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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Red Roses

Kirishima Eijirou

word count : 7.5k

[ ✘ (nsfw!), flowershop!au ]

themes : haaaa where to begin… almost dubcon?? (BEWARE!), dom!kiri, size kink!kiri, light spanking, tinyyy bit of ass play, little use of “Sir”

bio : Kirishima decides to educate you on the alternative meaning behind a red rose.

author’s note : this fic was meant to be for the @bnhabookclub provisional licensing exam event using their flowershop!au, but alas... i am a lazy procrastinator. anyway you should check them out!! i’ve absolutely loved being a part of something so great. also thanks to all who helped me with this fic <3 buuut special thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for beta reading <3

tagging: @queensynderella @marilla-eldriana @1-800-callmekatsuki @hisoknen

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he bell tinkles overhead as you step into the quaint store, palm clammy against the metal doorknob and chest tight with apprehension.

“Y/N! Thank god for you,” your friend exclaims from behind the register, sliding over the counter with ease. She shoves the apron she’s holding into your hands before attempting to throw her hair into a messy bun. “I cannot believe my sitter cancelled on me this last minute— my husband has to be out of the house in ten minutes!”

You smile at her gratefulness, but your eyes are not on her. The curtains on the back room part and out steps the store owner, red eyes landing on you. “Y/N,” he greets you, the timbre of his voice low and cool. You nod and smile hesitantly toward him, shifting your attention back to your friend even though you can feel his gaze raking over your body.

Yuki wags a disapproving finger toward the man behind the counter, “Kiri, you better take good care of her!” She commands with a playful yet firm tone, body already halfway through the door you’d just come in through.

Your entire being screams out for you to beg her to stay, but you hold your tongue as you recall it was you who said you’d cover her shift. She already seems to have had the stress lifted from her shoulders at your arrival, and you can’t bear to back out after coming all the way here.

Looking back toward the source of your stress, you can’t help but admire him. Scarlet locks hang down around his face, majority pulled back into a sleek, short ponytail to give you a better view of his handsome face— jawline sharp as his teeth and the scar on his forehead slicing through his brow. He’s tall; well over six foot with rippling muscles adorning his long, tan arms. He’s wearing a crisp, white button down rolled up to the elbows, black and red ink poking out of the hem and trailing down his forearms. The store’s pine green apron is pulled snug around his figure, accentuating his broad chest and narrow hips. You already know his ass looks incredible, even though it’s hidden by the plastic countertop. He’s a five course meal on legs, for Christ’s sake, but you know better than to get ideas— he’s a player.

“Of course,” Kirishima replies across the store after her retreating form. His eyes drift over to you, catching your stare. “I’ll take great care of her.”

The door closes, sealing you to your fate with the red beast of a man. For a moment you just stand there, frozen as your mind runs through a thousand thoughts. Before he can comment about your blatant staring, you rip your eyes away from his, throwing the neck of the apron above your head. Tugging the tie around the back of your waist, your fingers fumble with the thick material as you turn to face him again. “So what should I work on?”

He seems amused at your question, even though it’s extremely valid. Not even bothering to hide the generous once-over he gives you when you've finally tightened the bow behind your back, he takes his time to answer you. “Yuki usually does the ordering for next week’s shipments tonight, but I’ll do that. You can put together some bouquets— I’ll give you one to follow off of.”

You’re honestly surprised that he’s giving you real work to do, but then again, you are covering a shift after all. Kirishima shows you the corner behind the counter designated for bouquet assembly, and he helps you make the first bouquet before he slips away behind the curtains of the back room once again, leaving you alone in the store.

He’d picked a simple bouquet for you to reproduce; a dozen red roses with a few sprigs of baby’s breath and a touch of greenery. The work is pleasantly methodic to complete, and by the time the sky is dark, a small sense of pride blooms in your chest at the pile of bouquets you’d managed to complete. It’s five minutes to close, and not a single customer has come into the store in the last hour. You’re snipping the ends off of the last branch of baby’s breath when you hear the rustle of the curtains behind you.

Immediately the atmosphere of the room changes. The once warm and light mood that filled the shop dissipates, replaced with a heavy, silent tension that causes trepidation to ooze into your veins.

“These look pretty good, Y/N,” Kirishima speaks from behind you, thick fingers moving over the packages of cellophane in a slow, analytical sweep. You roll your eyes, wondering if he’d thought you’d do a shit job or something.

You open your mouth to give him a curt thanks, but your voice dies in your throat as you feel his presence a hair’s breadth from your backside. The heat that rolls off of him licks at your skin through your clothes, your hands fixed midair.

“Though this one’s a little off,” he murmurs, breath washing over the shell of your ear. His hands come into your field of vision, arms absurdly thick and just generally large in comparison to you. His hands are just as big, dwarfing yours as he plucks the dainty flower from your stiff fingers.

The tattoos that peek out from the cuff of his sleeves hold a certain gravity that captures your stare. You watch him tuck the stem among the bouquet in your peripheral, placing it in precisely the perfect location to make the ensemble flawless.

Your stomach lurches when his chest brushes against your shoulders, fingers turning in on themselves to form to meager fists that you place atop the counter. “There,” he whispers, and you can feel just how close his lips are to touching your ear.

His voice does something to you; up close like this it sounds almost akin to how a tiger’s purr rumbles through its whole body. Except it’s your body that it thunders through, an unwanted heat beginning to form between your thighs. You shift your legs slightly, bringing your feet closer together in an attempt to mitigate the sensation.

You nearly gasp when he pulls away, eyelids fluttering shut in relief.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” he comments, returning to the pile of bouquets that rest along the countertop. He starts to tuck them into his arms, red gaze flickering to gauge your expression. There’s a knowing gleam in his eyes, and you try your best not to allow heat to flood into your cheeks. But he doesn’t push it any further, turning and walking around the counter to crouch in front of one of the fridges that line the wall. You find yourself wishing for the cool air to wash over your own face, and you grab a few bouquets before making your way over to him.

You kneel down next to him, slightly annoyed that even sitting down he’s still at least a head taller than you. Stupid proportional man. You open the door and prop it open against your hip, leaning in to place the fresh bouquets inside an empty bucket, following Kirishima’s lead.

Kirishima watches you from the corner of his eye for a moment. “Thank you,” he says as he continues to fill the buckets in front of him, “for filling in for Yuki, I mean. The shop doesn’t look too busy but it needs two people to keep it up and running, so… I appreciate you coming in.”

His words are unexpected, and they bring a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks. You’d never seen the playboy be so openly appreciative before, although honestly you’ve only seen the fuckboy side of him— the one that eyes you down, and blatantly flirts with you when you come to visit your friend during her shifts. “Of course, Kiri,” you reply automatically. The burning in your cheeks only intensifies when you realize you’ve addressed him so informally, but when you turn to apologize to him, you find he’s much too close for comfort. He’s leaned in, taking you by surprise as the scent of his deep, savory cologne wafts into your face. Those carmine eyes piece into yours, making your stomach fill with butterflies, flapping round your stomach in a concoction of nerves and— you hate to admit it— hunger.

“You’ve done such good work today, Y/N,” he nearly whispers, and you watch as his full lips part to utter the words, sharp fangs glinting at you. Before you lose yourself to the moment, he stands, mollifying the intensity and severing you from the invisible string that pulls your gaze to his. You hesitantly take the hand he reaches out to you, trying not to think about how truly huge it is compared to yours. He pulls you up effortlessly, and you still as his other hand comes to touch the back of your waist when you all but collide into his chest. “Sorry,” he says but you wouldn’t deem his tone apologetic, “you’re so dainty, y’know— like a flower.”

You turn on your heel to face the other direction, hoping he doesn’t notice how much his comment affects you; you’re sure you look like a bird with fluffed, ruffled feathers— you certainly feel that way at least. You let out an awkward laugh as you take a hasty step toward the register, your body wanting nothing more than to rid itself of this infuriatingly delicious heat that Kirishima’s words create underneath your skin, licking and crawling along your bones. Finding yourself safely harbored behind the counter once again, your eyes fall to the nearly-completed bouquet you were just wrapping up when Kirishima exited the back room. Your fingers reach for a sprig of greenery, flat wide leaves fanning out in an elegant manner that could only accentuate the beauty and simplicity of the red bouquet.

But your sense of security is proven false, for Kirishima’s deep, demanding voice trickles like honey into your ears. “Red roses are accepted as the symbol of love all around the world,” he pauses for dramatic effect, and you hate to admit you’re left teetering on the edge of your metaphorical seat waiting for his next words, “but true florists know they convey another meaning.”

By the clarity of his diction you can tell he’s standing not far behind you, probably a step or two away. You can feel your heart rate spike again, your breath catching as you wonder what his next move will be. “And what’s that?” You reply dryly but it comes out more like a breathless whisper.

His thick forearms intrude your vision and settle on either side of your figure, leaving just a touch of space from your flesh. Your nearly shaking fingers drop the twig of leaves when he reaches between your hands, plucking a single thorny stem from the assembly before you and holding the soft, velvety petals to the tip of your nose. He doesn’t have to say the words for you to know to take a sniff of the blossom, and you inhale as much as your lungs will take before he answers your question, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“Desire.”

Your body freezes completely, too shocked to even draw in a breath of air, when his pointy teeth graze the very tip of your ear. Jaw hanging at his sheer impudence, you’re still as a statue when he moves the soft swell of the bloom across your far cheek, soft petals trailing along your fiery skin. The action tickles slightly, causing your head to turn toward his face that hangs down above your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” he coos, and again there’s that rumble in his voice that resonates through your frame. He drops the flower, not caring to even spare a glance as it falls from his fingertips. The digits move to cup your chin, middle finger pushing the corner of your jaw to swing your face directly in front of his. Simmering red eyes stare deep into yours, flickering toward your lips briefly before he decides he no longer wants to drag this out.

You’re horrified to moan so unabashedly when his lips press against yours in a vicious siege, dominating them and claiming them as his. His kiss is rough, as if he can’t hold himself back from his beast-like passion, yet it’s much more meaningful and encaptivating than you’d imagined it would be. His arm slithers around your hips to place his hand atop your ribs. Your eyes widen at his undisguised motive, and you open your mouth to call him out— but before you can pull away to tell him to stop, his tongue slips between your lips. Knees wobbly at the sudden intrusion, your tongue begins to move with his, stroking, and swirling, and tangling into one sexy, sloppy mess. His hand slips from its place on your ribs, drifting underneath the side of your apron and cupping your entire breast— not much of a challenge for his large palm.

Kirishima moans into your mouth at your acceptance, and you can only croak out a small whimper of reciprocation. His hand is hot through the nearly sheer fabric of your blouse, and the bra does not do much to block his calloused hands from your chest. His other hand continues to grip your jaw, just hard enough so you’d have to struggle to pull away from him. That is, if you were ever to want to pull away from him.

Your hands are still frozen in front of you, unsure what exactly to do in this situation. Mind completely exhausted of all higher levels of thought, the only emotions you can recognize are lust and satisfaction. Actually, your brain is so hazy with these feelings that you don’t even complain when he starts to undo the tie at the back of your apron. His teeth drag across your bottom lip, the sharp edges not quite pressed hard enough to cut you, but for some reason it brings an unexpected thrill. Pulling away from your mouth, Kirishima’s lips meander across your jaw, his hand tilting your head up so he can continue his journey to your throat. He sucks on the tender flesh there, inhaling your sweet and clean scent as his tongue washes against your skin. You gasp at his brazen action, ass pushing against his hips to discover something long and thick there. Teeth prick into your flesh just a touch too hard, but he’s let go of you after only a minute, and he traces over the small wounds with careful licks.

“Do you,” you suck in short breath when he squeezes your breast, your words faltering, “Do you do this with all your employees?” You taunt, but Kirishima can recognize the doubt in your tone. It’s hidden under false scorn, but your question is pure and filled with true intent.

He pauses his treatment on your neck for a spell, and when he speaks, the wet skin on your throat feels cold as his breath falls upon it. “Of course not,” he purrs, raising his head to take your earlobe between his teeth, pulling away and sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. Your body jolts at the stimulation, and your bottom brushes against his crotch again. This time, his hand moves from your breast to wrap around your waist, securing you in place. He presses his concealed cock against the swell of your ass, and you bite your lip at the sheer size of him. Leaning in, he places a long stripe on the side of your ear with his hot tongue, and you can hear the teasing dripping from his voice. “Only with the pretty ones who beg for it.”

Kirishima’s hips rut against your ass, and he holds you in place so that the gentle grind he offers is felt in full effect. You nearly moan at the feeling of his hot length rubbing against you, your pussy starting to leak onto your panties. Of course you know he’s been around, but he’s so sexy— and he’s got to be good at what he does with all that experience.

He pauses, angling your face to still in front of his again. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and a pleased smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. He turns your face away again, and your eyes fall shut as his nose scrapes along your cheek. “Yuki says to stay away from you,” he grumbles, lips pressing against your cheek as he speaks, a groan slipping from his parted lips as he rolls his hips into yours particularly hard. Your bottom lip is held prisoner between your teeth in a desperate attempt to hold in the moan that craves to be set free. “Says a good girl like you is too good for me to be messin’ around with.” His words convey a dash of irritation, and you’re caught off-guard at the seasoning of disdain.

You wonder when she’d told him that— when they’d talked about you— but Kirishima does not allow you another moment to ponder it. He kisses you again, and all thoughts are cleansed from your brain as his lips seize yours. The hand on your chin drops and you gasp as it lands on the hem of your skirt, curling around you so his hot palm rests on your inner thigh, just a short distance from your soaked panties. Your feet move to draw your legs together, and your quivering thighs rub against his hand as you struggle to make your body move to your will. Pulling back to fill your lungs with fresh air, you mumble against his lips, “Kirishima, that’s—”

“But I know you’re not all that innocent,” he continues, fingertips brushing over the saturated lace. He groans as he traces along your slit, delighted to find you’re more than aroused from all his touching and teasing. Your cheeks feel impossibly hot, and you let out a soft whimper as he grazes over your clit a few times, your head falling back against his broad chest. Kirishima takes in your lustful expression, and the way your eyelashes flutter at him makes his cock twitch in his pants. “You’re so wet, sweetheart— fuck, you’re a naughty little thing. Y’want this, huh?”

Even though you only give him the slightest nod, he seems to accept your response, for his grip around your waist tightens considerably, pulling you flush against him. His hips buck against yours and you moan aloud when the clothed tip of his cock rubs against your panties through your skirt. You can’t even react when he spins you around, your head feeling fuzzy and laden with desire. He grabs your hips, easily placing you on the edge of the countertop before his fingers move to rip off your apron, then coming to undo the buttons at the front of your blouse. “The— The store,” you pant, eyes darting toward the door that currently sports the ‘open’ side of the sign. You swallow thickly when Kirishima falls to his knees, landing at the perfect height for him to put his head between your thighs.

His hands move to snag the hips of your panties, and you nearly whine in embarrassment when he slides the item down your legs, a thick string of your lust connecting the material to your pussy before it severs. Kirishima only moans in awe, pride oozing into his system as he takes in how drenched you are for him. He shoves the soiled lace into his pocket, and you whine at the action, about to complain but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry, Princess. No one’s gonna bother us,” he breathes out as he comes closer to your weeping core, your slick trickling down your ass cheek to drip onto the countertop.

White hot mortification bursts through you as he takes a long whiff of your pussy, and you squirm to move backwards but rough hands trap your thighs open, dragging your ass to hang halfway off the edge. He smirks as he looks up at you, examining your flustered expression.

“You ‘dunno how long I’ve wanted to have a taste of this sweet little pussy,” he growls, and your hands fly to the end of the counter to steady yourself, grasping onto it tightly. He chuckles when your cunt twitches before him at his words, his hands spreading your thighs apart into an obtuse angle, moving forward to drag his nose along your slick folds. You whimper at the contact, clenching around nothing as he teases you, your mouth falling open to suck in ragged breaths of air. His tongue darts out just slightly, and he runs the tip along your slit, separating your folds and savoring how your thighs shake underneath his grasp. “Mmmm,” he moans, sending tiny vibrations echoing through your sopping cunt, “good girls always taste the best.”

You can’t bear to look at him any longer, and you move your hand to place your curled knuckle between your teeth as his tongue creeps out, the flat muscle petting over your entrance slowly. His teeth graze your clit and you whine at the stimulation, the smooth enamel sliding across your bundle of nerves easily. His tongue is slow and playful, stroking you and avoiding where he knows you want him most.

Kirishima nuzzles into your cunt, rubbing your clit again with a lewd snarl pulling up his lips. “Look at me,” he commands and you follow his direction instantly, eyes blown wide with lust and tongue pressed tight against your knuckle. He groans at the sight, and you only shift your hips in his grasp to try to get closer to his mouth. Those scarlet eyes find yours once again, and you struggle to hold his gaze as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it in and rolling his tongue over it. He moves the muscle hard against you, just fast enough to have you moaning out, your hand flying from your mouth to grasp the top of his crimson hair. Pulling away briefly, he blows a small huff of air across your heat, shit-eating grin splitting to gloat. “Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart? Be a good girl and keep those pretty eyes on me.”

Your lips waver as they press into a firm line, your thighs straining to close at the intensity when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. But his massive hands hold your legs apart without any effort, and he lashes his tongue against you without mercy. There is nothing more you want other than to throw your head back and close your eyes, jaw hanging open and heated pants drifting out, but you force your gaze to remain on the man between your legs. Your fingernails scrape against his scalp as you try to find some way to channel the pleasure he introduces to your body, but the action only seems to spur him on. One hand leaves your thigh only for his other arm to wrap right around your ass, and your hips buck helplessly against his face when a fingertip prods your slicked entrance.

