radiant smile, Illya nods her head, her innocent expression bright and at home with her subtle movements of grace. The birds that sat upon the mansard roofs sing in tandem with the sweetness of Illya’s voice. “I’m honored that you would come to me for lessons about etiquette. Even if it is to...um... break the social construct.”

Mismatched eyes widen in a panic, and the older woman leans forward over the table and raises her voice a tad.

“Hey, I hope you don’t misunderstand me! There’s nothin’ wrong with being prim and proper! I’m not tryin’ to do anythin’ to disrespect you! I just-”

“I know.” Illya speaks, her brilliantly pure white hair fluttering gently in the breeze like a wavy silken veil over her head. “You’re just trying to be you. You have the courage and strength to stand up to people who would try to tell you do otherwise. I like that about you.” With yet another euphonious, soft giggle, Illya raises a hand up to press against her chest. “Besides, you wouldn’t have come to me for a favor if you truly did have malicious intent, would you? The fact that you called Laurelis and I for help means that you trust us.”

A soft blush rises up to Kiri’s face where speckles of white snow glowed lightly from the heat from her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her gloved hand moves up to rub the side of her neck sheepishly, and she cannot help the toothy grin that adorns her face.

“I guess you’re right.” the woman murmurs. “I also... admire you a lot, you know? You’re so sweet, and nice... a bit too nice, honestly. You don’t even get angry when idiots spout lies about you...”

Kirishimi would be lying if she said she didn’t feel an immense amount of admiration for Illya’s ability to stay as calm and collected as she does - even above the seemingly effortless way she’d conduct herself like the society’s perfect definition of a ‘lady’.

But there wasn’t envy... it wouldn’t be warranted, especially since Kirishimi knew that behind the perfectly immaculate way Illya would hold herself as the young mistress and future heiress of her family name, came a set of troubles and insecurities that she too was struggling with.

It’s evident by the flicker of melancholy in Illya’s eyes, like a field of delphiniums and hydrangeas that were drooping in the midst of a drizzle of rain and grey storm clouds, even with a forced, stepford smile gracing her delicate and fair features. They were lovely, beautiful even in their imperfect sadness.. but Kiri could not bring herself to feel anything but sorry at the sight of them.

“And I wish I were even half as strong as you. You’re able to stand up for what you want, for who you are... If I had a fraction of the courage that you possessed then perhaps... I could have...” The girl looks down, the silver band that she’d refused to wear hidden deep in the depths of her dress pocket weighing far more heavily than it ever did before. “I could have stopped my uncle from calling for the engagement...”

The Skawi family had well deserved respect from the capital, and with it came a reputation and image they had to uphold. And with their fame, came the inevitable greed from the current head of the family - the man Illya could barely even bring herself to think of as family, the younger brother of the long deceased patriarch, Lachlan Skawi.

Selling himself and the name of the Skawis wouldn’t be enough for the man - and so he’d sold the dignity of his niece as well by calling for an arranged marriage.. something that Kirishimi knew would not be solved with a few simple social statements and protests. It involved the name of the Skawi family, and worse still, it involved the capital.

Internally, Kirishimi wonders what Young Master Alphinaud intends to do. Word about mistress Skawi’s engagement to one of the members of the royal bloodlines has spread far and wide by now, and he would undoubtedly be working tirelessly for a way to stop the marriage.

But if the combined efforts of Laurelis’ family, the Leveilleur household, Hien’s influence as a well respected foreign emissary wasn’t enough to convince Illya’s uncle to call off the engagement, what else could they hope to do?

“You’re stronger than you think you are, Illya.” Kiri reassures, her tone gentler than is usual for her, as is the light, reassuring smile upon her face. “You took the first steps to realize your own dreams, didn’t ya?”

Kiri gestures to the carnation earring she wore that dangled lightly with gleaming white pearls, and Illya raises a hand up to brush against her ear lightly. The earring was a gift from Master Alphinaud, the man she owes much to... Her mentor, her dearest friend and...

A dust of red rises up to Illya’s cheeks and spreads to the tips of her pointed ears as she nods.

“It’s... It’s thanks to everyone... and especially Master Alphinaud that.. that I finally started to learn medicine. If it weren’t for everyone’s support, I wouldn’t have-...”

Illya holds her tongue, pressing her lips into her fine line as Kiri allows the silence to fester, until she grins at the look of renewed determination upon the young maiden’s face.

No, Kirishimi is right. She certainly may owe much to her friends and loved ones, and she wouldn’t have taken that first steps towards realizing her dream to become a doctor had she not met Alphinaud... but it took great strides of her own too, a strength and new found courage to stand up to the ones who doubted her - one that she felt determined in full to carry on for as long as she needed until her dreams are fulfilled and she can be free from her own social constructs that are weighing her down.

“Once all this is over.. could you teach me how to fence, Kiri?” Illya asks, eliciting a surprised hum from her taller friend.

“You wanna learn how to fence?” The woman asks... not in dissuation, of course... but in mild disbelief that a girl as sweet and gentle as Illya would be interested in the sport. She’d say yes, of course, regardless of Illya’s reasons. She’d teach Illya whatever she wanted to learn especially since the girl had been kind enough to be teaching her etiquette. But she still cannot help but to be a bit curious.

“I admit I’m not the strongest or physically well built... I’ll probably be a really bad student but-”

With a wave of her hand, Kiri dismisses Illya’s words with a hearty, loud laugh that echoes throughout the garden, warm and bright in the midafternoon sun.

“You’ll be great, I guarantee it. You’re quick on your feet and I think you’re a lot more fit than you give yourself credit for.” If Illya’s ability to function without fault all way in tight corsets and high heels are anything to go by, at least.

With a bright smile of gratitude, Illya thanks her friend warmly with a bow of her head before standing herself up from the chair, circling around the table and gesturing to the haphazardly abandoned orange heels that laid on their sides next to Kirishimi.

“Let’s continue, Kiri. We still have much to practice for the day!” Illya shrugs her shoulders when Kiri groans, slipping her feet back into her heels before reluctantly standing herself back up. “You remember what I said about the proper way to curtsy is, right?”

To demonstrate, Illya holds the sides of her dress, barely pulling the hem up from the ground and crossing her legs before dipping herself down gracefully like a ballerina... and Kiri could only let out a lazy grumble in protest.

“Can’t we rest for a little while longer? I hate this curtsying shite.”

“The faster we get this part of the lesson done, the faster we can move on to table manners.” Illya’s innocent smile is bright and radiant, belying the little hint of mischief laced under the tone of her knowing voice. “I’ve already asked for the pastries and sweet tea to be prepared, you know? Kaye should be arriving with them any second now.”

“Curtsy? Got it. Left foot behind right???” Mismatched blue and red eyes fly open, and the woman does a full curtsy that elicits yet another light and airy giggle from Illya.

“It’s the right foot behind your left. Not too quickly, now. Let’s try that again.”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #illya skawi #kirishimi #period drama au #fanfic #mine #YET ANOTHER AU I'VE NEVER WRITTEN FOR GOD #I quite like this even if I feel like it's missing a lot of context that i had to explain with just a few #expository sentences #but that's just the nature of writing for aus you've never established before hah

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babybottlepop96 · 3 years

Text

Someone to Love (Sai x Shikamaru) 18+ Only

Warning: Smut, minors DNI, cheating, breakups, getting drunk, I think that’s it?

A/n: I just really had this idea in my head and ShikaSai is like a rare pair that I really enjoy. So here you go.

“Sai, what do you mean by ‘You're not interested anymore?’” Ino asked her husband of the last four years, the father to her child, the man she had fallen for when they were teenagers. He simply looked at her, sitting in their shared bed, hair a mess, eyes turning red with all the tears she refused to let fall. He knew this would be hard, he knew this would hurt her so badly, but during the last few years he had grown more as an emotional person. Realizing that he simply didn’t love her as he thought he did. He tried, he really did. The learning experience he gained from his readings and interactions and watching his friends who acted truly in love with their partners or spouse had been nothing but hard for him as well. Seeing how Naruto and Hinata looked at each other, how TenTen and Shino shared soft touches when out on a date, even how Kiba and his partner would play with Akamaru and have a great time. He came to the understanding that he didn’t get those feelings when he was his wife. He realized he never actually did, it was a facade, an illusion he created to feel more human, to fit in with normal society. He wanted to feel that way, he tried everything in his power to feel the love and passion in his relationship with Ino. To put the same energy into this like Ino has done.

“I mean, I don’t love you the same way you love me, Ino.” He sighed as he looked at the floor, wishing he didn’t have to do this.

“After all these years? After all we have been through together? What about Inojin?” She asked, her heart breaking with every passing second he sat there, feeling further and further away from the man she married.

“Ino, I can’t keep pretending that I’m in love with you. Maybe I was at one point in time, but I can’t be certain. I also can’t let us still be a thing just for the sake of it, that's not fair to you, me or our son. You deserve someone who can make your world brighter, who can give you the same love and energy you give. I’m just not capable of it, I’ve tried. God, I tried. I tried so hard to give you what you rightly deserve from a husband. But, I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Sai spoke, voice cracking slightly due to the emotional state he was also putting himself through. “I’ll still be a part of Inojin’s life. He is still my son, I’ll still be a part of your life as a friend, if you still want me to. But I think, this is what we have to do, if we ever want to be truly happy.” He looked at her this time, her bed head shaking softly and eyes shut trying to suppress any loud sobs from escaping, fear of waking up her sleeping child a few doors down.

“I understand, Sai.” She said, voice barely above a whisper, scratchy from being woken up in the early hours of the morning and the force she had to use to keep herself from fully breaking down in the moment. She understood his point, in fact, she thinks it was the bravest, kindest thing she ever heard, but that doesn’t make the fact that he was leaving her hurt any less. She loved the clueless man with all her heart. She wanted him to stay, but agreed to the unfairness and selfishness that would be if she asked him to stay. No more words were said as Sai stood, grabbing a bag to stuff some clothes and other necessities in. No words were spoken as Sai exited their once shared bedroom to stroll a few doors down to their son’s room. Sneaking in and giving his son a kiss to the forehead. A silent goodbye for now. And not noise was made as Sai removed himself from the only actual home he had ever known. Leaving behind the shattered heart of his once lover.

