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elvirable · 8 months

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Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

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Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this.

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront.

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth.

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him.

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise.

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between.

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you.

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue.

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open.

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware.

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm.

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit.

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed.

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow.

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock.

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked.

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss.

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest.

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of.

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

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smittenwithsmoker · 5 months

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she’s got oceans tucked away in her hair, poems swim under her skin -Sanober Khan

Sanji x fem mermaid!reader

The chef had many dreams. He would become the greatest chef in the world. He would find the All Blue and finally cook with ingredients from all four seas to create the most delicious dishes the world had ever known. He would travel around the Grand Line with his friends in pursuit of his dreams and theirs. But perhaps the dream he’d held even longer, a dream which graced him every night for as long as he could remember, was to meet a mermaid. In his sleep, an ethereal voice called out to him with a siren song, whispered his name in his ear so clearly that he awoke thinking she’d be right beside him. He could envision her silvery tail, the eyes as blue as the ocean she lived in, the long flowing hair that floated around her in the water entirely weightless. Despite having never met the woman in his dreams, Sanji was so entirely sure she was real and that she was calling out for him.

He met her in a storm. The Thousand Sunny was conquering waves that seemed impossibly large and navigating through the swells with ease. Sanji stood at the helm, following Nami’s directions until he saw a flash of silver in the water. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, lightning reflecting oddly off the sea surface. However, Sanji knew at the second glance exactly what it was. So without a second thought, the chef yelled to his crew mates to take the helm and he dove off the side of the ship.

Sanji found her quickly, the silvery tail shimmering even in the murky, tumultuous waters. As he got closer, he heard his name being echoed through his head in a soft lilt, song like in its cadence. Her tail was caught in a net that had likely come undone from a fishing vessel in the storm and she was thrashing, trying to free herself but only becoming more tangled. She saw him approaching and he swore that when her eyes met his, that he knew her already. Her hands reached out to his and he clasped his larger ones around hers and held on as a current pushed against his body. Pulling himself closer to her, he reached for the small knife in his pocket and began to cut the net.

Once freed, her hands found his again. She looked at him, a soft smile on her face as one hand moved to caress his cheek. In his surprise, Sanji released the air from his chest and his lungs began to burn. A frown overtook her features and began to swim with him. A mermaid was the fastest creature in the ocean and within seconds, they were at the surface and approaching the Thousand Sunny.

Sanji gulped in breaths of air but did not let go of her hand as he made sure the woman of his dreams did not escape him. Her hand rested on his neck as she leaned in, first kissing both of his cheeks and then pressing her lips to his. As her lips moved with his, he could hear her voice in his head.

“You found me my love. My Sanji. My pirate. Thank you for saving me as I once saved you. I have to return to the sea but I shall find you again some day. Until then, we will meet in your dreams. I love you.”

Sanji stared at her as their lips parted and a wave crashed over the two of them. She held on so tight to him and his hands hurt from the biting cold of the water and how tightly he was grasping hers. Luffy reached down to him to pluck him from the water and his hands finally slipped from hers. She smiled up at him and blew him a final kiss before disappearing under the surface of the ocean, a swish of her silver tail the last thing he saw.

The crew thought he was hallucinating. They had seen no mermaid, only saw Sanji fall overboard and then surface before Luffy rescued him. It must’ve been a dream they told him. He almost believed them until he went to bed that evening. In his sleep, he heard the empyreal sound of her voice ringing through his head as she said his name before she appeared before him, silvery tail splashing as she made her way to where he sat on the beach.

“Who are you?” he asked the shimmering goddess before him. She smiled and reached out to clasp his hand.

“I am yours, Sanji Vinsmoke,” she retorted with a delicate smile. “I have been since I saved you when we were both children.” He remembered nearly drowning as a child and the months starving on that island with Zeff, but he doesn’t remember getting to that island. Had she saved him then? “Yes, that was me.” His eyes widened when she answered his thoughts and her hand moved to his cheek. “I know your every thought my love. I always will.” She pulled herself closer to him, resting her forehead against his. “Mermaids have only one mate in their lives and know them instantly. You are mine as I am yours.”

Sanji’s eyes widened again. Mates? He thought that was a myth but here was the woman of his dreams telling him it was true. She looked away from him and frowned as the horizon started to glow with the impending sunrise. Turning back to him, she pressed her lips to Sanji’s again and he melted against her, pulling her closer onto his lap. The apples of her cheeks flushed as she pulled away and tucked her face into Sanji’s neck. She nibbled there and he hissed as she bit into the flesh.

“I have to go,” she whispered and a sudden sadness had entered her tone. “I will always be near to you Sanji and if you need me, call out to me. In five years, I’ll be able to walk on land and I will never leave your side again. Wait for me my love.”

Sanji awoke with a start, breathing heavily and sweating in his bed. It was a dream. One that blurred the lines of fiction and reality and he had a difficult time understanding. Wandering to the bathroom to get ready to cook breakfast, Sanji gasped when he looked in the mirror. A small red mark in the shape of a mermaid’s tail had appeared on his neck in the same spot she had bit in his dream. A heavenly voice in his head whispering out, “Mine”, as Sanji realized his dreams might just all come true.

#Sanji x reader #sanji x fem reader #Sanji vinsmoke #mdni #this is so self indulgent #I just want to be a mermaid and be with sanji #is that so much to ask for?#one piece x reader #opla #opla sanji #Sanji vinsmoke x reader #one piece

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mothwingwritings · 9 months

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Save The Date

F!Reader X Jean Pierre Polnareff

Today is my birthday!!! Yaaay! To celebrate, I wrote this self-indulgent, out of left field, Polnareff-kidnaps-you-on-your-bday-and-tries-to-force-his-love-on-you story because why not? I’ve been wanting to write more Jojo and I love Polnareff’s himbo ass sooo here it is. :D I decided to go back to my roots with this one, it was therapeutic loool.

This was a bit rushed because I want to get it finished by today, but I hope you enjoy!!! Thank you for reading and for being here! Love y’all~ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Warnings: Kidnapping, imprisonment, reader is restrained this whole fic, forced/nonconsensual touching and kissing, brief mentions of sex, delusional Polnareff, probably horrible butchering of French pet names (I am sorry any French speakers, forgive my google translate indiscretions (；´∀｀))

Everything was perfect.

From the varying balloons and streamers that dotted the room, to the bows he had placed so lovingly in your hair, Jean Pierre Polnareff had worked hard to make this presentation immaculate. It was what his baby deserved after all-it wasn’t like it was your birthday every day.

It took weeks of planning and organizing to get everything just right. He’d spent countless hours calling the best caterers and bakers in town, and spent all his down time consulting with party planners to make sure this soiree would go off without a hitch. He was even able to score the perfect dress for you from the fancy boutique down the street-the very same dress you had been casting wistful (yet furtive) glances at for quite some time. The moment the ornate frock had gone on sale he could barely conceal his excitement and ended up purchasing it right away. He was sure you would be thrilled to receive the gown as a gift, and also be touched by his intuitive nature, his knack for picking up on the things you desired.

It was just your style, and he knew as soon as you donned it you would look nothing short of gorgeous. Envisioning you in it made his heart flutter, the smile that would engulf your face as you twirl around in it, giggling in sheer delight as the fabric swirls prettily around you, was sure to be a sight for sore eyes. It was hard waiting to see the dream become a reality.

When he finally got the chance to slip it on your body, he needed a moment to compose himself before he proceeded with the rest of the party setup. He had been correct in his assumption-you looked breathtaking, exactly like a princess in your new frilly, satin, dress. He wished he could have arranged to also have someone do your hair and makeup to really complete the look, but it was too risky to chance it. As much as he would have loved for you to wake up to a complete makeover, he couldn’t trust anyone to not be suspicious of the arrangement he had currently setup for you, and he dared not muck you up with his own mediocre skills.

But at the same time it didn’t really matter that he couldn’t have a cosmetologist stop by, you always looked perfect and ethereal, dolled up or otherwise.

Everything was splayed out before you, not a single item out of place. The table was neatly set with his finest dishes and cutlery, set at the ready to be topped with the feast that he was preparing for you. Vibrant bouquets comprised of only the fullest and brightest blooms of your favorite flowers sat on each end of the table, and fragrant candles cast flickering light over the scene, exuding a very romantic aura. Dinner (one of your favorite meals) was nearly done cooking in the kitchen, and its scent had begun to enticingly fill the room. He could practically hear your stomach rumble in anticipation.

The centerpiece of it all was an elaborate cake, decadent and rich, your name and a sweet birthday message sprawled on its surface in a pretty, curving script. It was far too large for just two people to consume, but that just meant there would be more to look forward to in the future. Maybe you would want to freeze some of it to share with him again on your next birthday, like some couples do with their wedding cake. The correlation made him blush as he fixated on it, giddy as he fantasized about all that lay ahead for the two of you.

With everything assembled, all he had to do was wait. He parked himself opposite you at the table, dressed to the nines to try and match you. As impressive as his finely tailored suit was, he didn’t hold a candle to your radiance. He sighed dreamily as he took you in, his eyes roving over your peaceful face while slumber still claimed you. You had a habit of incessantly frowning or shooting him questionable glances while you were awake. Whenever you noticed that his attention was turned your way, a grimace inevitably followed. This moment of peace where he could drink you in without any backlash was bliss, and as much as he was excited for you to wake up, he couldn’t help but relish this serene alone time he was sharing with you.

No kicking and screaming, no crying, no unnecessarily hurtful words flung his way when all he’s trying to do is show you love. Right now there was just you, him, and this lovingly crafted display of his affection that he prepared just for you, the love of his life. A small mountain of presents towered behind him, waiting patiently to be picked open by your delicate fingers. Most of them were little things he had picked up for you here and there that he thought you would like, trinkets and baubles he felt exuded a very ‘you’ aura and thus needed to be brought home to you. He used to try and give them to you the moment he purchased them, but you would always turn them away, telling him that he was spending way too much money on you. Silly girl, no amount of currency could ever be a waste on you.

The gift pile was a veritable array of goodies sure to delight you, teeming with big things, small things, and one very important thing that had been weighing heavily in his pocket for the past week. He had always planned on presenting it to you on your birthday (there was no greater gift than a perfectly cut rock signifying your eternal union, after all), but carried it around with him as a good luck charm of sorts, keeping it near till the moment he could give it to you. He kept it in his breast pocket as close to his heart as he could, childishly hoping that the placement would infuse it with the immense love he felt for you, each heart beat coursing through it making it shine more dazzlingly.

Though he enjoyed carrying it around with him, the time was soon approaching for it to go to its intended home, sitting prettily on your ring finger. Musing on it made him glance down at your hands as they rested daintily on the chairs arm rest. He tried not to focus on the straps he had placed around your arms, holding you in place to prevent you from bolting the moment you woke up. You were such a jumpy, shy thing, inclined to run and hide the moment you spotted him. He knew this setting would be overwhelming for you, that you would not take all the extra attention so easily, hence why the sedation and extra restraints were needed. As much as he wanted to do a more natural approach, there was just no way to keep hold of you otherwise. It was a necessary measure, but it was one he hated nonetheless.

Knowing you would be upset when you awoke filled him with dismay, but ultimately the drugs and confines were all just a means to an ends. After the initial shock wore off, you were certain to be pleased by all his effort.

Hesitantly, he reached out to grasp your hands, holding them gently in his own. His thumb slowly grazed your knuckles, tracing small circles over your soft skin. Were they not strapped down, he would have chanced giving your hand a kiss, his lips yearning to make contact with you in any way they could. It truly was a shame that you were so adverse to touch, for he constantly longed to handle you tenderly, treating you so lovingly you would become putty in his hands, melt at his ministrations. He could clearly picture the expressions you would make while he busied himself, running his fingers gingerly across your flesh, memorizing every inch of you in faithful reverence, kisses following where his fingers once tread.

It was his most avid desire, but he had yet to act on the fantasy. His dream would come true someday, but first you had to get used to him. Ease into your new life.

It was a torturous process, waiting for you to warm up, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. Besides, with how bashful you were he figured he would be your first time for so many things, and that was exhilarating in its own right.

Suddenly, you stirred. Polnareff perked up, his eyes darting to your face as he watched your own slowly blink open. You scrunched your face in discomfort, groaning as your head gradually rose from its lulled posture. The after effects of the heavy drugs made your movements sluggish and groggy, another small groan slipping past your lips as you rotated your shoulders in an attempt to stretch.

Your gaze eventually landed on Polnareff, his face lighting up when you didn’t immediately look away. Still heavily sedated, confusion dominated your features. At this point, you were unsure where you were, what was going on, and probably perplexed by Polnareff’s presence, maybe even so bewildered you didn’t yet fully remember who Polnareff was. A warm smile graced his lips as he watched you come to, your befuddled state too cute to resist.

“Ma chérie,” Polnareff purred, his voice drawing you further from your hazy state, “I’m glad you are finally awake. It wouldn’t do to have you sleep through your whole party now, would it?”

Disorientation was giving way to realization, a look of fear and agitation morphing your lax expression into a sharp scowl. You began to pull against your bindings, your tugs becoming sharper the moment you felt resistance, alarm mounting when you realized how trapped you truly were. Your eyes locked onto Polnareff’s, the haze that had clouded them gone, replaced with resentful animosity. It was painful being at the end of your enmity, but he reminded himself it was to be expected. You would be filled with contentment very soon, he just had to get you there.

“Jean what the hell,” Your words came out listless and slurred. As the final dregs of the drugs wore off, you struggled to get your baring’s. “Where am I? What is all this? Did you… did you fucking drug me?”