Kirishima does not ask for permission, and you suck in a silent gasp as his finger spreads your pussy, shock and pleasure shooting through your limbs at the stretch just one finger provides. “You seem a little quiet, sweetheart. Wanna hear that sweet voice of yours again,” he growls against your pussy, tongue flicking down to trail along the edges of his finger lodged deep inside of you.

You can only whimper as he glides the digit out, pushing it back inside slowly and nearly making your eyes roll back in your skull. His finger is already so long and thick— god, if you had fingers like that you could probably make yourself cum in—

A shriek of bliss rips from your lungs as he thrusts his finger into you, curling toward himself and rubbing some place your fingers have never reached. There’s a cocky grin on his face, and you hate to admit he looks so good looking up at you like that from between your legs, but you can’t bring yourself to form any words. “That was cute,” he chuckles, jagged teeth nipping gently at your pearl again and forcing your entire body twitch against him. He makes sure to capture your full attention before he finishes his thought, the corners of his lip curling with something darker. “Is that the best you’ve got? I think you can do better.”

He’s anything but gentle, the heel of his palm rubbing against your folds as he fucks his finger into you at a rapid pace. You’re seeing stars flash before your eyes, the sliver of sanity you were so desperately clinging to ripped from your grasp. You cry out when his mouth returns to your clit, sucking, and flicking, and slurping. Your eyes just won’t stay open, jaw losing the opposite battle as it hangs ajar, broken and unrestrained moans tumbling out like a burst dam.

Kirishima seems satisfied with your reaction, and he begins to groan against your cunt. You’re dripping with enough slick to coat the entire lower half of his face, and the vibrations from his throat only reverberate through your pussy, making you sharply tug on his hair.

“K-Kirishima,” you pant, a plea about to leave your lips. You’re not sure if you want to beg him to stop, or to give you even more. But Kirishima makes that decision for you.

A strained gasp slices though you when his finger slides out of you, only to be pressed against another digit and shoved into you. The unexpected addition causes you to yelp, a strained moan purring out of you as he allows a few slow strokes for you to adjust. Jesus, having two of his fingers in you feels like you’re being stuffed already— a fleeting pang of fear shooting through you as you wonder what his cock will feel like. But you’re not allowed to ponder the thought, his fingers picking up the pace and curling against that spongy spot again.

Body squirming with bliss, your hips thrash in his hold, switching between scooting back and forth, rocking yourself against his mouth. Kirishima can feel your cunt begin to tighten snug round his thick fingers, your walls fluttering and pulsing at his rough but generous stimulation. “Gonna cum? Bet you make sucha pretty face when you cum, come on sweetheart,” he murmurs, slick lips kissing along the top of your pussy, across your clit. You would’ve cum already if he just kept that sly mouth of his on your clit, and you don’t expect his next words to affect you so much as you cum all over his hand. “Sooner you cum, sooner I can split you open with this cock. You want that, right? Wanna have me fuck that tight little cunt— y’wanna be my good girl, huh?”

Kirishima holds your hips close, arm tightening around your bottom as your body spasms with your orgasm, euphoria zipping through your entirety. The broken moan that rings out into the room makes his cock pulse in his pants, trousers feeling suddenly much too snug for his liking. Your head is thrown back in ecstasy, thighs quivering atop the counter and toes curled in your sneakers.

Finally he allows you a moment to breathe, fingers slipping out of your pussy and standing before you. His arm slides up with him, snagging around your waist to lay his palm flat against your shoulder blade and hold you upright. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he smirks as your eyes finally open, only to catch him tracing his tongue along the fingers that just brought you to heaven’s gates.

Your palms land on the broad expanse of his chest, fingers curling around straps of his apron. He laughs as you whine gently, ducking down a considerable distance and allowing you to slip the loop over his head. You undo his shirt as your lips collide, this time in a sloppy and desperate kiss. His tongue rolls over yours in your mouth as he tugs your bra to rest on top of your chest, your breasts spilling out into his eager palm. He thumbs over your nipples and growls against your mouth, and you whimper and allow your fingers to spread across the flesh of his chest. When you open your eyes, you notice a black and red dragon carved into the top of his pec, dipping halfway down from his collar bone and curling around his shoulder down the length of his arm.

Shirts thrown to the floor in crumpled heaps, you trail your fingers down his hard six pack, thumb combing through a neat trail of black above the button of his jeans. Digits running down to cup his hard length, you look at him with wanton eyes and groan. “Wanna taste you, Kiri.”

Kirishima clicks his tongue in his mouth, a beefy hand wrapping around your wrist entirely and steering your hand to rest on the bulge on his thigh. Your eyes widen almost comically, your throat drying and pussy tightening with a cocktail of apprehension and excitement. He leans down to run his tongue along the column of your throat before he pulls back with a brief nibble to your jaw, locking eyes with you. “I don’t think a sweet girl like you can handle taking me in your mouth.”

His fingers move to undo the button on his jeans, the suspense thick in the air as you watch in awe. He tugs the jeans to rest beneath his ass, the bulge in his black boxer-briefs already indicating you might be in for more than you can handle. You try not to let your jaw drop when his cock springs free, swollen tip glazed with a sheen of pre and pulsing veins decorating the entire shaft. Hand around the base of his cock, you whimper as it only covers half his length— his fist is already considerably bigger than yours and suddenly you’re in fear for your pussy.

Kirishima laughs at your expression, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and smoothing the hair from your forehead. “Don’t worry Princess,” he murmurs, arm around your waist again to push your hips to the very edge of the countertop. Your pussy twitches when the head of his cock brushes your folds, and you find yourself wondering if you’re about to be in a world of pain or pleasure. Probably both. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing gentle, wet kisses there.

“I don’t— I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you croak out, arms hesitantly wrapping around his neck. Yet your legs spread on their own accord, inching forward so his cock rubs against your opening.

Kirishima purrs at the action, licking his lips against your throat. “We’ll make it fit, sweetheart.” He brings his hand up to his mouth and spits into it, the crude noise making you flinch and wrinkle your nose in disgust. But it doesn’t last for long— any conscious thought leaves your brain when you glance down, seeing him stroke the top half of his cock with his slick hand. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and pull him closer, trying to prepare yourself for whatever is about to come.

Thankfully his movements are slow as he pushes into your wet cunt, and you’re surprised how easily his length slides into you. The stretch is unreal— unlike anything you’ve ever felt before— and it takes all your willpower not to clench around him for you know that will just cause you further discomfort. He only enters you halfway, grip tight on your waist as if he’s having a hard time controlling himself. Sighing against the flushed skin of your neck, he moves to kiss you again, lips tender and careful.

You whimper when he gives a tentative thrust, your nails clawing into the muscles lining the top of his shoulder. His cock is so thick, and knowing it’s only halfway inside you has your stomach twisting in terror. He’s goddamn huge. It takes a few more gentle thrusts for your grip on him to loosen, and your body relaxes slightly in his arms.

Kirishima clearly has enough experience with this, because the pace he sets is perfect. His hands slide all over your body, cupping and squeezing every inch of flesh he can find. Hips rock into yours at a slow, benevolent pace, your pussy stretched wide around him and fluttering as his thick veins drag along your velvet walls. Lips finding yours again, his tongue and pointed teeth distract you as with each thrust his cock shifts a tiny bit deeper inside of you.

At some point you start to moan, head falling back and mouth open wide as long, unadulterated sounds float out from the bottom of your lungs. Kirishima’s pace hastens, hands landing on your hips and thrusting into you swiftly. His cock is making your head spin, brain full of fog as your heart hammers in your ribs. He swears as his rough hand claps atop your ass cheek, taking note of the way your pussy shivers around him and a sharp squeak is summoned from your lips. “God you’re fuckin’ tight sweetheart— fuck, you a virgin?” He moans, fingers biting into the reddened skin on your ass. When you shake your head at him, he questions how on earth it is possible for you to be this snug around him, but he makes sure to thank whatever deity there is for it.

You cry out when his thumb greets your clit, and he fights to maintain his measured pace at the way your cunt squeezes so tightly. Your slick is dripping onto the countertop, his cock buried deep in your core, again and again. His added stimulation to your clit has you gasping for breath, a coil in your stomach filling with pressure. “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod Kiri please don’t stoppp,” you beg, pupils drifting up into your skull and your hands flying all over his torso, grabbing whatever skin you can reach.

Kirishima groans, palm pushing your tailbone forward so your hips bump against his. You scream at the full intensity of his cock inside of you; every inch and every vein setting fire to your insides, his thumb relentless on your clit. Your vision turns white as you reach your peak, your body seizing in ecstasy. Pulling him close, you wheeze for breath against his chest, his thumb never stilling its movement on your clit until you grab his wrist and rip him off of you, overwhelmed with the bliss from your orgasm rippling through every bone in your body. He’s still moving inside of you— albeit at a snail's pace— but it’s enough for him to prolong the pleasure simmering in your veins.

Finally you collapse into his chest, mind numb and eyelids too heavy to keep open, your lips pressing clumsy kisses into his skin. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, his fingers carding through your tresses. “Now, that was cute, Princess,” he says, the amusement in his tone laced with something darker. His fingers curl in your hair, pulling your neck back so your head tilts up to meet his sinister gaze. “But you didn’t get permission to cum, did you?”

Your heart begins to race, your stomach plummeting as he holds your gaze without vigilance. You whine as he pulls out of you, your cunt never feeling this empty before as his hot length disappears. Kirishima picks you up without effort, biceps swelling with intricate swirls of charcoal ink. He places you on wobbling feet before spinning you around, your hands flying out to grab the counter as he shoves your shoulder down.

“That makes you a bad girl, Y/N.”

Horror streaks through your every limb, and yet, only a sinful moan wanders out of you, your feet moving apart and thighs spreading for him to fit between. You crane your head to look at him, drinking up the beautiful man behind you. Broad shoulders trail into a broad, thick chest, tapering down to a tight and powerful waist. Each muscle on his body is prominent and enticing, covered snugly with tan skin that glimmers with a sheen of sweat. His red hair hangs to frame his handsome face, mostly still tugged back into his low ponytail.

As if reading your mind, he moves a hand back and snags the tie off, vibrant locks of scarlet licking the tops of his shoulders. Running a hand over his forehead, he looks at you with a predatory gaze, a smirk curling up one side of his lips. “Y’know what happens to bad girls, right?” You bite your lip and shake your head, egging him on as the top of his cock traces around your opening. “Bad girls get punished.”

The loudest scream of the night rips through you as he thrusts into you without warning, his cock hitting all different kinds of places than before in this new position. Kirishima doesn’t allow you a moment to adjust; he starts slapping his hips against your ass roughly, fist gripping the hair near your scalp again and pulling it tight so your back arches. You cannot breathe, or speak, or think— but somehow his name slips out of your mouth between all the moans.

A harsh slap across your ass sounds, the sting causing your pussy to quiver around his length. “Bad girls don’t get to use my name,” he growls into your ear, leaning over your body to take the tip of your ear between his teeth.

Your eyes are crossed in pleasure, your expression probably comforted into the most lewd, carnal face you’ve ever made. His cock is too big, and you know you won’t be able to walk right tomorrow, but maybe that adds to why it feels so fucking good right now.

“You’re makin’ this seem like a reward, not a punishment, Princess. You like taking it rough, huh?” He teases, pulling your head back by your hair and eliciting another moan from you. “Answer me.”

His cock pounds into your cunt, the sheer stretch enough to make you cum, let alone the length. Your lungs begin to shake as you feel your orgasm building again between your legs. “Yes Sir!” You yelp when his palm cracks against your ass again, your knees wobbly and the pressure continuing to build.

Your reply makes his cock twitch inside of you, and Kirishima sucks in a cool breath of air between clenched teeth. His hand grips the bottom of your thigh, and you cry out when he hikes your knee onto the countertop, cock drilling into you even deeper than before.

Your pussy twitches as you cum instantly, a drawn-out moan vibrating through your throat. Fingernails scraping along the countertop in your gaze of euphoria, Kirishima is forced to halt his assault on your cunt as it squeezes him tightly, his teeth piercing into his lip in pleasure. But as soon as your cunt loosens, he’s fucking into you with renewed vigor, your hips knocking into the counter as he plunges his massive cock into your sloppy heat. “You just don’t fuckin’ learn,” he snarls, wrist twisting to pull your hair tighter, bending your spine to his will.

“I’m sorry Sir,” you choke out, tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks. Each thrust brushes your cervix and it hurts, but at the same time the intensity of it all feels incredible. “I didn’t know I could… could cum so q-quick! Please, Sir— ah!— Please forgive me!”

Kirishima tosses his head back at your admission, your apology immediately accepted. His hand slips from your hair to your throat, turning your head so he can see your face as he pounds into you without mercy. The tears slipping down your cheeks make your eyes sparkle and he groans, his own end in near reach and only approaching quicker at the sight of you. “Y’look so pretty when you cry, sweetheart— shit, I know you have one more for me,” he leans in and pokes his tongue out to collect a salty tear, kissing the wet skin on your cheek. His thumb on your throat wanders to your lips, and you take the digit into your mouth with enthusiasm, keeping your eyes locked with his.

You whimper around his finger when his other hand comes around to circle your puffy clit, already overstimulated and thighs shaking. Your legs try to close but he keeps them spread apart, cock still ramming into you as his lips trail down to your neck. His hand on your throat loosens and comes to rest on your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and tracing his slippery thumb over your puckered hole. Your eyes widen with shock, and you force your voice to work even though it comes out scratchy and breathless. “W-What are you— Kiri wait, that’s—”

“Have you ever had anything in here, Princess?” He inquires as his thumb slips into you, making you shriek at the fiery stretch. Pushing the digit into your ass, he moans at the sight of you sucking in his thumb so obediently, your hole trembling and squeezing round his finger.

You shake your head, at a loss for words once again. You can feel his cock rub against his finger through your walls, and though it’s a foreign, unfamiliar sensation, it’s far from unwelcome. More tears of pure pleasure descend from your lashes, the combination of all his stimulation driving you insane. You can feel your climax building with every thrust, your walls dragging along his cock and his finger, his other hand rolling your clit.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me, it’s alright,” he purrs, balls feeling tight with his near release. His fingers pinch and rub all over your slick clit, and you mewl out as that familiar pressure heightens in your stomach. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Show me how good you are, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t allow you a second to think, and you whine out for him when his hips crash against your ass, shoving his entire cock inside your soaked hole and spreading your aching walls. The spot he’s hitting with the head of his cock causes your eyes to cross— you didn’t even know it existed before now— and suddenly everything is too much, and you’re crying out his name as your orgasm tears through you.

Kirishima gives a few more hard thrusts before he’s there too, the tips of his teeth piercing into your neck as he floods your pussy with his heavy load. Your cunt pulses around him, milking out every drop he has to offer as you’re thrown into waves of complete euphoria. Eyes closed, toes and fingers coiled tight in pleasure, you whimper as he gives your clit a few more rubs before his hand moves up to push his hair back. “Good girl,” he praises, hot palms sliding along your curves and rubbing circles into your skin.

You’re totally spent; body limp atop the countertop, nipples hard and hot against the cool plastic, tears drying on your cheeks, ass feeling warm and fuzzy, and pussy trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. Kirishima is careful when he pulls out, and you can’t even find the energy to make a noise of complaint at the emptiness between your legs. You can feel his release begin to dribble out of your abused hole, and your body twitches when he presses his thumb in to shove his seed back inside.

He sighs as he grabs a paper towel from the sink behind him, dragging it along his weeping, yet still impressive, length. As you’re still catching your breath, he walks around the counter and into your field of vision, tucking himself back into his pants nonchalantly. When he reaches the door, he flips the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’ before sauntering over to you, eyes trained on yours. “Well, sweetheart,” he chuckles, gaze raking over your exhausted form, still collapsed on top of the counter in a sedated-like state. He reaches forward, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he smiles brightly, but a shadow of something more ominous lingers in those scarlet eyes. “You’re gonna have to cover Yuki’s shifts more often.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

soooo that happened. finally some dom kiri on my blog!!! please be sure to lemme know if you enjoyed <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima smut #bnha smut #mha smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #kirishima eijirou fic #kirishima fic #bnha fic #mha fic #my fics

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spectralscathath · 3 years

Note

do robyn :3c:

Send me a RWBY character and I’ll tell you:

Robyn Hill

My top three ships for the character

Clover/Robyn (Lucky Shot is my OTP), Qrow/Robyn (Jailbyrds is a spite ship and I’ll admit it), Roman/Robyn (Rob the Rich, if only for the name)

My three least favorite ships for the character

Robyn/any of the other Happy Huntresses, Robyn/Winter (I remember that fucking ‘snowbyrd’ discourse you bastards), Robyn/Qrow (when I remove the spite goggles I don’t like this at all.)

My biggest criticism for the character

you got 10 minutes? 20? Maybe 30? Buckle up fuckos. I got some points to make and you’re gonna listen.

1. Robyn Hill is wasted potential

Robyn’s first appearance was one of my favourite scenes of Vol7. No joke! She was witty, interesting, had an excellent banter with Clover, deliberately stood down from a fight she couldn’t win, though she seemed eager for a challenge, showed some cunning, and looked like she was having fun.

And then pretty much all of that got ignored. Robyn was set up as a good, smart leader with a cocky swagger, history with Clover, a deceptively cunning streak, and a calm, level-headed attitude. What Robyn was from then on was Angry Shouty Hothead Picks Fights She Can’t Win. She turned into someone impulsive, short-sighted, bullheaded, and focused only on fighting. 70% of Robyn’s lines are about violence and how she likes violence and how she wants to fight with VIOLENCE. The other 30% are, incidentally, ‘i’m so smart and understanding and kind, I’m gonna force people to undergo a lie detector test via peer pressure and ultimatums but it’s actually tragic that no one wants to be my friend because of my semblance. Poor me.