‘I’m doing this for all of us.’ He thought to himself as strolled through the empty streets of Konoha, heading to the inn on the other side of the village. After purchasing a room for a few nights, Sai decided he needed to stop thinking for a bit. Deciding to stop by the bar he passed by earlier, he needs to drown out the events of the last couple hours. Sitting at the bar, he ordered a glass of their strongest liquor.

~~~

“What the actual fuck, Temari?!” Shikamaru spoke loudly outside his home, his wife standing there, eyes wide and red from crying. Shikamaru had a lit cigarette hanging between his lips, hand running through his hair, loosening the neat ponytail he always wore.

“I’m sorry Shika!” She spoke, voice cracking every other syllable.

“You're sorry?! How long has this been going on?!” He spoke, trying to keep his own tears at bay.

“A few months.” She spoke honestly, voice quiet as she looked at the grass beneath her bare feet, wrapping her robe around her frame tighter to keep the chilly night air from nipping at the bare skin.

“A few months.” He spoke to himself in disbelief.

“You're never home anymore! Shikadai keeps asking where his daddy is and I have to keep explaining to him that you're at work! He wants his daddy! I wanted my husband! But your always fucking working!” She cried, body physically shaking with anger and grief.

“So you thought it would be better to cheat on me instead of just telling me all this?! I have to work to provide for us! I’m the hokage’s right hand man! My job takes up a lot of my time! You knew this before we even got together, Temari!” He took another long drag from his cigarette, pacing in his yard. Temari didn’t say another word as the two stood in the tension filled air, the weight of everything settling in like a four hundred pound weight on their shoulders. “Did nothing in our years together mean nothing?” He whispered.

“Of course it did! Shika, I love you! I love you so much!”

“Then what is the real reason you cheated?” He looked her straight in the eyes, wanting the honest, unfiltered answer.

“I needed someone to satisfy me, touch me, give to me the needs a woman wants from her husband.” She spoke harshly. He knew what she meant, she wanted to have someone who could be there for her, to be there touch her with soft caresses and gentle kisses. Something he barely did anymore due to the amount of work he had to do. He understood what she meant.

“But you didn’t have to go behind my back and betray my trust, Temari.” He turned around and left. He couldn’t be there right now, his heart cracking with every step he took away from his home. Walking past a bar, Shikamaru thought he deserved some drinks, drowning out the numb feeling that took over his body. As Shikamaru drank, a familiar face appeared a few seats down. Face looking just as sorrowful as his own probably looked. “Hey, Sai.”

Sai turned to look at Shikamaru, “Oh, Hello Shikamaru.” He faked a smile at his wife’s… ex-wife’s teammate. “What brings you here?” He asked, making his way to his friend after his drink was placed in his hands.

“Wife cheated on me, so I came here to drown out my sorrows with some good ol’ fashion painkiller.” Shikamaru chuckled darkly. “You?” He asked, taking a sip from his own glass.

“I broke things off with Ino, couldn’t let either of us stay in the relationship if it was only one sided.”

“She cheated?”

“No, I just came to learn that I don’t reciprocate the same feelings she does.”

“That sucks, I’m sorry man”

“Don’t be, I’m sorry about your situation as well. From what I read, cheating isn’t a good thing.” Sai sipped his drink. Shikamaru chuckled slightly at his friend, still the same Sai he met years ago. But he was older, more mature, better at understanding feelings. He grew into a handsome young man. The two drank more together, little by little, the two began to forget about their home troubles as more and more alcohol filled their systems. By the time the bar closed, both men were hammered, drunk off their asses as they stumbled against each other down the dirt streets of Konoha. “D-do you have a p-place to sleeeeeeeeeep?” A very drunk Sai asked and equally drunk Shikamaru.

“Oooooh fuuuuuuck. N-no!” Both men laughed holding onto each other for support.

“Come back to my room th-then.” Sai smiled and Shikamaru nodded quickly. Both men finally got to the room Sai had rented, both falling backwards onto the soft bed, sinking against it slowly. “I...I wish I could find someone like you Shika. I.. I mean… You’re a hardworking person. Like… like you're just so pretty too. Like a duck. Ducks are pretty SHikamaru.” Shikamaru couldn’t help but laugh.

“I wish I could find someone like you too. Don’t expect to be constantly followed around like a lost puppy. You...you are also pretty. But like… like a um.. What are those things with feathers? The things with two legs?”

“A peacock?”

“No.. no.. It’s.. it's like a cow… but not a cow.”

“Penguin?”

“YES! THAT!” The two burst into fits of giggles. After they calmed down, they just stared at each other, eyes locking intensely to each other. Neither moved nor said a word.

Suddenly, lips collided and hands grabbed at anything and everything they could find. Hair, limbs, the bedsheets. It was the most intoxicating thing either have experienced in so long. They felt electricity coursing through their veins that were once filled with grief and sorrow. Every touch sent heat compared to a fire everywhere they went. Clothes were discarded and thrown around the room, neither caring where they went or if they would be able to find them later. Sai was lying on top, forearms resting on either side of Shikamaru’s head. The man underneath had his hands in the other’s hair, slightly tugging to bring him closer. One of Sai’s hands slid down Shikamaru’s body, tracing and outlining every muscle until it came to the organ that needed the most attention.

His hand firmly gripped Shamaru’s cock, stroking it ever so gently. The small gasps and mewls Shikamaru let escape were swallowed by the other’s mouth, Sai’s tongue already winning the battle for dominance. With his other hand, Sai started to tease Shikamaru’s ass. Slender fingers running around the ring of muscle, lightly prodding the opening before slipping one in, already lubed from the small amount of natural lubricant that came from the tip of Shikmaru’s dick. “Oh, fuck!” Shikamaru gasped, mouth slight gaping at the unfamiliar intrusion. But he wasn’t about to complain, if he was being honest with his drunken self, he always felt something for the man on top of him. He just never realized it before, never fully cared to even consider the option. But here he was, letting himself get lost in the feeling of another man.

Sai entered another finger, scissoring the other open. Was this the feeling he wanted to so desperately give Ino? He didn’t know, but he did know that he liked whatever feeling this was. It was.. happy. Carefree. Addicting. He wanted more. He wanted to get drunk, not off more booze, but off the feeling Shikamaru gave him. He needed more.

He took out fingers, smiling slightly as the whimper that left Shikamaru’s swollen lips. He stared at the beauty of the man under him, eyes dark with lust. He aligned himself up with Shikamaru’s entrance. “I’ll be slow. I promise.” He spoke softly as he caressed the heated skin of Shikamaru’s cheek. He only got a nod in response as he slowly inched his way in. He read about using lube to help make things easier, but it seemed like neither cared at the moment, the slight burn actually felt good, maybe it was the drinks they had talking, but again, neither cared. They only relished in the feeling of one another, drinking in the blissed out faces each wore as Sai finally bottomed out. Both were still, letting each other adjust to the other.

“Move.” Was the only thing Sai needed to hear to start thrusting his hips against Shikamaru’s. Both let out a groan at the feeling, becoming more intoxicated as the thrust kept getting faster and harder. The tip of Sai’s cock hit Shikamaru’s prostate, causing the man to let out a loud moan, causing Sai’s dick to twitch, it was like the world's most beautiful song, a song being played just for him.

“You sound.. So beautiful.. Shikamaru.” Sai grunted as he aimed for the same spot over and over again.

“I.. I’mma… cum?!” Shikamaru moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was so close, so terribly close it almost hurt. Sex with Temari was never this good, never this emotional, never this….. Free.

“Cum with me, Shika. Let me see your beautiful essence all over us.” Sai grunted, nearing his release as well. With one hand firmly planted on Shikamaru’s hip, the other went to vigorously pump his dick. Shikamaru came with a loud moan, Sai followed soon after, releasing his seed inside his friend. All movement ceased, the only sounds being the heavy breathing coming from the two men. Said pulled out and Shikamaru felt the cum seep from his ass and onto the blankets beneath him. The two looked at each other, both their eyes slowly closing. Sleep was finally taking over them, from the emotional night of heart beak, drinking and great sex, both closed their eyes, slightly snuggling against each other. Consequences can be damned till the time they woke up. Right now, everything was okay. They were at peace.

#not sfw #minors dni #shikamaru+smut #sai+smut #shikamaru x sai #drunk #cheating #hurt #saishika #shikasai #SaiShika #ShikaSai

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that-bi-bitch-writes · 3 years

Text

P S Y C H (ch.1)

I hate definition intros but it has to be done: The word "PSYCH" is commonly used online and in conversation as a slang term to indicate that something that has just been said or typed was intended as a prank on the recipient or a joke.

Also short for Psychic

Next Chapter

Say what you want about organized religion, but you can’t deny that it is one of the most dangerous weapons on the planet. For centuries people have developed weapons and fought wars in the name of their beliefs. They’ve conquered lands and assimilated nations. Give the people superpowers and there’s no way people don’t die on a daily basis. Unless you give them lame ass powers and call them quirks. God’s funny like that. Most people get run of the mill things like the ability to draw small objects close to them. That way there’s a power imbalance in the world. It’s less chaos if only a select few get the good abilities. Less people question God’s authority that way. Those who get the awesome superpowers are seen as blessed, divine. Honored.

[Mo.Name] [L.Name] was not blessed. She was liked by God at best. Being an empath, her quirk was not something to marvel at. If she worked hard to develop it, she could use her quirk offensively and defensively or even professionally but she would never be someone who was in charge of maintaining the world order.

As she grew older she would become disillusioned with God and the blessed individuals that policed over the nations. They called themselves heroes, and a few people were but everything about hero society just didn’t sit well with her. She became a teacher instead and worked with kids with special needs. When they had trouble expressing themselves she could use her quirk to get a feel for what they needed in the moment or she could project enough calmness that they could pull themselves together and communicate without throwing a fit.

She had a kid at a young age. 30 years old. Not too young and not too old. But by the time she was 35 she was a single mother. Her kid was the best. He didn’t cry too often and he learned how to speak very young. He soaked up information like a sponge and he didn’t develop a flashy quirk like the heroes she felt mild contempt for. Her baby was ignored by God.

Psych.

“No one is born equal. Yadda yadda yadda- How long has he been planning this monologue? No seriously it’s been playing in his head since the day (not really) we first met and I’m kind of bored of it now”

Izuku Midoriya was not a late bloomer. He never got his quirk, he has the extra toe joint, and he was bullied for being powerless. A Deku. [Name] [L.Name] WAS a late bloomer. He got teased a little, picked on. Sometimes people even gave him pitying looks. But it all ended when he turned about six. There’s that old saying: two roads diverged in a yellow wood. Well one of those roads is for those scorned, and the other for those who who were touched by fire yet never burned. The sinner and the saint. What a traveller wouldn’t know is, that at some point, the roads converge. How else are they supposed to get to the same destination?

Wonder, outsiders..who is on which road? What makes the sinner a sinner and not a saint?

“Using your quirk in public is illegal”

“And minding your own business is free” [Name] bit back. What’s a little telekinesis gonna do? Cause mass destruction? Widespread panic? He just didn’t want to touch the handle on the door. Public spaces are very unsanitary... it’s not like his arms are too sore to do any sort of lifting. Nope. Not at all.

[Name] had unfortunately spent the entire weekend doing his least favorite activity. Physical exercise. Of course with a quirk like his he’d rarely ever need physical strength, but that’s exactly what everyone else would think. And [Name] is the type of kid that wants you to doubt him so he can feel the rush of proving you wrong. It’s a warped mindset but when no one ever expects anything from you, it’s kind of a thrill to see the surprised looks on their faces. A psychic with impressive physical strength would be the same as someone 5’6 (167.6 cm) dominating a sport made for tall people. Like basketball. Or volleyball.

Anyway, [Name] was in the sportswear store, a place he’d rather not be caught dead in, trying to get support for his wrists. Most of his quirk usage was through precise hand movements, a slight flick of the wrist could easily send someone flying. His hands, and by extension his wrists were very important. A punch thrown wrong during training could fracture that oh so important wrist, hence the whole idea of getting wrist wraps.

For once [Name] was actually being proactive and he was very proud of himself for thinking of the idea in the first place. His eyes glowed golden as he reached his hand out to grab the wraps floating down from the top shelf. The UA exams were in about a week and a half and he had no idea what to expect. So he would train for everything they could throw at him. Even if it meant he had to go back to throwing punches at an oversized bag of sand.

[Name] used his telekinesis so often the drawback was nearly negligible. But if he did overuse it, the damage was a headache that could range from minor inconveniences like losing your chapstick, to a grenade going off in an enclosed space. The big ones weren’t usually the problem. The problem would be somewhere in the middle, because it would cause him to lose control of his telepathy, and once the headache combined with the voices of everyone in a 50 meter vicinity his brain would get seriously overwhelmed. Ultimately he’d be passed out on the ground within 5 minutes.

For the first year and a half of middle school three times a week [Name] would have fighting training along with weight training, alternating days so that he’d have a break in between each session. This was all pretty much to catch up with his rapidly developing quirk. [Name]’s body wasn’t prepared for the use of his quirk. He grew to the age of 6 doing things normally until his untapped power literally exploded out of him. Talk about damage control. For quirk training he usually offered to help his neighbor who ran a junkyard by lifting cars and other heavy things telekinetically. An unofficial part of the training regime, [Name] would also read other people’s thoughts all day everyday. He said it was to get used to hearing others’ voices in his head. But that was only a half truth. [Name] was just extremely nosy, but he went about it in a casual way. He probably should apologize for the invasion of privacy but he loved every minute of it. Besides, listening to the spirits of others could be considered a god-honored practice.

On the day of the entrance exams [Name] regretted everything. He’d decided to become a hero for fun, less than two weeks prior (the whole reason he went to the sportswear store and started working out again), and by the grace of god he was regretting it. Not because he was nervous he’d fail, at least he wasn’t before he got there. It was just SO loud. He’d gotten better at controlling his quirk since he began using telepathy to eavesdrop but the last time he was in a room full of this many people was the middle school entrance ceremony (which he skipped halfway through because of a headache. By the way how could so many kids sitting in silence be so loud). It made sense, he was not used to having to deal with the noise of people muttering, thinking, PANICKING. And now that his quirk is stronger than what it was before everything felt ten times worse. [Name] leaned forward and tapped the green haired boy sitting in front of him muttering. Not only could he hear the boy’s thoughts going a mile a minute but his mouth was too. The kid whipped around eyes wide and shook nervously. [Name] was about to ask him to quiet down but got confused when he made sense of the kid’s thoughts.

The kid was obviously a fanboy muttering about Present Mic who was getting on [Name]’s nerves a little with his exorbitant amount of energy. Before [Name] could say anything the ash-blonde near the fanboy spoke up.

“He’s probably telling you to shaddup”

The green haired boy opened his mouth to apologize and then realized he would be making more noise and quickly shut it before nodding profusely. [Name] was tired of referring to them by their hair colors and may have invaded the fanboy’s head for some background information on the two and got more than he bargained for. The fanboy whose name was apparently Izuku, was not only sitting next to Bakugou, his childhood bully, but just this morning he had gained an immense amount of power, officially becoming All Might’s successor. Oh look, two of them would be taking the exam in the same area. Things at UA were gonna get interesting.

#bnha x male reader #mha x male #male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #m!reader #m!reader insert #x m!reader #bnha #mha #that bi bitch writes #that-bi-bitch-writes #psych

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alovesongshewrote · 4 years

Text

Jolene | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot: Douxie teaches you how to play the guitar after a nasty break-up.

Word Count: 1,794

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of being in a toxic relationship, break-ups, crying, cheating, the gif has nothing to do with the plot i just like it

A/N: So, while this is cute towards the end and everything, I just want to apologize for anything that might be triggering. I got out of a very nasty relationship recently and I needed to vent. Thank the gods for the wizard boy, amirite? Anyway, thank you so much for reading, AATY will be updated soon, it’s just taking longer because I want to stay accurate to the actual episodes of wizards. Love you guys, please enjoy <3

(Also, try reading this while listening to Jolene and tell me what you think, bc I never did that and I want to know)

Tag List: @furblrwurblr

Looking back on it, you should have broken things off sooner.

Literally, every flag in that relationship had been red, but you ignored them all hoping that he’d get better. That he’d start to listen to you without responding in a resentful way, that he’d stop trying to control you, that he’d learn to respect your boundaries without a fight. It never happened.

You tried to bring up your grievances with him, but he always tried to turn it back on you, making it seem like your fault. It didn’t work. You were smart enough to recognize manipulation and gaslighting, but you weren’t smart enough to leave.

And then he cheated on you. That was enough.

You ended things as respectfully as possible, even though he really didn’t deserve it. You didn’t even mention his infidelity or the fact that he had never respected you. All you did was tell him that it wasn’t a good time for a relationship. He tried to make you feel guilty, but he never once asked you to stay or told you he loved you. You did the right thing. You knew that.

But you felt like crap after it was over.

All you did for the next two days was lounge around in your pyjamas and listen to ‘Jolene,’ by Dolly Parton over and over again. It wasn’t productive, but it was what you needed.

It made your friends a little nervous though.

Throughout your little break from society, you'd received a decent amount of texts from concerned friends who weren’t super sure what was going on but wanted to support you nonetheless.

Douxie was the first person you’d told.

He was the friend you trusted the most.

Of course, he was concerned for you. So concerned, in fact, that he straight-up ran to your apartment to spend time with you. And you really appreciated that.

You’d let him into your small home, which was surprisingly clean for the spiral you’d been going down. The only thing that a person could find odd was the music you were listening to. It was just ‘Jolene’ by Dolly Parton, over and over again.

It wasn’t exactly his type of music, but he respected your coping mechanisms. And he had to admit, the guitar was really nice.

“So, how’re you holding up,”

“I’m okay I guess. Better than I thought I’d be. It just kinda hurts, y’ know?”

“I know, darling, I know. Here, sit down, I’m making you some tea,”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m going to,”

You smiled, watching him walk into your kitchen before you flopped down onto your couch. The tea didn’t take long, and before you knew it, Douxie was on the couch next to you.

The warmth from the cup was nice, simulating human contact. You missed human contact. And now you had no one to give it to you. Not like you did before, but still, the thought stung.

You didn’t realize there were tears in your eyes until Douxie’s hand was on your shoulder. His hazel eyes peering into yours. You hoped he didn’t see how hurt you really were.

He did.

“Oh, love, come ‘ere,”

More tears came to your eyes as Douxie came closer, wrapping you in the best hug you’d had in months. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. He just held you close and let you cry into his shoulder for as long as you needed. And this was what you needed.

It took you about ten minutes to cry yourself out. Douxie didn’t mind. He was going to be there for you, no matter what, and if that meant his shirt got a little damp, he didn’t care. You were more important.