Panic was starting to course through you, wide blown eyes filling with tears that you tried desperately to blink back. Your breathing grew labored as you started to thrash, trying your hardest to free yourself from the man who had imprisoned you, despite your compromised state.

Concerned you would hurt yourself, Polnareff gripped your hands tightly to try and sooth you, but it only caused your struggling to grow in intensity. Noting this, he quickly relinquished his hold, instead opting to cup your cheeks in a manner he hoped you would find more reassuring. Your skin was moist from your freshly fallen tears, his thumb easily sliding across its delicate surface, trying to wipe them away as best he could. You attempted to recoil from his touch, but the restraints and his firm hold kept you in place.

“Please amoureuse calm down,” he shushed you, worry reflected in his eyes, “You’ll end up hurting yourself if you keep pulling like that-“

“Fuck off,” you seethed between clenched teeth, “Let me go NOW Polnareff, or I swear I’ll-“

He clamped a hand over your mouth, halting any further commentary. A deep frown etched itself into his face as he stared you down, patience waning at the immediate vehemence you directed his way. Today was not supposed to go this way, he expected some backlash sure, but you weren’t supposed to recover from the medicine he had given you so rapidly. It was supposed to take time, fester a bit so that you would slowly come around, giving him plenty of time to explain things to you and have you get used to the arrangement naturally.

All the extra precautions were to help you see this for what it was, a true celebration to exhibit his unwavering dedication to you, and not whatever horrific falsity you had concocted in your anxiety addled brain. He cursed himself for not giving you the larger dose as he originally intended, he was just so concerned you may sleep too deeply and miss out on your special day altogether.

“You need to be quiet now, (Name),” His voice was low, a serious edge to it that froze your thrashing, granting him your full regard, “I know you are upset and confused, it’s only natural with how you woke up, and I don’t blame you for it. But there is no need for your ire ma cherie, look around you,” he released his hold, sweeping his hand across the room to show off his handiwork, “This is all for you bella. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for you because you deserve nothing less. Each decoration, accessory, snack, present-they were all assembled lovingly with you in mind. I’ve been preparing this for months, so please don’t be-“

“I don’t want any of this,” you once more cut him off, your voice choppy as you forced it out through shaky sobs, “I never wanted any of this. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t feel for you this way Polnareff? What you are doing is wrong, this entire ‘party’ is wrong! Please, if you really care about me at all just let me go and-“

Swiftly, he slammed his hand down on the table before you, rattling the dishes so violently it was surprising that none of them broke. Startled by the sudden upset, you lurched in your restraints, instantly shutting up out of fear. Your body quivered in distress, worried that if you said another word it would only further enrage him, and the assault next go around may not stop at just a whacked table.

“Stop it,” He annunciated each word, his eyes holding a sharpness that sent chills down your spine, “You don’t know what you are saying mon cœur, you are just blindly judging things before you even try them.” He took a shaky breath before continuing, “I have been patient, I have been kind, I have given you nothing but love, yet you constantly keep me at arm’s length, turning away from me in disgust even though I worship the ground you walk on. Please for one minute stop being so damn ungrateful and just be satisfied with all the hard work I have put in to meeting your lofty, unreasonable standards, or else you may actually have something to cry about.”

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as your panic-stricken eyes drank him in. Your bottom lip quivered, sniffles punctuating your breathing, but you didn’t speak another word. He felt momentarily guilty for going off on you (on your birthday, no less), but seeing the success his rare instance of harshness awarded him quickly overshadowed any negativity he felt, instead washing him in a feeling of victory.

Now that he got his point across, hopefully you could proceed as planned and things would be smooth sailing from here on out.

In the other room the oven started to noisily beep, signaling that dinner was ready to be served. He rose to his feet, hovering over you before making his way towards the kitchen.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he forced a smile, doing his best to hide the hurt your brusque behavior had inflicted upon him. He squared his shoulders, composing himself before continuing. “Here is how the night will progress, amour. I will prepare our meals and then we will enjoy them peacefully in each other’s company. Once we are done, we can dig into this cake I ordered especially for you from the gourmet bakery down the street, the one that’s so popular it has a wait list.”

He sighed dejectedly, hanging his head in defeat before continuing, “You may not care, but I think it’s important that you take into consideration just how much of myself I poured into this celebration before you make another snide, thoughtless remark.”

His eyes flicked down to the cake, a brief look of sadness wavering within them before he directed his attention back your way. “It’s lovely though, isn’t it? I am sure it will taste just as good. Don’t worry, if you haven’t calmed yourself in time to be let loose I will gladly feed you chérie. Even when you are being particularly… bratty, I would not want you to miss out on such a delicacy. Then, once our bellies are full you can start unwrapping this mound of presents behind me, and we will just pray that it doesn’t take us through the entire night.”

He chuckled, his demeanor beginning to soften as he spoke, appreciative of the obedience you were displaying and the lack of unwarranted commentary as he got through the itinerary for the night. “Finally, we will end the party with a gift that has been a long time coming, one that is a truly significant mark of our eternal bond. I know you will love it ma chérie, just as much as I will.”

He saw a shiver course through you at his words, a small, sad whimper tumbling from your lips as your shoulders sagged. The gravity of his allusion bore down on your small frame, shrinking you down in a poor attempt at hiding from your inescapable fate. He tutted when he saw your attitude shift, his hand again finding your cheek to give it a gentle stroke. This time, you didn’t flinch away.

“I know this is a lot to take in ma beauté and I am sorry it frightened you at first,” he leaned down, planting a lingering kiss to your forehead before proceeding, “But you will come around very soon, I know you will. You are my sweet girl, and after you experience what a great time we are about to have you will be so overcome with joy that you will barely be able to stand it. In fact, you may already feel a little silly for giving me such a hard time, am I right?”

Suddenly, his expression turned bashful. A rosy hue illuminated his cheeks as he started to fidget uncomfortably, a slightly embarrassed looking smile gracing his lips. Your body turned cold as his hand slid from your cheek to your shoulder, idly toying with the thin strap of your dress. His roving eyes fell to your chest, a hungry look flashing through them before they found their way back to your gaze.

“And then, after you have finished going through all your gifts, to thank me for what a gracious lover I have been maybe… maybe I can unwrap something too?”

You shudder at his insinuation, a look of pure dread donning your features.

“Polnareff,” you choked out, strained words struggling to form one final, soft plea, “please.”

Before you could utter another word, his mouth aggressively claimed your own. He pressed hard against you, as if to engrain the scorching feeling of his lips on to your flesh. You whined, squirming against him until he pulled away, staring at you with longing, love struck eyes.

“Happy birthday, ma chérie. Let’s make this one to remember.”

#Polnareff you silly guy I would have come to this party regardless you didn't have to tie me up :)#yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojos bizarre adventure #jojos bizarre adventure x reader #yandere jojos bizarre adventure x y/n #yandere jojos bizarre adventure x reader #jojos bizarre adventure x y/n #jean pierre polnareff #polnareff x reader #yandere polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff x y/n #polnareff x y/n #dark fic #yandere x reader #yandere fic #mothwingswritings #Thank you for reading!#and happy birthday to me and whoever else shares this bday! :D

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sungbeam · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

nonidol!kim mingyu x fem!reader

3.1k words, mingyu is convinced that he is forever stuck with unrequited love when it comes to you, cursing, pining, angst, fluff, it's literally SO cheesy at the end im sorry T_T

a/n: omg @ethereal-engene i did it skxnsoxo tbh not exactly what i had envisioned but 🤧

"I am going insane!"

Minghao and Seokmin watched as Kim Mingyu buried his face in his hands, dark hair a mess from the hundred or so times he had yanked at the strands. He sat across his fellow 97s, the name of the group that the three of them, plus you, made up. Except, you were missing, and probably for the best.

Mingyu grumbled, "I don't see what I'm doing wrong."

A waiter came by and set down servings of takoyaki and edamame, both of which cost too much to really just be appetizers. Minghao had nearly cringed—no, actually, he did cringe (right in front of the waiter)—at the prices. What was the point of coming to Vegas? To spend money, apparently. Just not on the floor of a casino, but in the booth of a four-dollar sign Japanese restaurant on the top floor of the Cosmopolitan.

"You're not doing anything wrong," Seokmin assured him with a small wince as Mingyu pouted so deeply at the table, he swore the table was about to apologize for being an inanimate object. Seokmin delicately plucked a pod of edamame from the porcelain bowl with his chopsticks, bringing it to his lips to take a small bite.

Mingyu, however, went straight for a ball of fried squid and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. Minghao froze in concern and surprise, his chopsticks stopped midair. Okay, so maybe this was getting a little out of hand.

The issue was you. Well, you were not necessarily the issue, per se. It was your total lack of response and your obliviousness to Mingyu's attempted advancements. It was your closeness to Minghao and Seokmin, but not to Mingyu. It was Mingyu posting a thirst trap about half an hour ago and getting nothing but a like from you.

He was very choked up about it, if one could not tell. He had forced Minghao to fill his camera roll with pictures of Mingyu seated in a dark, fitted button up, while subtly flexing his triceps (because he remembered that once you had commented about sculpted arms being really hot). He had actually been satisfied with the output, too.

Until he opened the notification from Instagram that said that you only liked the post. No comment whatsoever.

"Listen… buddy." Minghao placed his hand over Mingyu's when he reached for another piece of takoyaki. Both of his cheeks were stuffed with fried squid and distress. "Chill, okay? She likes all of our stuff. Doesn't mean she doesn't like you."

Mingyu swallowed his food. "That's where you're wrong," he stated with a matter-of-fact tone and complimentary finger raised. "See, she actually comments on your guys' posts." He took out his phone now, scrolling through Instagram to find pieces of evidence to back up his claim.

(Minghao and Seokmin traded nervous glances. This man was really about to pull out the whole conspiracy board to "prove" that you had something against him and he would be stuck with unrequited love for the rest of his life.)

"You really don't—"

"Au contraire." Mingyu began going through both Minghao and Seokmin's individual Instagram accounts to point out your comments on their posts. From the stupid, memeable moments to the Thirst Traps™, you could always be found in the comments. Seokmin even had some of your comments pinned. Y'know, just to make it so much more obvious.

Okay, so perhaps it was reasonable to see why Mingyu might have thought you hated him.

"Maybe you just make her speechless," Seokmin suggested with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"But not even an emoji? A keyboard smash? Anything?"

Minghao's light blue tinted glasses slipped down the slope of his nose so he peered over them at his friend. "You don't comment on her things either."

"T-that's because she doesn't!" Mingyu stammered. "I used to—you know I used to!"

Seokmin added, "He still gives a little keyboard smash and heart-eyed emoji every once in a while."

Mingyu gestured to Seokmin, eyes wide in gratitude. "See?"

Minghao sighed. If only they'd seen yours and his private messages. Mingyu wouldn't be complaining about emojis and keyboard smashes then. You had practically combusted over text when you'd seen Mingyu's most recent post. The only reason why it hadn't been over FaceTime like every other time was because Minghao was currently with Mingyu, and even Minghao felt bad about exposing you. (You were just that embarrassing.)

But at this rate, both of you were going to end up hurting each other if he didn't step in.

"Well," Hao said, "we're gonna go pick her up from the airport tomorrow, so why don't you confront her about it then, hm?" Tch, like that was going to happen.

Seokmin piped up, "Oh yeah! And there's that benefit gala tomorrow night! You should get her to dance with you or something." Ha, like that would happen either.

Mingyu pursed his lips, slumping against the booth. "I don't know, guys. We'll just see."

Minghao and Seokmin looked at each other. Tomorrow was going to be rough if they didn't do something.

It was a disgusting eight in the morning when your plane touched down in the Las Vegas airport. The three 97s stood in the main terminal, where baggage claim was, waiting for you. Minghao looked close enough to dropping dead, a pair of dark shades covering the purple bags beneath his eyes and a big bucket hat over his nest of hair. Seokmin, as per usual, was quite alive, having inhaled a cup of coffee with two shots of espresso. And then there was Mingyu, anxiously awaiting your arrival while his foot tapped against the linoleum like Thumper.

You would arrive on that escalator in less than five minutes, according to your text to the group chat. Mingyu stared laser beams at the twin escalators, until he watched you roll up to the top with your dark blue carry-on suitcase.

Oh, good god.

If Mingyu could direct a movie, he would do it just like how you looked now. Your hair hung slightly frazzled from the flight, your body fitted in a simple T-shirt and shorts to accommodate Vegas's warm weather. You also wore a black crossbody bag, and to his utter delight, the cute puppy plush keychain he got you five months ago hung from the zipper. With a graceful flourish, you brushed the hair from your eyes—

"Oh my god, he looks straight out of a cartoon." Seokmin's eyes glittered in teasing as he nudged Mingyu with his elbow.

Minghao lifted a hand in lazy greeting, a small smirk coming to his lips. "Hey Yn."

You had landed at the foot of the escalator, and you grinned, racing toward the three of them with your suitcase dragging behind you. "Hi!"

You crashed into Seokmin first, ditching your suitcase and letting it roll where it may. The two of you bursted into a fit of giggles, Seokmin holding you tight and spinning you around. "I can't believe you're finally here!" Seokmin exclaimed with barely concealed excitement.

"Me too," you said once he set you down. "I thought the flight was gonna be late, but it all worked out." You spotted Minghao, turning your attention to him. "Hey, Hao."

"Hey," he said once more, bringing you close in a side hug.