And that was not what I was expecting. That is not what was foreshadowed. And compared to what the potential could have been, a good allusion rich with depth, a setting that could ahve been interesting if it wasn’t so rushed, how she could have been a player on the board, filled so many possible roles, and instead she was a walking ‘Ironwood bad’ mouthpiece that didn’t actually do anything (and has never done well in a fight, which is RWBY’s staple). What a waste.

2. Robyn Hill actively makes things worse and gets no comeuppance

Robyn Hill makes situations worse. First of all, she steals supplies from Ironwood (and then doesn’t use them???? what the fuck????), which puts Ironwood under stress, which then leads to Ruby being Miss Unhelpful (but that’s a rant for another day). Robyn then gets classified info from Blake and Yang who, may I remind you, never met her. She could have been a spy! But no, Blake just has a gut feeling (because the script said so).

Robyn then calls James out on this, which later leads to ‘how did Robyn know about the global communications tower’, which means the fighting happens in the office, everyone stresses, Salem provides one of the few redeeming scenes in the show post-Ironwatts fight (it all went downhill from there, even more then it already was). Robyn didn’t explicitly cause this but she sure as fuck had a hand in it.

Then you have fucking. Clover’s death. Yes, Robyn, agreeing with the serial killer who just tried to murder you and starting a fight in an enclosed space when you’re a ranged fighter vs your melee combatant ex-boyfriend is absolutely the smart thing to do. And then, for a moment, Qrow and Clover nearly sort things out, and fucking Robyn jumps in again. And then, what did she do? She got knocked out immediately. Yikes. Ladies and gentlemen, our ‘Resident Strong Female Character’. But because she did all this, she pretty much guaranteed first: Tyrian escaped. Secondly: Clover died.

And yeah, Robyn. Just because Qrow didn’t personally shove that blade through Clover’s chest, he still worked with The Serial Killer Who Kills People to help. So yeah, Robyn, that does count as some sort of murder. Or at least, accomplice to murder. You’re also vaguely adjacent to it, so don’t get all ‘but Qrow’s innocent’.

It’s the same problem with team RWBY. They do terrible things, they whine about how hard it is, and all is forgiven cause they’re cute sad girls. There’s no comeuppance. There’s no growth. It’s just the script going ‘this character is right because we said so, so now we’re gonna do our best approximation of if a pretzal and a contortionist had an unholy boneless lovechild and bend the plot so the characters win anyway.’

3. Robyn Hill is a static character

This is gonna sound weird with this lil header but Robyn actually had an arc in vol7! She had an arc that was fairly basic, she went from ‘I don’t trust Ironwood and want to know what’s going on’ to ‘I am actively ruining Ironwood’s goals’ and finally settled on ‘I know what’s going on, Ironwood is worth supporting, and I do trust him.’ It was a simple arc, but it didn’t need to be anything more then that.

Then in the span of about 1 minute all her actual development was reversed and she ran backwards to her original stance of ‘Ironwood bad’. We literally saw her devleopment walk backwards, and there it stayed. She spent all of vol8 as an empty voicebox that occasionally pipped out ‘Qrow’s my friend’ and was devoid of any personality. She didn’t have much beforehand that wasn’t fairly generic, so it’s almost impressive.

The problem is that static characters take a lot of work to avoid being boring characters. A lot of rwby just has these problems in general, character development is either ignored, skipped over, or given to the wrong characters, but in Robyn’s case it’s actively annoying because she had some development, and then she ignored all of that to go back to being ‘ironwood bad’ with a side of ‘Qrow good’ because we needed to be reminded of that after he got an innocent man killed.

4. Robyn Hill is an unnecessary character

Why are you here. What do you do. Robyn was stated to be a character meant to act in opposition to Ironwood, to put him under stress like every other fucking character in this series. This was ‘confirmed’ by Eddy Rivas, which means zero because at some point the mentally deranged Weazel Ball that masquerades as the crwby writing team’s collective braincell will rapidly and suddenly change direction, causing massive retcons and plotholes in their moth-eaten threadbare dishtowel they dare to call ‘lore’, and we will have a different excuse for this waste of a good VA.

Here’s the thing tho: Robyn as ‘opposition for Ironwood’ isn’t fucking special. The fucking air in the Atlas Academy lobby opposes Ironwood. Robyn seems to be there... because Mantle needed a voice? Okay, well, why the fuck did Mantle need to exist? Because... the election plotline needed to exist so Jacque could do something mean? God, everything about Mantle and Robyn and the election plotline is just annoying. It drags and it adds nothing to the plotline and it all should have been culled so instead we could focus on things that are actually important (like maybe: the myth arc? character development? the fucking Schnees in Atlas???) rather then rwby’s fuckboi incel attempt at ‘classism = bad?’. If I, as a professional paid editor who works with actual manuscripts, was given the scripts for rwby vol7, I would have gotten the big red highlighter and done a shitload of crossing out. Then I would have told the writing team “come back with your second draft”, but alas, we got the Atlas Arc.

My favorite thing about the character

I love her design aside from that ugly-ass scarf. Also, her VA, Cristina Vee, is the only redeeming quality of this tire-fire of a character. Godbless and praise.

A headcanon I have about them

She deals with chronic ‘ponytail keeps falling out’ syndrome, just constantly. So many hairbands get used up when she does anything.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

Everything. Every fucking thing. Especially that stupid fucking lie-detecting semblance.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

It’s incredibly underutilised. It’s Robin Hood in-name-only. It’s like, the most basic ‘oh the name is Robin and they steal’ and there’s not even any of the most obvious tells. Where’s the bright green? Where’s the hood? Where’s the fucking longbow? Where’s the ‘giving to the poor’ that comes after ‘stealing the rich’? She didn’t actually use any of those things she stole to fix Mantle, she just stole it.

Literally, all the classic elements of Robin Hood are missing, all that’s there is a name and... that’s it. The allusion isn’t there, and even if it was, it’s done in a boring fashion.

Personally, I would add more Robin Hood elements, and I would change one key thing. I would change her allegiance. Instead of ‘Robin Hood on the side of good’, I would take the team WTCH approach, a ‘good allusion turned evil’, and I’d have Robyn working with Salem, or, at least, as an antagonist. Because that could be actually interesting then the boring and unnecessary storyline we had.

#rwby #robyn hill #asks #if you get mad at this just remember Galatians 4:16

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missorgana · 4 years

Text

like a tattoo kiss

pairing: karolina dean/nico minoru

fandom: marvel’s runaways

rating: general

word count: 4228

warning: swearing

summary: Nico doesn't get nervous. Except around pretty people. Especially around pretty people. (tattoo parlor AU)

(it’s been 84 years... Finally, i am writing!! life and uni has been extremely messy, so i’m just so glad to be creating again uwuu. this was meant for the @augustwritingchallenge but alas... i miss my alien and witch girlies!! thank you to my baby @griffinbellamy for beta reading <333 you are Everything. hope you enjoy this mess!!)

read on ao3

Nico doesn’t get nervous.

Or rather, she’s not the type of person to be nervous. Especially while working.

Her parents weren’t over the moon when she told them what line of work she was aiming for, not that she needs their permission or anything, but they’d warmed up to her internship over time.

Many times she had tried to explain why exactly she liked her art to be expressed through ink on skin, but parents just don’t understand some things. All hail rebellious teenagers, or something.

Amy’s always been supportive, because she’s an angel, Nico thinks, and her sister managed to get them along, somehow.

In the end, they were probably just happy to get her out of the house more.

By a string of luck she had found a local tattoo parlour, well, actually, the city’s best, and they were willing to take her on, along with her best friend, coincidentally.

And the boss kept an eye on her and Alex to make sure they didn’t misbehave, but just like herself, he wasn’t the type to mess around with the things he was passionate about.

They had always been excellent lab partners way back, considered each other their partner in crime, no less.

And over time, they both were allowed to work more freely. Even to the point of taking their own clients, albeit only walk-ins, for now.

This week, a little thing about Nico’s inability to get nervous might be changing, but she only knows that when a walk-in comes along late Friday afternoon.

It’s actually an hour and a half before closing time, that is, and they weren’t expecting much more people besides reservations.

But low and behold, when the bell above the door rings, Nico glances up to the sight of two young people, surely the same age as her and Alex.

And while the guy wears a leather jacket, messy brown hair that she isn’t sure which direction it was meant to go, the girl following behind him has her blonde hair in a braid over her shoulder, and is, unlike her companion, more appropriately dressed for the weather which has been abnormally hot this season.

The stranger tugs the cardigan on her shoulders over her white dress just a little. She looks impatient, poking the guy’s shoulder and saying something low and unintelligible.

Did Alex have to pinch her side to get the attention he wanted? Looks like it, yes.

Because holy shit.

Nico sort of feels like a deer in headlights, which is a joke, this is not anywhere near a situation like that, and a stupid metaphor, anyway.

But her previous string of keeping her cool, not letting her nerves overtake her entire being, is getting, well, thrown out of the window at this moment.

Alex likes to call this her “bisexual panic”. He’s a little bit of an asshole.

Well, they both are, but it doesn’t matter, because if Nico has to hear him tease her about “being a wreck around pretty people” one more time, she might just lose it.

It’s fine. She’s a customer, a civilian like herself, keep it together.

Thing is, this might just be the prettiest girl she’s ever laid her eyes upon. Sounds melodramatic, she knows.

This stranger looks like an extreme polar opposite of herself, in terms of fashion sense, anyway, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

She likes tall people, too.

Also, the blonde turns her head, seemingly surveying the parlour with a skepticism in her eyes that Nico’s seen many, many times, but it doesn’t faze her, because those eyes are the clearest blue possible.

She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and Nico notices a small cross hanging around her neck.

Again, not exactly the community she herself hangs around, which might explain why she’s, tragically, never seen this person before now, but Nico’s experienced far too much shit to be judgmental.

“You done staring?” Alex’s voice mumbles on her left side, swiftly passing by to greet the two potential clients.

Guess he’s just earned himself another eyeroll. Or a death stare, maybe.

Her voice of reason gets to her, despite the, ugh, panic, and if she just runs this on their autopilot measure of things, as usual, it’ll all be fine.

Yes, definitely.

This isn’t some fairytale land, Nico tells herself, it’s not like this is your moment finally meeting the love of your life, or whatever, and you’ll live happily ever after.

She’ll most likely never see her again. She’s just very, extremely pretty- no, beautiful. Can’t blame her for being a little dumbfounded, right?

Alex is the kind of person who could make meaningful conversation with a toddler, a parrot, or a brick, if he really wanted to, so Nico’s glad to let him do most of the talking, as always.

He usually explains the basics to the clients, asks them about the design they have in mind (if they have an idea to begin with, that is), and that’s usually when he pulls Nico out from her thoughts, especially in situations like this where there’s more than one customer in the parlour at the time.

Given that their boss has more or less left them in charge of the shop till closing time today, however, she decides to make her way into the conversation herself.

“We’re getting matching tattoos!” the brunette guy tells them eagerly, a smug grin on his face, and judging by the impatience visible on his companion’s face, Nico has a feeling this wasn’t her idea.

She still sports a fond smile, though, despite her still not looking totally convinced of her… friend? partner?’s idea.

Alex nods politely, his customer service smile put on like he owns the place, and makes sure to present her to their soon-to-be canvases, “We’re interns here, Nico and I, but we got plenty of experience, so you’re in safe hands.”

And now, the girl looks directly at her. She might just mentally combust.

Nico has always hated those romantic traditions, and Valentine’s Day, and love at first sight, please, what vomit inducing bullshit.

She has to remember that, especially now, because a way too pretty girl looks at her up and down, very subtle and quick, so much so that it could be missed, but the bright smile she gives her makes her heart jump in her chest.

Nico smiles back, of course. She’s not an asshole.

“This is Chase and Karolina, by the way.” her best friend tells her, because administration, obviously, even though his voice definitely isn’t forgetting her and her panic, but fuck that.

Karolina.

She brushes another lock of hair out of her face, and Nico’s struggling to keep her attention on the transaction. She can’t be like this right now, nope, as sweet as the smile with pink lips staring her in the face is.

“So, you got a design?” Nico then inquires, once the pricing and everything is out in the open, knowing too well Alex will tease her more the longer she stares, and well, doesn’t know what to do with herself, so she might as well get on with it.

“A ‘C+K’ should do it, really, Oh! Can you do a heart?”

And Karolina sticks her tongue out at her companion, but he laughs nonetheless, like he can’t hold it back, bumping her shoulder.

They’re a couple.

Of course.

Nico should’ve seen it coming, she guesses, if she wasn’t so hung up on how pretty this girl was, it should’ve been obvious.

Ugh, it doesn’t even matter, anyway, because there wouldn’t even be a chance.

She’s a customer, she reminds herself, that’s like, the most unprofessional that could be. And even if they weren’t, and even if it was different, Nico could never tell if the girls she liked were into her or not. Or the boys, for that matter.

The partners previously always made the first move on her, which Alex explained by her being the most stubborn person he knows. Whatever.

Without Nico not realising much else conversation, it seems fitting that Alex takes on Chase’s shoulder blade, while her canvas turns out to be Karolina’s upper arm.

Alex and her cleaned the sketch up they brought, their clients both approved, and here they were.

It’s simple, really, a pink heart, with an added arrow through it because Alex likes to turn everything as extravagant as possible. And the initials, of course.

And Nico’s more than used to being close to total strangers like this.

Like, with most areas of the body, even. But those other people weren’t the prettiest girl in the world, so, you know.

And to make matters worse, once Karolina’s seated, and Nico’s sanitized the area, tracing the outline, the too pretty stranger starts talking. She knows this doesn’t sound like a bad thing, but Nico was already nervous, and far from an expert at small talk.

The blonde does seem to know how to lead a conversation.

Because the outline finished, glancing up to make sure the client’s still on it and not chickening out, wouldn’t be the first time, the pretty girl gives her another sweet smile, too sweet, really, and states, “I like the way you work.”

Nico has to blink a few times, because she’s not sure she quite understands what that means. Maybe she’s too used to lewd jokes from her peers that everything turns into an innuendo by now. Fucking hell.

So she opts for a, “You do?” as a reply.

Karolina nods. Gracefully, she has to describe it, not overly excited or eager, though the intention’s definitely there.

“I mean, you looked really concentrated a couple seconds ago. I don’t know. You’re gentle.” and she finishes her sentence with a shrug.

Gentle. Nico has never in her wildest imagination expected someone to associate that term with her. She’s never been called that.

Maybe her insides get a little fluttery. So what?

She’s not a giggling schoolgirl, she can keep her composure, and she does, but hopefully without the coldness she usually goes for when something doesn’t go as expected.

This girl doesn’t deserve that.

And honestly, this is feeling way too intimate way too fast.

The boys are already bantering about whatever video game they’re apparently both into, because, somehow, Alex manages to keep his lines straight while laughing at dumb puns and other ridiculous Alex-things.

Also, can this girl stop staring at her?

If Nico couldn’t control herself as well as she could, she might’ve been blushing. It’s only been ten minutes, come on, now.

Karolina seems a tad more… curious than most of her clients, anyway.

It’s like she’s observing every line she makes, at least, what she can crane her neck enough to follow.

So, inclined to distract herself from the thought of a pretty girl watching her, she asks, without thinking too much, “What are you studying?”

Nico’s got an excuse, cause her wrist is resting on the armrest, fashioned with an university pride bracelet, seriously.

The girl blows a hair away from her nose.

“Philosophy,” she tells her, in a shy, half-embarrassed tone, “Not my parents’ first choice.”

So Nico has to scoff. “Welcome to the club.”

The fact that they can have a laugh at this notion, a proper one, not as loud and bashful as the boys, but fuck them, this is like treading the deep waters of the pool, knowing someone’s holding your hand.

She doesn’t know where that comparison comes from.

…

It’s kind of excruciating, the way the session comes to a both disappointing and long awaited end.

The tattoo’s easy, and Nico’s nonsensical pining, or whatever it is, can’t just last here forever, she knows.

Karolina stayed quiet once they’d established their mutual bond of parents not trusting their decisions, besides the occasional humming, which she probably didn’t even realise she was doing, and offhand remarks to the boys about them being more serious.

The girl had seemed eager to get this thing over with when they came in, but once Nico announced her arm bandaged and in need of rest, she didn’t exactly miss the now anything but eager pout.

It’s not like she said anything, but Nico thinks her reading of people is improving. She’ll convince herself of that, anyway, to support the logic in her head.

The boys had fun, but she didn’t expect any less of Alex.

The fact that he’s made friends with multiple clients, or “established connections”, as he calls it, with the elder ones, seems exhausting to Nico.

She does envy him, though.

At least, she wishes she had that skill set right now, to have gotten a lot more meaningful conversation out of this meeting.

Don’t be fooled, she knows when a crush of hers is off limits, but who knows, maybe they could be friends. Not that they seemed to have much more in common, but, you know.

Karolina just seemed special to her brain, or heart, or whatever.

Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

Chase proudly shows her their matching marks, which Nico would roll her eyes at if she could, and Karolina laughed with a sigh.

Nico’s got a sense that she’s, still, not all in on this. Too late now, she supposes.

And she’s never understood couple tattoos anyhow, because in Nico’s relatively short life on earth so far, she’s learned that most things come to an end.

It’s not necessarily pessimistic, or at least she tells herself that, because graduating was nice, and then she started an internship, so maybe endings really just mean that you’re ready for beginnings.

Sounds ridiculous when she thinks about it, but maybe they discuss that on Karolina’s philosophy course, who knows.