“Thanks, Doux,” you said, voice rough from crying, “Oh, god. I’m sorry,”

“You don’t need to apologize. You needed to vent your feelings, I’m just glad I could help,”

“Me too,” you pulled back, just enough to see his face, “I’m still going to apologize for getting your shirt wet though,”

Douxie laughed, “That’s fine, (Y/N), I care more about you than the shirt,”

You didn’t say anything. If you did you’d cry again.

So, you just sat there, relaxing with your friend, drinking tea and listening to Jolene on repeat. Your eyes were closed, your head on his shoulder, and his arm around you. It was nice. Really nice. Better than anything in your actual relationship.

And then you had an idea.

“Hey, Douxie? You do music, yeah?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Do you think you could teach me how to play this on the guitar?”

“If you want me to I can,”

“I think I’d like that. I want to make something good out of this. It can’t be all heartbreak,”

“You’re right, darling, it can’t. We won’t let it,”

You smiled at him, making his whole being feel warm, “Thank you,”

“It’s my pleasure. I can pick you up tomorrow if you’d like?”

“That sounds good,” you said, relaxing back into your place at his side.

The two of you stayed like that for another hour. You could have stayed there forever, but you wanted Douxie to get home before it got too dark. Weird things happened in Arcadia at night, and wizard or not, you’d prefer it if he stayed safe.

You said goodbye in a moment of tension. Not the same angry tension you’d known with your ex, but something new. Something much softer. You realized then that you wanted to kiss Douxie. That kissing him wouldn’t be a chore, something you did to keep up appearances. It wouldn’t be something that was done to you because someone else wanted it. This would be something you did because you wanted to. But you didn’t kiss him. Not yet.

The next day, Douxie was at your door, ready to walk you from your apartment to his. It wasn’t a long walk by any means, but it was enough to fit in some quirky banter. It was more than enough for you to feel safe again.

“Do you think pigeons have feelings?” you asked as Douxie unlocked the door.

“Probably. We could ask Archie, he might know?”

“That sounds like a plan,”

He let you into his home, which was just as you remembered it. Comfortable, a bit scrappy, but in a way that made you feel comfortable. Right now, Douxie’s apartment felt more like home than yours did.

“You get the guitar, I’ll make tea,” you said, turning to face him.

“You don’t have to-”

“Ah, yes, but I’m going to,”

He smiled as you walked away.

One pot of tea later, a guitar was in your hands. It was taking you a hot minute to get the chords right, but you were nothing if not determined. Douxie was an amazing teacher. He was patient, calm, and not at all condescending. It was a nice change from what you were used to.

“Here, let me,” he said, moving his hands to rest over yours, positioning your hands properly, “Like this,”

“Thank you, Douxie,”

“It’s not a problem, love,”

“No, I mean, seriously. You didn’t have to do this. Thank you,”

He moved his eyes from your hands to your eyes, “(Y/N), of course I had to do this. You deserve the world and better,” he took a deep breath, “Love, I’m so sorry that that bastard hurt you. He did so many awful things to you, and you’re incredible for handling it the way that you did,”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah? You handled it like an adult. I think I would have killed him,”

You laughed. You wouldn’t mind it so much if Douxie fought your ex. You didn’t want him dead, but if your wizard friend could kick his ass a little, that would be nice. Of course, the first one who got a chance at knocking some sense into that slimy git would be you, but after that Douxie could have his turn. The thought made you laugh harder.

It only took a minute for both you and Douxie to be on the floor, laughing. It wasn’t even that funny, but crying from laughter felt a lot better than crying from heartbreak. Eventually, you picked up the guitar again, but it took a while. You couldn’t get enough of Douxie’s laugh, and he couldn’t get enough of yours.

Before he walked you home, Douxie grabbed your shoulders, “You know you deserve better than him, right?”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist, “I know. But it’s nice to hear someone else say it,”

“I’m glad I could be of service,”

You giggled again, still wanting to kiss him. But you didn’t. Not yet.

It took you a little while to learn all of Jolene. Some parts were harder than others, but eventually, you got it. Douxie had never been prouder.

After that, you were addicted. You got Douxie to teach you other songs. It didn’t take much convincing. He loved listening to you play. He loved a lot more than that, and you loved a lot more than the guitar.

It had been a few months since the break-up.

You were in Douxie’s apartment, Archie curled up by the window, the wizard himself in the kitchen, and you on the couch, trying to get a chord right. It wasn’t going well. You groaned loudly, waking Archie.

“You don’t have more questions about pigeons, do you? Because I told you, I will not be speaking with them again-”

“No, Arch, it’s not that. It’s just this freaking chord is driving me insane,”

“Ah,” the familiar said, looking between you and the guitar, “I’d help if I had hands. Good luck, though,”

“Thanks, Arch,” you returned your focus to the chord, still frustrated. Then Douxie’s hands were on yours.

“You’ve almost got it, it’s just-” he adjusted your hands. As he did, you noticed how close he was, seated behind you on the couch.

“Thank you, Doux. Not just for this, I mean for everything, you’ve been amazing the past few months, and I-”

“(Y/N), I would do anything for you,”

You turned as much as you could, facing him, “Really?” you asked, hearing your own smirk in your voice.

Douxie laughed slightly, “Really. I-” he bit his lip, driving you more insane than any guitar chord ever could, “I think I love you, (Y/N),”

This was it.

You (finally) kissed him.

And it wasn’t a chore or something that was done to you, it was something you did that you both wanted to do. It was soft and safe, and it felt good. It felt like you were loved the way you deserved to be loved. This was the world and better.

“I love you too, Douxie,”

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legoshi-plz · 4 years

Text

Pretenses Part 4 (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Part 4. Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince! Louis x Canine!Dog! Reader.

Warning: Slight NSFW +18 Themes ahead

//////////

Over the next few weeks, you and Legoshi struck up a perculiar yet inevitable friendship. You would love to say it was of natural causes but it wasn’t. The two of you were similar in so many aspects, it would be odd if you two didn’t find kinship in one another.

He was the royal body guard to Princess Azuki and, much like yourself, he was hardly ever allowed a moment of peace. She liked to keep him by her side at all times, which he explained was very stressful because her life was essentially in his hands, leaving no room for error.

“I’m actually glad there’s so many rules and regulations at this palace. Finally there’s some separation and I’m not working at all times.” Legoshi told you one night as the two of you ate together. Whenever neither of you were on duty, he tended to gravitate towards you to try and learn the ways of this land, hoping to fit in. Well, fit in as much as a 6’5 massive Grey Wolf could.

The small number of other Carnivores that Princess Azuki had brought with her were not acclimating quite as well as Legoshi and you could tell they were not fond of the place Carnivores had in this society, mainly with them not being able to be in the castle during the day. You could tell just by your fellow kitchen coworkers that the Herbivore staff was growing antsy as well.

“She never lets you take breaks back in your old land?” You asked.

“No, I have to be at her beck and call almost nonstop. Sometimes it’s like I’m there more for her entertainment than actual protection. Can get a bit tiresome,” Legoshi said in that soft tone of his which was almost an oxymoron compared to how deep his voice was. It was as if whenever he spoke, he was trying to put the person he was talking to at ease. You hated to admit it, but it worked on you every time.

/////////

The more time you spent away from Louis and his bizarre behavior, the more he began to fade from your mind. With how busy you were in the kitchen day and night, you barely gave the Prince a second thought. You also had a new distraction in your life that undoubtedly kept your mind preoccupied.

You and Legoshi quickly became as thick as thieves. You found yourself looking forward to seeing him during any spare moment of the day, even for just a little bit. Which brought you to where you were today, walking with Legoshi around the grounds while you took the too short lunch break you were allotted.

“Shouldn’t you be using your lunch break to actually eat?” Legoshi asked, tugging at your tail as the two of you walked by the garden. You waved to the Carnivores maintaining it, promising to bring them some iced water as soon as you headed back to the kitchens.

“I’m surrounded by food all day and night, I like to savor every moment I can away from it. What about you? Don’t you have a princess to guard?” You teased, playfully swatting his hand away.

“I’m dismissed for the evening. She’s with her fiancé. He doesn’t like me hanging around,” Legoshi smiles fondly, obviously enjoying the indirect free time Louis had granted him. You could see Louis not wanting him around, he did hate Carnivores after all.

‘Especially you...’ a tiny voice reminded you. You brushed it off.

“An entire evening off, I might have to utilize your time for my own gain then,” you smiled as his hand latched back onto your tail.

“Anything you need, just put me to work.” Legoshi smirked as he tugged you closer by your tail. It was incredibly familiar, and some might even say intimate, for one Canine to play with another’s tail yet Legoshi could never leave yours alone.

“Having fun back there? You know it’s not that interesting, you’ve got one too,” you teased.

“Yeah but not like yours. It’s so soft and shiny, it almost reminds me of a-“

“Y/N!” You and Legoshi turned to see the Prince approaching with his fiancé by his side. She looked just as infuriated as he did.

“What do you two think you’re doing out here?” Louis sneered, his eyes trained on you.

“My apologies my liege, but Carnivores are mandated to be outside during the day. We were simply walking the grounds outside. We.... we weren’t breaking any rules...” you said awkwardly. Louis knew the rules because his family had been the one to put them in place so why was he so upset?

“You’re supposed to be in the kitchen doing your duties, not frolicking in the gardens with some mutt,” Louis bellowed and you felt your tail slip from Legoshi’s grip as it tucked between your legs.

“My apologies, my liege. I was on my lunch break-

“I don’t care, nor did I ask. Now get out of my sight.” The usual humiliation came in but this time was accompanied by a bitter anger that you weren’t sure how to place. No matter where you were or what you were doing, the Prince always found a way to demean you simply for existing.

You turned to return to your position and Legoshi followed beside you.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“No, you won’t,” Princess Azuki said in an ice cold tone causing Legoshi to freeze. “You’ll stay here and guard us during the rest of our stroll.”

“Ma’am, I was given the afternoon off. By him.” Legoshi said glancing at Louis.

“Well I’m taking it away. Now assume your position.” She snapped and he reluctantly let you go as you resumed your trek up to the kitchen.

You fought your emotions the entire way there until you finally felt calm enough to work.

//////////////

The next morning you found yourself once again with Legoshi. He had come to visit you in your quarters last night after you were done with your duties and hadn’t left since. You’d usually be asleep at this time but you much preferred his company to the inevitable swirling of your thoughts that would have kept you from slumber anyway.

You were sitting inbetween his legs with your back pressed to his chest. Neither of you had said much to one another since the ‘incident’ from earlier that day. It still made your blood boil just thinking about it but having him here with his tail wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on top of your head did make you feel immensely better. It was the first time you’d felt such comfort from another Canine and you were beginning to wonder how you never sought out this type of intimacy amongst your own kind before.

“You smell different, you know,” Legoshi commented suddenly. You could feel the vibrations of his voice rumbling against his chest despite his low volume.

“Different how? Bad different?” You sighed, looking out the window. You maybe had half an hour before sunrise when you’d have to report to the kitchen.

“Not bad, really, just different. When I first got here, you didn’t smell like a Carnivore. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was but now I can. You smelled like the Prince,” Your ears shot up at the statement. It wasn’t that strange to smell like him, you supposed, seeing as how you worked for him personally, however the fact you were taking naps in his bed probably wasn’t exactly deemed appropriate.

Or him kissing you on the balcony either...

“I guess so. Before you guys arrived, he used to make me watch him eat every meal,” you chuckled darkly.

“That... probably explains why you only smell like you now,” Legoshi hummed but you got the feeling he had more to say.

“Something wrong with smelling like myself?” You laughed, elbowing him playfully.

“Of course not, there’s nothing wrong with your scent but uh....” Legoshi was hesitating again, his tail unconsciously wrapping tighter around you.

“H-how would you like to smell like me instead?” Legoshi asked and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. Legoshi was asking you to let him.... scent you?

“You...? You mean like-”

“Yeah,” Legoshi answered quickly.

“Wow, had no idea you liked little ole me so much,” you giggled, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

“I don’t see how you couldn’t, I uh thought it was pretty obvious,” Legoshi muttered and now it was your time to feel embarrassed. A boy had never confessed to you before but then again there weren’t many domesticated male animals that worked in the palace and even then they were usually kept far away, doing more labor intensive work. You had never imagined that someone so high in the Canine class like a grey wolf would ever have interest in a common, lowly dog like yourself.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you felt the cool temperature of Legoshi’s nose burrowing softly along your scent gland.

“Is this okay?” Legoshi’s voice rumbled, his long arms wrapping around your abdomen to join his tail.

“It’s more than okay,” you sighed, leaning into him. You wished you had more time with him. It was like you could never get enough of being around him, could never get tired of his presence.

When you were with Legoshi, everything seemed to just fall into place.

//////////////

“Here ya go,” One of the Gazelles from your station, handed a platter of assorted cheese, veggies, and spreads.

“Where’s this going?” You asked taking it off her hands.

“Where d’ya think it’s going? Straight to the Prince. Apparently the food we serve in the dining hall isn’t good enough for ‘em,” she rolled her eyes before walking off. You huffed, preparing yourself for the inevitable trek to his quarters.

You knocked on the door of his study and entered, wordlessly setting down the tray in its usual spot on a side table by the window. You were about to make a silent exit but Louis was not having that in the slightest.

“And where do you think you’re going. I didn’t dismiss you nor did I give you any proper instructions. Now pick up that tray and set it in front of me,” Louis sneered.

God you were so sick of his mind games.

You did as you were told, setting the tray in front of him only for him to grab your arm as you tried to retreat. He stood suddenly at full height, his towering figure intimidating, even to a Carnivore such as yourself. You tried to shrink away from him but he had your arm in a deathgrip.

“Why do you....?” He leaned forward, his face nearly in your neck as he inhaled deeply. His face took on a look of horror as he leaned back. “Y-you’ve been scented!”

“My Prince, this isn’t appro-”

“Cut the bullshit, Y/N!” Louis snapped and you cringed away from him. “It was Azuki’s fucking lapdog, wasn’t it?”

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed. Louis’s grip on your arm had turned from uncomfortable to down right painful. His eyes were lit with rage and you had honestly never seen the Royal this decomposed. Usually his anger was tactical, reserved yet percise. The state he was in now could be described as nothing less than a blind fury.

He didn’t waste a second as he dragged you out of his study and to his personal bed chambers. He kicked the door close behind him and then proceeded to throw you into his bed. Before you could even get your bearings, he was ripping off your uniform.

“My liege, my liege please! Don’t do this, I-”

“Shut up! Has he had you? I have to know if he’s had you!” Louis had completely ruined the lower half of your uniform and was about to rip your underwear off in the same fashion before he seemed to think better of it. He then grabbed you by the thighs and dragged you closer to the edge before getting down on his knees. He brought his snout to your core and inhaled deeply.

You were humiliated beyond belief and shocked into silence at his bizarre actions. Your mind struggled to keep up with whatever the hell it was he was doing.

“He hasn’t defiled you yet, at least not recently.” Louis huffed, his anger still simmering but not as erratic as before.

“I’m going to ask you this only once and if you lie to me, you and every single Carnivore in this vicinity will pay the price,” Louis said darkly, “Has he fucked you?”

“N-no,”

“Did you let him touch you?”

“P-prince Lou-”

“Answer the question!”

“Y-Yes,”

“Where? Be percise.” Louis was fuming but there was another emotion bubbling to the surface: desperation.

“M-my tail. My neck. H-hands...” you trailed off awkwardly.

“Has he kissed you?”

“No, never,” you could see the tension physically leaving Louis’ body as he gazed down upon you.

“So he hasn’t touched you here?” Louis asked, his hands sliding up to fondle your chest lightly through the ruined uniform.

“N-no, sire,” you could feel your lower abdomen flutter at his touch.

“What about here?” His hands trailed down to your exposed thighs. You shook your head.

“And here?” He asked, his voice thick with lust. His fingers brushed against your clothed entrance, the thin fabric of your panties offering no resistance to his intentional administrations. You choked on a moan as he applied pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“N-no, my prince,” you gasped, attempting to clench your thighs together but he wasn’t allowing that at all.

“So you’re still my good girl?” Louis urged, increasing the pace of his hand.

“Y-Yes,” you bit your lip trying to hold back more embarrassing moans.

“Then say it,” Louis taunted, pinching your clit in slight pain.

“I-I’m your good girl,” you panted, eyes fluttering close.

Louis leaned over and kissed you right as he pulled your panties to the side and slid one long finger inside you. You gasped at the intrusion allowing him to shove his tongue down your throat with ease. He added another finger inside of you as he proceeded to give you the sloppiest, most erotic kiss of you life (not that you really had anything to compare it to other than the time he kissed you on the balcony.)

You were grinding against his hand while openly moaning into his mouth, beyond the point of trying to mask how turned on you were. Louis finally broke the kiss so that the two of you could catch your breath. He slid his fingers out of you, causing you to whimper in protest at their removal. He then stuck the glistening digits in his mouth, licking them clean of your juices. You looked down to see the Prince was straining with his own sense of control, his pants tenting with his own unsatisfied member.

“I’m forbidding you from seeing him,” Louis declared, adjusting his uncomfortable ‘visitor’ so that it wasn’t so noticeable.

“W-what?”

“You’re forbidden from seeing him. Or any Carnivore male for that matter. I won’t have them deflower you and that’s final,” Louis said, turning to walk away.

“You can’t do that, sire! I’m a Carnivore! I’m supposed to be with my own kind! I’m not your personal pet you can torment just because you’re bored!” You huffed, standing up from his bed.

“Exactly, but you’re too stupid to realize you’re so much more than that.” Louis scoffed, cutting his eyes back at you.

“I’m not stupid! And I’m not going to just sit here and let you just continue to humiliate me day in and day out. Not anymore. I quit,” you adjusted your uniform as best you could but Louis stood in front of the door that served as the only exit and he seemed to have no intention of moving.

“You can’t quit. I won’t allow it,”

“I don’t care what you allo-

“Let me rephrase this in a way you’ll understand then. You’re not to leave this room under any circumstance. And if you do, I’ll have you arrested for treason against the royal court and you can spend the rest of your days in the dungeons with the murderers and theives,” Louis apprehended you for a moment in case you were going to try and make a run for it but you were stunned into silence. He then turned and left his quarters, a loud resounding click ringing through the air next signified that he had indeed locked you in.

You were trapped in every sense of the word.

///////

#beastars #beastars louis #beastars louis x reader #louis x reader #louis x you #louis

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

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Lost in Translation

If someone told me a couple of months ago how invested I’d be in OH and the story, I would laugh at them. But here we are, isn’t life full of surprises :)

Apologies for mistakes, if you notice any please feel free to let me know!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2,358

Summary: What happens when it’s just Dr Ramsey and his thoughts?

Warnings: None, just a tiny bit of angst & fluff. A lot of introspection!