Mingyu had grabbed your suitcase while Seokmin was hugging you. His heart thundered in his ears, unable to fully meet your eyes or bring himself to greet you like Seokmin had, even if he wanted to. "Hi, Ynie."

"Hi Gyu," you smiled. "Oh, you don't have to get my suitcase—"

"No, no!" He said quickly. "It's okay; I got it." The two of you smiled at each other, bashfully really, in the only form of communication both of you could manage to produce when it came to the other.

Minghao bumped his head against Seokmin's shoulder. "Lord, save me."

Seokmin chuckled, patting his head. He swept you away with an arm around your shoulder. "Come on, Ynie! We got you a Ferrari to escort you to the hotel!"

"A Ferrari—!?"

Mingyu exhaled, staring after you with an ill concealed pout. Minghao sighed—shook his head. "Well, come on now. I don't think you want to be stuck in the backseat again."

There would always be things that you were scared of. One of those things just happened to be the massive charity gala beginning downstairs in one of the big ass conference rooms at the Bellagio. It was named Monet 1 or something... or 2. You couldn't really remember; maybe you'd text Minghao and ask.

The boys—your big group of friends (there was a healthy thirteen of them)—had invited you to suffer at this gala with them. To entice you, they had offered to fly you out and put you up in a luxury suite at the Bellagio, one of the most recognizable resorts on the Las Vegas Strip. Obviously, you couldn't resist.

Really, you couldn't. You'd been meaning to find an excuse to take a break from work. (And to see your best friends, of course.)

You stared at yourself—critiqued yourself, really—in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. You had chosen to bring along a simple, black satin dress with a slit up your right leg and a cowl neckline. It was going to be super plain compared to the others at the gala, but you liked it. At least, you thought you liked it.

There came a rapping at the door, and you hiked up the hem of the dress so you could scurry to the door. You opened it at the sight of Seokmin on the other side of it. "Hey," you said, letting him in.

Seokmin wore a dark blue suit, his hair swept back nice and neat. His eyes glimmered in delight as he stepped into your room. "You look nice."

"Oh, thanks. You too." You shuffled back into your room, while Seokmin collapsed onto the couch with a breathy exhale.

"You're nervous, aren't you?" He sang with a teasing tone. "Why're you nervous, Ynie?"

You frowned at yourself in the bathroom mirror, pulling a comb through your curls to loosen up the tight ringlets. "Rich people," was all you said. Once satisfied, you fitted your earlobes with a pair of white gold and diamond hoop earrings, along with a slim silver watch. You slipped on one, two sterling silver rings, one topped with a small garnet stone and another tied in a knot.

"Doki, should I wear a necklace?" You called to him.

"Yeah, sure! Wear that red swarovski crystal one!"

You furrowed your brows as you searched through the small jewelry box you had brought with you. "The one, uh, Mingyu got me two years ago?"

A beat of silence. "How do you just remember that off the top of your head?"

Your cheeks colored in the mirror and you fished the scarlet red teardrop necklace from the box. "Dunno." You remembered because, well, how could you forget?

The necklace shimmered in the bathroom lights as the gemstone tested against your chest. It was simple, but classy. You tried a smile in the mirror, shifting your hair, fixing your posture… it would have to do. You were already late as it was.

With a sigh, you hurried out of the bathroom and picked up your purse, dumping things that you needed into it. "Okay, I'm ready!" You exclaimed as you strode into the living room, purse and shoes in hand.

Seokmin twisted around on the couch, a low whistle falling from his lips. He grinned. "Aw, you clean up so nice, Ynie. You look good."

You smiled, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. "Thank you," you said. You really meant it; you really needed it.

He stood up and helped you into your shoes, then the two of you walked arm in arm out the door.

"Oh, actually, Hao wanted the 97s to meet at the rooftop before we all went to the gala together. Something about pictures," Seokmin said flippantly with a flick of his wrist. The two of you stopped at the elevator together and he jammed the up button.

That's a good idea, you thought to yourself. And very Minghao of him.

But when you had walked into the elevator carriage, Seokmin suddenly slammed his hand on the top floor button and slipped out of the elevator.

You gaped at him through the closing doors. "Wait! Dokyeom?"

He beamed, lifting his right hand up in salute. "Sorry, forgot my phone in my room!"

Your eyes spotted the phone in his left hand just as the elevator doors closed shut and sent you all the way up to the top floor. What the hell? You cocked your head to the side in thought. Weird. Why did Seokmin need to stay back if he clearly had his phone with him?

It would be fine. You'd meet him up on the roof then.

The doors of the elevator slowly slid open, revealing to you the gorgeous skyline of the Strip at night. Lights from the surrounding hotels and establishments glowed rainbow in your eyes and the Bellagio fountain laid dormant for the time being. The show would erupt at the top of the hour.

You shivered, rubbing your hands over your arms as you stepped out onto the rooftop and made your way to the edge. People milled about below you like little ants, all of whom came from different places around the world, brought together by this city.

"Yn?"

You lifted your head up in surprise and watched Mingyu walk toward you from around one of the domed roofs. His eyes were wide as they trailed down your figure, stopping at the necklace seated on your sternum and gulping.

And you? Well, you couldn't stop staring either. Mingyu was fitted in a crisp, black suit, tailored perfectly to his broad form. The dim lighting cast a shadow over the hard, sculpted planes of his face, like one of those marble statues in Greece. He just looked so… there were no words to describe how beautiful this man was to you. And that beauty was intimidating sometimes.

Because who could ever be worthy enough for him? Certainly not you, right?

He licked his lips, coming closer. "So, uh, I'm guessing Seokmin sent you up?"

You nodded. Boom, boom, boom. Was that your heart beat or some club nearby? "Yup. Hao?"

He bobbed his head with a tight smile. "Yeah."

You reached up and fiddled with the necklace. "I don't think they're coming."

"Yeah, I don't think so either."

The two of you turned to the view, your hands bracing against the marble railing. It was thick enough where you didn't think you could just fall, but it was still a long way down.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Mingyu's body, could predict the tension in his shoulders, because you were just as tense. Why were you even up here? What were they trying to make the both of you do?

(You know, Yn. You know so damn well.)

"Can I ask you something?" You asked, voice small.

Mingyu nodded, gesturing for you to go on. "Of course."

You swallowed. "Are you ever afraid of falling?" You asked, eyes flickering from the drop to Mingyu.

He shrugged his shoulders, gesturing to the railing. "Like, off this building? Yeah, sure—"

"No, I mean…" you shook your head, laughing at the ridiculousness of your thoughts. "This is gonna sound stupid."

"It's not stupid," Mingyu refuted, but you could see the sincerity in his expression. "You're never stupid, Yn."

You were going to either Hail Mary it off this roof or dive headfirst into those dark irises of his. You sucked in a breath, "Okay uhm, are you ever… afraid of falling in love?"

You didn't expect him to reply so quickly.

"Not when it's you."

Wait. "What?"

Mingyu raked a hand through his hair, mouth pursed. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, trying to scramble for the right words while you stood there, eyes wide and waiting. He'd been waiting so long for this chance, this moment—rehearsing and imagining possible scenarios and what speeches he would say. But here went absolutely nothing.

"I'm scared of falling, but not when it's you, Yn."

Thundering heartbeat, dilated eyes—god, you could not fall any faster and harder for this man. "Mingyu—"

"I understand if you don't feel the same," he cut in, eyes flitting away, but then returning back to you. Always back to you. "I just had to tell you, after all this time, that I'm in love with you."

You shook your head, and Mingyu could feel the world falling out from under his feet. Of course. Of course you didn't feel the same. Oh my god, he was an idiot—

"You didn't let me finish," you said, fingers dancing on the marble like the pattern of your heart rate. "Mingyu, I'm in love with you, too."

The weight of the confession lifted from your shoulders and from your chest. You finally said it.

A beat passed. Both you and Mingyu broke out into breathless laughter, tinted in nervous, jittery energy; yet it was relieving and refreshing like the night air.

"Oh god, thank god," Mingyu grinned, biting his lip. "You—you have no idea how that makes me feel. Oh my god." He held out his hand to you, and like second nature, you gave your hand to him.

He looked at you in the eyes, slowly raising your hand to his lips, his fingers then running delicately over your knuckles. He placed the palm of your hand firmly over his chest, where his heart beat ran marathons beneath your fingertips. "You're beautiful. Did you know that? Because if you didn't, I'll remind you of it every day."

Mingyu cleared his throat. "If you'd let me."

You nodded, turning your hand so you could lace your fingers with his. You liked the feel of it, the weight of it. It felt right. "I'd love that, but only if you'd let me do the same for you."

And you watched his cheekbones color pink in the night, yellow and white light illuminating that blush just enough. He chuckled, ducking his head bashfully. "That sounds really nice."

You stepped into his embrace then, feeling his warmth around you and wondering how you had gotten to this moment. (Yeah, you knew it was Seokmin and Minghao's doing, but you weren't about to admit that just yet.) Falling was terrifying—tumbling into the unknown, fearing the moment you reached the bottom—but with the wind rushing through your hair as you fell, the only thing that made you tuck your arms in and pull yourself faster was the knowledge that someone would be at the bottom to catch you.

Had you known that Mingyu would always be there, then perhaps you wouldn't have had such a fear of falling.

svt m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @staysstrays @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @yedammi @rnjfy @jaehunny1428 @mythicalamphitrite @ana-is-losing-her-mind @super-btstrash-posts @otchae @luv4vernon @ashxxkook @thesunsfullmoon

#seventeen x reader #kim mingyu #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu #mingyu oneshot #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagines #mingyu angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen oneshot #clovers.write

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godsmenusuperbowl · 9 months

Text

Stress Coloring ~ *Bang Chan*

Summary: Both you and Chris need a break. And what better way to spend a break than by coloring together? It’s very therapeutic.

Pairing: Bang Chan X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Drabble

Word Count: 804

Warning: A tiny bit of crying but it’s resolved quickly

Masterlist

Taglist: @foxwinter @maeleelee @mxnsxngie @kpop-will-kill-me

A/N: What do we do when we have strong feelings and yet are so exhausted to properly convey them? We write. And we hand write when our eyes are too puffy from allergies to open all the way. So my hand hurts.

As soon as he walked through the door and saw that the light was still on, he sighed. They must be tired. Carefully and quietly, Chris slipped off his shoes, put his keys and wallet away, and hugged them from behind.

They hummed in response, leaning into his embrace. Amongst the mess of notes, outlines, and assorted pens and highlighters, they had their markers and coloring pages out. There was a half finished piece and a completed mandala on top of everything. Shades of orange and yellow mixed with the pinks and purples to create almost a sunrise scene. It was very ethereal and serene. It also reflected that they could really use a break right about now.

Kissing their cheek, Chris asked, “Need any help?”

“No.” They shook their head.

“Then do you mind if I join you?”

Again, they shook their head before flipping through their coloring book. It was sort of a tradition here. Whenever one or both of them needed a break, they would bust out their vast array of coloring books and coloring supplies. Sometimes, when they were less tired, the two of them would use crayons and make Kindergarten drawings of the other. If they needed more inspiration, there was a stack of canvases and acrylic paints in the back of their closet that was always well stocked. But when they were stressed out and tired, markers or colored pencils did the trick. They weren’t the only one needing relief tonight, which was why he asked to color too.

Chris finally selected one before saying, “What colors do you see?”

It’s not that he wasn’t creative; on the contrary, the two often joked that he had all the artistic ability in the relationship. But everytime they saw an uncolored black and white page, they knew exactly how they wanted it to look. So he let them decide the colors for him. It always made him smile when they carefully selected each color.

They shook their head. “Not colors this time. I see a style, a theme.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your vision?”

“Wizard of Oz.”

Chris nodded as they laid out each color of marker, explaining what each color represented. As they did so, he glanced back at what they were coloring. Besides the completed sunrise mandala, the half-finished piece looked like a hodgepodge of random colors. It wasn’t like their normal style.

So he pointed it out. “What are you coloring?”

They paused, reflecting on their work. Eventually they said, “My thoughts and feelings.”

He nodded again before taking his markers and sitting in the chair opposite of their desk. Carefully scrutinizing each color and the empty picture before him, he tried to envision the Wizard of Oz the same way they did. Eventually he managed to figure something out and he began coloring.

About twenty minutes in, Chris was about halfway done when he heard them heave a dejected sigh. Looking up, he noticed a tear slowly crawling down their cheek. Abandoning his paper and markers to drop onto the floor, he spun their chair so that they were now facing him. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wiped their tears, cupping their face as he did so.

“Hey, look at me.” Chris breathed as their eyes, still glittering with tears, found his. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

Slipping out of their desk chair, they hugged him tightly. “It’s just so much piling up out of practically nowhere.”

Stroking their hair, he kissed their cheeks. “I know love, I know. But you can get through this. One day at a time, just like we always say. Besides, you know I’ll always be there when stress coloring isn’t enough.”

Pulling away, they wiped their eyes and nose. Chris got them a tissue to help. Sniffing, they asked, “Promise?”

Smiling, he kissed their lips before pressing his forehead to theirs. “Of course I promise. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t?”

They laughed before slowly crawling back into their desk chair. Blowing their nose once more, they gave him a small smile to let him know they were okay now. With a soft nod, he settled back into his own chair and got to work coloring again.

It was another thirty minutes later when they presented their art to each other. They nodded before giving him a bright, albeit tired smile. “It’s definitely Wizard of Oz.”

“Yours is a lovely hodgepodge as well.”

The two of them laughed before they shyly added, “I’m also halfway done with my essay as well.”