Besides, seems odd they would do it without mutual approval on both parts.

But of course, Nico doesn’t know these people at all, so who is she to ponder on their relationship?

And so the couple pay their bill, Alex exchanges numbers with Chase, because of course, and Karolina lingers just long enough that Nico suspects she might have something on her mind.

The blonde has a hand on her hip when she says, “He’s ridiculous.”

Nico doesn’t know if it was meant for her ears or the taller girl simply thinks out loud, but none or the less, she’d feel rude not to respond.

“It was nice meeting you guys,” is what’s coming out of her mouth, as casual as possible, emphasis on guys, “and hope you like the tattoo, regardless.”

Karolina scrunches up her nose, which is, um, adorable, like her words were troubling, but she still nods, more than once, “Definitely.”

And the girl looks to the side again, the boys fistbumping and Chase already snapping a picture of his mark. He’s stupidly proud of it, huh.

Nico can’t say he’s unlikable, can she? Maybe that’s part of his charm.

“You coming?”

And Karolina laughs again, sticking her tongue out, but starts moving when he almost bounces out the door, his attention immediately taken by a very important text message, it seems.

“Your art’s gorgeous, Nico.” she says over her shoulder, “See you around, right?”

And it’s said like a matter of fact, a law of nature, as if Karolina had searched for her work on the display walls, carefully eyeing the artist name labels.

She couldn’t have sounded any more sincere.

Nico nods, before she mentally combusts.

And the girl and her flowing dress are out the door in a flash, and if Alex’s laugh is any indication, Nico’s flushing beet red.

Gorgeous.

…

As if she received a small static shock, that’s how the weekend passes by for Nico.

Fast enough that she sits, on Monday, failing to remember anything noteworthy she spent her time with.

Well, she stayed over at Alex’s, since he swore to introduce her to Wolfenstein, whatever that word means. It turned out to be a game about killing nazis, so yeah, her interest was won soon enough.

Not that this is the point or anything.

The point’s more like in the evening, when the boss has a family emergency and needs them to close up alone, which they are fully capable of, mind you, and a familiar face walks through the door.

It’s not the first time customers have returned, far from it.

Whether it be one of many patrons of the parlour, who they both have been introduced to by now, or the many new friends Alex is so brilliant at making.

Today, though, Alex does show off a knowing smile, but it’s pointed right at Nico, and she kind of wants to pinch him and his ever annoying smugness away.

And he doesn’t even stay to greet their former client or anything. Looks like his plan is to leave her to her own devices, spotting Chase outside and swiftly swinging out the door in one fluid movement.

Asshole.

And well. Nico’s one again faced with this girl, who made her blush too damn much for just one meeting.

Karolina’s wearing blue jeans this time around, and a crop top, damn, she cannot imagine that white leather jacket is giving much warmth on a foggy day like this one.

She waves. Nico has to wave back. It’s not like she was supposed to clean this chair or anything.

Seems like duties are put on hold around the prettiest girl ever.

Her smile comes off shy, but Nico can’t imagine anyone feeling shy around her. Well, she’s come off rather terrifying, more like, to the local school bullies back in primary school.

They made her sick, she had fists, and her all-black wardrobe was certainly helpful in that mission too.

Then, in the thought of punching bullies, Karolina’s in front of her, seemingly, consciously, leaving her some space, which she’s grateful for.

Common decency, Nico supposes, but also, a reminder that this infatuation needs to fade if she wants to remain some form of contact with the blonde.

Her very real, very annoying boyfriend laughs outside. Nico wishes she didn’t sound so bitter.

It’s fine, you know, they’ve met one time.

Nico wants her luck to be different, but since that’s out of the picture, she wants to be her friend. Very badly.

If she could just open her mouth, dammit.

“Hey,” she starts, finally, judging by Karolina’s hesitant silence that she expects her to put out the first word, “Good to see you again. And so soon.”

The last part with a quick laugh, would sound weird, or judgmental, otherwise. Not the perfect second impression.

Is the second impression even a thing?

Karolina chuckles herself, thank god, but squints her eyes a bit and scratches her arm, “The tattoo’s looking nice, I think.”

Nico doesn’t know if there’s a question laced into that statement, but the tall girl shrugs the jacket off just enough for her to view the work, and so she moves a tad closer.

It does look nice. Still needs to heal, extremely fresh, but nice.

Definitely one of the better couple tattoos she’s done, Nico tells herself.

And she nods, and Karolina settles her jacket properly, and that subject is dealt with.

Now what?

Maybe this was all the blonde came to talk to her about. Makes sense, but also, a tiny disappointment settles in Nico’s stomach.

It’s not like she had high expectations though, hell, she didn’t even expect to see her just three days after the meeting.

It seems Karolina meant what she said. See you around.

But that’s just politeness, Nico figures. Artist and client.

She doesn’t know if she can ever learn from Alex’s mastery of the social art, to be honest. Stupid Alex things.

“So-” the girls find themselves speaking at the same time, and Nico chuckles awkwardly, but the blonde smiles too warmly for it to matter. “You were saying?”

And Nico’s about to answer, only she notices a third person joining Chase and Alex.

A relatively short girl, pushing her glasses up her nose and purple-dyed hair in two small buns.

And she kisses Chase on the cheek. Which, of course, friends do that. Nico and Alex don’t, but then again, they fistbump and shove each other more than anything else.

She can’t help but furrow her brows. It’s probably nothing, she thinks, forget about it.

“I was just thinking, if you wanna see some of my non-tattoo art one day.” Nico shrugs, better make it as casual as possible.

And Karolina’s eyes light up impossibly, and her nose scrunches up again when she smiles. Nico didn’t notice her freckles last time, weirdly.

“I’d love that, Nico!” she says, of course, looking excited and adjusting her ponytail, “I figure Chase wanna show Alex some of his gadgets. Something like that. I don’t know.”

That they can both laugh at. Doesn’t surprise Nico, given that Alex has been honing his coding skills since he was like fifteen.

She wasn’t even surprised when he offered to hack the school system and change her stupid history grades. It’s not like she agreed. But oh, did she consider it.

Nico scratches her neck. She wants to escape the conversation, which she’s experienced too many times to count, but also, she wants to stay there forever. Not that usual.

“Honestly, Alex has been talking about him. A lot.” she tells the blonde with a huff, and she smiles fondly, “Be careful he doesn’t steal your boyfriend.”

Nico’s been organizing the table in front of her during the conversation, it’s natural for her to do something with her hands, especially, well, now that she’s able to be nervous, apparently.

But it’s like something suddenly shifts.

When Karolina doesn’t laugh at her remark, Nico looks up, and the tall girl is frowning.

It looks wrong on her face, even though her nose is still scrunched, just the way it was with that smile a few minutes ago, making her feel these weird flutters somewhere deep in her chest.

So, naturally, Nico’s about to ask if she’s okay, because she’s suddenly terrified she’s said something wrong, or implied what her thoughts, somehow, until, “Chase? My boyfriend?”

Okay, Nico doesn’t really know what to say now.

Given her tone, Karolina’s clearly not comfortable. Maybe she’s ashamed of Chase? But that can’t be it, they got tattoos together, for goodness’ sake.

“Yeah? Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“Oh, no!” the blonde looks confused, but reaches her arm out, like she’s going to touch Nico’s shoulder, but she doesn’t, “Or I mean, Chase. He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Her tone is stern without being angry. Elegant.

It’s now Nico’s own turn to frown. Shakes her head at herself.

“I’m so sorry.” she says, and tries to form a longer sentence in her head, without sounding desperate, “I didn’t mean to assume anything. I just, well, the tattoo looked like a couples tattoo, is all.”

And she tries a small smile, unsure if this relation’s already gone to hell after a weekend, but luckily, the tall girl’s frown is gone as fast as it appeared, and she’s biting her lip.

Nico’s more relieved than anything that she’s smiling back.

Then Karolina shakes her head, “Chase is an idiot.”

Again, like an unspoken, mutual understanding, they both laugh. Nico cannot for the life of her tell where this conversation is going.

And so the blonde continues, “It was a stupid bet. The tattoo, that is.”

Now, it does take a second, but it clicks in Nico’s brain. This is also new, and she didn’t know she could be more nervous, but here we are.

“I see.” she replies simply, glancing out the glass door, and figuring the bright haired girl out there must be Chase’s girlfriend.

Karolina chuckles. “They’re adorable.”

They’re looking at the same thing, it seems, so Nico can only nod, and wonder, if this is all, and the blonde is going to step out the parlour, and if the misunderstanding will be forgotten or not.

And they stand there for what seems like forever, but Karolina doesn’t leave.

No, she turns back to Nico, licks her lips, and folds her hands in front of her, “I’m sorry. I mean, God, I must be bad at flirting.”

Flirting?

This is going a little too fast for her. And now Karolina looks nervous too, but continues, impressively not stumbling over her words, “I mean, boys aren’t my thing. I-uh, I wasn’t sure if I should come, but Chase insisted I should make a move.”

Nico knows what’s going on. And she can’t say Alex was wrong when he said the blonde was “totally into her”, despite her very concerned, real protests about the very real boyfriend. Or well, very not real, it turns out.

So, instead of thinking of the nerves still sitting right beneath her skin, Nico lifts an eyebrow, trying to make sure what’s happening isn’t some imaginary dream scenario that’ll end in a blink.

“A move?”

The tall girl shrugs, biting her lip again. “Please tell me if this is crossing the line. I just…. you’re very pretty, is all.”

That’s fucking adorable.

“You think I’m pretty?” Nico replies, feeling her smile grow too stupidly bright. It’s not long before the girl in front of her mimics it.

Fuck, Nico, you’re going soft.

Alex is going to tease her for weeks after this. But she’ll worry about that later.

28 notes · View notes

catlliecal · 4 years

Text

Winx AU Drabble 1: How Stella of Solaria Got Herself Expelled.

Finally doing one of these things! This one is pretty Winx focused, and could probably fit into canon just fine if you ignore the ending. God, I love my baby Stella. I wanna give hr all the hugs. Word Count: 1.8K Rating: General Audiences

Stella, to put it bluntly, was bored.

Bored in potions class for good measure.

Her lab partner was busy recording down the teacher's instructions, but all Stella could think of was how she'd rather be anywhere but in class. Something bumped her shoulder, and she looked over and saw said lab partner nudging her to pay attention. What difference would it make? Stella wasn't the one taking notes. They were already taken care of in that department. Besides, Stella's notes were average at best.

With a minor huff, she forced herself to pay attention to the teacher. The longer she looked at her, the more Stella's mind kept drifting away from the lesson and more onto what the teacher was wearing. She had a stunning pair of red cat eye glasses that Stella always meant to ask where they came from. However, the rest of her outfit wasn't as chic. Sure, she had a lovely pair of deep navy pumps, but you could barely see them most of the time. She wore a navy button up shirt featuring pearl buttons and pair of tight red pants that hugged her figure just right, yet those were covered up by a large white lab coat buttoned all the way up. A pair of lab goggles rested on top of her head. The outfit could be quite cute if she just exchanged the lab stuff for some cute accessories like a perfectly oversized coat and some cute hair pins to go with the hair bun. Alas. The price to pay for being a potions teacher. Why did potions have to require so much protection?

Stella's lab partner nudged her again. "Got any ideas for what you wanna do?"

"Huh?"

"I should have known you wouldn't pay attention," the partner sighed. "It's a free lab today.”

"Aren't all labs free?" Stella chuckled. "Last I checked, we don't pay to enter this room.”

"Haha, very funny," her partner huffed. "You know I mean that we're allowed to show off our skills and create our own mixture to present."

"Does it have to be something we learned?" Stella groaned. "That's so boring."

"Actually, no. We can make original mixtures if we just write down what we use and explain what it does."

A lightbulb went off in Stella's head. Finally, this class could be good for something!

"Honey, take notes," Stella said. "I have a plan."

"Oh no."

"Don't give me that," Stella turned on the mini furnace before placing a large glass beaker on top. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"And that would be..."

"Pink!" Stella exclaimed. "We are gonna make a new shade of pink never seen before!" She poured some water into the beaker.

"One, that's such a stupid idea," her partner said. "Two, can you even do that? Make a new color?"

"Clearly you don't keep up with the design world," Stella said. "A couple years ago there was this huge scandal over a designer who was charging people ridiculous amounts of dough to use his special uber dark black. So a different designer created their own uber dark black and let everyone use it for free expect that first guy."

"Uh huh," her partner rolled her eyes. "You sure you don't have any better ideas?"

"This is a brilliant idea!" Stella said. "We'll be famous for inventing Stella Pink! Now take notes. Genius is about to happen right before your very eyes!"

Stella started pulling out ingredients from the drawers and the tables, adding as many pink things as she could. This thing needed to be big, bold, buzz worthy. It needed to blow everyone away with how awesome it would be. It needed to be as special as possible.

As cliché as it was, Stella couldn't help but giggle the more and more she worked. A sprinkle of this, a dash of that. She only slowed down when she saw her lab partner struggling to write everything down.

Stella dropped in a fuzzy pink plant stem and the mixture began bubbling and sparking.

"Stella..." her partner said, way too concerned for Stella's liking. "Please don't tell me you really added that..."

"What about it?" Stella asked. "It's pink, no?"

"Yes, but that plant produces and stores a reactive chemical in it, even long after it's been picked and shelved. It's especially sensitive to hydra oil..."

"Relax, I didn't add that."

"You did," her partner pointed to the ingredients sheet, which actually did include hydra oil. A lot of it.

Huh.

The potion began shaking the beaker, and Stella was yanked under the desk just before her creation exploded.

And oh boy did it explode.

The sound of the glass breaking was enough to make you cover your ears, even without the windows joining in. A strong shockwave burst through the whole room, leaving the now pink walls with several cracks in them. Stella slowly poked her head up to find that her whole desk was covered in scorch marks.

"Whoopsie..." she said, her voice cracking.

•••

Expelled. She was now expelled from the best magic school in the whole Dimension.

Okay maybe she hadn't been the greatest student there and didn't always follow the rules, but surely expelling her for a lab mishap was a bit overkill, right? Those windows and walls could be repaired and the pink could be washed away. Really, the worst part of this whole thing was that she didn't even make a new shade of pink.

And maybe that her dad was coming to see her at school.

Okay that was the worst part of this whole thing.

Stella waited outside the headmaster's office, pulling at her skirt and checking her nails over and over as she waited for him to come. She had her phone on her, but something told her that now wasn't the best time to be on it.

After what felt like forever, Stella heard footsteps in the hall. She looked up and saw her father, King Radius of Solaria, walking up.

"Daddy!" She jumped up and ran over to give him a hug.

"It's good to see you too, baby," he said. Eventually he placed her hands on her shoulders. "I am going to hear your side of the story, but the school wanted to talk to me first. I knew you had been getting in trouble, but I didn't think it be this much."

"I learned from the best," she said, before quickly biting her tongue and kicking herself. Not the best time to mention her father's party habits.

"Just hold on a bit longer, okay?" He let go of her and made his way over to the headmaster's door. "We'll figure this out together."

For some reason, she didn't fully believe him.

•••

Stella had no idea time could move even slower than before, but her father's meeting dragged on and on. Not even eavesdropping made the time go by any faster. Eventually, after what had to be a year, Stella heard her father stand up and make his way to the door. She quickly sat back down to appear as innocent as possible.

He stepped out of the office and looked at her. "You have quite a record, huh?"

"I guess so."

"You probably heard, but I've agreed to pay for the damages and provide extra funding for any major renovations for the next three years."

"I wasn't listening," Stella said.

"You've been eavesdropping ever since you understood what words were," he said. "I'm afraid you inherited my interest in gossip."

"I just want to know what's going on," Stella twirled a piece of her hair. "Feels like no one ever tells me things."

"We don't tell you everything because you're not involved in everything," Radius said. "You could possibly spill something important."

"I can keep a secret!" Stella stood back up. "I haven't told anyone that I was the person who sneaked the geese into the castle back when you kept spending so much time making deals with Eraklyon when I was ten!"

"You just did."

"I–" She buried her face in her hands. “Me and my big mouth..."

He walked over and pulled her into a hug. "I know you mean well, but you aren't ready yet. When you are, I'll tell you more."

Stella didn't say anything.

"You know," Radius sighed. "This has been something your mother and I have been meaning to talk about..."

"About what?"

"Your recklessness," he paused. "Look, it's not bad to have so much energy like you do. But you don't think through things. You get so caught up in the heat of the moment that you end up creating a huge mess. Truth be told, I've had a lot of people back home tell me they don't think you can be a good leader…"

"They... they really think that?" Stella asked, going slow to avoid letting her voice shake too much.

"They think you're a great person, but they don't think that you have the skills needed to rule someday. They say that you're wild and crazy, that you don't know how to properly manage such a responsibility."

"I," Stella swallowed a large lump in her throat. "I see..."

"I can't help but view it as my fault," Radius said. "That I wasn't there enough for you and didn't teach you enough. Your mother feels the same."

"Mhm."

"We had actually been talking about bringing you back home," he continued, "to give you specialized lessons with tutors. Since you're now expelled..."

"Hold up," Stella pushed herself away from the hug. "Are you saying I'm not coming back?"

Radius didn't say anything, but Stella knew his answer.

"You're not even gonna try to get me back in. And without asking me. What happened to figuring this out together?"

"Stella–"

"I thought you were gonna fight with me," Stella interrupted. "You've always been so supportive. When I wanted to go to normal school as a kid, you were the one who helped to enroll me and create a fake identity. When I wanted to adopt that stray I found, you were the one who helped me to get it all those shots and bring it back to health. What changed?"