~~~~~~~

After what felt like the longest shift ever, Dr Ethan Ramsey finally entered his apartment. He closed the door, leaving the whirlwind of his professional life outside.

A biscuit golden retriever jumped at him with all the might in his paws and the sore muscles of a 37-year old diagnostician almost gave up under the pressure of furry ball of fluff.

“I’m happy to see you too, buddy. But you need to go easy on me today.”

Jenner just stared at him with those big black eyes, licked his hand and went back to solving the most important problem of the day: how to cadge some real food, the one hooomans eat.

Although he was far from contemplating whether dogs have what resembles an intelligence (it was someone else’s specialty) he couldn’t help but think Jenner knows. This constantly salivating, instinct-driven creature somehow understands what it is that Ethan asked him to do and why.

“Great, Ramsey. You are going crazy, may as well admit yourself to the psychiatric ward right now. Dr Keller will be delighted to see you. And all the predators of Edenbrook will finally have a proper fodder - Ethan freaking Ramsey has officially freaked out.”

Having poured himself a decent glass of scotch, he stood in front of a giant window overlooking the bay. The waters were quiet and calm, a total contrast to the fire burning inside him after taking a long sip. There was something soothing in the almost painful feeling. 10 years ago downing a whole glass of neat scotch was way beyond his repertoire. One of the perks of being over 35, he guessed. It was scientifically proven that man’s tastebuds change drastically after reaching certain age. He had to admit, there was at least a grain of truth in this. The gold liquid was no longer just bitter and harsh; it had texture, flavour, a complexity - something he wasn’t able to appreciate before. As a doctor, he also knew that he’s got 20, maybe 25 years of this experience left - until ruthless time and ageing will blend all tastes into one.

The lights of the night danced around the spacious living room, their gold reflections creating an aura of mystery in a dimly-lit apartment. He looked around and his gaze landed on antique vase, a present Naveen brought him from Greece for his 35th birthday. It complemented tasteful interior design, expensive decorations and custom furniture perfectly.

As beautiful as they were, all these things made him feel nothing. It was almost ironic that this unquestionably beautiful property, paid for with his own blood, sweat and tears, he couldn’t possibly care less about. Right now, he could have been in some shithole in Roxbury, sipping cheap beer and it would make no difference whatsoever. Except, it would have saved him a mini fortune, which he was now spending on this goddamn penthouse in Beacon Hill. A place he never ever spent more than 4 hours at a time in.

He smirked at the thought - that’s exactly what Naveen said about his own lake house before saying goodbye to his mentee last year. Back when he thought he was going to die soon. Was it surprising? No, everyone was expecting that Ethan will one day take Naveen’s place as the best diagnostician in the world. He considered this not so much an honour, but rather a tribute to his biggest idol, his friend, his father figure. If he was to ever repay Dr Banerji for everything he’s done for him, there was only one way - he needed to be the best among the best.

They called him the best diagnostician of his generation. Although he resented the title, this label given to him by the mutual admiration society (that he had zero respect for), he was very much aware that he was exceptional at his job. Ethan never thought of this as bragging, because bragging made people vain. He liked to think of it as self-confidence, which, as it grew stronger, made him work for his patients even harder than he ever thought possible. The people whose lives he saved, they had to have confidence in him. They had to believe that he knows what he’s doing. And how could he instil a sense of confidence in them, had he not had it himself?

“You can’t give what you don’t have.” - the sentence kept echoing in his head. Tobias used to say that to him all the time, he lived by these words. It was probably the only relic of their once unbreakable (or so they stupidly thought) bond and also the only thing relating to Tobias that didn’t make him want to gag.

So Ethan accepted his role as a successor of the greatest diagnostician in the country. Because there was a mission and a responsibility behind this fate. Because there was a sense of safety in predictable realms of medicine. Also, because… it felt like kicking Tobias right in the crotch. Although he’d never admit this to anyone, least of all himself, the unwritten competition they were subject to for the past 17 years, helped him keep a laser focus on the tasks in front of him. And every time he was able to wipe the smile off Mass Kenmore’s ‘star’ handsome face, Ethan felt satisfaction.

Becoming the man he was today required a lot of changes. He got rid of all the needs of usual Everyman. First, he swept his feelings under the carpet of indifference and cynicism. Then, he learned how to live among people, but without delving into deep and ‘meaningful’ relationships. This was his bauble and he was perfectly… content with it. That is, until it hadn’t been smashed to pieces because something happened to him.

Someone happened to him.

Oh fuck.

He made a desperate attempt to try and stop the inevitable, but it was too late.

His head was instantly flooded with images, followed by ubiquitous tingles that filled his body. In his mind’s eye, a face shaped instantly, the image so vivid that he was almost blinded by it. It’s as if the person was standing right in front of him. The feeling was as mesmerising as it was painful.

Damn it. She didn’t even have to be here to do things to him. To make him see things. Smell things. Hear things. Feel things.

Ethan and The Feelings. This band rarely played together. Ethan wasn’t really a team player and The Feelings were loud, untameable and too unpredictable for the likes of him. He had to learn to tolerate them, because wherever she went, they followed.

He couldn’t rid of her presence, no matter where he was or what he did. Not that he wanted to - he just couldn’t, for the love of god, comprehend all this. Having been a king of self-control and master of his own life, it was beyond Ethan’s understanding how this woman, almost a decade younger than him, managed to turn him into… well, Jenner. He’d do anything she’d ask him to do. He was an electric ride-on, the one they buy for children. And she was holding the remote.

No, this wasn’t the most fortunate comparison. Because an electric toy was not capable of feeling things. And he was. A lot. More than he ever thought possible and more than he wanted to.

The fear of being misapprehended stopped him from telling her that sometimes he hated what she was doing to him. Not her, he could never hate her. He hated this unexplainable power she had over him and wasn’t even fully aware of. It frightened him. That she clawed his composure back so easily. That her youth, enthusiasm and energy were like a tornado to the illusionary beach he used to inhabit in his head. The force of her personality wreaked havoc on the well-oiled cogs of the machine that was once his life.

It took all the strength he had to stay away, from the day he first saw her. No, that’s not right. From the first time he felt her. Ethan’s mind was definitely against him today, because the images materialised within seconds, before he even managed to fully accept the presence of the thought.

He was sitting in his office, wondering why the hell has he agreed to help Harper with reading pages of blabber from wannabe surgeons and doctors. They were all the same and if he got a cent for every time they got under his skin, he’d be a millionaire. But Harper was an old friend and his ex, he had a lot of respect for her. She’d just been promoted to the Chief of Medicine and although she was more than capable to do the job, he understood that transition from theatre to bureaucracy was scary and challenging for her. It was the least he could do to help and certainly a task way easier than being a shoulder to cry on.

Having gone through pages of “I wanna change the world and find a cure for cancer” he almost fell asleep on his desk. Not that there was something wrong with medical research or a quest for deeper meaning of one’s career - but what he read in those applications sounded like an extract from a beauty pageant. And, frankly, when he looked at some of the photos attached to applications, he couldn’t help but think beauty pageants were a better fit for some of these people than a hospital.

“Christ, are they giving away medical degrees for free these days?” He sighed loudly, sending another handful of pages onto the pile of would-be Grey’s as he called them, because he was more than certain that majority of these people derived their idea of work in hospital from the TV series Grey’s Anatomy. All Ethan knew was that he’s never seen anything more divorced from reality, having watched one episode after all the nurses kept chirping about Dr Derek Shepherd for a whole week.

Fully prepared for yet another disappointment, he turned the front page of next file. Looking at him was a young, beautiful woman with raven hair. Her gaze was daring and gentle at the same time. Even though it was just a photo, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she looked right through him.

Things only got better as he kept going through the next pages. Her application was a riveting read, it was honest, filled with passion and well written, all without being cliche. He saw the most incredible potential, but more importantly, he felt it. She made him feel things, even though he never met her. It was all just pouring from the pages. Ethan would always remember how excited and nervous it made him feel. He almost suffered from a head-on crash with gurney whilst running to Harper’s office, because he had to make sure that she gets the residency position in the hospital. His own feelings played no role here, she simply deserved this position and he knew Dr Emery won’t even question his judgement.

And then he met her.

To be honest, he completely forgot about the interns’ induction, he’s seen so many in his life already that he couldn’t care less. The new case Diagnostics Team took onboard was occupying him completely on that day.

Looking at it now, he couldn’t help but think of one of his favourite movies, Picnic at Hanging Rock. There was this line that he always felt drawn to, but could never fully understand:

“Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place“

He was walking down the long corridor, when he heard Danny, one of the nurses, screaming. A minute later Ethan was on his knees, next to a woman in her 50s. He figured out quite quickly what was happening to her, but if his diagnosis was correct, he was going to need some help. Having lifted his gaze, he looked for a familiar face. But there was no one around. That’s when he remembered about the stupid intern induction.

“Damn it, where are the doctors?!” - he asked out loud.

“I’m a doctor!” - responded an unfamiliar voice. Ethan turned around and saw a young woman with black hair in fresh scrubs. He never saw her before and figured she must be one of the new interns.

“You, Rookie. Come here!” - he literally wouldn’t mind if she was an actress playing a doctor, he needed an extra pair of hands. Right here, right now. She kneeled on the patient’s left side, her sight piercing him, waiting for instructions. That’s when it hit him.

It was her.

The fate didn’t spare her - Ethan knew as well as she did that having to deal with Hemothorax on your first day was a tricky business. But she was brilliant. A little nervous, yes, but brilliant.

All she needed was a push. That’s why he picked her to pieces, leaving her confused and probably upset. She will understand one day and she will be grateful.

He said what he had to say and then he just disappeared behind the corridor. He couldn’t be around her more than necessary. Because she made him feel. And this was the last thing he needed right now. Or ever.

What the hell?

Dr Ramsey shook his head and woke up from his daydream. He felt his loyal furry companion licking his hand with a pleading gaze. Suddenly, the weight of the thoughts crushed him like a tidal wave, the feeling so intense that his legs instantly turned into Jell-O, forcing him to sit down. That’s exactly what he was afraid of. The moment he’s had a minute, he immediately gave into thoughts. That’s what she was doing to him. Every part of him wanted to take an extra shift, but common sense and medical knowledge prevailed. He needed 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, otherwise his body would give up soon, making him no use to anyone, especially not all the patients who desperately needed him.

But he was a fool to assume this was going to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed, I tagged the accounts I follow and truly admire!): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey @incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #edenbrook #pixelberry #open heart choices #play choices #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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blushing-starker · 3 years

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Cold mates and black coffees

For @starkerfestivals prompt of mates

There is, he supposes, something beautiful about a world such as this, primitive yet advanced and sophisticated. Children no taller than his knee carry around super computers that fit in the palm of one's hands, talk to friends thousands of miles away whenever they want. It used to take him months to receive his preferred concoction for the early night wake up call, now stores inhabit every corner of every city. They patiently wait to receive their dependents, all sorts of people relying on some version of the simple black coffee to jolt their system. Convenient, sure, no doubt about that. A quick stop at a Starbucks and violá, five hours of productivity guaranteed. But nothing builds character like swimming laps through a freezing lake infested with piranhas to keep away the urge to rest for just another five minutes. Unfortunately, sleepless days were the norm for him and Rhodey whenever they endeavored to race each other underwater.