Chris perked up even more, his smile stretching wider. “See? I told you you could do it. I’m so proud of you, love!”

Again, they chuckled before they returned to their coloring book. Ripping out another page, they asked, “Another?”

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bijouxcarys · 4 months

Note

WAIT NO SORRY I MEANT NUMBER 5 FUCK

Okie dokie, i didn’t proof read this, but I sincerely hope it’s okay! At some point it gained some kind of mythological undertones, but I kinda like it!

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

Aphrodite

Pairing: Robert Plant x Unnamed OC

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUT

Smut Prompt #5: “I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.”

Tags: @callmethehunter @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @m-faithfull @strsmn @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @chromations @angrychicksposts

Robert was so excited when he saw that familiar face in the wings.

She said she wasn’t going to be here. That she had too much going on at work to join him on tour. But yet, here she was, an expression of encouragement towards her long-time lover as he pranced and jived across that stage.

Toothy grin plastered on his face, Robert’s energy skyrocketed, and it showed during Heartbreaker. Even from her place at the side, she caught glimpses of a singular prominent vein up the side of his strong neck as he wailed for his people.

With a permanent smirk, the Golden God strode along the expanse of the stage, dragging his snake-skin-clad feet behind him like a noble steed. Though, Robert transcended the prototypical energy of a knight and his steed.

His chest puffed and shoulders back, the command over the ministrations of his onlookers was a mere act compared to the way his fair lady conquered his being.

For a moment, he was in the midst of symphonic coitus, making balmy and visceral love to his Queen through the way his body rocked and rolled in time with Jimmy’s cadenced playing.

Through the thousands of flushed and elated faces looking up at him, he only saw her.

Even when his eyes were shut, or she was an ocean away, it was always her.

His mind began to wander. He thought of all the ways he could convey the joy of seeing her, of having her with him…by having her. He envisioned her soft, feminine form straddling his lean hips, joined together from below. She’d roll her body over his, creating a perfect rhythm synonymous with worship.

But as much as she loved to worship him, he lived to worship her.

That’s why, when all was said and done at the venue, Robert and his lover bypassed the post-show extremities and landed exactly where they both desperately needed to be. Locked away in Robert’s hotel room.

Very little was said between them as they devoured one another, mind, body, and soul.

Their lips were aching and swollen from heated kisses. Hair was tangled and clothes were carelessly disposed of once Robert had her hoisted up against the wall.

Her hands clung to his golden locks as he meshed their lips together once more, and steadily ground into her, teasing her core with what was waiting to bury itself deep inside.

Robert took advantage of the way she leaned her head back against the cool wallpaper, attacking her supple throat as he coiled his hips back and forth. Her moans were so ethereal, her gasps were the life source he needed, and her hot, flushed core was home.

She let out a small yelp as he urgently pulled her from the wall and over to the bed, making his fantasies a reality by holding her above him. She loved this position. When she was able to feast her eyes on the man she was lucky enough to call hers. To watch as his chest tightened and his jaw fastened shut, his brows creased and his plump lips dropped open to give way to hefty breaths.

Observing him intently, she raised and lowered herself onto his rock-hard cock, smirking as he widened his eyes in response.

“W…Don’t we need—“

She cut him off by pressing her hand to his mouth. With a shake of her head, she reassured him that she needed him raw and entire within. They could worry about the potential consequences later.

“Just pull out, baby…” she hummed against his lips, teasing him with a stolen kiss. ��You know how much I like it when I’m covered in you…”

“Fuck,” he huffed, digging his fingers into her hair and smashing his lips into hers. He was slowly losing control. Her hands splayed across the expanse of Robert’s broad chest, using all her strength to rotate her hips just the way he liked it. His hips were instinctively lifting to meet hers, quickly picking up a pace that had them both moaning and panting in congruence with one another.

She unleashed a barrage of praises, words of pride, over his earlier performance on stage, relentlessly reminding him that he was the ruler of her world, her body, her mind, her soul… her perfect man.

Earth could have the Golden God, but she got to have him.

Robert was unable to form a coherent response, her soaked walls coating his cock and creating lewd noises below each time they met with eager, passionate thrusts. He gripped onto her with mammoth hands, moving her body in time with his the needier he became. Until it wasn’t enough. He needed to take his control back.

He sat up, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist as he flipped them over completely. He stood at the edge of the bed, pulling her towards him by her legs until she was pressed flush against him. Blue eyes piercing into hers, his cock once again impaled her, and the remnants of Zeppelin’s Golden God came back into view.

Robert fell over her, humming at the restricted feeling he felt as she locked her legs around his waist, her ankles crossed and the heels of her feet pressed into his lower back. One hand on the side of her neck and the other holding onto her smaller hand, fingers intertwined, he proceeded with a spine-chilling, earth-shattering pace, angling his hips in such a way that allowed his cock to hit all the right places in the depths of her aching cunt.

“Mmm—missed you, darlin’…” he grunted, lips inches from hers. He attempted another kiss, but the speed and intensity of his love made it near impossible to do so. So he settled for the continuous dance their lips played upon one another’s. He could tell by the way her neck and chest flushed up and the heaving of her chest became unsteady that she was on the edge.

“Robert…” she gasped, arching her body up into his in an attempt to feel every single part of him. Her free hand clawed at his shoulder. She was so close now. She’d been thinking of this moment all day. He coaxed her into her blazing release, proclaiming his unconditional love for her, the woman he deemed the Aphrodite to his Eros.

The way she tightened around him sent him into overdrive, so much so that pulling out seemed like a far cry from reality. His love felt too good, but he knew better.

Robert gave her a warning look as she only seemed to strengthen the hold she had on him with her legs. With a breathless chuckle and a crooked smile, he pushed some hair out of her face to look down at her.

“I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.”

Her post-release daze made it hard to decipher what he had panted in her face, but not impossible. And in some impulsive, orgasmic throe of eternal ecstasy, she ripped her hand away from his and held his face close to her, breathing in a silky voice.

“Then don’t… come on, baby, I want it…” she encouraged him, her hips jolting through her sensitivity. “I want you inside me forever. All of you.”

“Naughty little minx…”

“Yeah?” She hummed. “Show me how naughty I am… make me feel it for the rest of the night…” She nipped at his lower lip. That did it. With a primal growl and a shudder, Robert gave her what she wanted, happily filling her with his thick load, and giving in to the power she had over his white-hot libido.

In that moment, they knew she’d be making unexpected appearances for as long as they presided at the feet of Aphrodite.

#Robert plant #Robert plant x reader #Robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant smut #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction #rock music #70s #classic rock #writing #writer #fanfic #fanfic writing #smut prompts #writing prompt

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mayumiiyuu · 2 years

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iv. normalcy.

the kaleidoscope project masterlist

July, 1979, Hawkins, Indiana

It had been month or so since I had been placed under foster care. Dr. Willows always kept her promise, visiting me around twice every week. I felt more comfortable with her now, slowly but surely trusting her. Still, I never told her much about myself, just aspects I thought would be relevant to her as an act of self preservation; just because I was starting to trust her didn't mean I had to let go of all my reservations. I was still most likely a wanted person. So I tried my best to blend in, keep my abilities to myself. I told not a soul, shut my eyes whenever I felt my emotions trigger some sort of reaction, stayed on the sidelines while the others played and made lively conversation; afraid that if I had made the wrong move, let myself go, that my emotions would take charge and my powers would spin out of control.

I spent most of my days drawing, reading the books Dr. Willows would let me borrow from her.

"This one has to be my favorite," she places a thick book on the table, its cover as worn as the pages within, but the title remained in tact: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. "I used to stay up late at night reading it, I think you'll find the world here fascinating."

I skim through the pages, my eyes widening slightly with just how many chapters there were. "This seems..long."

She throws her head back slightly, laughing. "Yes, it is, to top it off there are two more after that."

I looked at her incredulously, my eyebrows raised. "Two? Are they just as long?"

She nods her head. "About the same length, yes, but hey, it'll be sure to keep you busy. Maybe you can draw the characters, sketch out what you envision them to look like."

I did just that after finishing the book in a week, unable to put it down as I was immersed in stories of hobbits, elves, wizards, and magic; a realm like no other with its own unique kingdoms and lands with sprawling forests and other fantastical creatures.

The next time we had met I had shown her drawings of Rivendell as I had imagined it, with its crashing waterfalls and flowing rivers, along with a sketch of what Galadriel looked like, the Lady of the Light in all her elegance and ethereal beauty.

"These are amazing, Scar," she beamed at me. "This is exactly what I imagined when I read the book!"

I felt my cheeks warm from her words, shifting awkwardly in my seat, not used to such praise outside of my abilities, never having been complimented for something that didn't serve purpose to others.

"By the way," she places the sketchbook down on the table between us. "Do you know when you'll be going to school?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "School?"

"I'm sure that you've been enrolled somewhere by now, haven't you?"

"Not that I know of.." I mumble, picking at my lower lip nervously. I hadn't even considered that, of course most of the children in the outside world went to school, my only education had been by our Teacher, provided to us by the lab. Would going to someplace as public as that even be safe? Did I even have any documents for me to be able to be enrolled in a school?

"I'm sure they'll handle it," she glances around, biting her lip as if in deep thought. "Scarlet, tell me: has anyone visited you apart from me? Met you, inquired about maybe fostering you?"

I shake my head. I had seen other people come in to meet the younger kids, always the younger ones. I noticed how the older kids looked on with jealousy, whispering amongst themselves, making bets on who'll get into a foster home first. There were a few who were my age that had left, some returned, and those who didn't were gossiped about.

"I heard Hannah was adopted by her foster family." One of the others had said during lunch, picking at his food as he spoke.

"Lucky." Came the reply of another who leaned their head on the table.

The best thing about being quiet and keeping to yourself meant that people hardly noticed you, it was as if I was under my own invisibility spell; unaware that despite how my eyes were glued to the book I read, I was still very much there, listening and observing.

Dr. Willows, or Irene, as she had asked me to call her at one point, sighed, smoothening out her dress.

"How—how would you feel if I told you I wanted to foster you?"

Her question takes me aback, my eyelids blinking rapidly, I tuck my hands under my thighs, briefly looking away from her as I felt the familiar tingle in my eyes. My heartbeat sped up, whether it was from nervousness or excitement, I didn't know.

"I.." I start, taking in a breath to still my pulsating heart before I turned to look at her, still on edge but calmer than before. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to spring onto you with a question like that, but I just thought, maybe I could give you more opportunities, a better life—not to say that living here is a bad thing! It's just, I'm not sure if it's the best environment for you to grow up in, constantly having to see people come and go from your life, switching from family to family, not really having a home, not yet at least. But that's what I want to give you—a, a home, someplace where you feel safe from the craziness of life." She chuckled as she saw my confused face, she had been talking as fast as a mile a minute.

"Sorry, sorry, I was rambling. Bad habit of mine, I guess," she inhales then exhales slowly, as if to relax her mind in order to find the right words. I smile, I know exactly what that was like. "I could foster you for a while, then it'll be up to you if you want to make that arrangement permanent, for me to uh, adopt you? Yes, that's usually how the process for these sort of things goes. I didn't want for you to randomly get a call from the administrator, take you by surprise, I wanted to tell you first, to make sure you were comfortable with that. Is..is that okay with you?"

I look to the floor, deep in thought. Irene had shown me the most genuine kindness I had ever experienced in my life, never expecting anything in return. She took her time to understand me, she was always gentle and patient with me the moment we first met. Her compassion was almost overwhelming, with how she constantly visited me, made sure I was doing alright, indulged in my interests and newfound hobbies, kept me in her thoughts throughout the day as she saved fun stories for her to tell me. Since that day I first showed her my drawing of Frankenstein, we had grown considerably close. Although I was still hesitant, still guarded, I had always thought about finally letting my guard down around her, not to be suspicious of any ulterior motives from her, because so far she gave me no reason to doubt her.

I hope she doesn't ever give me a reason to.

After a while of scanning my thoughts, I opened my mouth to speak.

"I think I'd like that."

Irene exhales, as if she had been holding her breath for my answer.

"Okay," she nods, smiling.

....

I was surprised with how, in a span of barely a week, I had been placed under the care of Irene, despite having been told that it could take some time before I found a family to foster me.

I heard my roommates whispering to themselves the night before I had left, thinking I was sleeping underneath the covers.

"Can't believe she's already got a foster family for her so soon." Came the grumbling tone of a girl.

"Heard that she's being fostered by that lady that always comes to visit her." Piped another.

"You think she might be a relative or something?"

As I peek from my blanket, I see the third girl shake her head, the same girl who had given me a snarky remark when I first came here.

"No, don't think so. Anyway, how long do you guys bet it'll take for her to get back here?"

"A week." Another girl snorts.

"I say three days." The snarky girl giggles, the other following along.

I toss over in my bed, turning around so my back faced them, burying my face in my pillow. The light from the bedside table flickered as I grit my teeth, sucking in a breath while I clenched my hands into fists. My eyes clamped shut as I willed myself to drift into dreamless sleep.

"Scarlet? Are you alright?"

I tear my gaze from the window, blinking rapidly as I snapped myself out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, I'm okay, thank you."

Irene smiles at me as she gently touches my shoulder.

"It's okay if you feel nervous about this, it's normal, but I promise you that I'll make you as comfortable as I can—say the word and I'll be there, 'kay?"

I nod my head, negative thoughts dissipating with her reassurance. Eventually, we pull up to a drive way, parking in front of a house that was painted a soft, mossy green. The lawn in front was dotted with flowers, the white porch was lined with bushes and an array of flowerbeds. It looked homely, hospitable and welcoming as it bathed in the afternoon sun.