"Because it's bigger than that," Radius said. "You're no longer a kid, and you're no longer dealing with something as simple as a dog. You're dealing with your future, a future that involves taking care of the well being of millions of people. If something bad happened to you and you didn't know how to handle it, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself for letting you go so underprepared.”

Stella wanted to say something. She wanted to say something about how she could rule Solaria and take care of herself just fine. But every time she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Maybe deep down there was a part of her that believed what he said.

"Do you need help packing?" He asked.

"No, dad," Stella shook her head. "I can do it myself."

#Winx #winx club #winx stella #winx au #winx radius #cal writes

9 notes · View notes

tvdversefanfiction · 4 years

Text

Origins of Magic

Warnings: I do not own the rights to the television series “The Originals”, “Vampire Diaries”, or “Legacies” and do not own any of the characters within the TVD universe, I am making no profit from this and have no intention for this fanfiction series except for readers to enjoy. 15+ Mild to Strong Violence, Strong Language, Witchcraft, sexual scenes, and sexual references. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN HERE

Chapter 14 - Christmas Eve (Christmas Special)

Caroline Forbes-Salvatore and Lizzie Saltzman

“Let me just tell you that if one brides’ bouquet is not white roses with the slightest drizzle of pink and the others pink with the slightest drizzle of black then I will personally cast each and every one of you into a prison world personally designed to fit and every one of your ideas of hell…do not try me!” Lizzie shouted at her wedding staff, standing in front of them all within the Salvatore Boarding School. “Careful now sweetie you’re starting to sound more and more diabolical by the second.” Caroline joked with her daughter as she walked into the room, before turning her attention to the wedding staff. “You guys better run and get to work now while I distract her.” The wedding staff who looked more than a little terrified of Lizzie jumped at the opportunity to leave her office, scurrying out within seconds of Caroline finishing her sentence. “The kids have only just left for the holidays and I’m already bombarded with Mikaelson’s showing up constantly looking for their room to crash, drink and murder god knows who in.” Lizzie complained as she walked over to her mother. “Planning a wedding for Josie, simple…planning a Mikaelson attending event that does not end in murder on the other hand…” “Sweetie, please…they are not that bad…anymore! Besides, I am sure Klaus will personally dagger any of his siblings who dare steal the attention on his daughter’s wedding day and if he does not then I sure as hell will.” Caroline promised her, attempting to calm down her clearly stressing daughter. “As long as you do not decide to catch up on lost time with Klaus at the reception, I’m sure I can handle a few Mikaelson murders.” Lizzie teased her mother. “Although, I know that is quite the ask mother.” “I could kill Alaric for telling you about that.” Caroline admitted to her daughter. “I just find it funny than you narrowly avoiding being a bride to a Mikaelson and then your daughter winds up getting hitched to the daughter of the man you one day could have and perhaps still could wind up with.” Lizzie laughed, more than amused by the awkwardness of her mother and Hope’s father’s special connection. “I am going to help your sister with getting ready and then check your father has not been too heavy on the bourbon before we walk her down the aisle…please feel free to going back to full planner zilla mode as long as it keeps you off gossiping about my past.” Caroline replied, eager to get out of this situation, knowing that’s exactly what Lizzie wanted her to do.

Elijah Mikaelson and Bonnie Bennett

“Well, if it is not Bonnie Bennett, can you believe we are meeting on a day where neither of us are plotting a move against the other?” Elijah greeted Bonnie after he vamp sped into a beautiful garden area, located near the back of the Salvatore Boarding School, where chairs were placed correctly to each side an arch of beautiful flowers stood freely at the end of the aisle between the two different areas of chairs, all ready for a wedding. “To be honest no but neither can I believe Josie is the niece marrying a Mikaelson but hey the biggest miracle is that somehow despite having your brother’s DNA, Hope has become a truly remarkable woman and will no doubt be a beautiful and deserving bride today.” Bonnie replied to Elijah, being kind despite their troubled past, knowing that despite her issues with the Mikaelson siblings, that Hope, and Josie were perfect for each other. “I am glad you think so, Hope really is what all of my family can only ever hope to be…and I know Hayley will be watching over the proceedings today somehow as happy as we both are for both Hope and Josie.” Elijah responded, wishing nothing more for Hayley to have been able to join Klaus walking their daughter down the aisle. “I’ve been looking for months in preparation of this wedding to find some spell for Hayley to be here, when the Black witches broke the afterlife, I had begun believing there might have been a way…but they fixed all that before I made any real progress.” Bonnie admitted to the noble Mikaelson original. “But I am going to surprise them with a little magical wedding gift to really make this wedding festive.” “It honestly means the world to me Bonnie that despite everything you would try and do something so unbelievably kind for my niece.” Elijah confessed to her. “As for making it snow today if you need any assistance or magical anchor, I am more than willing to volunteer myself.” “It’s a simple spell…not so simple for high school me but I’ve really learned my craft since then.” Bonnie politely refused. “Not boasting or anything but Caroline has given me full permission to take down anyone and I mean anyone who even so much as coughs during the wedding and I am pretty sure she was not joking.” “I doubt she was.” Elijah laughed, genuinely touched by the moment shared between a former enemy.

Kol Mikaelson and Davina Claire-Mikaelson

“I’m not coming for your best friend or anything, but I just think we should’ve maybe got someone else to watch the kids or better yet taken us with them.” Davina said to Kol, as she sat on the passenger seat of her and Kol’s car as Kol drove them on an empty road towards Mystic Falls. “I know you have known her for a long time, but I’ve only had a Greek glimpse into that family, and he is meant to be the best one.” “Davina darling, Rose was a little lost after another failed attempt to find whatever the bloody hell she is looking for and I am sure the kids will love the insanity that she brings.” Kol tried to reassure his wife. “We will not be here long and before you know it, we will be home on time to prepare the presents for Christmas Day.” “I would not miss Hope’s day for the world either Kol I just wish we took the kids this whole Christmas Eve wedding then rushing all the way back home is insane even for us!” Davina continued to complain. “Next time somebody in your family gets married we are taking the kids and nobody else gets to claim Christmas.” “I highly doubt any of my siblings will get married Davina so gladly there will only be one hectic Christmas rush.” Kol laughed, finding the idea of Klaus, Rebekah or Elijah settling down amusing. “If we ever go to another wedding, we will make sure to bring the kids.” “I’m not too sure about that one Kayne does not strike me as a kid person and I’d rather not have whatever the hell he is complaining about my kids on his big day.” Davina laughed. “You really think my brother Klaus is going to wind up marrying anyone?” Kol scoffed. “I know he’s changed a lot lately, but he is never going to find someone even remotely insane enough to tie him down…although Kayne is that level of crazy for sure.” “Elijah’s always dressed for a wedding maybe it will be him, Rebekah was married to Marcel albeit briefly maybe, they two will give things another shot, or she’ll fine somebody to walk her down the aisle.” Davina contemplated, wondering whose wedding she would be attending next, hoping whoever it was, hoping that it was not on Christmas.

Rebekah Mikaelson and Mayor Matt Donovan

“I had hoped you would one day get yourself out of this town, instead you’re the bloody Mayor although I admit of all the Mayors, I have slept with in my time you were definitely the most memorable.” Rebekah declared, after vamp speeding her way into the Mystic Grill in an attention-grabbing red dress, finding Matt Donovan stood there in the empty bar, wearing a smart suit, ready for a wedding. “It’s been a long time Rebekah, I heard you had a wedding yourself, but I guess having the sort of ex-boyfriend there would have not been good especially considering your husband is an upgraded original…whatever the hell that is.” Matt replied to her, with a smile on his face, happy to see an old friend. “Marcellus and I parted ways not long after marriage…if I am to one day get that cure once Damon has lived a long human life than I am going to need a human partner to grow old with and bitch about our grandchildren together.” Rebekah admitted with a sense of sadness, the wounds from her breakup with Marcel still fresh. “What about you Mr. Mayor? Were there any weddings I was not invited to on your behalf?” “There was someone once…” Matt confessed, struggling to think about the loss of his fiancé Penny Ares. “But she died before we got a chance to make it down the aisle.” “I am genuinely sorry to hear that Matt, if anyone deserves all the happiness in the world it is you.” Rebekah told him truthfully, before quickly changing the conversation. “So, why is the dear Elena Gilbert and the severely whipped Damon Salvatore missing the wedding of the century?” “Elena Salvatore is away doing doctors without borders and Damon’s in New York spending Christmas with their daughter Stefani who’s in University there, he was trying to make it here but did not want to risk missing Christmas with his daughter considering it’s his first without Elena since they both turned human.” Matt informed the female original. “Which is probably a good thing considering he’d wind up saying something stupid and get himself killed by Caroline.” “Stefani Salvatore is in University now?” Rebekah asked in shock, before going on to joke. “I would say something human like I am getting old but since I am over a thousand years old the ship has most definitely sailed.”

Klaus Mikaelson and Alaric Saltzman

Klaus Mikaelson and Alaric Saltzman’s history were a large and tangled one at that, considering Klaus once inhabited Alaric’s body and Alaric on multiple occasions tried and failed to take down Klaus, although many people had tried to kill Klaus to be fair. However, during the time in which Klaus had died, Alaric had become an important mentor to Klaus’ daughter and a father figure that Klaus could not be at the time, it was through Alaric’s acceptance of Hope that led to Hope becoming so close to her eventful bride Josie and her twin sister Lizzie and Klaus knew this was one of many reasons to be grateful to the retired vampire hunter, despite how reluctant he was to admit it. So, when it came to the two fathers of the brides meeting within the Salvatore Boarding School’s gymnasium, Klaus and Alaric found themselves for the first time ever, bonding over the most important day of their daughters’ lives. “Rumour has it, Caroline is trying to hunt you down.” Klaus stated, as he sped into the gymnasium, finding Alaric drinking a bottle of whisky while sat on the bleachers. “I however was hunting down a good drink.” “Who would have thought all those years ago when you were trying to murder Elena at any given moment, and we were all trying to get rid of you that one day my daughter would wind up marrying your daughter.” Alaric replied to Klaus, as Klaus sat down next to him on the bleachers. “Back then I’d have bet good money that either you’d be the death of us, or we’d be the death of you.” “I have to thank you for the part you played in Hope becoming such a wonderful woman that I could not be prouder to call my daughter.” Klaus admitted as he snatched the bottle off Alaric and took a swig. “To put your hatred towards me aside to raise her when I could not and then to not interfere with her and Josie…well it takes a great man to be that accepting.” “Hope was always one of my favorite students largely due to the fact she took more after her mother than her father.” Alaric joked as he snatched the bottle back off Klaus. “Although she has a lot of Mikaelson traits, the best ones…as for her and Josie I always knew they would wind up together and Caroline’s just happy Josie never wound up with Penelope.” “I have yet to see Caroline,” Klaus said with an excited smile, as Alaric took another swig from the bottle of whisky. “I bet she is as breathtakingly beautiful as the last day I saw her.” “Yeah, the last thing Hope, or Josie need to see at their reception is you once again trying to get with Caroline, although I suppose with all the changes it’s kind of creepily comforting to know some things have stayed the same.” Alaric told Klaus, wary of Klaus and Caroline’s inevitable reunion.

Freya Mikaelson and Keelin Malraux-Mikaelson

“Okay so Nik’s off spending the weekend in New Orleans with Vincent and I’ve checked in with work still not getting Christmas Day off but at least I do not have to miss today.” Keelin informed Freya as she walked into the living room of their family home in Mystic Falls. “Well, I did offer to cast a little spell on your boss but you’re the one who said no.” Freya laughed as she gave her wife a kiss on the lips. “With the number of suspicious humans in this town the last thing we need to be doing is casting spells on them.” Keelin replied, before going on to say. “You know it feels like just yesterday we were walking down the aisle and Hope was your teenage niece attending our wedding.” “It’s crazy to think they will soon be starting a family of their own and that my little brother Klaus could one day be a grandfather.” Freya stated, with a sense of excitement for her family’s future. “We just got to hope your family Klaus especially find a way to behave themselves long enough for Hope and Josie to actually get married.” Keelin joked with her wife. “Trust me if anyone can keep my brother in tow it’s his daughter.” Freya promised her.

Bride to be Josie Saltzman

Josie Saltzman had come along way from her goody two shoes student days at Salvatore Boarding School and being daddy’s perfect little girl, after a brief time allowing the darkness within her to take over Josie found herself, her real, unapologetic self. After graduating from Salvatore Boarding School Josie went on to study psychology only to later return to the school as the new guidance counsellor, sharing her expertise alongside her twin sister Lizzie who at that time took on the role of vice-headmistress, the magics teacher Freya Mikaelson and her soon to be bride Hope Mikaelson who had taken on an official protector role within the school, as well as recruiter for students and trainer. It was at Salvatore Boarding School Josie’s love story began, continued, and would now get its happy ending and as Josie stood within the room that was once hers and Lizzie’s staring into a mirror taking in the beauty of her wedding dress, she could not help but be filled with happiness as the excitement over marrying Hope Mikaelson continued to grow. “I must admit despite all the insane intensity she brings to the job your sister Lizzie makes one hell of a wedding planner maybe she missed a calling by taking over the running of this place.” Alaric stated as he walked into the room, continuing to walk over to Josie before giving his daughter a hug. “You look positively stunning although as your father I am clearly biased.” “Well as your mother who is not remotely biased, I can honestly say you are the most beautiful bride in all of existence.” Caroline complimented her daughter, after speeding into the room in a very vampire style.

Bride to be Hope Mikaelson

Hope Mikaelson had found herself sitting on the edge of the bed in the room that was once her bedroom within the Salvatore Boarding School, instead of being unbelievably happy she had found herself in a sad moment as she remembered the dress she was now wearing once belonged to her mother which led her to wishing now more than ever before that her mother was not dead, a wish that was somehow granted. “Considering it’s your big day I kind of expected you to be a little happier.” Hayley said as she walked in, shocking her daughter by her impossible presence. “Well, are you going to hug your mum while you can still see me?” “Mum,” Hope cried, as she stood up from her bed and rushed over to her mother, hugging her tightly. “How are you here right now?” “Some jolly old guy who kept calling himself Santa did some Christmas magic, said he owed you one for helping him out with Krampus at first I assumed he was just some crazy ass witch until suddenly bam here I am.” Hayley explained as she hugged her daughter tighter and tighter. “He said he owed you a favour, guess when I’m watching over you, I miss a thing or two like Santa freaking Claus.” “I’m so happy you’re here, I miss you so much!” Hope continued to cry, beyond happy to be reunited with her mother. “Unfortunately, I have a very small window before I’m back to the afterlife…I would’ve asked to stay for longer but the afterlife’s just getting back to normal.” Hayley explained to her daughter. “Wait, you’re not going to be here for my actual wedding?” Hope asked, as she broke off the hug, her happiness limited after realizing this reunion would soon end. “Oh honey,” Hayley said as she lifted her hand on to Hope’s face, before gently stroking it. “I am always here, always right beside you, watching over you. I was there when you fell in love for the first time with that Phoenix boy, I was there with every monster you killed as you protected your friends, I was there for your Graduation and I’ll be here for everything that comes after your wedding, its just you get to see me today, but I get to see you every day.” “I do not want you to go.” Hope pleaded with tears in her eyes. “I love you!” “I love you too sweetie, but you got a wedding to attend and although you won’t see me, I’ll be watching with nothing but happiness in my heart.” Hayley told her as she gave her daughter another hug. “I had an epic life and now I get to watch you have yours, do not waste anytime not being happy because you deserve the world Hope, and I cannot wait for the two of you to make me a grandmother.” Hope laughed at Hayley’s casual mention of children for a moment before Hayley completely disappeared out of Hope’s sight, out of her arms but instead of feeling the loss of her mother she now realized just how much her mum was never really gone and that realization made her full of happiness and more than ready to get married, knowing her mother would be watching…

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forkanna · 3 years

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[AO3] [WATTPAD]

NOTE: Most Japanese schools run Monday through Saturday. Also, thanks for keeping up with this story, despite my choppy update schedule!

Saturday slipped by awkwardly. That really was the best description for it, terrible as that reality was; the whole situation felt awkward.

The night before, they had parted ways at the train station. A tacit agreement had been reached that too much had happened in a single day, and they both needed time to process. They texted a few things about being glad they hung out that day, or what they were eating for dinner, but mostly they kept to themselves.

Rise had been hoping the next day would find them magically falling back together and not having to worry about how intense things had been in Shinjuku. Alas, they avoided each other. Neither seemed to want to be the one to reach out and initiate contact. Maybe they had told themselves that they were over it but clearly it was another matter to put so much raw emotion on display, then face the consequences. Plus, Ai had been very wasted and probably felt embarrassed she let it lead to so many things she definitely had not been planning for their outing. Rise could completely understand that.

But when school let out, she tried to screw her courage to the sticking-place and go find her maybe-girlfriend. Boyfriend? The whole thing still confused her, but she knew enough now to accept that said confusion did not at all mean she was disinterested. Far from it. She just had to figure out how deep her interest lay.

Ai was gone already. Probably to Shinjuku, or Okina, or Okinawa for all she knew. No new texts, either; she finally summoned her courage and sent a simple 'What are you doing?' but got no reply.

"Figures," she muttered as she stared at the screen, walking slowly toward Marukyu. "Why does she have to disappear on meeeee?"

"Who?"

"AAAH!" she gasped out, jumping into Chie's arms. The startled girl staggered and yelped as she tried to support Rise's weight, and of course, in the end they went down like a ton of bricks.

"HEY!" Hissing in pain, she shoved at Rise and said, "Get off! What are you DOING?!"

Rise hissed as well as she picked herself up. "Oww, my knee! I'm- oh God, where's my phone? What happened to my phone?!"