There are clothes, too. Clothes for each season available year round. Fox fur adorns a lanky mannequin next to a twin showcasing how breezy summer fabrics can be. Riding boots that he would have spent a small fortune on decades ago shine below man made light for the cost of a nice meal over at Pepper's. Jewels fine enough for the family vault enchant any who take so much as two steps in either direction. Everything is for sale; it just means swiping a plastic card, presenting a number off a super computer or giving the cashier the remains of ancient trees. He could buy an ice cream cone (with sprinkles, of course, he's not an idiot) and immediately wander over to a restaurant selling sizzling curry. It's what his father dreamed about, a thousand years ago. How odd then, that his only heir couldn't be more nonchalant to all this.

It's his what, first month back from sleeping for half a century? He got accustomed to this whirlwind of a consumerist world by the first week. The soft purr of self-driving engines, flashing neon street signs, a melting pot of twenty, thirty languages, glittering clothes clashing with garish makeup, an overwhelming scent of smoke, perfume and money is as familiar as the palm of Rhodey's left hand or Pepper's right. Is it fantastic, being alive for the wild ride that is the twenty-first century? Yes, of course it is. But it's his father's dream; not his. His dream is the same as what drove Maria Stark into the world: finding his mate. Which, logically speaking, won’t happen until time has colored his hair with quite a bit more starlight and streaked thin lines around not too shabby cheekbones. (Rhodey’s teasing words.)

Going along with logic, there is a chance his mate will never show up. It was mere luck his father met the only woman besides Peggy that could stand his whole. Well, that could just stand him, period. A mate is found by scent, identified by touch and only bound with words. If his father had gone for one more drink, he’d probably be as real as the tooth fairy. In the back of his head, there lives a voice. And this voice he named Miss Lucky. She told him how lucky he would need to be in order to find a mate not too close to cradle or grave, a person that saw eye to eye in the majority of the basics and was open to his predilection. Someone that wouldn’t fear or expose him, wouldn’t want to strike the killing blow themselves. And Christ, with or without Miss Lucky, it’s a fool’s idea, thinking that in the middle of New York amidst one of the coldest winters to ever grace the city, his mate, his soul’s match, his other heart will chance upon him and actually accept the fact that he barely exudes a scent. Let alone something useful enough to help others recognize his class.

That’s the one downfall to living in this time; so much tension regarding one’s class. It is infinitely better than before when there were only three possibilities and the social restrictions could very rarely be shattered. But now it’s about pulling rank, percentages listed on a piece of paper could be used against you or signify one’s survival. A double-edged sword. To be a nurse, any applicants must be less than thirty percent alpha. Soldiers were forbidden from entering foreign countries if they had more beta characteristics than not. Lovers, in some parts of the world, could marry exclusively when their percentages were compatible. In the old times, if you smelled like an omega, you were treated as such. That could entail being thrown into a whorehouse or perceived as royalty destined to bring life into the world. Once puberty came, a simple prick and a vial of blood determined one’s next decision regarding the future.

He took the test. Just out of curiosity and it’d be rude not to provide a mate with information so readily accessible merely because of an unjustified fear over his identity. He is an alpha. And if the test had said otherwise, it would have been no problem. Of course not, he would have been proud to identify as a beta or omega. His mother was a beta and his nanny, basically his second mother, was an omega. No shame would’ve clouded his mind at receiving such news. The matter was this, though, he had believed to be an alpha the entirety of his life. If the paperwork said that was his lowest percentage, different rules and procedures, updated to today’s society, would need to be learned.

And he’s so tired of it all when only a handful can smell the fact he’s an alpha. What was he supposed to do, carry the results in his pocket in case a bigot searched for a fight? No, that would be, as Pepper had made very clear before, extremely silly.

He carries the test in case his mate considers such matters important. Or their family. Yes, it’s not because he worries that society will somehow doubt his identity. In the end, being an alpha is an integral part of who he is. It shouldn’t be that way and he barely knows what that means, but it’s true. Miss Lucky comes back around swiftly now, what if his mate isn’t interested in him because of his percentage? What then? Learn what the other classes represent to that person and behave in ways they believe suit said classes? Could his match be with a pureblood, intent on “staying true” to their highest percentage? Would he be able to, cinnamon. Wait, cinnamon and honey? Is that rain and sunlight? Since when does Starbucks incorporate those smells? And how the hell does he know what sunlight smells like? He’s insane. There’s no other explanation, oh that must have hurt.

A young man has just barreled into him. Slammed into his arm like a linebacker. A linebacker that weighs a feather and a half. How is he this light, a breeze had more force. What should he, what’s the proper ritual here, oh my god

“Your nose is bleeding- “

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking. I’m just late for class and- “

“Calm down and let me buy you some coffee; you’re half dead- “

“Shit, your coat. I will pay you back, I swear.”

He hums, looks down and apparently he was too involved in his quest to find a mate that he completely bypassed the thought that this man had accidently crashed into him while holding a coffee…

A mate. He doesn’t know what sunlight smells like. How could he? Unless that’s what his mate smelled like. The young man inhales sharply, lets out a little “oh, I think, I know it’s you.” and, on further reflection, he notices this kid has the voice of an angel. Soft and kind while not being so lilting he’d think it weak and demure. Ah, he looks like an ethereal entity too. Of course he does.

It’s the eyes that do it for him, enchant him enough he wants to kneel and propose right there in the hopes of waking up each night to those amber pools as familiar and mysterious as the universe itself. The rosy lips, pink cheeks and sweeping lashes are also quite nice. He has the body of a being from the old tales, a nymph or a muse destined to bring light and joy to the world. And black coffee to coats older than his father and grandfather combined.

“Could I touch you properly? I think spilling sugar over that coat didn’t really give me the chance to feel my mate, Mister?” Rhodey’s gonna annihilate him. This is a child, twenty-one at most. They could exchange numbers; communicate when his best friend wouldn’t be tempted to take one look and accuse him of going for jailbait. He could make a plan, organize a way to gently explain how he’s an undead creature of the night whose low circulation means that somehow his hormone production slowed and therefore he barely smells like wood let alone an actual human being. They could make it work. If he’s lucky, Angel here won’t fall for another. If he’s lucky, lots of things won’t happen. Or they will anyway.

“Stark. Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure to meet you, all things considered. When I learned one’s mate smells like something unknown, I didn’t quite expect literal sunshine to be what I noticed. And don’t worry about the coat; it’s nothing.”

Marie Antoinette gave him this coat as a gift on his sixteenth birthday a few years before her death. It’s fine.

“Oh. I, I wouldn’t have thought I smelled like that. It’s really nice, actually. You smell, and please don’t take this the wrong way, like alpha. And home. I know it’s weird, but I can’t explain it any other way. I’m sorry if it’s too- “

At least he already knows he dislikes that worried furrow on such a happy face. He surges forward, clasps a soft hand and lets slip a shocked gasp, sees the mirrored reaction because Jesus, it’s as if he licked his finger and then stuck it inside a power outlet. Every hair on his body stands on end and when was the last time his heart beat that fast? Surely it was the night his old flame left or when they, no. No memories of a past lover when his mate is right here, clutching his hand like a lifeline.

“I don’t believe I know your name. Seems a little unfair, don’t you think? Wanna even the odds?” It’s meant to make the young man smile and he does.

It’s only when he grins that Tony notices the sharpened incisors and the slight cold coming from the small figure. The same fog that follows him around even on the hottest of days. The exact shape of teeth Tony cleans in front of his bathroom mirror each night.

“Peter. My name’s Peter. Nice to meet you, Tony.”

#alpha!tony #tony stark #Vampire!Tony #vampire!peter #dark!starker #well #supernatural!starker #a/b/o au!#a/b/o!starker #starkerfestivals #my writing #peter parker

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

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Aro Eyes

Summary: Virgil has noticed that since his eyes started changing colour to match his soulmates hair, it’s rotated between the colours of the Aro flag. It’s helped him figure out that he’s aro too, but there first meeting isn’t so simple.

/\/\

When Virgil was younger he had loved and loathed all the stories of soulmates meeting and immediately getting married, having a romance everyone was meant to dream of. Nowadays he just hated it, and the pressure everyone put on having a romantic relationship with your soulmate.

All of that was purely because his soulmate whomever they were, wherever they might be, was almost definitely aromantic and he didn't want to change that at all. Facing the questions and pressures of society was still an intimidating prospect for whenever Virgil met them though.

His eyes had been regularly changing colours to match his soulmates hair for years, ever swapping from green to grey to black with an ever remaining circle of white in them. What else was Virgil to believe than that they were aro?

It had taken a while for Virgil to move from realising his soulmate seemed to be aro, to figuring out that he didn't mind that much because he was also aromantic and only really wanted a friend in his life partner, nothing beyond that currently. Part of him wished he could be so confident in what label to use for his sexual attraction since despite the purple, black and grey flag being very much his style, asexual didn't fit comfortably at all.

Today though he had to focus on costume and props to the current production in the theatre he worked at. There had been mentions of a few of the cast getting their hair dyed, either for the show or for personal choice, so Virgil was keeping an eye out, just in case there was someone with emerald green hair that matched his eyes today. He'd never decided if the white would be a shaved bald patch or if his soulmate might have a white streak permanently in their hair.

He was not expecting to have one of the visiting actors storm over and glare down at him while he was rearranging the props for the opening night. “Can I help you?” Virgil asked when they seemed content to start a staring contest.

“I'm Remus, he/him. You're Virgil the backstage expert and my soulmate. So when's our first date?” Individually Remus's words would have made sense for Virgil to hear, but all together? He was currently reeling from what had just been said.

“Nope, do not like that idea at all.” He shook his head, already backing away once the mention of a date registered to his mind, before waving up at his eyes. “Hang on, You're aro too. What do you mean, date?”

Remus blinked at the move, but shrugged, “Oooh! You're Aro? Cool, what chaos should we cause to stick it to the romance obsessed fools?”

“None!” Virgil exclaimed, completely lost over where the conversation could go next. Remus might be his soulmate but following his thoughts was a roller-coaster. “Are you just skipping over the fact that literally all signs I've had since our teenage years says you're aro too? Including the emerald green hair you currently sport?”

Glancing up to his white fringe as much as he could, Remus snorted a little, shaking his head. “I just like green. Parentals keep insisting that I can't keep it green for evens so the black and grey are my favourite alternatives. I've never connected it to the flags but now you've mentioned it.... FANTASTIC!! I've been supporting the identity of my soulmate my entire life despite only just meeting them! Am I the best soulmate ever or what?!” The yelling startled Virgil when it began, enough to get him hiding a little when stares where turned around to him.

“You're definitely the 'Or What' in that question.” He hissed out, trying to shove Remus into a seat and hopefully shut him up.

Remus just jumped away from him again, hands going either side of his mouth and yelling again. “HA! BEAT THAT ROMAN!! I'm the better soulmate and better brother too!”

“Who the hell are you trying to yell at? Sit down, shut up and zip it!” This time Virgil didn't give him the chance to get away, gripping Remus's shoulder's tightly while pushing him face first into some old scenery curtains. “If you're going to make this big a scene then you're going from helping me learn my identity when we never met to just stressing me out completely in person.” That hiss actually had enough of the fight melt out of Remus that Virgil let him go again.

For a few moments Remus remained leaning where he'd been pushed while Virgil took a couple of deep breaths to calm down.

“Sorry, do I have to keep sniffing these curtains cause they're damp and my nose is cold?” The mumble came eventually.

“I'll make a note to suggest the ceiling and roof is checked. Get out of it.” Virgil sighed, nudging the others shoulder. “Are we calming down now?”

“I guess, sorry I got over excited.” Remus pouted at him. “I just wanted to make sure you know you're important. To be good and not upset you.”

Virgil frowned, glancing at him over the choice of words. “Nice attempt, possibly a bit to loud for me. How about we try coming up with something extreme but quiet? Noise sets off my anxiety when it's unpredictable.”

“Painting? We could do painting together, and I could show you all the monsters and aliens I've tried designing for different climates that could happen in the universe.” Remus perked up a little, already thinking up ideas if Virgil understood the bouncing that was beginning.

“Sounds good, Remus. Bring some paints in and we can try doing that between shows and when you aren't on stage.” They shared a grin with that agreement made.

This week of shows would probably change a lot now they'd met and Virgil for once was excited to see what came next.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #soulmate au #aro virgil

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

Text

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 23: And So It Went

Hey everyone, this is the last chapter of the first series! I do have plans for a sequel in the works, however! Thank you for anyone who has read it this far!

(Ally)

Surprisingly, I didn’t fail all my exams.

Actually, I did pretty well on most of them. I somehow passed Drama with a good mark. The sub who took over was pretty chill during the exam and let us bring all of our notes. My other exams weren’t too bad either. All and all, a pretty successful end to term.

I was just about finished with my packing when I got a text from Lyn. Sarah had already gone home, since her last exam had been two days ago. I took one last look around the room before heading out. I could finish packing later.

The weather outside actually wasn’t terrible today. It was a pleasant sunny day with barely any wind chill. I tucked my chin into the top of my coat as I walked across the campus to meet up with my girlfriend. A happy tingle went through my body as thought about that. It was a little silly to still get excited about the thought, but hey, why not be happy?

Lyn stood in the archway that connected Harper and the library together. She was leaning against the wall when I got there, scrolling through her phone. The bandage was off her face now, only faint lines to show where she had been cut. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and she gave me a quick kiss.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you,” I said back.

“Ready to go?”

I nodded. She held her arm out and I looped mine through it. Together we walked over to the big tree in the middle of campus, where Michael was waiting for us. His plane left tonight but he wanted to be here for it. He waved when he saw us, and he laughed when Lyn held her other arm out with a smirk. He wasted no time on grabbing a hold of it, Lyn laughing along with him as he did.

I knew Dahlia was intrigued by what we were doing as we walked together down the path to where the Swan Pond was. I waved to her with my free hand, and she ended up trailing after us, curiosity bright in her eyes.

When we got there, we all untangled from one another and got to work. Dahlia sat on the bridge nearby and watched as we cleaned away snow and ice from a spot under one of the trees that hung over the pond. After all the snow was gone, Lyn put down a bundle of flowers. Michael tucked a stone with a beautiful design cut into it in front of the roots, making sure it was secured. I hung one of our old amulets over the stone and gently nailed a wooden plaque onto the tree. We stepped away and admired our work.