Irene helped me gather my things, even when I told her didn't need her help with how light my bag was. As we walked closer I noticed that the front door was painted crimson red with a diamond shaped window on it. Memories of the lab replayed in my mind, causing me to flex my hand involuntarily.

As she opened the door to let me in, the inside seemed just as cozy as I had expected it to be, the smell of cedar hitting my nose as I walked into the small foyer.

I was given a small tour of the house, the living room was quaint, a brick fireplace sat on one side of the room, I noticed she didn't have a television, but guessed her main form of entertainment must be the immense collection of books that sat atop the large shelves that took up most of the wall space. Wherever there weren't any books there were trinkets and small potted plants. There was one short shelf pushed against the wall, containing various disks of vinyls, a record player painted green was placed atop it. Seems like someone had a favorite color.

Back in the hallway, she led me towards the kitchen that opened out into the humble dining room, a vase of flowers adorning the dark stained table. I especially liked the fridge she had, various pictures and postcards hung on its door with magnets that I assumed she had taken as souvenirs from her travels, observing that some of them had names of various places.

Finally, she led me to my room. Of all the other rooms in the house, this felt the coziest. The walls were painted a creamy white, the bed was pushed to one side of the room towards a window so I could peek out of it to see the sprawling garden at the back. A wooden chest sat at the foot of it, delicately carved with elegant patterns of vines and blooming flowers. A desk was placed on the left side of the room, underneath another window, already stacked with various notebooks, decorated with various cups and containers filled with colored pencils and paintbrushes, a small colorful box set in the middle of it. Right beside the desk stood a bookshelf, again, already lined with various books, decorated with ceramic figures of birds and fairytale creatures.

I gazed at the room with wonder, my mouth ajar. All the rooms I had ever had were always bare, meant to be a place for me to sleep and only that. But this room felt different somehow, it felt comfy and cozy, a stark contrast to the concrete walls and the utter bareness of my previous ones.

"You can decorate it however you want, we can paint it a different color too, if you'd like," Irene smiles as she leans on the doorway, before walking her way towards the shelf, gesturing to all the books within it as she spoke. "All these books are yours now, some of them were ones I've had since high school, so I hope you don't mind that they're a little worn."

She hands me one of the books, Little Women, bound in green leather, I let my thumbs trace over the gold lettering of the title, admiring the small illustration of four girls huddled together, walking side by side with their backs turned.

"My grandmother gave me this book, one of the oldest I've got, actually. Some of the margins have writings in them, annotations by her."

I cock my head to the side. "Annotations?"

"Think of it as adding your own thoughts to the story, what you observed and how you feel about the passage."

Nodding, my eyes trail over towards the various trinkets on the shelf, fixating on one made of porcelain, a delicate unicorn with its head gently tucked to its side, greeting a rabbit with its nose.

"I'll let you get settled," Irene says, shoving her hands in her cardigan's pockets. "Call me if you need anything, feel free to explore the house too, if you want."

She slipped out of the door, flashing me one more warm smile before shutting it gently.

Left alone to my own devices, I sat on the bed. My eyes widen with surprise at the softness of the mattress, running my hands along the crocheted blanket thrown over it. I bounced on the bed a bit, still sitting down, giggling as I did so.

My eyes soon landed on the desk, curiosity taking over me as I remembered the colorful box that sat atop it.

Shuffling towards the desk, I lifted the lid off of the box, revealing a set of paints and what seemed to be crayons, one set that felt oily, the other one more dry and dusty.

I wasn't quite in the mood to draw or paint anything just yet, so I decided to read the book she had handed me for inspiration, but before I did so, I opened the window, a soft summer breeze flitting through the air. I propped a pillow up against the window as I plopped down onto the bed and began to read.

Before I knew it, dusk came rolling in, daylight fading away as the sky turned into various shades of orange and then a purplish blue. Just as I had gotten up to turn on the lamp at my bedside table, I heard a knock at my door.

"Yes?" I called out.

Irene opened the door, poking her head through the gap. "Dinner's ready!"

As we sat at the dinner table, despite having no clue on what the dish was, I couldn't help my mouth as it watered at the inviting smell of the food she had placed before me. I swallowed, eyeing Irene for a second so I could copy her mannerisms, how one was supposed to eat this food.

She notices my stare and chuckles. "Go on, dig in, it's spaghetti."

"Spaghetti." I repeated, watching how she twirled her fork so that the noodles wrapped around it, I quickly follow her lead. As soon as it enters my mouth, flavors I had never even thought were real exploded on my tongue. Savory, herby, slightly sour, I tried to make out each taste, eventually disregarding that as I began to eat voraciously.

"Do you like it?" She asks, wiping the sauce on her mouth with a napkin.

I nod my head frantically, chewing quickly and swallowing so I could compliment here. "It's really really good. I've..I've never had anything like this before."

"I'd be glad to introduce you to new foods then," she cocks an eyebrows at me. "Have you ever had a cheeseburger before?"

"No? What's that?"

Her eyes widen. "Okay, that's it, first thing tomorrow, as soon as I'm free, I'm taking you to town to my favorite diner. They've got all sorts of food, they even have cheeseburgers with bacon, and the best chocolate milkshake in Hawkins!"

I shut my eyes as I felt them sparkle with excitement, breathing out through my nose to pacify my sudden burst of emotion. Once I open them again, I grin at her. "I'd like that."

"Oh, and if you want I can teach you how to cook—you look like you're old enough to handle being in a kitchen, I think," she paused, furrowing her eyebrows. "How old are you again?"

Panicked, I tried to rack my brain for answers, an excuse, if I told her I didn't know that would have been strange, but I remember one of the social workers' discussions about me.

'I don't know, she looks around 10-12 years old.'

"I'm 11." I blurted out.

"Oh, do you know when your birthday is?"

"Um," I furrow my eyebrows, rubbing my forehead as I did so to feign a headache. "I don't know, no one ever told me, I've never celebrated it."

She leans forward, putting her fork down. "No one's ever celebrated your birthday with you? Not even when you were little?"

I shake my head. "I don't remember."

"Well," she starts, poking at her food. "How about we pretend it's your birthday tomorrow? We can do whatever you want, I can even give you little gift and a cake, we can blow out your candles and you can make a wish! Sound good?"

I smile, genuinely, wholly, and truly happy, I look down, making sure she didn't see the way my eyes flickered, placed my hands on my lap under the table as they twitched with energy.

"Yes, sounds good."

....

The next day, we rode into town, I couldn't count how many times I had to close my eyes and even my breathing to calm myself down. I practically plastered my head to the passenger door window as I observed the buildings downtown, the various shops that lined the streets and the people who went about their day.

Irene had to help me out of the seatbelt, both of us giggling at how I couldn't figure out how to unbuckle myself due to my excitement. As we strolled down the streets, I felt a sudden timidness take over me as we walked past people, instinctively taking hold of Irene's skirt while my eyes scanned over them curiously. Some of them gave me strange looks, while other smiles and waved.

She took me shopping for clothes first, letting me pick out whatever I wanted. Finding nothing but basic articles of clothing in one shop, she led me elsewhere.

"There's a shop I like to go to, my favorite one, best thing about them is all of their earnings go back to charity." She stated as she pushed the glass doors open. I looked at the shop with wonder, aisles of clothing hung on racks, sparking my curiosity at the different materials they were made from.

I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to keep them from twinkling red as I saw an article of clothing that caught my interest.

Following my gaze, Irene nudges me with a smile. "You like that? Go on, get it, show it to me."

I run over to fetch it, admiring its bold red color. It was a leather jacket with silver embellishments, it's size most definitely didn't fit me as it was fairly large on my frame when I put it on, bashfully walking back to Irene.

But she doesn't poke fun at me, doesn't laugh and tell me to put it back. She just smiles. "If you like it we can get it."

"I like it, it looks.." I pause, struggling to find the right word.

"Cool." She finishes my sentence with a nod.

"Yeah, cool!" I exclaim, loving how the word sounded, how it rolled off my tongue.

After that, we passed by a couple of bookshops, picking up a few books that interested me. She led me towards a bakery where she let me pick my own cake, I tapped my finger on the glass at a white frosted cake decorated with colorful sprinkles. Through it all, I felt completely at ease with her, knowing now that she never had any ulterior motives, all she wanted was to see me happy, to care for me. She didn't know about my powers, she took care of me because she wanted to, gave me gifts because she said I deserved it.

We enter a shop filled with a myriad of instruments, not because I knew how to play, I didn't know anything about music, having only ever listened to it recently as she played cassette tapes in the car, I admired the melody of her voice as she hummed along to the songs. I knew them and there I wanted to listen to more music now.

I stared around curiously, brushing my hands over the strings of an instrument with a long handle and a rounded end. I read the label, cocking my head at the name of it. "A banjo?" I whispered.

"No hate to you if you’re into that kind of music, but that one over there's sure to make better sound."

I spun around, only to be greeted by a boy around my age, with short, buzzed hair and a toothy grin.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He raises his hands in surrender. I can't help but furrow my brows at him, searching my thoughts, my memories as I had felt I had seen him before.

"I'm Eddie, by the way." He holds a hand out in front of me, a handshake.

"Hi." I mutter, shaking it cautiously.

"You have any music you like?"

I shake my head, to which he widens his eyes at.

"Really? Come on, everyone's got some sort of favorite song or something."

I stammer, trying to find the right words to say. "I've only gotten interested in music just recently, so.." I fidgeted with my fingers, averting my gaze shyly.

"I've got a few bands in mind if you wanna listen to 'em." He offers with a shrug.

"I, um, bands?" Out of the corner of my eye I see Irene approaching me.

"Hey, Scar," her gaze turns to Eddie. "Who's this? Your friend?"

I glance at him, unsure, but he only grins at me.

"Yeah, we can be friends if you want."

"Sure.." I trail off, shuffling my feet.

"Okay, well, I'm sorry to cut in but I'm feeling a bit hungry, how about you?" Irene turns to look at me, placing a hand at my back.

"Yes, I'm hungry too. Let's go." I grab her hand and rush out the door.

"Wait, I never got to know your—" the door shuts behind us, I glance back at him one more time, guilt we sighing on my stomach as I see his dejected face. I furrow my eyebrows as I closed my eyes, scolding myself in my head for how flustered I had reacted.

Eventually, Irene and I were sat at a booth in the diner, looking over the menu. A waitress walks towards us, a notepad in hand as she reaches for the pen tucked upon her ear.

"Two cheeseburgers and two chocolate milkshakes please." Irene says before she looks at me.

"You're going to love the food here, I promise."

I grin at her. "Don't worry, I believe you."

She chuckles before she catches something from her peripheral vision, a woman had just walked in along with two boys, one looked to be younger than me while the other looked to be around my age.

"Joyce!" Irene exclaims as she stands to greet them, while I sit by and watch.

"Irene? Hey! Fancy seeing you here." The woman, Joyce, replies as they engulf each other in a hug.

"You remember Will and Jonathan, don't you?" She gestures towards the two boys who give Irene a shy wave.

"Of course I do! My goodness, you've grown so much since the last time I saw you." Irene chuckles. Joyce's eyes find mine, I responded by looking down, pretending to read the menu.

"And who's this lovely girl with you?" She smiles at me kindly.

Irene glances at me. "Oh, this is Scarlet, well, um, that's what we call her, it's a nickname really," she chuckles, and I do too, quietly as I heard her ramble. "I uh, just started fostering her recently."

"That great, 'Rene," Joyce lowers her voice, but I lean my head ever so slightly to listen. I'm an eavesdropper, sue me. "I know how long you've been wanting to adopt since.."

Irene shakes her head. "I know, but it's fine, baby steps, right? Besides, she's been with me less than a day, I don't wanna take it too fast. Gotta let her adjust," she looks back at me, her gaze softening. "But yeah, she's a great kid."

"I can tell." Joyce nods, squeezing Irene's hand comfortingly.

"Actually, we're celebrating her birthday today, she's never really uh, celebrated it, so I thought maybe you all would like to join?" Irene steps towards me, kneeling down to my level. "How about it, Scar? You wanna have guests to your birthday party? It's okay if you don't want to." She rubs my shoulder reassuringly as I look towards the family. If Irene trusted them, I figured I could too. I push away any doubts that swirled around my mind, any weariness and hesitations before I nodded, a smile on my face.

"Sure."

Soon, we were all sat on the table, me and Will sat in the booth together while Joyce and Irene sat in front of us. Jonathan settled on a chair on the side, since the shopping bags from earlier took up most of the space on the booth.

While we waited for our food, Joyce had given Will a small box of crayons and a few scraps of paper from her bag. Noticing my gaze on him as he drew, Joyce spoke.

"You wanna color too, sweetheart? I'm sure Will wouldn't mind sharing."

I shake my head. "It's alright, I can watch."

Will nudges the box of crayons towards me, sliding a scrap of paper my way as well.

"It's okay," he insists. "I'll share, we can draw together."

I small smile creeps it's way on my face as I take a crayon. "Thank you."

Shortly after that, we were both conversing, Jonathan piping up now and again with his own comments as we both drew and compared our drawings. I pointed to his paper.

"What's that?"

"It's a spaceship." He grins, holding it up to let me see it better.

"A spaceship?"

"Yeah, it's for astronauts and stuff—and look! They're fighting aliens."

I nod my head. "Why? What did the aliens do to them?"