The two of them scrambled around on the side of the road, trying to figure out where the piece of vital technology had disappeared to. Once or twice, they even rolled down the riverside hill thanks to how slippery the light rain had made it earlier. Eventually, Chie turned up with it, and they sat panting with relief on the slope for a little while, trying to recover from the unexpected flurry of activity.

"You were… totally off in your own world, dude!" Chie panted, staring up at the clouds. "What the hell? You didn't even… hear me calling to you!"

"Ahh… hahh… I… sorry…" Chie was definitely in better shape than her. But she did finally manage to swallow and roll over to face the other girl, trying to prop her head up on her arm. "I've been… hoping Ai would text me back, and… my brain is…" She made a vague motion off into the distance.

"Yeah! Yeah, I get that one. For sure, believe me."

"Really? Because… you and Yukiko?"

"That's…" She did grimace, but finally just said, "Whatever."

"HAH! I knew it!"

"What's your problem, if you don't mind me asking? With Ai. Did you have a fight or something?"

"N-no, not really… a fight." Another deep breath to brace herself, and because she was still a little dizzy. "She told me something yesterday that… I mean, it has me really confused, and I just kinda wish somebody would tell me what to do and how to feel."

Chie snorted. "Thought Ai was really good at that. But okay, what happened?"

Rise told her, as briefly as she could. Which didn't end up being very brief. By the time she had explained the whole situation, they were stuffed into the back corner of Aiya, a couple of bowls of noodles and some sodas in front of them. The hot food would help them dry off after rolling around on a damp hill. Chie had plowed through a lot more of hers considering she was mostly listening and could let her mouth focus on that sweet sweet beef she coveted so much.

"Lembge geddiz straig."

"How about I let you swallow first?" Rise said with a wince. "I'm sorry, I just really can't understand you."

Chie nodded, chewed hard a few times, and gulped. "Ah! DAMN, do I love meat! Okay… what were we talking about?" When Rise let out an exasperated noise, she chuckled and said, "Just kidding. But yeah… I guess Ai's a guy. Weird."

"Right? Because I mean, look at her. How can she be a boy?!"

"Yeah! Like, I get what you were saying, about like… crossdressers on TV and junk. Some of them look like hell and some of them are really cute, but you can still tell. But Ai is like… he's a chick! Really, really a chick, like us! I'd never think…"

"Yeah," she agreed with a dejected sigh. "And at first I thought she was lying, Chie-chan, or trying to play a really mean joke on me, but now I don't think so. She was dead serious. And the way she talked about how hard it was for her to be herself when she was being told by everyone else she had to 'be manly'? I get that. Not that exactly but I know what it's like for everybody to be looking at you one way and wishing they could just… listen."

The tomboyish senior frowned down at her bowl as she stirred its contents with her chopsticks. "Pretty rotten. I mean, you weren't there for me having to confront my Shadow, but I used to have a lot more issues with that, too. I was jealous of Yukiko. That's stupid, she's my best friend! But she's so beautiful; I mean, you know, you've seen her. And I'm this fugly pile of dog doo."

"Aww, you are not," Rise said with a frown. "Don't say that."

"Nah, it's okay now. I mean, I know I'm not hideous but I'm not jealous because Yukiko is prettier anymore. That's just, like… I'm lucky to know her, and happy she gets attention. She deserves it." When she looked over and saw Rise's frown had completely turned upside down, she ducked her head. "Sh-shut up, I'm just happy for my friend!"

"Uh huh. But yeah… we've all been through a lot, and seen some really crazy stuff. I don't know why I freaked out so much about Ebihara now; so what if she is a boy? She's still a hotter girl than any of the rest of us will ever be, regardless."

Chie pointed her chopsticks at the idol. "Hey, watch it! You're lumping Yukiko in with the rest of us, and I know you're not trying to say she isn't the prettiest girl in Inaba!"

"Hey, hey, easy, Bruce Lee! Oh — right, did you get it?"

"Get what?"

"N-nothing." That was close; Yukiko would have had every right to be angry with her if she spilled the secret before its time.

"Riiight. Anyway, I… man, I'm really sorry for getting so cheesed off."

"You should be. I mean, you know I wasn't trying to diss anyone, I was just commenting on how pretty my girlfriend is. Boyfriend. Whatever."

"Yeah, that's gonna be a mind-fuck for a little while," Chie snickered as she took another huge bite. Where she put it all, Rise would never know. "So you didn't see it?"

"See what?" When Chie just stuck her pinky out and waggled it back and forth, eyebrows moving in much the same manner suggestively, Rise felt her face flush. "N-no, I did not."

"Awwwww, I was gonna ask about the size."

"CHIE!"

"Well, what else am I supposed to ask?!" she burst out in exasperation. "Like, clearly the rest of him looks like a chick, so that seems like the biggest difference! I just wanted to know how big that difference was!"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she finally simply sighed, "I'll let you know. If I ever find out, I mean… since she's not talking to me today."

"Aww… yeah." Growing more serious, she stuck her chopsticks in the bowl and put an arm around Rise. "Listen… all dumb jokes aside, that sucks. But he's probably just trying to sort things out, like you are. I mean, you said he can't even figure out if he's a girl or a boy, so like, on top of having the hots for his new best friend? That's a lot."

Something about the way Chie kept saying "he" and "his" was bothering Rise. She knew it was technically accurate — again, assuming this was all true, which she had decided to believe for the time being — but it didn't sit right. Didn't Ai say she had known all along she was a woman, even when the world saw her as male? But she didn't want to get too bogged down by worrying about that niggling little detail just now.

"Okay, so I'm an idol, she's a fashionista. If she is a boy, maybe it's not as weird that we hook up — like, she could be my fashion designer when I make my comeback. Right? Or… if she's not a boy, then she can be, anyway, and… we could… date secretly."

"Secretly? I thought you said you would be Japan's first gay idol."

"I'd love to be, but I also don't know if that'll work. My management might not like that I'm throwing them a curveball. And… I guess…" Rise felt her eyes watering. That was stupid. "I don't want to stop being Risette."

Chie snorted. "Pretty sure you're going to be Risette forever, even if you don't like it. Which I thought you didn't, but like, you did say you're accepting it again."

"No, I meant that… if I really am interested in women, and I come out, I won't be 'Risette the idol'. I'll be 'Risette the gay icon', or 'that lesbian singer'. Dumb stuff like that. I've been thinking about it a lot, and that could be really cool, but it also means I have to give up having fans who just like me because I'm cute and I can sing. It'll get super political."

"Oh… yeesh, I hadn't thought about any of that junk at all. That sounds like a big pain."

Whimpering, she flopped down on her arms. "But it's important. Like, I've never thought it was right that queers in Japan don't have any representation really. Y'know?"

"But they do! Well… not a lot, I mean… Ikko, like you said, and that one drag queen, Matsuko Deluxe… and I thought I heard Utada might be? Or her teddy bear was…" When Rise just cracked an eye in her direction, she wilted. "Yeah, okay, so not that many. Seems like everybody's gay in the West, and over here it's like, five people."

"That we know about."

"Yeah. I never really thought that hard about it… but I guess… I should have."

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Rise's mouth. "Why should you have? Hmmmm?"

"Well… you know."

"See? You can't even tell me! I'm right here telling you I made out with either a girl, or a guy who wears girl clothes better than me, and you still don't feel like you can tell me the truth! That's exactly it — we just don't wanna talk about it!"

Chie was poking the tips of her index fingers into each other as she stared down at her bowl, face glowing like a stoplight. Rise knew she was being a little mean, but she also had a decent reason to press this subject.

"Alright, forget it. I'm sorry."

"No, you're right, Rise-chan. I'm…" She took a deep breath, looked around the diner to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them. Still not that brave, it seemed. "I'm with Yukiko. We're together. And I don't just mean cool for the summer because we're trying stuff out; I mean forever. She's all mine, and she loves b-being mine, a-and… and I've never…"

Oh. Chie Satonaka, badass kung fu afficionado who helped save Inaba without anyone ever finding out what they did to protect the town… was crying. Rise sat up, brow furrowing hard as she watched this unprecedented phenomenon for a moment. Fat droplets of shame were rolling down to be absorbed by the collar of her ever-present green jacket as she gripped the skirt covering her thighs. How sad that trying to force herself to admit something like this was so difficult she couldn't do it without tears.

"Shhh," Rise soothed her as she pulled her into a warm embrace. And Chie clung as if she were a life raft. "It's okay. I'm on your side, okay? Remember? Investigation Team forever. Everything's gonna be fine."

That was all they could accomplish for a little while. Even though she was hiccuping and trying to keep her voice down, it seemed now that Chie had let down her ever-present shields it was all tumbling free in a rush. So Rise just held her, trying not to add to the mess by breaking down herself. Poor thing.

She only hoped time wouldn't make a liar out of her. Because if everything wasn't fine for Chie and Yukiko… then what chance did she and her boy-girlfriend have?

~ o ~

Ai did eventually get back into contact with her later that evening, via text. Her first order of business was a heartfelt apology for blowing her off all day. They both did the dance of trying to reassure the other person that it was no big deal, and they both just needed some space to figure things out.

AI: But I really threw you for a loop and we both know it

RISE: Definitely

RISE: I'm sorry I just don't have a gentle way to agree you really fucked me up

AI: Wow do you have to put it like THAT?!

AI: Sounds like I was doing it on purpose!

RISE: I know you weren't!

RISE: Seriously… I'm sorry I just needed to figure things out

AI: Yeah… me too

AI: Look can I just call

RISE: Oh uhhhhh I guess?

No answering text. Just her phone ringing, and the poor idol dropping it and leaning away on her bed. Feeling silly that it had startled her so badly, she scooped up the phone and answered. "Hello?"

"Do you hate me?"

Rise's blood froze in her veins as she sat up straighter. Ai sounded bad. Not just unhappy, or like she had been crying, but she sounded as if she were completely out of energy. Swallowing hard, she whispered, "Ai-chan? Are you okay? What's…"

"No." A little sniffle. "I… I fucked up."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm… so I've had this… I…" Rise didn't interrupt; just gave her time to collect her thoughts. "I'm bulimic. I've been purging on a regular basis since before junior high, and I thought I had it under control, but… today wasn't good."

"Oh…" Wincing at the notion, she went on, "Oh, that's terrible, I'm sorry. I mean, I get why you would, you… thought you needed to."

Silence. Then in a quiet whisper, "It's been worse lately. And I'm not stupid, I know it's because of you and me; I'm… messed up about it, and instead of confronting my feelings, I binge and purge. And it's disgusting, and I'm disgusting, and I haven't been able to keep anything down since… Shinjuku."

"Oh. The beer. That got you started again, didn't it?"

"Like I ever really stopped," she snorted harshly. "But you're not wrong. I've been pretty good about just sticking to my diet the past few months, and now I'm stress-eating all the time, and then I have to purge because my system can't handle it, a-and…"

When her words devolved into unintelligible noises, Rise just soothed her, "Wait, wait, it's okay. It's okay! I mean, I might not get all the, um… boy-girl stuff, and whether or not we should be… u-uh… whatever we should be." Wow, eloquent; pull it together, Rise! "But I'm used to bulimic girls."

"What? I mean, you are?"

"Sure. There's a ton of them in the entertainment industry; we're all supposed to look like adorable little stick figures who are always happy. It's hard. I'm just lucky that I'm naturally kind of lean, but I still do have to watch what I eat. Other girls aren't so lucky — like you. Just like that. So…"

Ai sounded so desperate for affirmation when she pleaded, "So I'm not broken?"

"No way! I mean, maybe you shouldn't do it anymore, but like, it happens all the time. You're not crazy, and you're not 'broken'. I mean it."

"That's… that's the most I've believed anyone when they told me that in a long time." A long sigh. She still sounded weak but Rise was trying to suppress slamming the panic button. "Dad tells me that, too, but he isn't very convincing. I mean, he's my dad, he has to say that shit."

Giggling softly, she laid back on her bed and picked at a fray in the comforter with her painted nails. "Yeah, I get that. Well, with my grandma. My parents don't even call."

"Bitches." They both laughed. "Um… I think I'm gonna make myself go get some juice… but um… before I go…"

"Yes?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you so nice to me? I don't deserve it. No," she cut her off, and Rise almost laughed that her friend had predicted she was going to protest. "Don't argue, you know I'm a hot fucking mess. And I boss people around, and I… but you pushed until I let you befriend me. And I don't get it. I thought you were a nerd and a glutton for punishment, and you still showed me all this gross love until I caught it. Why would you? Why waste all that time on a gender-bending jerk like me when you could have picked any-"

"You're not a jerk. You're not a mess. And you are not alone."

The next word was a sob, but she was reasonably sure what she said was "Rise". So she just waited, curling up on her sheets more tightly with the phone pressed to her ear. Waiting, until finally… "Thank you."

"Hey, no big deal. Just… don't give up, okay? I'm in your corner, and I'm always going to be. You got a friend in me."

"Why does that sound so familiar?" she half-laughed.

Curling up with a warm smile on her face, Rise purred into the phone, "I have no idea, Ebi-chan. But I mean each and every word."

To Be Continued…

#we'll face ourselves #persona 4 fanfiction #saphir de lune #p4 fanfic #rise x ai #forkanna writes #jess the writer

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talesofpanem · 5 years

Text

Tattoo Fixers : Panem

Author: @thegirlfromoverthepond

Rating: T

Summary: Katniss needs someone to fix a bad tattoo.

AN: Deepest, deepest thanks to the amazing @xerxia31 who beta-ed this piece.

Even though I liked the prompt, it took me times to find the idea for this story - until I watched my TV, which prompted an episode of Tattoo Fixers - London. Maybe some of you from the EuroClub know about it ? Anyways, here is my take at this week’s prompt.

Hope you have fun.

_____________

She would be fascinated by the ballet of assistants running around the shop if she wasn’t embarrassed to be sitting there, being prepped by a team of make-up artists and a hairdresser.

Just looking at the people putting mascara on her eyebrows or trying to tame her hair was a spectacle in itself, with their tattoos poking out from under every bit of clothing, along with piercings or blue hair.

Katniss felt utterly out of place, waiting for her turn to appear on a television show she didn’t even want to go on. Alas, it was the only free way to fix something she had regretted since she had woken up after a particularly drunken night with her cousin Gale.

It was all Gale’s fault. It had been the day of her father’ funeral, the day after Gale buried his own. After the ceremony, after everyone had gone home, Gale had taken Katniss out. She hadn’t asked, just silently nodded when he had grabbed the keys of his father’s old pickup, heading out to their favorite spot in town, to get drunk.

In the hopes they could forget the void left by their fathers.

They had spent hours in that bar, drinking until they couldn’t drink anymore, until everything faded into blackness. The next morning, however, they’d woken up together in the bed of the pickup truck, each sporting the mother of all hangovers and a lovely souvenir of their evening

Apparently, they had somehow found their way to a tattoo parlor.

Since that night, Gale had sported a wonderful peacock on his biceps, which he still found funny all these years later.

Katniss wasn’t as lucky. She all but hated the cartoonish, badly drawn bow and arrow on the inside of her forearm. The only good thing about it was its size - tiny, so a wristband could cover it easily. She took to wearing one everyday. Solid. In leather.

Arrow. Her father’s name, had been inked forever on her arm. She would have loved it if she had been able to choose the drawing properly, instead of having been branded with a cupid-ike tattoo design.

Hence her presence on the set of Tattoo Fixers, a reality show where talented tattoo artists helped people cover up their tattoo disasters with gorgeous works of inked art.

Removing the tattoo was way too expensive for her bank account. But Prim had convinced her to share her story with all the whole country, risking the humiliation of being branded as a drunk crazy woman on cable TV.

Wonderful.

“Katniss? You’re on in five,” a young assistant told her, making the team of preppers buzz around her like there was a breach in a beehive. One man, Flavius she thought his name was, because why not, was complaining about the state of her nails, how chipped they were, how he couldn’t do miracles, how he couldn’t find time to fit in a manicure in the remaining five minutes.

“I’m a botanist. It would be destroyed by tomorrow anyway.” She shrugged the thought away, almost taking pleasure in the disgusted look on his face. Take that, Flavius.

When the assistant came back, all smiles and happy mood, Katniss followed her out of the parlor and onto the street. Just like any other participant, she would have to walk to the shop, entering as if she was a totally random client.

Bull.Shit.

The only random part was which tattoo artist she would choose. At least she would be surprised by their drawings.

This was staged TV, reality-TV. She usually couldn’t stand it.

She sighed, taking her place ion the street.

“Remember, start walking when the director shouts ‘Action!’”

Katniss resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

She started walking as casually as possible when she was told to, entering the shop as naturally as she could manage, trying to avoid laughing at the host’s attire of the day. Nobody ever bothered telling Caesar Flickerman that he might be colorblind. Today, he was mixing a flashy orange shirt with beautiful purple bermuda shorts. No doubt the episode would air in summer.

“Here is our next client!” Caesar sounded a little too enthusiastic at her entrance into the parlor. “What’s your name, darling?” He took her hand, helping her sit on the couch facing the one where the three tattoo artists were sitting.

She took a deep breath before answering, hoping her voice didn’t falter.

As she explained why she was there, Katniss took a good look at the three people in front of her, mentally thanking Prim for the briefing she’d given Katniss before she left that morning.

There was the woman, Jo, whose body was almost fully covered in tattoos and piercings. Only her face remained pristine, making her red hair stand out. She was sitting next to Finnick, who as the star tattooist of the program was sitting between his two colleagues. Finnick’s body was a work of art. Prim had swooned over it for much too long when she had briefed her sister, showing Katniss pictures of the man who appeared to live his life shirtless. Katniss had then been privy to the numerous tattoos that adorned his back, a chinese setting, dragon included.