Here Lies The Forgotten Students

We remember who you are, and what you did for us. We know that society failed you when they stopped asking questions. No one should have given up on any of you. To David, we know your story. To Amelia, we know your truth. To Jamieson, we know your tale. To Fiona, we know your reality. To Fredrik, we know your narrative. We’re sorry that it took this long before someone finally learned what happened to you all, but at least you can rest easy now, knowing that the person who did this to you has met his justice. All we can hope for you now is that your next chance at life is better than this one was.

With all our love,

Spook Searchers.

“We really need a better name,” muttered Lyn.

“Hey, we’ve been through too much for us to change it now,” said Michael with a waggle of his fingers. “That would be like, sacrilegious.”

“Besides, it’s a fun name. It hides away all the horrible truths and traumas that were inflicted on us,” I pointed out.

Lyn shrugged indifferently. “I just hope we never have to do something like this ever again. I need it scrubbed from my mind.” We both nodded in agreement.

Dahlia drifted over and knelt in front of our makeshift grave. I could see her mouthing the words as she read along. Her fingers ran over the names of the departed, her eyes sad. She dropped her hands and sat there quietly for several minutes without saying a word. When she looked back at me, she was smiling through her tears.

“This is quite lovely. I’m glad you all did something nice for them, they deserved it.”

I nodded at her. “Of course. And we intend to figure out who caused your death as well. We haven’t forgotten about you either.”

Dahlia’s eyes went wide before she looked away. I saw her brush away the tears from her face and nod slowly. “Thank you. It truly means a lot to me.”

We left her alone after that. I spared a look back as we left and saw her kneeling in front of the grave, her head down and hands clasped in prayer. We walked back to the library together and decided to get one last warm drink together. Lyn paid for all of us, even though we both argued against it. The lady behind the counter laughed as we both tried our best to push Lyn out of the way, which ended in absolutely failure.

“You can’t beat these gains,” Lyn said with a wink.

We sat down at the table in the back and looked out the window. I thought about what a crazy 3 months this has been. I couldn’t believe how so much had happened in such a short time. Not only solving all those murders but dealing with all the school crap on top of it all. I felt like I was the same person I was at the start, but more mature now. Someone who liked who she was, someone who liked that she wasn’t ordinary.

“You’re gonna have some crazy jetlag, you know,” Lyn said to Michael as she sipped her hot chocolate.

Michael sighed. “Yeah, probably for a day or so. It’s not like, a terrible flight but it’s bad enough. What are you doing for the holidays?”

I saw the twitch of Lyn’s eyes before she looked down at her drink. “I’m gonna stay with Olivia for the first bit of the break, but after Christmas I’m heading to Florida for training camp. I’ll be back like, 2 days before the new term. So, not the most relaxing break but it’ll be fun.”

Michael nodded as he looked at me. “What about you, Al?”

“Going home,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to sleep for the entire break. Maybe watch some movies and TV. But me and this brain deserve a big break.” I poked at my temple.

“Yes, it does!” Michael slapped his hand against the tabletop.

We chatted for a little while longer before Michael had to head back to grab his things. His buddy offered to drive him to the airport, but it was a bit before his flight. Still, better to wait in the airport than spend money on a taxi. Lyn gave him a hug and slap on the back. I gave him a big hug and kissed him on the cheek.

“Have a good flight, I’m going to miss you,” I said.

“It’s only for a few weeks,” he said with a smile. “Plus, you can always call me. You know where I am.”

I nodded as we embraced one last time. Michael waved to us as he walked backwards. I gasped when he tripped over his own feet and nearly landed on the casted arm. Luckily, he caught himself and shouted, “I’M OKAY!” before racing back to his room.

I chuckled to myself with a shake of my head. Michael was so chaotic at times. But that was something that I loved about him. He was authentic. I wasn’t lying when I said I would miss him. There was something calming about his presence. He was a good friend, and I was glad to have met him.

Lyn and I walked back to Lukas hand in hand. I noticed she was getting a bit of a far away look in her eyes again, so I squeezed her hand to bring her back. She blinked and looked down at me with a smile.

“Sorry,” she said with a shrug. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

Lyn worked her jaw as she chewed on her thoughts before answering. “Lots of stuff, I guess. Training camp, Christmas with Liv, shit in general. It’s gonna be nice to have a break from it all. Then we’ve got the big championship meet to worry about when I get back. Just tryna make sure I’m organized because there’s a lot to remember.”

“It’s going to be fine,” I said soothingly.

“I know, I just like to be on top of things, you know?”

I laughed. “Nope! I’m pretty sure I only passed some of my classes by sheer luck. I handed in something for Anthro a week late, but I think my prof forgot I was even in the class, so she didn’t take points off.”

“Jesus,” Lyn shook her head with a playful smirk. “I can’t imagine being that disorganized. How’d you get through this term, let alone solve a crazy case? You’re something else, honestly. Like Wonder Woman or Supergirl.”

I blushed deeply. Lyn was always saying these really nice things about me and well…I wasn’t really used to them. I pressed up against her and buried my face in her arm, causing my glasses to go askew. Oh well, it’s not like I could see all that well anyway. Cold weather plus warm breath equals foggy glasses. Also, being compared to one of my favourite superheroes? I’m slightly dying of happiness on the inside.

When we got back to Lukas, Lyn helped me pack the rest of my things. It probably took the same amount of time that it normally would have because we kept stopping to kiss, cuddle, and I even got Lyn to watch an episode of Stargirl with me. It was really peaceful. A much better date than nearly getting killed by an out-of-control spirit. Hours passed by like seconds, and the next thing I knew, we were in bed sleeping.

The room was nearly pitch black as I stared up at the ceiling. Lyn was sleeping beside me, her arm tossed over my waist, snoring softly. I had been sleeping, but it came in fits right now. After everything we’ve been through, especially with that horrible horror realm or whatever the hell that had been, I’ve been having more difficulty sleeping through the night. I mean, I was sort of used to it, but not to this extent. My therapist and I were going to have a field day when I saw her next.

I turned my head slightly to look into the face of my girlfriend. I just wondered how it was all going to turn out. By some strange twist of fate, we got together because of my moral compass and curiosity. Lyn stuck around because she wanted to figure out what happened to her friend. I sometimes wondered what would have happened if she didn’t believe me that day in the café. Would I have gone through with it anyway? Would Michael and I have done it alone? I lightly traced my fingers across the scars of her arm, the ones she got because she protected me. It probably would be a different story then, huh?

All I know is this is how it turned out, and I don’t think I would have done anything differently. We got hurt, we got physical and mental scars. But I really think it was worth it to help those people. They were crying out for so long, waiting for someone, anyone, to hear them. I feel lucky in a way that I was the one who answered.

Finally, I felt my drifting off again. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me away, hopefully to a dreamless land.

XXX

Lyn helped me shove my last bag into the trunk of my dad’s car. I told her she didn’t need to stick around and help, but she told me it was no big deal. My dad nodded his thanks at her, and she nodded back. I stood by the car, fidgeting with the bottom of my coat. Lyn glanced at my dad one last time before she gave me a massive bear hug.

“Have a great break, Ally. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

I squeezed back as tightly as I could. “You too. I hope everything goes well with your sister.”

Lyn nodded, her cheek brushing against the side of my face. “Me too.” And even though my dad was still there, she cupped my face between her hands and kissed me. I blushed from the intensity of the kiss, feeling all the unsaid words. When she pulled away, I could see the emotion shining brightly in her eyes, her cheeks and ears bright red.

I kissed her cheek one last time before we untangled ourselves. I got into the passenger seat and waved to Lyn as we pulled away. She waved widely back the whole time, never stopping until I was out of view.

My dad instantly started to tease me the minute we were on the highway. I moaned and made a big show of telling him off, but I was really happy. It felt good, talking to my dad like this. As long as the topic of ghosts wasn’t brought up, we were good.

I didn’t know what next term had in store for us, but I was looking forward to it. We had to solve Dahlia’s murder, but at least we could take our time with it. There was no time limit, and hopefully no creepy murderer. There was a lot about this university, heck, even this town that was hidden beneath the surface. I wanted to learn so much more about it all. Sure, it was bad this time, but usually the ghosts are just lonely people who want to share their stories. I had this special gift, and it was about time I used it, instead of being ashamed of it.

After this winter break, I wanted to see what the future had planned for us.

#unnatural affairs #ua #ally holland #lyn hart #michael yamamoto #dahlia cressman #paranormal #murder mysteries #romance #wlw romance #ghosts #sapphic lead #original story #orginal writing #writing #final chapter

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meta-squash · 3 years

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Brick Club 1.6.2 “How Jean Can Become Champ”

I’m sorry if some of this is muddled, I wrote some of this post to avoid doomscrolling yesterday (not that it worked). It’s also long.

First of all I gotta say, I do love how Hugo manages to get everything to slot into place, when he doesn’t use his handwavy magic. The chapter opens with Madeleine settling some “pressing business of the mayorality” just in case he decides to go and collect Cosette from Montfermeil himself. Obviously this doesn’t happen, but the fact that he’s arranged stuff in advance means he’s able to go to Arras etc and mayoral matters are settled even when he’s revealed his true identity.

Hugo calls Javert “this savage in the service of civilization, this odd mixture of Roman, Spartan, monk, and corporal.” I’ve always assumed the term “savage” was another reference to his Romani ancestry, as well as his origins within a jail. The rest of the references have to do with different types or levels of self-discipline and sense of duty. Essentially, this phrase is saying that Javert carries his sense of duty with him everywhere and rarely strays from it. I’ve nicked this straight from the wikipedia page on Roman pietas, but I feel like it fits so well: “A Roman with the virtue of pietas did not leave his religious duties at the door of the temple, but carried them with him everywhere, following the will of the gods in his business transactions and everyday life.”

"His whole being expressed abasement and steadfastness, an indescribably courageous dejection.” Weirdly I love this description. Javert hates being wrong, but to admit it is to act justly and according to duty, so he does it. Which is just so interesting because he could easily not even bother to tell Valjean about any of this, and just go on with his life as normal, and Valjean would be none the wiser. But that’s not how Javert functions. The difference between himself and other cops is that his sense of duty and justice extends to himself, which he says much more directly later on in the chapter. I just like that this description includes both his steadfastness to duty and his humiliation and self-frustration at being wrong and admitting it. “Courageous dejection” is such an interesting phrase, but it makes sense. It takes courage to admit you’re wrong, and even more when it’s something as egregious as informing on a superior.

Javert interrupts Valjean here, which I can’t decide what to think about. Part of me assumes that he interrupts Valjean because Valjean hasn’t even started to speak, so it’s still sort of....socially allowed for Javert to tack another bit of explanation onto what he just finished saying. Part of me wonders if Javert feels okay about interrupting Valjean either because he assumes he’s going to be dismissed anyway, and so this small rudeness of interrupting a superior doesn’t really matter, or because despite his sense of duty, he still feels quite a bit of aversion towards Valjean (which Hugo tells us a paragraph prior) and so is less bothered by interrupting him due to his dislike. Either way, it’s interesting that Javert is so keen on duty and correct conduct and yet he interrupts Valjean here.

“...you were severe to me the other day, unjustly. Be justly so today.” Wow okay so. Javert directly disobeyed and contested authority, argued with Madeleine and attempted to undermine his command to let Fantine go. Madeleine reacted accordingly, sending Javert away. And yet Javert feels that this treatment was unjust. I think the reason he sees it as unjust is because he sees himself as defending the honor of a mayor or authority figure (as well as a well-to-do citizen, Bamatabois) against a lowly prostitute. Despite the fact that Valjean specifically defended Fantine and offered her help, he’s still going to see his defense of authority and justice as being in the right over Valjean’s empathy towards her. (Sidenote: I love that he says “the other day” even though Fantine’s arrest was almost two months ago.)

Again, we get another concrete passage of time. It’s been six weeks since Fantine’s arrest. She’s still in hospital. Hugo isn’t huge on indicating exact passages of time. Lots of “eh, about three weeks later” or “maybe four months ago” in this book. Also the absolute mess of the Thenardier boys’ timeline. Anyway, these continuous references to how much time has passed is important. Hugo wants us to know how long Fantine was a sex worker for, and now how long she’s been languishing in bed, still sick.

Javert lists off things that he recognized in Valjean. All of these make sense to me except “information you obtained at Faverolles.” When has Madeleine ever mentioned being from or going to Faverolles? The Hapgood translates this as “inquiries which you had caused to be made at Faverolles.” This makes it sound like he actively tried to find his family. Hugo specifically tells us that by the time Valjean left prison, he had forgotten his family entirely. And yet, it seems here as if he made an effort to find them, or find out what happened to them, once he had the means. What’s interesting to me is that Valjean would do that at all. Part of me says, well of course he would, he still cares about his family, and probably wants to know what happened to them, not to mention he has this thing about rose-colored glasses and probably was hoping he’d get some information despite knowing deep down that they were lost to him. But another part of me wonders why he would do that, considering that it could compromise his identity. Also I can imagine he might associate his past self, even his pre-bread robbery self, with his convict-Valjean self and his past as a “Bad Person,” so I’m not sure he would want to think about or associate with his convict self in that way. Just the idea that he maybe sent to Faverolles for information about his family is an interesting little piece of information.

We also learn that he has a leg that drags a little (and at the very end of the novel we learn it’s because he spent 20 years with a chain on that leg). Something that I’ve sort of written about before, when I reread the book in February last year, is how much information about Valjean we don’t get from Hugo’s narration. Despite much of the book being from Valjean’s POV (or Hugo looking over Valjean’s shoulder, which is how I always imagine it), Hugo always stays respectfully distant compared to his narration of other characters. The post I wrote was mostly re: Valjean’s true Thoughts And Feelings, but it also goes for a lot of his physical aspects and actions as well. Hugo doesn’t tell us about Valjean’s dragging leg when he describes him, Javert has to reveal that to us. We are told a lot of his aspects or actions through other characters interpreting him to him (wow jesus does that phrase make sense?) rather than Hugo showing/telling us while narrating through Valjean.

“He was very poor. Nobody paid any attention to him. Such people get by, one hardly knows how.” So my first thought is that this line is sort the opposite of what I talked about above. Javert knows how such people get by. Partly because he sees it every day, and partly because he grew up like that. While we just got evidence of Valjean remembering his past, this is evidence of Javert rejecting and forgetting his own. And my other thought is again how applicable this is to modern day. Cops, rich people, etc turn away despite knowing how hard poor people struggle. They know “how these people get by,” which is barely, and they know why and they know what can help or fix it, but they turn away and absolutely refuse to see it.