He continued to explain his drawings to me, and soon I became entranced with the way his mind worked, how easily he could weave stories from his imagination. I admired his creativity. I used to think I could only draw inspiration from books, that those were the only stories worth telling, but as I listened to him, I discovered there was more to it than that, that I could create my own stories and characters.

The food had arrived, and Irene was right, not that I ever doubted her, I finished the burger in a matter of minutes, relishing in the juiciness of the meat and the taste of cheese. I sipped on my milkshake eagerly, the taste of it reminded me of the chocolate truffles I used to be given by Dr. Peters, but that memory seemed so far away now as I was surrounded by people who were kind to me, not a hint of malice behind their words.

For the first time in my life, I was having fun, carefree, serene fun, without a worry in the world. In that moment, none of my past memories came to haunt me, no thoughts of scientists and doctors jabbing needles into my skin flooded my mind.

As I readied to blow out my candles, they all sang to me, clapping their hands along to the rhythm, no matter how out of tune they may have been, I laughed giddily as I closed my eyes to make a wish. As soon as the candles were blown out they cheered for me, giving me their best wishes. Irene reached her hand towards mine, I don't flinch or pull my hand away as she holds it, thumb gently stroking mine in affection as she whispered a small 'happy birthday' to me.

That night as we returned home, Irene tucked me in, and I slept the most peacefully I ever had, dreaming of happy things and fun filled adventures with my new friends; my real friends, not people who wanted to use me for their own selfish desires.

I was happy, and I never wanted to let that feeling go.

....

December, 1979, Hawkins, Indiana

Despite being of age to enter school, I had been assessed by social workers and they determined I needed to meet certain requirements in order to enroll, having never been in an educational institution in the past. Their solution was to provide me a tutor in order to complete the requirements. I picked up most of the subjects easily, apart from math and science. Although I had been educated by the Teacher provided for us by the lab, they had only taught us the basics, such as reading, writing, and simple math, only ever going in depth in foreign languages.

Irene was with me every step of the way, comforting me and encouraging me whenever I flunked a test, praising me whenever I got a good grade, and helping me figure out my homework when I didn't understand it.

One night, we sat at the dinner table. It was my first time helping her out in the kitchen, she remained patient with me as she showed me how to carefully use a knife to cut vegetables, and eventually we had both made the most delicious soup I'd ever tasted.

"Scarlet, I was thinking," she started, swirling her spoon around in the bowl. "Would..would you like it if I adopted you?"

I almost choke on my soup in surprise as she said so, coughing furiously. Irene was quick to be at my side, patting my back gently while she filled my glass with water.

"Sorry, sorry, shouldn't have dropped it on you like that, should've eased in slowly, but I mean, if you don't want to I completely understand, which is why I wanted to ask you, but not like that, definitely not—"

"Irene," I said with a chuckle as I wiped water from my mouth.

"Yes? Oh sorry, I was rambling again, wasn't I?" She laughs at herself, shaking her head as she hid her face in her hands.

"Yeah, you were," I laugh along with her before clearing my throat. "But, to answer your question..yes, yes, I'd love that. I'd really, really love that."

Her eyes widen at my words as a grin spreads on her lips, I see her eyes grow glossy as they started to water.

"You mean it?" She says, lowering her voice. "You—you'd like for, for me to be your mom?" The volume of her voice trailed off until it was above a whisper.

I nod my head, closing my eyes as I felt my own eyes prick with tears, happy ones. Because finally, finally I could have a home, a permanent one, with someone who took care of me and was truly concerned with my well-being.

"Yes." I reply with a small chuckle.

She lets out a breath as she reaches in to hug me. In spite of having lived with her for so long, we had never been this close, most of our forms of affection had been small; holding her hand while we passed through crowded areas, leaning my head on her shoulder as I yawned when we would read together, her rubbing circles into my back to comfort me. It was strange, not in a bad way, the complete opposite, it was the most comforting feeling in the world to me, being wrapped securely in her arms in a loving embrace.

I nuzzled my face into the crook of her neck. I felt safe with her, the house we lived in wasn't just a space to me anymore, a roof to have over my head to keep me from the elements. It was a home. Somewhere I could always return to for comfort, not someplace I was shackled to, forcibly trapped in. She let me make my choices, she guided me along the way, never explicitly telling me what to do or what to choose, she left that entirely up to me. I had never felt so free before.

Colors weren't meant to form any attachments. We were trained for war and dutifully stuck to our purpose that would be dictated to us by whoever would own us. We weren't meant to have a family or friends. We had been taught to keep our guards up and to keep our distance.

But as she held me in her arms, so lovingly and affectionately, I let what they had etched into my brain fade away, unscrambling the neurons in my brain to forget them, to throw them out the window and never let them come back.

Despite what I had been taught, I had become attached to the normalcy I had begun to be accustomed to, letting myself pretend that I was just like everyone around me, no powers, no dark past, not some runaway escapee.

I let myself be me as a I found myself, and Irene had continuously loved me through it all.

And that was all I ever needed.

....

"Scarlet!" Came Irene's distant voice.

"Coming!" I replied, swirling my paintbrush in water to clean it before I raced out of my door and entered the kitchen, where I found Irene hunched over a few documents concerning my adoption.

She smiles as she looked up at me, gesturing for me to take a seat, so I pulled out the chair beside her, plopping down.

"Yes?"

"I was thinking," she drums the pen in her hand against the table. "Since we'll be changing your last name to mine, what do you think about changing your first name? Should we leave it as Scarlet, or would you like to switch to something else?"

I propped my elbow on the table, resting my chin on my knuckle as my tongue slightly poked out of my mouth, deep in thought.

"I wanted your input, since you told me that Scarlet was only your nickname and all," she glanced at the papers before she looked at me. "Maybe you'd like a different name, to mark a new start in your life, or not, it's up to you, you can even pick your name if you want, but I've gotta say, I have a few ones in mind."

I chuckle, easing an eyebrow at her. "Can I maybe hear this list of names?"

"Okay well first of all I thought about Rose, since your nickname is Scarlet I thought it'd pay a nice homage, then I realized that was the name of that creepy lady who worked the cash register who kept accusing you of stealing," we both guffawed as we remembered that strange incident. "And then of course there's Arwen, because who wouldn't want to be her? And Galadriel, Amy, Elizabeth, and Lessa."

I giggled as she mentioned my favorite heroines and badass female characters from the books I read.

"But you know, it's always up to you."

I fidget with my fingers as my hands fall to my lap, closing my eyes as I felt whispers and muffled voices, distant memories swirl around my mind.

"Please, give her back! No— (Y/N)!" A woman's voice screams.

"Sleep, little (Y/N), on the tree top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock." Came a soothing, gentle voice as it hummed a lullaby.

I opened my eyes, having made my decision.

"I want to be called (Y/N)."

....

taglist: @preciousbabypeter @justaproudlslytherpuff @iiheartbowie @beebeerockknot @nightless @lovelydivs @r-royce

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut

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hero2222 · 2 months

Text

Story: An Angel's jealousy

Alice landed softly on Chisk's balcony, her wings folding neatly behind her. Her usual radiant confidence seemed dimmed, an unusual sight that piqued Chisk's interest as he glanced up from his workbench. He was clad in his usual attire: dark-brown dress pants paired with a light green tee, the ensemble oddly complemented by a white lab coat that had become somewhat of his trademark. His brown, messy hair and bright green eyes contrasted sharply with the meticulousness of his surroundings.

“What’s troubling you?” Chisk asked, the directness in his tone softened by genuine concern as he observed Alice. She looked ethereal in her white dress, which flowed elegantly around her form, a stark contrast to the practicality of Chisk's own appearance. Her halo shimmered softly above her long blonde hair, and her golden eyes held a storm of emotions.

“It’s... it’s Selina,” Alice began, hesitantly. She fidgeted with the hem of her dress, a sign of her discomfort. “I thought I might be homophobic because I felt relieved when she broke up with her girlfriend. And the idea of her being with anyone else... I don’t know, it just bothers me.”

Chisk leaned back against his workbench, analyzing Alice’s words. “You’re bothered by her being with someone else, or just the idea of her not being available?”

Alice paused, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Well, when you put it like that...” Her voice trailed off, her brows knitting together as she processed her own feelings. It was unlike her to be this introspective, especially when it came to her own emotions.

Chisk, noticing her struggle, decided to approach it from another angle. “Imagine Selina with someone new. What exactly bothers you about that?”

Alice envisioned Selina, her laughter echoing in her memory, her indigo eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s... it’s weird. Like, I should be happy for her, right? But instead, I just feel... annoyed? No, that’s not the right word...”

Chisk couldn’t help but smile at Alice's obliviousness to her own feelings. “Jealous, maybe?”

Alice looked surprised, as if the word was a revelation to her. “Jealous? But why would I be... Oh.” The realization dawned on her slowly, her expression a mix of confusion and surprise. “Oh!”

Chisk nodded, his smile widening. “Sounds like you might have feelings for her. More than just friends?”

Alice, now fully aware of the depth of her feelings, blushed. The thought had never crossed her mind, or perhaps, she had unconsciously chosen to ignore it. “I... I don’t know. This is all so new to me.”

“Take your time figuring it out,” Chisk advised, his voice steady and reassuring. “Feelings can be complicated. Especially in situations like yours.”

As the conversation drifted to other topics, Alice felt a weight lifting off her shoulders. Chisk’s simple yet effective way of dissecting her dilemma had provided her with a clarity she hadn’t known she needed. And as she eventually took her leave, her wings catching the cool night air, Alice realized that understanding her feelings for Selina was just the beginning of a much larger journey.

(Selina belongs to @lordrose97 )

#short story #writing #Alice #Chisk #friends ocs

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winksasleeplesseye · 10 months

Text

adtrita (four)

SUMMARY: Amara, alongside Leon and Ashley, escapes from the church, but they run into more trouble and find Luis in a cabin nearby. Luis finally gives them some answers....but not much.

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, violence, some cursing

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For what felt like the millionth time, Amara went over so many things in her head. How things could’ve been, should’ve been, needed to be. It doesn’t matter that she was in the middle of a dangerous rescue mission, being led by the one person she couldn’t get out of her head for the past six years. Didn’t matter at all that even in the middle of this situation he couldn’t bother to ask how she’d been, what she was doing now considering she’d confessed she loved him and him the same in return at one point in time.

Did he even still feel the same? Would he have even held a candle for her for six years?

Sure, there was the teasing (mostly from her from what she could tell) and what have you but what about the love? She didn’t say that to him lightly, didn’t say that out of some obligation because he’d saved her life.

Plenty of men tried to pursue in the past few years but she denied them all (she wasn’t above some light flirting though). It was a little bit of a hard act to follow with a man who’d fought grotesque monsters and flesh-eating zombies in an underground lab to get her something that didn’t even have a chance to fully cure her. But Leon did. No questions asked.

Leon was—no, is—a good man.

A part of her felt it foolish, maybe naive to admit she had most definitely held the candle for him, letting it burn down to its wick, more than ready to let the hypothetical flame burn at her fingertips.

Amara would be lying if she didn’t envision the next time they met again to be more romantic comedy and less horror film hell.

Yeah, she was just really tired of living through life-altering events.

Now, all three of them stood hiding between the windows of this church. Outside, she caught a glimpse of the moon, a pale gray silver intermittently overtaken by the clouds. The bluish-gray moonlight casted Leon in an almost ethereal tone as he kept his eyes in a constant swivel, their training differed in many ways but one thing was the same. Assessing the next steps.

The voice that rattled inside her head sounded just about as menacing yet calculated (with a slight hint of cartoony) as someone else she knew once but his command was clear.

Which explained why villagers were now hellbent on finding them.

In the midst of Leon’s assessment, Ashley's eyes brimmed with tears, obviously a bundle of nerves once more as she asked him, “What do we do?”

For a brief moment, Leon turns to Amara and she’s taken back to that moment back in a forgotten city as he assumed she knew the best course of action, but his gaze turns back to Ashley just as quickly.

This is his mission after all.

“Your father trusts me…and I need you to trust me too and do exactly as I say. I’m gonna get you home safe,” Leon speaks with authority, ever the consummate professional but there’s still a gentleness. He’d learned a good balance, she assumed. None of them would get very far if there wasn’t an implicit trust.

His words send relief through her, judging by the brief nod she gives him, “Okay, Leon.”

He doesn’t say anything to Amara, clearly he assumed she didn’t really need so much of a pep talk as the untrained, unprepared college girl did.

Their conversation is cut short by a bursting of a door beneath them, Leon turns his head towards the noise, raising a hand to tell Ashley to stay back. Amara cautiously looked over the rail as he joined her to see what was going on.

The villagers had made their grand entrance, scouring every pew, every nook, every cranny and even behind the altar for them. Their words held all the venom behind them, even from here, Amara could tell something about them was off.

Ignoring the disarray of their clothes stained with dirt and other things, their skin had a sheen to it that was unnatural and…their eyes…their eyes held a furious red beadiness to them. If Amara didn’t know better, she’d have thought their eyes were just about ready to escape their sockets.

There was no going down there, that was for damn sure.

Very much like a mind reader, Leon voiced Amara's thoughts and their next actions, “All right, let’s get the hell out of here.”

They cross the floor in crouched positions, nearing a ladder to take them up a floor as it sat against the wall. The sound of rain pelted down harder outside, the smell of that same mold and mildew is thick, clearly thriving in the nestled corners of the church.

At its current height, they weren’t going anywhere unless…

“Get the ladder,” Leon simply commanded, immediately kneeling down. He didn’t exactly specify who he wanted to do the getting and didn’t want to assume he meant her.