She had seen several shots of him, of his so perfect body that made women of all ages swoon over him. Of course, Katniss was well aware of the dispatch of muscles, the Greek-god physique Finnick had, and fully expecting to be struck with lust as soon as she laid eyes on him in person. Yet nothing happened.

Nothing. At. All.

She was much more intrigued by the third tattooist, sitting next to Finnick. If Jo was a picture of the bad girl, Finnick the perfection, this third person was something else. He screamed “normal”, standing out from the two others, in Katniss’ opinion. Maybe it was because she couldn’t see a single tattoo on him, not even the required tribal band around his biceps.

There was something about his blue eyes, about his messy blond air that made her look at him more than the two others. Something that attracted her.

“This is Peeta, but we call him Peet. He’s the newcomer as Cato decided he needed a year off,” Finnick said and Peeta smiled. “So, how do you want us to cover the tattoo? Any specific request?”

“Well, nothing arrow-esque, or cupid-like. I’d like something that’s more inspired by nature,” she said. She just wanted the stupid bow and arrow to be covered.

Both Finnick and Jo grabbed their sketchbooks and started to draw. But she could feel Peeta’s eyes on her, lingering for a few seconds before he in turn, dived in.

“Well, tell us about you, Kathy?” Caesar said,making idle conversation to allow the tattooists time to finish their drawings.

“It’s Katniss, actually. Nothing thrilling, I’m a botanist and I live with my sister, Primrose.”

“Oh, that’s nice, she’s named for a flower!”

Katniss couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She knew this part would be cut because nobody really cared about the chit chat between a host and someone they would forget as soon as she left the office.

“Just like I am, it’s kind of a family tradition.”

“And you’re a florist! Isn’t it amazing.”

“I’m a botanist, but not far away.”

She was already over her talk with the host. A talk she was quite sure only lasted a few minutes, still felt like two long days.

“We’re ready, Kitty Kat. Here’s my drawing.” Jo handed over her sketchbook, on which a beautiful cat was displayed. With red fun, he would have been a striking copy of her sister’s cat, Buttercup, aka the bane of her existence. “You strike me as independent and very focused, hence, the cat.”

“It’s beautiful, Jo, thank you,” Katniss said, as she took in the beautiful shape of the cat’s ear, the detailed eyes. The woman had talent.

“I went for something more… natural,” Finnick said. “ I hope you like it!” He handed her his sketchbook, then leaned back on the couch, taking a sugarcube out of his pocket before popping it in his mouth.

On the page in front of her was a display of gorgeous intertwining orchid flowers.

“I can do them in different shades, like a watercolor painting, you know?” Finnick added, as Katniss stared in awe.

“It’s lovely, wow, I wasn’t expecting that, Finnick.” Between the two drawings, her choice was made. She wasn’t even sure Peeta would be able to compete.

“She’ll pick mine, guys, I’m ready to bet ten bucks!” Finnick lifted his arms in victory.

“It doesn’t have to be a big one, right?” Katniss asked, hoping his answer would be a no.

“It can be whatever you desire, sweetheart.” Finnick’s voice was sugary, and his green eyes sparkled as he winked at her.

Which made Katniss roll her eyes.

“Well, Finnick, this one’s immune to your charms.” Peeta’s voice, amused, chimed in. “Katniss, here is my take for your tattoo.”

She put down Finnick’s sketchbook to take Peeta’s. There were no words to describe her feelings when she looked down at the drawing on the paper. She had expected something somewhere between Jo and Finnick’s like an animal in nature, or just a drawing of a beach, absolutely not what she had before her eyes.

Peeta had drawn a wave.

A single, simple wave.

Yet, the closer she looked, the more details she could see. The wave was made entirely of flowers.

Primroses and katniss were braided together with such precision, with such attention, it was mesmerizing.

From two feet away the drawing looked like a wave.

But to her, for the closer her eyes got, it was a flower wall.

She opened her mouth to talk, to express how incredible she found the drawing.

No words came out.

She had to take a deep breath before gathering her thoughts before she was able to talk again.

“This. This is what I want.”

“Shall we go, then?” Peeta asked, rising from the couch.

She nodded her agreement before following him to the back.

She was glad the cameras didn’t filming the whole process. They were busy filming other segments with other “clients”.

“What prompted you to draw this? I mean I had no idea that was what I wanted until you showed me…” she asked.

“Your talk with Caesar. You told him you were a botanist, that it was a tradition to have flower names in your family. So I checked what Katniss was. It came up with sagit-something…”

“Sagittaria sagittifolia.,” she said under her breath.

He laughed, as he charged his machine with ink.

“Yes, that. You said you live with your sister, and I remembered you told us you got this awful thing after a funeral so I added one and one… You must have a pretty close relationship with your sister.”

“Yeah, we do …..” She was watching him come closer with his machine. She had a question, though. “How do I know you can tattoo? I mean, you don’t even have any of your own?”

“I do have one tattoo, but it’s hidden. I’m not as extrovert as Finn and Jo.”

“I noticed.. Could I see it ?”

“Well, it would involve you seeing me at least half naked… “

She blushed. “Oh, my, sorry…”

��No need to apologize. I did Finn’s dragon, and can show you pictures of previous works I’ve done, if you need references …. “

“It’s okay, I trust you.”

He smiled, a gentle, kind, warm smile at her words.

As soon as he started working on her forearm the cameras returned. He explained the steps he was taking, using the shape of the bow for the wave, the body of the arrow to line up the braids of flowers.

“It’s done. You can look.” His voice took her by surprise. She looked down, finding herself at a loss for words, again.

There was no way she would hide this one under a wristband.

After the mandatory shots for the TV, Peeta was wrapping her arm in cello, when he asked.

“I kinda won twenty bucks earlier, thanks to you. Want to share it with a tea?”

“No,” she answered. As his face fell, she added, “But I’d love a hot chocolate with whipped cream, if you know a place.”

He knew a place.

(Turned out he had a tree of life tattoo along his ribcage. She could spend hours tracing it with her fingers. Or her tongue.)

#tales of panem #talesofpanem #week 7 #wave #thegirlfromoverthepond #submission

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chronicbatfictioner · 5 years

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Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 3

Crime Alley, Seven Years Ago

The instant 13-year-old Jason Todd saw the blood rushing out of the girl that his buddy had just shot, he knew it was wrong. The shopkeeper of the shop they were robbing was doing the right thing, pressing on the wound hard while screaming at the phone with EMTs. Hopefully the girl would make it - so Jason hoped as he chased after his buddy Chris. His 'buddy', air quotes included. Chris had promised that the gun would be empty. Instead it spat out a bullet right to the girl's chest.

They had ran, scared. But Chris was no match for Jason and he caught up easily.

"You promised the gun would be empty, Chris! You said it was all about the money!" he growled as he punched Chris, again and again and again. "You lied!"

"Stop it, boy!" an adult voice barked, caught his arms, and bodily lifted him up.

"I'm just...!" he sputtered. "He-- he shot the girl and I'm... I'm... he shouldn't hurt anyone ever again!"

"Yeeeah..." the cop who hoisted Jason away drawled, "...doesn't look like he can hurt anybody now, does he? Dispatch, get me the medic to the alley a few blocks from the shop..." he added, calling into his walkies. "The girl will be okay, kid."

"It's not... he shouldn't..." Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. "She's someone's daughter..."

"Ain't we all. So how about you come with me, now..." the cop was not threatening. But Jason knew better. Gotham City's cops are not to be friendly with, not especially for people like him. Not especially when he looked like he'd been beaten up on top of having beaten up someone else.

So he dodged the cop and hightailed it out of there, ignoring the yells and skipped left and right and up the fire stairs and into opened windows and door and get out the other side. He was still huffing and puffing, trying to catch his breath, when he realized that he'd made good gains on the cop - obviously too rotund and not designed or trained to do a little jogging.

It had been nearly three months since his mother died and left him alone to fend for himself. Yesterday, he had gone and actually helped someone - a pretty black-haired lady - from attackers. He had bricked one of the stealthier attackers that the lady did not see. She then taught him how to punch in a way that would not hurt his wrists - in case there are no bricks in the future where he would find himself in the same situation.

He had not used the punch on Chris, largely because it was rather specific and Jason was rather frantically angry while he was punching Chris. The woman had said that the punch would eliminate evil from within someone. Or was it immortality? Regardless, he was pretty certain that Chris was not immortal - he seemed pretty shocked and in pain from Jason's punches.

He wondered what would happen if he'd punched Chris and it had been the 'evil' in him that got away. What would evil look like, Jason pondered inwardly. Would it look like an ugly monster, or a shiny pretty devil? Or is there no evil and just Chris himself? Would Jason have killed Chris if the 'evil' turned out to be his soul? What would that make Jason, then - evil, too?

Jason finally slumped down as he leaned on the walls, feeling the immense weight of his remorse. It was his fault. He shouldn't have agreed with Chris to rob the convenience store. But he needed money, and convenience stores would always have money. It was supposed to be empty, too, and it was his fault that he didn't check to see if the store was empty or not.

"You have seen the error of your ways, I presume."

He would have jumped in surprise if he had not recognized the voice. The lady again. The black-haired, pretty lady from yesterday who rode a really fancy motorcycle that she had left in an alley - unlocked and didn't even occur to her that someone could haul it away within seconds. It was until Jason saw her fighting a good dozen of people in ninja suits - the comical movie ninja uniforms in all black and head scarves and all; not actual stealth suits like the history books would describe - that he realized that this lady was not concerned for her bike. She probably could beat up whoever-stupid-enough-to-take-the-bike to pulp.

Much worse than what Jason did to Chris.

"The girl... she shouldn't have gotten shot. Chris was just... He just did it for the sake of it..." Jason muttered. A drop of tear fell from his eyes, and he brushed it off brusquely. "I'm not... she didn't even do anything..."

The lady stood in front of him, bending a little to look at his face. She was still quite young - probably about her early 20s. Her eyes were green, Jason noted, looking rather crystalline even in the dim lighting of the alley. "You are pure at heart, boy, but your journey cannot begin here." she said. "Come! Let us clean you up and perhaps get some calories into you. Allow me to lead that good heart toward its righteous place."

A small voice in the back of his head warned him that there are bad people who would take young children like him - boys or girls - and sell them off to be prostitutes.

But then again, what difference would it make for him, anyway? He was already selling himself some. Maybe with this woman as his pimp, he would at least get some form of protection.

He was still worried, even after a week of lavish and luxurious hotel rooms across the Eastern Seaboard, in which the lady - Talia, that was her name - had set him up in while she "tends to business." He was not being sold, yet. Probably was still being groomed to be sold to the highest bidder or whatever.

Either way, Jason tried hard to mind his manners. This lady could be his meal ticket out of hell, --or the embodiment of Charon and would personally deliver him to Hades. Whatever. Things looked nicer than back in Gotham, anyway. There were plenty of books and internet and reading materials for him to spend his time with; and then food and nice clothes that looked simple, yet he knew each piece would have paid his old apartment's rent for a good several months. Plus the travel. Jason knew that he would need something called a 'passport' to get out of the country; but he never seen or know whether he has one or not. The travel used private jets, he and Talia would simply walk through a private airport, get into a private jet, and off they go. Jason only knew where they were because the pilot would call out the name of the airport and country they would land in before actually landing.

When they finally arrived at where Talia claimed to be 'home', a small child of about three years of age toddled toward her gleefully just as they went past the massive front door that Jason tried so hard not to gawk on.

"This is my son, Damian," Talia introduced. "You shall teach him the ways of the world out there, yet under no circumstances will you take him in person out of these gates; am I clear?"

After the lavish and luxurious things he had seen in the past two weeks, Jason had come to a conclusion that Talia is a very, very rich woman. Her warning about not leaving the gated complex that is located somewhere in Africa sounded quite logical to Jason. Hell, even if this place is in the middle of Manhattan, Jason knew he still would not want to get out; not especially with a toddler. Not unless they're in a fully armored vehicle with about a dozen of armed guards, maybe. "I get it." he replied. "Where shall I start?"

Talia nodded. "First, we dine. And then you may rest for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow morning, you shall start your training. I would also prefer my son's caretaker to be adept, not just smart."

"Sounds good to me." Jason remarked. "Thank you, for everything. I mean... for trusting me and all..." he added, feeling a little embarrassed at his lack of manners.

Talia's glare at him seemed a little sad. "Once upon a time, Jason Todd, I had wished for someone to be the ultimate warrior; the strongest of them all... My Champion. Alas, he was not to be. And then you walked in to my life." she said. "You shall be the strongest of them all, and teach my son to be strong at all cost, yes?"

"Definitely." Jason nodded, looking at little Damian - black haired and green-eyed, just like his mother. "We're gonna be good buddies, aren't we, Damian?" he asked the little boy. Damian lifted an eyebrow in a near perfect imitation of Talia's haughty glare, changed the glare's direction toward his mother, and back at Jason.

"You shall be more than buddies, Jason," Talia gave him a wry smile. "For now, let us dine. Father might join us later for supper.”

#Jason Todd #Talia Al Ghul #Damian Wayne #Red Hood #Robin #JayTim #Batless

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candyshua · 5 years

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Intertwined | Chapter One - Spilt Coffee

hey guys!! sorry for the inactivity. to make it up, i decided to start writing a multi-part fic!! this is a mingyu x reader x jeonghan love triangle. enjoy!!

Kim Mingyu was your best friend, your knight in shining armor, your crush, your everything. But sadly, you were not his.

After getting his girlfriend pregnant in his fourth year of college, the two of them moved away to America after graduation. And then, you were all alone.

Meet Yoon Jeonghan, your current best friend. An aspiring video game designer, he has been your rock for 5 years. He helped you through so much drama. You would be surprised to learn that he was madly in love with you.

What happens when Mingyu comes back to Korea?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Potential Smut (I haven’t decided yet)

Warnings: Alcohol, foul language, pregnancy

Word count: 2,250

Chapter One - Spilt Coffee

Your back was starting to hurt. After sitting on that uncomfortable chair in that cramped cubicle for so long, you felt your body start to ache. You tied your hair up into a ponytail, fully aware that you weren’t going to go home until you got this stupid project done.

“Bye, Y/N!” Your boss, Wonwoo, bid to you as he walked out of his office and on to the elevator. You merely hummed him a goodbye, too preoccupied with your work.

You worked in the media department of a phone cable company. You write commercials, ads, anything that can get your product bought. It can be tedious at times, just like now. It’s especially tedious with you, since you’re the world’s biggest procrastinator. So, you’re pulling an all-nighter to finish proofreading this commercial so it can be sent to headquarters.

Sometimes, you felt disappointed with yourself. Your life amounted up to this--an office job. You also had a one bedroom apartment, which wasn’t too bad. It just never felt like home, nothing ever did.

You sighed, groaning frustratedly. “Get this done, Y/N.” You said to yourself. You then cracked your knuckles, swallowed another mouthful of coffee, and started typing away.

You arrived home at 3 AM. Lucky for you, it was a Friday.

Within minutes of arriving in your quaint apartment, you collapsed onto your couch, not even having enough energy to make it to your bedroom. You then smiled, thinking of that one time where Mingyu and you got home so late during sophomore year that you weren’t allowed to see each other for a whole month. You still saw each other anyway.

Then, you felt your heart get heavier, remembering where your dear friend Mingyu was right now. He’s in America, with his kid, and his girlfriend. Hell, she’s probably his wife now.

And you’re stuck here, in Korea, with no boyfriend, car, or family. You have your parents, but they’re too busy worrying about your little sister who’s getting in trouble at college right now to even acknowledge your existence. What did your existence mean anyway? Was it even worth a dime? Sometimes, it felt like you were watching your life pass you by. Days turned into months, and months turned into years. Yet you, you were still the same. Sure, you grew up, both emotionally and physically, but deep down you’re still that lovesick girl that lets little things get to her head way too much.

You sighed, running your fingers through your messy ponytail, trying to subdue the knots. You heard your phone ring, which brought you out of your depressive trance. You picked it up the moment you saw the caller ID, already fed up.

“Yes, Jeonghan?” You groaned, knowing what the next two words were going to be.

“I’m drunk!” Yup. You were right.

“Where are you?” You sighed, already getting up and getting your bus pass ready. Although you didn’t have a car, you always walked Jeonghan home when he was drunk.

“I’m at my apartment. Could you come here please?” Jeonghan pouted, and you physically cringed when you pictured his face in your mind. He was probably doing some drunken puppy eyes.

“You got drunk by yourself? Why’d you involve me in this? Just go--”

“Hyesung broke up with me.” Jeonghan sighed, and you swallowed.

“On my way.”

You knocked on his door very lightly, hoping not to wake any of his neighbors. You heard Jeonghan’s clumsy steps, and you watched the doorknob fumble multiple times until it was finally unlocked. The moment Jeonghan met your eyes, his mood immediately brightened. A drunken smile broke out on his face, and you inwardly vomited due to the putrid smell of alcohol.

Jeonghan is 28, and he is your best friend. You met him through your job, but he quit a while ago to go and follow his dream of video game designing. He wasn’t doing too bad actually, his apartment was nice. It was mellow, but you weren’t one to judge apartments, since your apartment basically screamed “depression”. You are 27, just a year younger than your best friend.

Jeonghan often calls you when he’s drunk, and you have no idea why. He often wakes you up in the middle of the night just so you could walk him home. If this was anybody else except Jeonghan, you wouldn’t do it.

You walked inside his apartment and threw your coat on the couch. You walked to his kitchen, which wasn’t a separate room from his dining area, and got a can of beer.