“Such people, when they are not mud, are dust.” This is such a pretty and poetic way of declaring such a gross opinion. But also it’s such an interesting pair of descriptors. When you’re poor the way Valjean was, or the Thenardiers will be, you are in a position to be blown away by society and by poverty, to be dirt that disappears and spreads far and wide with the gust of wind, and if you’re trying to locate a certain speck of dirt that you had been looking at before the wind blew, you wouldn’t be able to identify it. Or you’re in a position to be bogged down, to be stuck packed together, trying to survive, begging and stealing off of others around you because there’s no other way to survive, being stepped on and scoffed at by people in a better position than you, and then scraped up and tossed in a gutter or the galleys when it gets to be too much.

We get an age! Valjean is fifty-four. I feel like this is important mostly for his hair later on. Fifty is old enough to be greying but I think this makes us aware that he’s not yet old enough to be totally white-haired, and the change is a shock for that reason as well.

Holy shit this is the most adjectives I’ve seen used to describe a single character within a single chapter so far. Words describing Javert or Javert’s actions in this chapter: respectfully, conscientious, clearheaded, straightforward, sincere, upright, austere, fierce, violent, soldierly, cold, patient, genuine humility, tranquil, resigned, serious, calm, gloomy, sad, abasement, steadfastness, courageous dejection, solemnity, incorruptible, supplicating, simplicity, dignity, unenlightened, stern, pure, desperate, resolute, bizarre grandeur, oddly honest. The biggest takeaway from all of these, I think, is how much Javert’s pious loyalty to justice and morality is not corrupt, at least in the usual sense. It’s misguided, it’s unsympathetic, but he genuinely believes in his own actions. He is aware of his severity, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty, he sees it as justice. He doesn’t acknowledge the evil of his actions because he doesn’t see them as evil. He is (and I want to go into this later for 1.8.3) a personification of the “evil of good,” and an illustration of how justice can go too far. But he does everything with that air of honesty and cold dignity, because he genuinely believes that his morals and his dedication to justice is in the right.

“And now that I see the real Jean Valjean, I do not understand how I could have believed anything else. I beg your pardon.” So we’ve already established that Javert does not change his mind or admit wrong easily. We also already know he doesn’t like Valjean anyway. The only reason, it seems, that he is admitting to this mistake and asking for dismissal, is because of Valjean’s position of authority. Javert does not do mercy; once he believes someone is bad, they are forever bad. The exception is those in power, those who he sees as authority figures, even when he questioned them just a chapter or two earlier. His sense of duty overrides his morality. Which I think is a major point for him. This is what screws him over later on at the end of the book. When his morality drastically changes, he can’t change his sense of duty to fit it. The issue in this chapter a mistake which is fairly excusable: there is another person he can transfer that moral judgement onto (Champmathieu) and Valjean’s position as an authority figure overrides any of the moral suspicions Javert had about him before this transfer of moral judgement. If Madeleine-Valjean had been just a regular merchant, I wonder if Javert would have admitted to his identity mistake but also continued to be suspicious, simply because his instincts told him that if you think someone is bad, they’re probably bad.

Oh okay so this actually potentially answers my question from last chapter. Javert says “Scaling a wall and theft includes everything. It is a case not for a police court but for the superior court.” So does that mean the police could just toss people into prison for however long they liked if the crime was a misdemeanor?

Javert mentions that the police have not found Petit Gervais. I mostly want to note this because Hugo told us earlier on that Valjean gives money to every Savoyard that passes through M-sur-M and asks their name, and it seemed to imply that in doing that he’s maybe secretly hoping Petit Gervais will turn up. If Valjean hasn’t found Petit Gervais yet, I doubt the cops will.

Javert fundamentally misunderstands how Valjean is sly and cunning. Because Valjean is quite clever and cunning, but the difference is nearly all of his cunning comes not from direct lies or playing dumb the way that Javert is implying, but by using his surroundings and other people’s assumptions to his own advantage. (Plus disguises and wigs, but we don’t see that until Paris.) He buys himself time through things like the fake address trick during the Thenardier encounter, or wandering and disappearing into the woods like Boulatruelle observed, or taking advantage of incomplete information, like becoming Fauchelevent’s brother or burning his passport and becoming Father Madeleine. Valjean’s whole thing is being able to very quickly scan a room, register things, and then adapt and/or react to his situation quite quickly. (Side note: What’s interesting to me is that he’s great at adapting and acting when it comes to action but he is rather stilted and slow when it comes to emotional reaction or adaptation.)

“...tell her to make her complaint against the carter Pierre Chesnelong. He is a brutal fellow, he almost crushed this woman and her child.” Whenever Hugo mentions carts there’s usually symbolism there. In this case it sounds to me like a parallel of Javert, Fantine, and Cosette. At this point, Fantine is still alive though very sick, and Valjean is planning to go to Montfermeil himself to get Cosette. Javert’s imprisonment of Fantine would have destroyed Cosette along with Fantine, just as Chesnelong’s cart nearly crushed Mme Buseaupied and her child. She gets to make a complaint, she has the potential for Chesnelong to be punished. Fantine doesn’t have that, not to the same extent. She dies before it could happen anyway, but even if it could, she’s a prostitute who would be complaining against a cop, there’s not a lot of power on her side, even with Valjean vouching for her. But at this point, she’s only been “nearly” crushed; her child will be with her soon, at least she get that reunion despite being mortally ill, and Javert’s punishment for nearly crushing Fantine and Cosette is, weirdly, Valjean’s refusal to acknowledge his sense of duty and dismiss him.

“Besides, this is an offense that concerns only me.” This almost exactly parallels Valjean’s comment on Fantine insulting him: “The insult is to me. I can do what I please about it.” This is the second time that Valjean has denied, to his face, Javert’s sense of justice and duty by claiming offenses as a personal matter rather than a judicial one.

“In my life I have often been severe to others. It was just. I was right. Now if I were not severe toward myself, all I have justly done would become injustice. Should I spare myself more than others. No. You see, if I had been eager only to punish others and not myself, that would have been despicable!” I mentioned it above, but this is just so telling. Javert knows how severe he is, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty or lack of empathy, he sees his severity as totally in the right because it is for the good of justice. He especially sees it as good because he is willing to treat himself in a similar way. But this does make me wonder, like, would any treatment he got be as callous as the way he treats others? He’s a cop, and while he’s not the favorite of the other cops, he’s still an authority figure. So if he asked for others to be severe to him the way he had been severe to others, would they be? Or would they treat him better because he is or was an authority figure? Anyway, this line really establishes how entrenched in his own morals Javert really is. I feel like these lines here are the entire setup for his conflict and death at the end of the book. If he didn’t believe in treating himself with the same severity as others, the stakes wouldn’t be as high re: the consequences for letting Valjean go free.

Javert calls the defense of a lower person against a higher-up “ill-begotten kindness,” which I think is a really good indication of the way his view of justice works. Defending someone like Fantine, who has been beaten down and nearly broken by the system, isn’t empathy or charity to him, but kindness that shouldn’t be. He seems to think that in situations like this, the person who is being pardoned or defended shouldn’t be, and is sort of like gunning for special treatment by accepting that kindness.

“Good God, it is easy to be kind, the difficulty is to be just.” Maybe this is a weird way to look at this line, but I can’t help but think about Valjean’s conflict after leaving Digne when I read this. At that point, for Valjean, the difficult was in choosing to be kind, rather than choosing to continue to ride his old instincts that would lead to more crime. Javert learns at the end of the novel how difficult it is to be kind when all you know is being “just,” and it kills him. But here Javert equates kindness with moral leniency or maybe even moral abandonment, rather than with empathy and aid. To Javert, people who have done something criminal or morally bad cannot change and cannot be rehabilitated and will always be bad. Which makes me wonder what he thinks kindness actually is. What is Javert’s version of kindness, since he sees kindness in the form of aid or sympathy as reprehensible?

I wonder if Javert is thinking of Fauchelevent when he says, “I have hands, I can till the ground.” Would Javert have changed if he’d gone into labor work for a while, like Fauchelevent? Would work as someone who has no power over others have changed him?

Javert describes himself as a spy in a derogatory way. I think this is the only time he ever references spying in a derogatory way towards himself. However, he has been described as a spy or having spy-like qualities more than once by Hugo. For just a moment, he agrees with the narrator and reader about what he’s like, only it’s from a completely different angle. We can see that he’s “like a police spy” because he’s merciless and inflexible and generally unwilling to change any of his ways at all. He sees himself as “like a police spy” because he has breached a social contract and not only falsely suspected but reported on a superior.

A thought on Tome 1.6: I find it really interesting that despite the fact that this tome is titled “Javert,” it doesn’t include 1.5.13, which contains more of Javert’s narrative than 1.6.1 does. In 1.5.13, we see the drastic effect Valjean’s actions have on Javert, and the emotional turmoil he goes through in questioning authority the way that he does. And yet, that chapter is contained in “The Descent.” Instead, the Tome starts with “Now, Rest,” and Javert’s only role in this chapter is to write the letter to the prefect of police. So despite the Tome being titled after him, Javert is really only emotionally and narratively relevant for the second chapter. I would think that it might have been better to bookend the Tome with two chapters that were most relevant to him, 1.5.13 (which would be 1.6.1 then) and 1.6.2. Instead, 1.6.1 focuses more on Fantine’s condition which, though caused by Javert, doesn’t actually include or affect him at this point. At the same time, the last Tome was titled “The Descent.” This descent of Fantine’s levels out once she has fainted, which is a good transition into the next Tome.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #lm 1.6.2 #les mis #les mis meta #also ugh i'm sorry i use valjean and madeleine interchangeably and i've given up trying not to

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stahlop · 4 years

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Making a Memory (3/?)

Once again, a big thanks to my betas @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite. This chapter was a bitch to write.

And thanks again to @gingerchangeling for her amazing artwork above!

Chapter 1 2

Ao3

The next two days felt like torture for both Hope and Alice. They had been told by the directors that they were lucky to be allowed to go into town and that they’d better behave themselves as they were representing the camp, to which Hope and Alice solemnly nodded. Henry had sent a text through Lori’s phone (another extra dollar to deliver the message) to meet at a coffee house in town at 11:00 to which Hope replied that she and Alice would be there (another dollar to text back).

Hope had told Alice that Henry had confirmed they were sisters but nothing else, citing that this wasn’t something he could tell them over the phone.

“Maybe they both got amnesia and only remembered the last relationship they’d been in and that’s why they think our other parent is different?” Alice had suggested. Hope had thought that could be a possibility but then…

“But what about the fire? Or is that where the amnesia came from?”

“Could be?” Alice said. “Maybe they both got amnesia from the fire and forgot the other and we just went with whichever one saved us.”

“But that doesn’t explain Henry.” Hope said, which was also the fly in the ointment to every theory they came up with. Henry was the outlier. The only thing that didn’t make sense. As far as Hope knew, she and Henry both had the same father and Henry had never said anything different. Why would he lie to her for so many years about having a sister and potentially a different father?

“I definitely think their memories have been altered or erased in some way.” Alice said. “My gut usually tells me if a person is lying, and Papa hasn’t lied to me once about thinking Milah was my Mama.” She frowned at the prospect that her gut could have been wrong about her Papa all these years.

“Is it always right?” Hope asked. “I mean, you told me that it seemed to hate me on sight when we first got here, but it’s calmed down now, right?” Alice nodded. “Wait! Did you say it mainly tells you if someone is lying or not?” Hope asked, realizing what else Alice had said. Alice nodded. “My mom has that same thing. She can tell when someone is lying. I’ve always chalked it up to being able to read people well, but maybe it’s something you’ve inherited from her!” Hope got really excited about that prospect. Another piece of the puzzle being put together.

“What was it like growing up with a brother?” Alice asked, changing the subject. Her whole world had been turned upside down and hearing about things she may have inherited from a mother she never knew existed still felt a little weird.

“It…” Hope paused looking for the right words to describe it. “It was different. He’s 15 years older than me so we weren’t close. I mean, we were close, but not the close that two siblings would have if they were only a few years apart. I know he tried to help out mom with me as best he could. He lived at home during college when he could have lived at the dorms, and he lived at home until I was around 10 before mom kicked him out. He only lives a few blocks from us and he’s been real busy with the book writing lately. But he always makes time for me when I need to get away from mom for a little bit. In fact, he paid for me to go to camp this summer because I’ve wanted to go for forever.”

There was a bit of silence after that. Neither one knowing what to talk about next. They’d exhausted their theories and both of them were a little leery about learning about the other one’s parent without finding out why they’d been separated and potentially lied to for their whole lives.

Hope spent the next day reading through Henry’s novel, as if it might hold potential clues for her, even though it was a work of fiction. Alice spent them drawing pictures of various things, everything from characters in the book to things that had happened around camp. Hope was a little jealous at how good Alice was.

Finally, the day to go into town arrived. Alice and Hope had woken up early and were the first ones on the bus. They’d be getting into town around 10:00 so they’d have a little time to shop around before meeting Henry. They were both so antsy the entire trip there. As they got off the bus, Mrs. Hatfield remarked about how well they were getting along with a knowing look. If she only knew her initial assumption of them being sisters had been spot on, and that was the reason they were getting along, not because of the stupid Get Along Cabin.

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Henry had not been all together surprised when he had received the phone call from Hope. He had been expecting it after all, just not so early. He’d thought he’d have another 4 weeks, once camp had ended to figure out how to explain the situation they had all found themselves in. It wasn’t every day, after all, that one meets their long lost twin sister that they never even knew existed (although Disney would have people believing it, but they messed up most of their retellings of fairy tales, why would this be any different). But here he was, with only two days to figure out what he was going to tell his sisters, one of whom he hadn’t seen since she was two.

He knew the situation was a mess. It had been a mess since the twins were born. It wasn’t as if any of them had wanted this situation to happen, but it had and they’d been living with it for the past, almost twelve years. Well, Henry had, anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone else involved in this knew what the hell was going on besides him.

The whole situation was bittersweet. He had checked up on Killian and Alice over the years, not that they knew that. He’d been discreet. Just happening to be in the same park as them even though it was nowhere near where he lived; jogging near Alice’s school as she grew up to be able to see her during recess. It had pained him to see her playing by herself in a trove of trees near the back of the playground away from everyone else. As she got older, she had the drawing pad, and he was happy that she had something she enjoyed doing. Henry had even gone to a few of her art shows and seen just how much like Killian she was in the drawing department.

It was a lot harder to check up on Killian, as he worked at the docks and it wasn’t like Henry could just hang around the docks for no reason. He’d thought about getting a job there when he was old enough, but his mother would’ve thrown a fit. She would have given him a talking to about wasting the scholarship money he’d been given for his fancy Creative Writing Bachelors to go work, what she would have considered, a dead-end job at the docks. He had to make it part of his morning run, except that when Killian moved into management, he couldn’t get a look at him at all.