Amara and Ashley share a brief look, the former gesturing, “Up to you.”

“Okay. Hope this is a one time thing,” Ashley mutters, more to herself than anyone else. Amara watched as she took care of how she stepped on Leon’s unreasonably, nicely broad shoulders. He stands to full height with no problem, which sends Ashley up to a higher point of vantage to kick the ladder down.

Amara tried not to be a pervert and stare at Leon’s ass as he ascended the ladder before her, but she did need to look up to climb as well…and well, it was there. Low hanging fruit, or in this case, ass.

Just as she reached the top, Leon flicked on a flashlight, which illuminated at least some of the dark path before them. Obviously, this was the church’s attic, judging by the items draped in covers and the boxes and barrels strewn about. A good layer of dust settled on everything so no one had been up here for a long while. A particular thought wiggled its way into Amara’s brain, could a painting be here?

She couldn’t exactly have said that her original mission had ended, sure, Joe was no longer her support but as far as her other one, it was still a free game. It was a safe assumption to say she was in Spain.

Killing two birds with one stone, getting rescued by Leon and finishing her own mission right under Leon’s nose. Who said he’d have to know anyway?

If he wanted to be that way, seemingly avoidant and distant, she could too.

Fuck, she needed to stop acting so stupid about him. He wasn’t going to immediately drop all his focus and professionalism to make small talk to appease her desperate need to connect with him once again.

This wasn’t Raccoon City anymore, Leon had an actual job to do, actual people to report to. They both did.

But, that nagging in her head would remain for the moment.

“What do we do? There’s no way out.” Ashley’s question cuts through the air as Amara examines something in the furthest corner of the attic. Nothing in here is remotely shaped like a painting.

She can already tell that Leon knew his next move, a foot planted at the edge of an open windowsill as a brief crack of lightning broke through the sky. He doesn’t even really announce what that move is, he just does it as he jumps out the window.

A quiet thump is just about the only thing that alerted Amara to him landing on the ground. She and Ashley moved to look out the window, Leon stared back up at them. The height alone kind of made her queasy but she swallowed that down, asking Leon a crucial question, “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, both of you.” He reassured, the rain soaking him within seconds.

Amara looked back to Ashley, “I hope you have good insurance.” Ashley sends her a tight smile.

It’s not that Amara doesn’t have confidence in Leon, she does completely, but catching a person at this height? He may have nice biceps and probably great strength overall but they’re no match for gravity and other factors.

She tried with everything to fight her hesitance and Leon seemed to pick up on it. “Hey, trust me!”

With a quick prayer to whatever powers that be, Amara scooted herself off the edge and catches air briefly. She half expected a bone crunch or something but she found that she was very tightly secured against Leon. His hands gripped at her shoulders and underneath her knees.

He looked at her in his arms for what felt like a long time, but the moment quickly ended as he placed her feet on the ground. “Thank you for catching me.”

“Anytime,” he responded in a way that reminded her of a different Leon.

Amara tried not to curl in on herself from how the cold rain hit against her clothes, becoming just as drenched as Leon had in just under a minute. Ugh.

She thought she’d left this disgusting rain in shitty London. This was the last thing she wanted to be doing.

Leon catches Ashley with just as much ease, something that Amara can’t help but to find attractive. Goodness, she needed to calm herself down. But, shit, she also needed a gun. Her dear, sweet Beretta would be sorely missed.

She listens with rapt attention to Leon’s transmission with “Roost” about “Baby Eagle”. She could only assume her codename was just as silly and she’s proven correct as she fought a small giggle at the use of “Black Hawk”. It made sense to use official codenames so that Leon wasn’t stupidly going around announcing who he was rescuing but that still didn’t stop it from being ridiculous.

Condor One was a pretty badass one though. Fitting for Leon, she had to admit. Condors are amongst the largest birds in the world and Leon had one of the biggest dicks so it checked out.

At least a helicopter was coming for extraction. The sooner this shitshow was over, the better.

“Like I said, it’s dangerous. Stick close.”

Ashley nods once again. “Okay.”

“Think you should probably give me one of your guns, Leon.” Amara suggested.

Two capable agents were better than one. Throbbing pain aside, Amara had a hell of a shot. No point letting it go to waste.

He looks at her like she’s said the craziest thing. Replying with a quick whisper of, “What? No.”

“What do you mean no?” She can’t fight the confused twist in her features. “Don’t be fucking stupid. We’d have more of a fucking fighting chance if you’d give me one of your guns, Leon. It’s two against…a hundred maybe.”

If her words sting him, he doesn’t let that show. Still focused as ever. “My mission is to keep you both safe.”

She doesn’t want to argue especially in this rain, but her whisper has a tinge of yelling to it. “Yeah, and two people—agents—who know their way around guns is better than one, would you concur?”

He shakes his head briefly, begrudgingly handing her the shotgun that was strapped across his back. “Try not to waste ammo.”

Now that’s what she called firepower.

Her lips quirk into a sickly sweet smile. “Relax, Kennedy. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Even that isn’t enough to break through his seemingly new hard exterior, a quick eye roll is all she gets before he pushes a tipped over shelf blocking the doorway.

“You two know each other?” Ashley questioned as they moved quickly and quietly through the path revealed just beyond the doorway.

“Oh, very well. We have a history even Shakespeare would envy…” she quips, moving close to Ashley, whispering the last part with a hand covering the side of her mouth. “But don’t tell Leon that, he might disagree.”

She laughed quietly, a momentary reprieve from the horrific situation and Amara is glad to have provided it.

The three crouch close together, Leon leading the charge as the rain picked up in its intensity but somehow the flames that came from the torches the villagers held still shined brightly. Amara quietly checked the barrel to see it’s already loaded as Leon moved quickly towards one of the villagers whose back was turned on them. They muttered in Spanish but not words that Amara could translate, but the quiet venom of them was still obvious.

Leon unsheathed his knife, coming up behind the man, coming down on his throat with a ferocity that Amara had never seen from him before. A quick spray of blood coated his hand and the knife—Marvin’s knife—she realized. It barely phased him. Well, outwardly, at least.

With a firm hand over the man’s mouth as he drops to the ground with a quiet thud. Onto to the next one for Leon.

This was no longer the same Leon she’d met years ago, if this action didn’t make it abundantly clear.

Both of them could now navigate dire situations without so much as a thought to doing it, but to see the sheer capacity for brutality that Leon possessed…she wasn’t sure how to feel.

It’s not like she wasn’t also capable of it too, it’s why she’d gotten the nickname she had. Getting the job done took priority and that usually meant whatever means necessary.

After all, the end, for the most part, justifies the means, right?

Just as quick, the villagers become aware almost immediately of their location. Barely a step away from the church. Ashley let out a shriek from fear as they ran at them with murderous intent in their eyes.

“What is wrong with these people?!”

Almost on instinct, both Leon and Amara shield the girl on both sides.

The rain practically doused Amara’s vision as the villagers crowded them. Any eyeshadow left on her lids had started seeping in as well, a burning sensation that left her squinting and no doubt her eyes bloodshot. The weather was no joke.

“Stay the fuck back!” With quick moves, she pressed the butt of the gun into her shoulder and unloaded a deadly shot at close range. The recoil was no joke on this thing but that one shot was enough to cut through the crowd.

Shit, that’s gonna hurt later.

A few of the people convulsed on the floor (despite lacking a full head on their shoulders) and Leon is quick to stab them in their downed state.

“What the hell is wrong with these people?” Her voice was incredulous, voicing the same question Ashley had only moments ago.

“Hell if I know! Just shoot!”

“That’s your plan?”

“A wise woman I once knew would say point, aim, shoot in that order!”

Amara couldn’t exactly argue with that. But, shit, did him being so authoritative have to be so hot? She does as told, helping Leon clear a path to hopefully get away from this place. They run as fast as their legs take them, coming to a bridge only to find themselves flanked on either side by more village people.

Saving grace comes to the three of them in the form of Luis frantically waving them towards the inside of a cabin. “Over here!”

They didn't think twice about booking it like a bunch of track runners trying to make it to the finish line, the second Amara’s body passed the threshold of the doorway she all but crashed to the floor a few feet away from the door.

Stabbing. That’s what her lungs felt like, definitely not like the stabbing Leon had gladly partaken in earlier but it was enough to keep her planted to the ground and struggling for every breath.

Shit. Is this what chainsmokers felt like?

Amara was no Olympic athlete by any means but she wasn’t out of shape either but as far as she can tell, that was hard to tell right now.

Luis slammed the door shut, temporarily shielding the four of them from the villagers outside. They were relentless, a mere cabin wouldn’t exactly hold them back for long, judging by the pitchforks and torches. But it’ll do. Leon placed a gentle hand on Ashley’s shoulder as she was nearly keeled over, fighting for air from the effort of running.

Within a few moments, Leon is on Luis like a hunter after his prey. Amara only briefly glimpsed the absolute rage in Leon’s eyes as he stated, “You.”

“Hey…listen…about earlier…” Luis seemed to pick up on it, immediately cowering back away from Leon.

“Yeah, about that…” He has him against the wall, fist pressed into his chest.

Amara’s eyes shifted between the two men. What in the hell exactly occurred between the time she’d last seen them both? Whatever happened, it clearly pissed Leon off on a massive scale. She doesn’t remember the last time she’d ever seen him so angry, well maybe ever actually. Of course, this was a different Leon now compared to then. Back then, Leon was very sweet…so sweet in fact that Amara occasionally thought he couldn’t hurt a fly but he cursed like a sailor to make up for it.

Luis’ almost gray-blue eyes fell on Amara and Ashley. “Hey…I see you found your missing senorita and your radiante flor.”

He was clearly trying to deflect and defuse the obvious tension radiating off of Leon but still Amara can’t help the small smile on her face at the compliment even through her annoyance. Certainly a charmer.

But, come on, the guy disappeared for several hours and she’s just supposed to not be irritated? Hell, maybe she was more pissed than Leon is, if she wanted to be real.

She arched her eyebrow. “Are you ever going to use my name?”

He doesn’t answer as Ashley walks up beside her, “And the senorita has a name and it’s Ashley, and you are?”

“Name’s Luis,” He responds in an almost sultry manner, “Encantado.”

“Great. We all have names…Now-“ Leon forced his fist harder into Luis’ chest, a small grunt of pain coming from the other man. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Amara half expected Luis to tell Leon the same thing he’d told her back in his lab, it’d certainly resolve Leon’s hostility towards him but things weren’t that simple, that easy. An ominous orange-red glow came closer and closer to the window. Amara is the first to notice.

“Very good question…unfortunately…”

“Uh, Leon?” As if pulled by a thread, the other three turned towards her. Leon lets up on Luis to look outside the window too. The villagers had gotten another way around the gate that Leon closed.

And it wasn’t just a measly few villagers. They were surrounding the cabin.

He turned sharp towards both Amara and Ashley. “Hide. Now.”

“Fuck that.” Amara protested almost immediately, checking the barrel of her shotgun. “Ashley, you go hide. We’ve got this.”

Hopefully.

The girl scrambled, searching for somewhere good to hide. This cabin was just about as wide open as anything and there weren’t really any good spots to hide. That is, until Luis lifted—with Leon’s assistance—a knocked over bookcase, revealing a hole.

Leon ushered Ashley through the hole, she threw him one last glance as she crawled through, the worry in her gaze was pretty obvious but he quickly nodded his head in reassurance. Amara quietly commended him for putting on a brave face for her or hell, maybe he just is that brave to think they could hold off these people.

Luis and Leon move back to the window, Amara training on her eyes through the very same window. “Alright…it’s game time.” Leon nodded minutely in agreement before retreating away from the windows.

Leon already beat Amara to the next course of action in barricading the other open windows surrounding them. Meanwhile, Luis spouted manly nonsense (well, by Amara’s standards) to Leon about stretching and warming up.

“Yeah, now if you’d shut up, we’d be good to go,” Leon responded just as quickly. That made Amara smirk to herself but this wasn’t the time for that.

“Can you two shut up the lovers quarrel and shoot these motherfuckers, please?” She yelled just as the first few villagers climbed inside the cabin.

“If the lady insists!” Luis shouted back, almost in a twisted excitement.

Luis, for all his secrecy, was growing on Amara in a way. For a scientist, he sure knew his way around a gun. An asset she could appreciate right now.

More and more villagers bombarded almost every entrance to the cabin that they could, an acrid scent began to fill the air from the bodies piling up and…melting? A detail that Amara desperately wanted to rid from her mind.

Amara, Leon and Luis flanked one another, trying to keep the villagers back but there were only three of them compared to god knows how many rabid people out there.

“Don’t have much ammo left, gentlemen!” Amara announced, sending a group of three men flying back into one another from the force of the shells leaving the barrel. To add a fucked up cherry on top of everything, a hulking man wearing a pig head over his own burst through one of the barricaded windows with a massive sledgehammer.

The whiplash Amara gets at the sound definitely will leave a crick in her neck but that’s a problem for later. “Up here!” Luis shouted, running up the stairs and she followed not even a second later with Leon being the last to race up the stairs behind them. Creating distance between them and this thing was the smarter option as it swung wildly at everything in its path. It was hard to tell who exactly the thing was after.

Another serious case of deja vu came over her and she didn't hesitate to voice that, “This guy is too much like RC for my liking.”

“Don’t remind me,” Leon scoffed just as he landed a kick on one of the villagers.

Just as the hulking figure came after them, Amara readied the shotgun to take a shot but the familiar click sound she knew too well came out instead, “Shit, I’m out!”