Deciding to go into Creative Writing in college was a no-brainer. He knew he needed to get his story out, but he needed to do it in sections. Become one of those writers that had a book series instead of just one book. He wouldn’t have been able to get everything into one book as it was. The problem that he hadn’t anticipated was that no one wanted to publish it. He thought the alternative fairy tale genre would have still been a big seller, but it seemed that book publishers were more into dystopian societies again (a resurgence from when he had been a kid). It had taken him a lot longer to get Once Upon a Time out to the masses than he’d intended. The sequel would just barely be released before Hope and Alice’s fourteenth birthday and that was cutting it really close for what needed to happen.

Henry had done the best he could in helping his mother raise Hope. He knew it was not the life she had imagined when she’d found herself pregnant. He still remembered with distinct clarity when she’d come rushing out of the bathroom waving around the pregnancy test. Explaining to Killian what the two lines meant, and then forcing Henry to go buy her a digital test just to make sure the cheap ones she’d bought over the internet weren’t faulty. They’d been so excited to start their family together. And when they found out they were having twins, well Killian had practically spun Emma around in excitement (a little hard because they didn’t find out about the twins part until she was almost five months along and she was already huge. Alice had apparently been shy even in the womb as she was hiding behind Hope in the ultrasounds; their heartbeats always perfectly in sync with each other). And then...everything happened.

Maybe it would be better if Henry tried to write what he wanted to say down. He’d always done better with an outline, a plan, an operation. Operation Gemini was on!

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The girls were already waiting at a table in the coffee shop when Henry arrived; three hot chocolates set at each place, all with whipped cream and cinnamon Henry noticed. As soon as Hope noticed him, she immediately stood up and ran to give him a fierce hug.

They stood there, hugging at the entrance, for what seemed a long while. Had it really only been two weeks since she’d gone off to camp? It felt almost like a lifetime. Even though Henry had moved out of the apartment, he still came by to see his mom and Hope every day. It was just the kind of family they had. Very close.

Henry had moved them off to the side so as to not block the entranceway, and he felt Hope shuddering in his arms. She was silently crying Henry realized as he stroked soothing circles on her back, something that always calmed her down as a little girl. He looked over to the table and noticed Alice sitting at the table waiting for her world to drastically change and all she looked like she was feeling awkward while she waited for them to finish their emotional reunion.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.” Hope wailed softly. “I just have so many questions and emotions from discovering that I have a sister, and it has finally hit me now that you’re here, Henry.” He was making this all real. And no matter the answer, no matter what he told her, Hope and Alice had to keep an open mind, because Henry knew the reality of this situation was going to change things forever.

“It’s okay, Hope.” Henry whispered into her hair, something else he’d always done when she was younger. “I promise, everything is going to be okay.” He kissed the top of her head for reassurance. Hope seemed to snap out of it, and she broke away from Henry and dried her eyes on the back of her hands. Henry pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and gave it to her.

“Always a gentleman.” Hope said as they walked over to the table. Alice, who had watched the whole exchange, looked at Henry with wide eyes. Henry wasn’t sure how either of them were going to handle what he was about to tell them, but Alice, despite the wide eyes, seemed overly calm about the whole situation.

“It’s nice to meet you, Henry.” Alice said, putting her hand out for him to shake it as he sat down at the table. Henry could tell she wasn’t quite sure what else to say. He could only imagine how she must feel, having grown up an only child and now she supposedly had a twin sister and an older brother.

“We’ve met before.” Henry said sadly, taking a good look at her while he and Hope took their seats. It was like looking at a punk rock version of Hope and it was a little strange. “But I haven’t seen you since you were two and mom and Killian were still dressing you in matching outfits.” He laughed, remembering how their mother, of all people, liked dressing them the same and Killian absolutely hated it. They’re individuals, Swan, not dress up dolls! Everyone nervously took a sip of their hot chocolate.

“Can we just cut to the chase.” Hope said. Henry chuckled at how much like their mother she was. Besides looking like her, just with a fuller face that he chalked up to still being a child, she had inherited her personality, and was always straight down to business. No pleasantries, no small talk, just get straight to the point.

Operation Gemini hadn’t made it much past the notes phase when Henry tried to figure out how to explain things to them. Giving a speech was not the way to go. This wasn’t a book that he could plot out an outline and hope that everything went the way he wanted it to (at least not yet). And he knew these two girls were much too smart to not ask questions about everything he presented to them. He needed to know what they knew or had hypothesized for themselves before figuring out what and how to tell them about their pasts.

Alice,” Henry said turning to her, “tell me what you’ve been told about your mother.”

“Uh,” Alice had not expected to be put on the spot, “her name was Milah.” Henry nodded in agreement, since he already knew that was who she thought was her mother. “She and Papa were together for about five years before they got married and had me. I’m named for my Papa’s mother. She died in an apartment fire when I was two which is also how Papa lost his hand. We…” Alice’s voice drifted off when Henry took out a notebook and started writing everything she told him down. He wrote at a very alarming rate, and it would look as if the words were magically appearing on the page, or at least, it would look like that to Alice, if she believed.

‘H..how are you doing that?” Alice asked, fascinated. The pen he was using looked like an old fountain pen, the kind that required ink. Alice looked around but she saw no ink. He saw her look closer at the notebook which was an old, leather bound notebook with parchment inside. Henry held his breath. Could she see? Henry looked at Hope who was looking at Henry intently the same way Alice was, but he could tell that all Hope saw was a normal pen and notebook.

Henry looked up at Alice with a quizzical look on his face. “How am I doing what, Alice? What exactly do you see?” From his tone, he hoped that Alice could see he truly wanted an honest answer. She looked hesitant for a moment, took another gulp of her hot chocolate, but then drew a deep breath before telling him exactly what she saw.

“You have an old fashioned fountain pen, but it seems to not need any ink. And it’s putting the words on the parchment for you.” Alice gulped. Henry knew that what she had said would sound crazy to anyone else, but not to him. She looked over at Hope who was looking between Alice and the pen and notebook. She definitely was looking at Alice as if she just said the craziest thing ever. A wide smile crept over Henry’s face and tears sprang to his eyes. He wanted, more than ever, to just wrap Alice up in his arms like he had when she was a baby, and give her the biggest hug imaginable. He put the fountain pen and notebook aside.

“Alice,” Henry said as he took both her hands into his, “I need to ask you something, and please answer honestly. No false modesty for my sake, please.” Alice nodded. “Now, I know Hope hasn’t read my book because she says it’s not her style,” Hope rolled her eyes at this statement, crossed her arms and mumbled “I've read some of it,” Henry gave a small laugh at that and focused back on Alice, “but have you read it?” Alice nodded, unsure of where Henry was going with this. “And tell me, my dear Alice, what did you think of it?” He continued.

Henry watched Alice closely as she tried to figure out where to begin.

“It felt like I was reading about people I’d imagined my whole life. Like they’d been living in my head with no way out and then, bam! There they were on the page in front of me. And then I started drawing. Oh, I’d drawn mostly landscapes, places that were right in front of me, but I’d had these images in my head for so long of people, that about a year before your book came out, I’d started drawing them as well. And then there they were in your book. I have sketches of Snow White and Red from before your book even hit the shelves, and at first it scared me, because Papa has always said I might be psychic, just knowing little things here and there, but there it was for me to see. These people who I’d been imaging. I’d never known their story, and here it was laid out for me in the pages of your book.” She took her hands away from Henry’s and put them in her lap as a few tears, Henry couldn’t tell if they were happy or scared tears, slipped down her cheeks. Henry was still staring at her intently, his smile even wider if that were possible. He watched her put her one of her hands under her hair and rub the back of her neck, just like Killian always did.

“Why did you ask her that?” Hope asked breaking the silence that had enveloped them after Alice had finished her revelation. Alice almost looked embarrassed about Hope asking. She’d just bared her soul about all the thoughts that had been in her head, probably for years, and how Henry’s book had opened the floodgates, and Hope’s only response had been to ask why Henry had asked that particular question? Of course Hope would be the non-believer. Like mother, like daughter.

“That’s actually a very good question, Hope.” Henry said, his smile never fading. He beamed something that he hoped conveyed pride at Alice before looking over at his sister.

“I was going to start out telling you something different. I went over this in so many different ways the past two days, but I think I’m going to have to start with the storybook.” Henry said as he went to grab something out of his satchel. Hope rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Henry, you cannot tell us we are sisters and then just go off about your fairy tale book. I get that she’s a fan, but there are more important things going on here besides your book.” Hope said, exasperated. Henry paid her no mind. He placed two books on the table. One was a much bigger, much older looking copy of his book, made from what looked like real leather and gold leaf. Like something the publisher might sell as a collector’s edition. The other looked like his current book, only it was white with a picture of an apple tree on it in a golden frame. It also said Once Upon a Time, but not as ornately as the last book. The O was in red while the rest of the letters were in brown. Underneath the title read the words: Emma’s Story.

“Is...is that the new book?” Alice squeaked out. Henry’s smile grew even wider if that was possible.

“It sure is, Alice.” He said quite happily. “And, actually, Hope, these books will tell you everything you need to know about your past.” Both Hope and Alice looked at him. Hope’s expression was one of disbelief. She’d always held their mother’s belief in the practical, everything had a logical explanation, even if lightbulbs tended to pop when one of them were angry, or they’d find random candles lit without any explanation for it when they really needed to relax. Alice’s eyebrows were practically in her hairline for how high she had raised them. Henry could see that she was more open to what he was trying to tell her.

“They’re all true?” Was all that Alice could get out.

“Yes, Alice,” Henry nodded, “they’re all true.” Alice smiled with tears starting to form in her eyes.

Hope looked from Henry to Alice completely confused. He could see she was trying to comprehend what he was trying to tell her, that the fairy tales he had written about were supposed to be real, but her brain did not compute that. Fairy tales weren’t real. They lived in the real world and magical things simply did not happen. And now Hope was getting angry, because Henry still hadn’t provided any explanation to how she and Alice had become separated and why they had been told lies their whole lives about who their parents were.

Henry sighed. “Look,” he said, running his fingers through his hair nervously, “this book here,” he pulled out the larger copy of his book and placed it on the center of the table, careful not to knock over any of their half drunk mugs, “is not just some fiction I made up.” He couldn’t believe he was in this situation where he had to explain this all over again. “Every story in this book actually happened. It’s the story of our grandparents and what they went through to eventually end up in this world.” Alice took in a breath of air while Hope looked at Henry like he was insane.

“Henry,” Hope started, “fairy tales aren’t real. What you’re saying is ludicrous, and you’re beginning to really scare me.”

“So, the Emma at the end of the book,” Alice said in barely a whisper, “she’s your mom? She’s actually the real daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and the savior destined to break the Evil Queen’s curse?” Henry knew it was a lot to take in, he knew it sounded insane, but he could also see that Alice believed every word that Henry was telling her. Hope just stared at both of them with a look that said she felt like she was the only sane person at their table.

“She did break the curse!” he said excitedly. “That’s what’s in this book. How our mother broke the curse and the various things that happened afterwards until she came to the Final Battle. And then….” Henry took a breath trying to stave off the catch that was starting to form in his throat. “We were separated. That’s how this book ends. With our separation.” He grabbed the almost empty mug in front of him and drained the last dregs of hot cocoa that were in there, grimacing at the grainy texture of the chocolate that had coagulated at the bottom. When he looked back at his sisters (he had never been so happy to add that extra ‘s’) he could see that Alice was thoroughly convinced that he spoke the truth, but Hope was still looking at him with a mix of incredulousness and a slight hint of murder. He could see her wanting to object again but cut her off when he continued with what he had to say.

“The final book. The final book of my series has not been written. I have no idea how it will end. Both of you need to help me write it because it’s about us, all of us. You two, me, mom, and Killian. It’s about what happened to us and a terrible danger that we will have to face.” Hope’s face immediately tensed at the word danger; Alice’s face lit up intrigued. He continued. “It won’t be easy. I am putting us all in jeopardy, but I don’t have a choice. This is something that we’ve known about since you two were born and I’m the one who has had to carry the burden of it for the past almost 12 years.” Tears were falling from his eyes and Alice handed him a napkin as Hope had never given him back his handkerchief from earlier. Alice also had tears falling as she had listened to what he had told him. Hope just looked frustrated.

“Henry,” Hope said, breaking in again, “are we ever going to get any answers, or are you just going to parade your books around to Alice and let her fangirl over them. We’ve been here,” she checked her watch,” for an hour and you’ve given us nothing but fairy tales. Not even that, you’ve just given us the books to decipher an answer out of! We have to meet back on the bus to camp in an hour. Are you going to be able to tell us everything we need to know by then?” She gave Henry the look, the look he’d seen too many times on his mother that showed that he wasn’t telling her the whole truth and she was getting tired of it. If she’d been standing, Henry was sure she’d be stomping her foot like the tantrums she used to throw when she was younger.

Henry thought for a minute. There was no way he could tell them everything he needed to in an hour. Hell, would they even be able to function at camp after everything he needed to tell them? Would they even believe him? Alice definitely seemed open to it, but Hope, she was so stubborn. It was like trying to convince their mother all over again. And that’s when he made the decision.

“Look, Alice, do you trust me?” He asked, holding out his hand to her. She didn’t even hesitate, she took his hand and answered yes. “Hope, Alice, you are sisters. I am your half brother. Emma and Killian love each other very much, they just don’t remember, and I need your help to bring our family back together. But to do that, you’re going to have to leave camp and come with me. Can you do that?”

Alice nodded with no hesitation. Henry probably should have been a little more concerned that Alice seemed so willing to leave camp and go off with a perfect stranger who had just told her that he was her brother with no other explanation except that fairy tales were real and she needed to somehow get their family back together, a family that didn’t even know they were broken, but he saw the belief in her eyes and the trust she had toward him and Hope, and he looked past that concern. Besides, he was her brother, just because she didn’t remember him didn’t mean they weren’t blood. Both he and Alice looked over at Hope who was still looking at them like they were the craziest people she had ever met. Henry was about to apologize for ruining her camp experience when she finally spoke.

“Well, I guess you two don’t really leave me a choice. I gotta make sure you crazy, and yes, I mean the literal meaning of crazy, people don’t get into too much trouble. Someone has to make sure that when mom and Alice’s dad, ...our dad, whoever he is, find us that we have a sane person to explain we went willingly and Henry doesn’t get arrested for kidnapping or whatever.” Hope flipped her ponytail behind her shoulder as if she didn’t really care either way if they got in trouble or not, but Henry knew better. He knew she was coming along on this crazy ride to make sure Henry didn’t do something stupid and to be there for Alice.

Henry held out his hand for Hope since he was still holding Alice’s from earlier. She hesitated only a moment before grabbing it. Alice and Hope both gave a slight jolt, something most people would not have noticed or thought they had just had a shiver run through them at the same time, but Henry knew, he knew that was the sign that everything was starting. It was the sign that their family was coming back together.

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