“Here,” Luis barely gave her a moment to think before he tossed her a spare gun. Hm, she had to practically fight with Leon to even get the shotgun.

“Appreciate it!”

She tried to ignore the quick shake of Leon’s head, clearly in annoyance toward the man.

Barely two seconds passed before she began unloading ammo into the pigheaded idiot, to hell with the other people right now.

“Is he even feeling this?” Amara questioned aloud more to herself, an almost incredulous laugh but only to avoid some other reaction. Probably crying.

The cabin was all tight corners and no good exit point, it was a good thing they’d sent Ashley away…they were sandwiched, to say the least. And not in a good way.

Half a second later, as the three of them scattered like bugs around the cabin, Ashley burst in through the back door. “Leon! Amara! Hurry!”

All three of them turned to look at her before Amara broke out into a dash for the door, she had never ran so fast in her life. She didn’t hesitate to follow behind, the men both hot on her tail to escape. Running across a bridge, Leon had to be commended on his quick thinking as he shot the chain, severing the tie between the villagers and themselves. But first, Amara needed to catch her breath.

Labored breaths escaped their lungs as if they had all ran a marathon, Amara let her head lull back against the wooden wall.

Safe. For now.

That wouldn’t be the case for long though. But still, Amara couldn’t believe how exhausted she felt, and for the first time in the evening, a brief touch from Leon came down on her shoulder.

“You good?”

No. Far from it.

Before Amara could answer, Ashley began coughing hard. Gasping for breath as…blood coated her hand.

Both of them, almost as if on instinct, checked on Ashley. Amara didn’t even hesitate to ask, “You alright?”

“What’s hap-happening to me?!”

Luis, in a rare show of genuine concern, took Ashley’s hand and asked, “Ashley, is this the first time you’ve coughed blood like this?”

The girl nodded in response.

“Care for an explanation?” That set off alarm bells in Amara’s head. It only felt natural to question him now seeing as he hadn’t reacted the way they had. Not too long ago, the taste of copper poured from her mouth so it had to be connected, right?

“Do you remember what I told you? At the lab?” Luis set his eyes solely on Amara, an interesting grayish-blue color to them.

The heat on the sides of her face from both Leon and Ashley bored their eyes on her too made her feel a little uncomfortable.

“Refresh my memory.” Amara answered defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. It didn’t take two and two to put it together but she wanted to hear him say it out loud.

“The cough, the blood—it’s caused by something called a…” A brief pause. “Plaga.”

Plague.

The Plague.

Now, she remembered the lab. Las Plagas was a…virus or a parasite, but what exactly did that entail for all of them?

Leon and Amara share a brief look. He does the same with Ashley.

Clearly it hadn’t clicked for the latter two.

Luis went on. “Ok. You saw those “people”, right?”

“You have the same thing inside you.” That gets Amara’s attention. “The same thing that made them like that…”

“This, what you’re experiencing, these symptoms…” Luis spoke in a lower tone, almost an ominous warning. “They’re only the beginning.”

Something about that made her heart break a little. If it weren’t bad enough for Ashley being kidnapped, now she had a parasite too? Not to mention, so did Amara but she wasn’t sure what to make of that predicament for herself yet. Could someone with her…powers…even turn into one of those people? Calling them people was being polite because she wasn’t even sure what they were anymore.

She didn’t want to think the z word but their characteristics were certainly lining up that way.

Naturally, that spiked a fear in Ashley. “I don’t want to become like them.”

That made two of them.

Luis with his back turned to them, seemed to stop short. “You are, well, lucky.”

“How do you figure?”

“You see, at this early stage, the parasite—the plaga. It is possible to remove it…with a surgical procedure,” He threw his hands up. “All you need is some know-how.”

Amara could just hear the sly tone flood his next words, “And, oh yeah—the right equipment.”

They all set their eyes on a scar on Luis’ chest that he proudly displayed. He’d failed to mention that he had also been injected with the parasite at some point and successfully got it out.

“You’re kidding.”

“No worries. See, I have a plan,” He pointed to his head and winked. There was a caveat to this, Amara knew. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”

And there it was.

Leon looked over to Amara once more, he already seemed to know her thought process. Trust wasn’t exactly something that was easily given. But what choice did they have right now?

A simple head nod from him seemed to be more than enough for Luis.

“Great! We’re partners then!” He headed off on the path and something in Amara felt compelled to follow him. Was it a curiosity? Was it something else?

“Hey. Why are you—“

“No time for any questions. The clock is ticking.”

Leon asked what had to be a crucial question. “Why are you helping us?”

But Luis was quick with an answer, not even turning around to look. “Because it makes me feel better, let’s leave it at that.”

He waved a radio in his hand. “I will contact you later.”

Amara doesn’t even second guess her decision. Only a few strides make it past Leon before his hand clutches at the bend of her arm to pull her back gently. “Where are you going?”

“With Luis?” She said, as if it were obvious. She could just barely see his form in her vision. He hadn’t gone too far yet.

“You’re still my mission, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware, Dad,” She replies with a bit of snark. “But one of us should go with him to help his plan, right?”

“He said he’ll contact us later—“

“—and I can’t wait till later. I can catch up later,” Amara tried to gently remove Leon’s hand from her arm but he wasn’t budging.

“It’s dangerous out here. Just stick close for now.”

“Leon, I can handle myself. Focus on Ashley, alright?”

For what felt like the first time since their reunion, Leon proved to her that he wasn’t completely unphased by it all as his grip got a little tighter and his voice became a tad uneven from a built up frustration, “Just stay with me!”

“What is up with you? You’re acting like I’m incapable!”

“You’re acting differently too!”

“Me? Different? That’s irrelevant right now. The priority is the mission but there’s clearly something else going on that we need to learn about and the only one who seems to know a damn thing is leaving!”

“Amar-“

“Enough! We’re wasting time standing here,” Without another word, she turned on her heel and headed in the direction of Luis. A nagging voice told her to at least reassure Leon she’d be back, so she did even though it sounded less reassuring and more annoyed (she was very annoyed at him).

“I promise to catch up, alright?”

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divinemare · 3 months

Text

i was so bored so i made this ai photos of my oc’s :) (instead of writing, what i should be doing) so enjoy, because they’re gorgeous beautiful perfect

Mareena

a court of gods and monsters

literally losing my mind over how pretty she is. that glow???? in my mind her eyes were even more greener (and with the so called “specks of gold” like tamlins) but nonetheless everything else is perfect

Demetria

cold starlights

SHE’S SO BEAUTIFUUUUUL, literally ethereal. i need to do a version with all the new gen and I WILL. also i couldn’t give her the double colors in her eyes so just imagine she has one gray eye ok? ok :)

Kallistrade

dark tides

she looks like she could kill you AND SHE WILL. you can just SEE the evil smirk in her eyes. the only thing i’m not so happy about is that i feel her skin is whiter than i envisioned, like miss gurl’s job is ocean, i feel like she has more of a tan, but the facial features the hair and the accessories are on point

Karina

cruel cauldron

SHE’S LITERALLY PERFECT STOP. this is EXACTLY how i pictured her. the hair the skin the eyes EVERYTHING. she’s literally mesmerizing (and those eyebrows???? i’m obsessed)

Ariadne

legend of a mortal love

i’m crying 🥹🥹🥹 my baby girl 🥹🥹🥹 i’m sorry but the DEFIANCE in her eyes???? she’s 100% looking at rhys in this pic. also the messy hair looks incredible

Maeve

born to die

OMFG. that’s all i’m gonna say bcos that’s all that NEEDS to be said. JUST LOOK AT HER PLSSSS

and that’s it i think, i’m gonna do more bcos im obsessed whit how this turned on. i wanna know what y’all think, is this how you pictured them too or what would you change? let me know pls!

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xawkward-ariesx · 1 year

Text

Muse

Jane had loved the smell of her university dark room back in her student days. What had started out as a means of filling the time and giving her a plausible excuse to forego social events back in freshman year had developed into a passion. A means of capturing a moment in time and instilling it permanently in film to be revisited at whim. Her flatmate Donna had once accused her of preferring her stills to the people captured within them. It wasn't entirely true.

People were confounding and endlessly confusing. She didn't know how to navigate social situations, always misconstruing or just missing social cues entirely. The stories people told outright were rarely the whole thing. It was akin to being given the cliff notes and being asked to rewrite the chapters from them, you were bound to miss the details and the nuance. It was frustrating in a way that photography wasn't.

People didn't expect her to talk behind a camera much more than to simply direct them and that was something she excelled at. She knew how to get what she wanted from people, always cutting to the core of the matter, no patience for skirting around it.

She rarely entertained regrets. If she hadn't gone after something there was a reason for it. And yet there was one woman who plagued her as of late. Rose Tyler, her current muse. The young woman had modelled for her on numerous occasions now and yet with every opportunity presented to her, Jane still had not plucked up the courage to say more to her than the usual directions she gave all those that stepped in front of her lens.

But there was something different about the blonde. Something that urged her to speak to the ethereal woman. Something that itched to put hands to her skin and maneuver her as if she was clay to mold rather than a subject to instruct. Something that beckoned her closer and had time running away from her. With every urge came the certainty that she should keep her distance. Very few people could tolerate her 'eccentricities' and Rose was a work colleague. She'd never had trouble separating work from the rest of her life before and yet...

She was brought out of her thoughts by a laugh.

"You look so lost in thought that I'd be offended if you didn't keep calling me back for each new idea of yours." Rose teased, tongue between teeth in a smile that demanded to be captured on film. Jane resisted the temptation as always.

"Sorry." She replied sheepishly.

Rose hummed, "Ya know I thought you'd be chattier."

"What makes you say that?" Jane fought to keep the sharp tone out of her voice, fiddling with her camera as a distraction.

"You know my mate Jack. He said you had philosophy together one semester in uni, and it was only a semester because you got into a debate about theology with the lecturer before switching course."

Jane flushed red at the reminder, "That was a long time ago." Though they had remained friends since then despite how obnoxious she found the man at times he was always there to bail her out when she needed.

"Maybe." Rose conceded, but only for a moment. "But my mum cuts your friend Donna's hair and she has plenty to say about her 'spaceman' friend."

Jane rolled her eyes at the familiar nickname. Donna had frequently referred to her as a 'space case' but the real nail in the coffin for that nickname had been the astronomy class she'd taken after dropping philosophy and promptly fallen in love with. Donna's left eye still twitched when she mentioned certain comets.

"Donna's a gossip."

"So's my mum." Rose grinned.

"Tilt your head back."

Rose did as told. She was brilliant like that. She needed very little instruction to understand exactly what Jane was envisioning. It was as though she had insight into her psyche, which was a frankly terrifying thought considering how the other woman occupied it.

Rose waited for the shutter of the camera before groaning.

"Come on. You can't detest me that much if you keep having me back yet you barely ever say a word to me that isn't completely perfunctory." She pouted.

Jane snapped another photo with a glare in retaliation but that only caused the pout to fall away to make room for another smile.

"I bet you ten quid I'm not the worst company in the world."

"You're friends with Jack, that doesn't exactly inspire confidence."

Rose shrugged, "He came to my rescue on a drunk night out gone horribly wrong a few years ago."

That sounded like Jack alright, there was probably flirting involved, she thought bitterly. "What happened?"

"Ex-boyfriend drama." She shrugged looking the most somber Jane had ever seen her. "Apparently restraining orders didn't mean much to him. Go figure." She gave a wry smile then.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's over and I gained a Jack from it."

"I suppose he's not the worst." Jane conceded, fiddling with the light settings.

"I'm telling him you said that, he'll be thrilled."

Jane groaned, "Ugh his ego is bad enough as is."

"Tell me something about yourself instead and I won't." She bargained.

Jane cocked an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Mhmm, the secondhand stories are all well and good but I'd rather learn something from the source."

"Why the interest?"

"Because you're cute." Jane flushed causing Rose to laugh. "And because maybe you're not the only one with a muse."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jane frowned.

"Uh uh, I only offer information in exchange for information."

"We're trading in secrets now?"

"Absolutely."

Jane fiddled with her camera strap as she considered her options. She wasn't sure exactly what to tell the other woman, there wasn't anything that seemed consequential enough for this exchange of secrets.

"I wanted to travel." She started, the answer suddenly coming to her. "I felt suffocated growing up, never quite good enough for the life that had been laid out for me. I tried my hand at half a dozen courses at uni trying to find my place before realising that I just wanted to get away. Photography allowed me that freedom."

Rose smiled softly at the answer, "I'm in art school. I dropped out of college as a teen to live with a guy who I thought was the love of my life but turned out to be an awful mistake. I did some nude modelling alongside other part time work to pay for rent and things, after things ended and realised that I wanted to go back and get my degree. You've shown up on a few of my sketchbook pages."

There was a moment of silence as the two women regarded each other seeing the other in a new light now. The moment was shattered when Jane unwittingly snapped another picture.

"Do you want to see? Seems only fair, you've shown me your work of me, about time I returned the favour."

"Lead the way Rose Tyler." Jane grinned.

#Ace writes #doctor who #doctor who drabble #DW drabble #Timepetals #Rose Tyler #Thirteenth Doctor #Thirteen x Rose #Thirteenrose drabble #Spacewives drabble #Human!AU drabble #Photographer!Thirteen #Artist!Rose Tyler #Spacewives moodboard #Drabble moodboard #writing moodboard #Abbey posted thirteenrose fics and it activated me like a sleeper agent #*chasing you down the street* hi! do you have time to talk about my faves thirteenrose!#it's nearly 2am i just bashed this out in a fit of inspo it has not been proofread

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