“Bad day?” Jeonghan asked, and you just nodded while walking toward his couch. You plopped down, sprawling your limbs across the piece of furniture.

“What happened with her?” You asked, and Jeonghan just scoffed.

“She cheated on me...Multiple times. It’s okay though, our relationship wasn’t serious.” Jeonghan explained, and you frowned while sipping on your beer.

“But you really liked her…” You argued, and he gave you a sad smile.

If only you knew, Jeonghan thought.

“It’s fine. Why was your day bad?” Jeonghan asked. You could tell he was tired by the way he blinked. Each time he closed his eyes it would take longer for them to open.

“Don’t worry about me, go to bed. I’ll sleep on the couch, okay?”

“Mmm.” Jeonghan murmured. With slumped shoulders, he trudged to his bedroom and closed his door. You sighed slightly, ignoring the pain in your chest. Why did your heart hurt so much? Did it hurt for Jeonghan?

That answer seemed simple enough, so you decided to agree with it. You then lied down on the couch with your hands under your head. You ignored the sudden anxiety that had bubbled in your stomach and closed your eyes wearily. You had so many things to worry about, like work, Jeonghan, bills, your apartment...Yet, you never seemed to worry about yourself. You could never, though. That’s because it would require actually reflecting on your past, and everything you’ve done. Or, haven’t done.

The weekend went by in a cloudy haze, but everything seemed to go by like that nowadays. You didn’t really feel alive anymore, and you don’t know exactly when this haziness seemed to start. Everything was numb, nothing caused you to feel. Things were automatic, you did everything without thinking. You wake up, go to work, go home, make dinner, and then go to bed. It’s a constant cycle of hell. The only time you’d feel remotely alive was when you’re with Jeonghan, but he’s got his own shit to deal with.

The thing that hurts the most is that you’re absolutely and utterly alone. You wake up with no one by your side. Your biggest fear is dying right now, at this age. What mark would you leave on the world? It would be a small, insignificant one. There’d be a memorial service at your work, and your family plus Jeonghan would miss you, but that would be it.

Were you destined to be a nobody?

You were young once. You were young and happy, not a care in the world. Well, that’s a lie, you cared about one thing.

Kim MIngyu.

Mingyu was a breath of fresh air. After having so much pressure put on you by your parents, you felt like you could finally breathe around the 6’2 boy. He always had that effect on people, he was just an energy-giver.

Your friendship never once faded, even after his countless amounts of girlfriends. You had a thing for him in early high school, but it turned into full-blown love senior year. You’d watch him walk around with his girlfriend, feeling nothing but pain in your heart.

You never took his earlier girlfriends seriously, because you thought he would realize one day that he was madly in love with you. And then, he would kiss you passionately and apologize for not coming to you sooner. Alas, that never happened.

Your feelings just got worse.

And when you both got into Seoul University, you watched him prance around with his new girlfriend, Ra Jieun. From then on, things went into the gutter.

And here you are now, without Mingyu. You’re well over him now, you’ve actually had your fair share of boyfriends these past few years. It was just the “what could have been?” aspect.

Sadly, you would never know.

You woke up to the sound of a shower being turned on. Light peeked through Jeonghan’s windows, and you groaned internally. At least it was a Saturday.

You grabbed your phone, checking the time. 9:22 AM. Didn’t you go to bed at 4 AM? This was fucking ridiculous.

This time, you actually groaned out loud when you got up, walking slowly to Jeonghan’s kitchen. You poured yourself some cereal with some gross skin milk. You ate it mindlessly, watching Jeonghan walk from his bathroom to his bedroom, with the most pained expression on his face. Poor guy, you thought, he’s probably so hungover right now.

The thing about Jeonghan’s apartment is that you could never possibly get bored. He has herds of video games, literally starting from as early as to when they were invented.

He also has every gaming console known to man. His spare bedroom was used as a gaming room, where he’d stream his new games from time to time. Jeonghan was a computer genius, and you were insanely jealous since you weren’t so tech savvy yourself.

Jeonghan finally came out of his room, fully dressed, with wet hair. Jeonghan had dyed light brown hair, with dark brown eyes and tall stature. He was slim yet muscular. You could never deny that your best friend was indeed extremely handsome.

You smiled when you saw his face, and he returned a pained grin back. “Have some cereal.” You suggested with a quiet tone, and he gave you a small smile.

You let him eat by himself, because you went into his gaming room to check out what new video games he has added to his collection.

After playing a few easy video games for a bit, Jeonghan came in and sat down on the black leather couch in the already dark room. The only source of light was the light emitting from the computer screen, and the window. He never turned on the overhead light in that room, for some reason.

“Whatchya doin’?” Jeonghan asked, and you shrugged.

“Just playing around.” You murmured, earning a nod from Jeonghan.

Soon, the two of you found yourselves in a video game match. Jeonghan had multiple computers in that room, so you both partook in an adventure of competition. Jeonghan beat you every single time, but it was kind of unfair since he was an actual video game designer.

You found yourself appreciating Jeonghan more and more as you got closer to him. You really were so lucky to have such a good friend like him, because nobody knows where you would be if Jeonghan wasn’t there to help you get over the boyfriends you had, your quarter-life crises, or your financial dilemmas. Jeonghan was your rock. You hoped he felt the same about you.

“Jeonghan,” You began, “we should do something. Like, go on a trip or something.” That earned an odd look from the man, and he furrowed his eyebrows curiously.

“That was random.” He said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know. I just thought we should do something nice, since you’re like, my best friend.” You pouted, resulting in an adorable chuckle from the man next to you.

“Okay, sure. Where do you want to go?” Jeonghan asked. You merely shrugged your shoulders, your frown deepening.

“Let me come up with something. Give me some time.”

Jeonghan nodded.

You remembered the first time you felt feelings for Mingyu. As a kid, you were late to hit puberty. So, girls who were larger than you would steal your money and other possessions.

There was one time where you were walking home from school, and these three girls jumped you. It was around the eighth grade, so you were still a tiny little thing. No matter how much you kicked and screamed, they would not stop.

Suddenly, Mingyu came out of nowhere. Mingyu was the opposite of you, he bloomed very early. Therefore, he was a tall and confident man. You will never forget the look of anger in his eyes on that day. “HEY!” Mingyu screamed, running toward you.

The girls dropped everything they stole from you and then bolted, murmuring rushed apologies and words of regret. By then, you and Mingyu were already best friends.

“Thanks, Gyu.” You sighed, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your voice cracked when you tried to talk again, and soon you were breaking down in front of him.

You sat against the brick wall the girls bullied you by, hugging your knees to your chest. You just sobbed, and let yourself be held by Mingyu. “I’m so sick of this,” You hiccuped, “I’m so sick of being pushed around!”

“Hey, Y/N...You’ll always have me, alright?” Mingyu reassured, giving you a sad smile. You wiped the tears from your face and sniffled slightly.

“Alright.”

From the summer of eighth grade to ninth grade, you grew 5 inches and gained a few pounds, resulting in your chest and bosom to be much bigger than before. Needless to say, you attracted a lot of boys.

Alas, there was only one boy in your heart.

#seventeen angst #seventeen x reader angst #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #kim mingyu #mingyu #jeonghan x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #angst #fanfic #svt x reader #svt #seventeen #seventeen x reader smut #seventeen x reader fluff #intertwined

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edenfalling · 5 years

Text

[Fic] “Frog Hunt” -- Homestuck

Summary: SBURB is not turning out anything like you'd hoped, and your game session may be broken. Which is a problem, because you can't go back to Earth -- last you checked, it's busy being an apocalyptic wasteland -- and judging by your most recent dreams, the rest of the Medium beyond your little Incipisphere is an equally apocalyptic wasteland of ghosts and horrorterrors. The only way out is through. You have to win the game.

Winning SBURB requires frogs.

Note: I started this fic way back in 2012, hit Jade's horrorterror dreams, and had no idea where to go from there. Last week it occurred to me that actually the horrorterror dreams made a perfectly reasonable ending, provided I filled in a missing middle scene, established an emotional/thematic through-line, and tweaked stuff until the new parts played nice with the old ones. So I did. :) [2,325 words]

--------------------------------------------- Frog Hunt ---------------------------------------------

SBURB is not turning out anything like you'd hoped. You wanted to see your friends in person, go on cool adventures, and save the world. You guess technically the cool adventure part is happening? But it turns out that being in the middle of an adventure is mostly very upsetting and dangerous.

Also your game session may be broken. Which is a problem, because you can't go back to Earth -- last you checked, it's busy being an apocalyptic wasteland -- and judging by your most recent dreams, the rest of the Medium beyond your little Incipisphere is an equally apocalyptic wasteland of ghosts and horrorterrors. The only way out is through. You have to win the game.

Winning SBURB requires frogs.

You have a lot of pointed questions to ask whoever designed the symbolism behind this process.

You also have no idea what you're doing. Zoology is not your thing! Botany and rocket science are your things!

But you've done crazier things in the name of friendship than breed magic universe-creating frogs. And this time you'll have Dave by your side, even if all he can help you can do is win the Olympic gold medal for synchronized flipping out, which might as well be a thing now since Earth is gone and if anyone ever reestablishes the Olympics it will be you and you can stick in any sports you feel like.

That analogy may have gotten away from you a little. You decide to preemptively consider it Dave's fault, and send him another message asking for an ETA.

"Kanaya says we won't have enough time to collect all the frogs, let alone raise them and do the breeding and mutation stuff. Not even if we yank Rose and John into the project, and especially not with just you and me," you tell him when he shows up in person, popping out of nowhere with two discs floating at his side. They look a little like Grandpa's old vinyl records, but with red gears turning underneath them. "Not that you aren't helpful! But there's only so many seconds until disaster."

Dave arches the backs of his hands, fingertips still ghosting over the ridges of his floating record thingies. "Harley, c'mon, work with me here. What's my aspect?"

You blink. Oh. Time travel, durr. Okay, possibly your flipping out was a little premature. "Whoops, forgot that! Potentially infinite seconds, yay recycling. So how are we doing this?"

Dave shrugs, letting the records vanish back into his sylladex. "We have limited absolute time, basically from when I got your house up to reasonable height to, let's say, an hour before whatever runs us off the rails goes critical. So we have to maximize our use of space -- duplicate this ectobiowhatthefuck setup and run an assload of slime zapper tadpole tanks at once. I'm thinking one on each of the top ten floors of your house. We'll do one floor on each master loop so we don't keep running into each other. Mark the space and time coordinates for each croaker we target, then head out to poke them or whatever literally the second after we zap them, take notes on any other frogs that look useful, and move down a floor and back in time to start again."

"What about breeding?" you ask.

You think Dave frowns. It's hard to read his expression behind his shades, but he doesn't guard his posture as much as his face. "Whoops, forgot that. Uh, let's say every third floor and third loop is for breeding and mutation games. Shouldn't be too hard, especially if we whip up a regular appearifier. They don't have these bullshit temporal lock restrictions."

"Sounds like a plan," you say. "Let's get everything set up and start breeding!"

Dave's discombobulated expression is so faint and brief that if you'd blinked, you would have missed it. Hmmm, you think to yourself. Maybe...? But no, you probably just reminded him of something one of the trolls said. They can be so bizarre sometimes.

"Time to rock and roll," Dave says, and you shake off your daydream and get to work.

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

It turns out that ectobiology is actually very simple! You don't need to know genetics or metaphysical zoology, which you were a little worried about. You just need to zap frogs and run their ghost slime through the game-provided machines until you hit a gene combination that pings a little automated reward mechanism. Scanning for useful frogs is a little trickier, since you get the reward ping for any potentially useful gene sequence even if it's one you already have on file -- you have to weed out the duplicates manually, which is time-consuming and a total pain.

Creating hundreds of potential paradoxes to make sure the appearifier grabs slime instead of actual frogs is also time-consuming and a total pain.

It would be simplest to just shoot the frogs, but first of all, that's mean, and second of all, it would probably screw up LOFAF's ecology to storm around wiping out its native fauna less than an hour after thawing them out in the first place. If you had a dart gun you could trust not to mangle the frogs on impact, maybe you could stun them for a few minutes. Unfortunately, all of Grandpa's guns (and by extension, all of your guns) are designed to shoot projectiles straight through solid objects and totally fuck up their day. Which means that instead of perching in a tree like a cool and sexy sniper, you are galumphing around on the ground, hot and sticky and covered in a gross combination of mud and panicked frog secretions. Ugh.

"I look like a swamp zombie, don't I?" you say before you can think better of the words.

"Yeah, but in a cute monster-girl way," Dave says. "I'm just a scarecrow that got left out in the rain and turned into a mold sculpture."

You look over at him just as a clump of mud and moss slides down the left lens of his shades. "Um. No comment." You are determinedly not noticing that he said you're cute. Nope. Completely thought-free zone over here, nothing but genetics and logistics, which everyone knows require no brain power at all.

Dave shakes his head in faux solemnity. "Tragic. Faced with the death and destruction of my awesome good looks and you can't even dredge up a "That's sad"? I am betrayed. I am devastated. I am--"

"--still cute underneath the glop, stop fishing for compliments," you interrupt, and are furiously grateful for the mud hiding your blush. Stupid Dave and his stupid... everything. Why do you even like him? He's such a butt.

Of course, all your friends are kind of jerks. Possibly there's something miscalibrated about your friend-finding radar. Or possibly you're also a jerk? Hmm. That's something to ask Rose about, whenever you finally get to see in her person.

You will get to see her in person. You refuse to acknowledge any other possibility.

"Ouch," Dave says, but the corner of his mouth quirks up just a degree. "Damned by faint praise. I guess I'd better step up my frog-napping skills, can't let my dashing good looks outweigh my knightly swag. Speaking of which, have we been standing still long enough for that little orange fucker to stick his head out?"

You glance around, then down, then up. There's a tiny flash of color just over-- you shift slightly-- yep, right there on the tree by Dave's shoulder. "Um. Yeah. Just... keep standing still. Really still."

"Making like a tree, yes ma'am Sergeant Harley ma'am," Dave says as you inch slowly toward him through the muck between the tree roots. "It's right behind me, isn't it? Getting all ready for a jump scare, gonna leap out and poison me to death with its slimy frog toes, alas, Horatio, here dies a fellow of infinite memes, taken from us too--"

You lunge.

You catch the frog.

You also knock yourself and Dave flat into the muck. His shades knock into your forehead. Your own glasses skew against his nose. Your left knee is jammed between his shins and his belt buckle is digging into your stomach.

Your mouth is right up against his chin. If you moved just an inch or two...

"Ooh, Miz Harley," Dave says, somewhat breathless.

"Oh, shut up," you say, and shove the frog into your sylladex as you scramble back to your feet. "Look who's talking, Mister Swamp Thing."

Then you bend down to yank Dave up, too, because fair is fair.

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

By the fourth loop you're ready to drop from exhaustion and the weird, indefinable tension of actually being around one of your friends in person instead of getting to mediate your interactions through computers. "I don't care how tight the schedule is. I'm starting to see double and I'm taking a goddamn nap," you tell Dave as you drop to the floor and lean back against the wall. You lay your rifle across your lap and keep your hands carefully away from the trigger. You know your temper sharpens when you're tired, and Grandpa taught you never to take chances with guns.

Dave frowns, and you know he's tired too because this time you can see his mouth curve downward to match the annoyed set of his shoulders and the fuck-you shove of his hands into his pockets. "The more loops we run, the harder it is to keep shit from falling apart," he says. "You that eager to trip into a doomed timeline? I can go back and hit reset anytime, easy as cake and pie and banana splits, but every screwup costs one dead Dave and one Jade abandoned in a dead-end universe. I don't even know if that you would get erased or keep on living until you go shithive maggots."

He's been talking to the trolls too, you remember, especially the teal one who uses l33tsp34k. He says her name is Terezi. She's been running time loops with him too. He likes her a lot.

You are not jealous. That would be stupid. You are not stupid; therefore you are not jealous. QED.

"The more tired we are, the harder it is to keep from screwing up," you say. "We're creating a whole new universe and we'll have to live there after we win the game. It's kind of important, Dave!"

Dave presses his back against the wall and slides down to join you on the hard tile floor. "We're not gonna win the game, you know. There is literally no way to do that. The game was borked from before the word go was a twinkle in its druggie teen mom's eye."

"Maybe this session's broken," you agree. "But that doesn't mean we can't find a way to cheat, and even if we lose, I'd rather lose trying my hardest instead of half-assing shit because I was so tired I fell asleep while operating complicated machines."

Dave sighs. "Yeah, okay. Naptime. But not here. This is a work floor; we've gotta keep it clear for work loops. We'll go crash further down." He taps your shoe with his own. "Up and at 'em, Harley, let's go hit that transportalizer."

You groan and haul yourself to your feet.

The obvious place for a nap would be your bedroom, but then where would you sleep on the next loop? Anyway, you only have one bed and it'd feel... presumptuous? pushy? maybe just go with awkward. Yeah. It would be awkward to share it with Dave, especially without John and Rose there as well to clarify that it's strictly a friend thing.

So you alchemize an armful of blankets and pillows and make a little nest in one of the hundreds of blank, identical stories Dave copied from the real-world part of your house. It's still a little weird sharing the space -- Dave is so close you can feel him breathe, every exhale stirring stray wisps of hair over your ears -- but you think you could get used to this.

You think maybe you want to get used to this.

"Sweet dreams, Jade," Dave mutters as he flops over onto his side, one hand curled loosely around the hilt of his sword.

"You too," you tell him, before you remember he's just going to wake up on Derse as his dreamself, still stuck in this stupid, lying, Möbius tangle of a game. And you're going back to those weird bubbles in the monster-filled void. Neither of you can get free until you finish Frankensteining your magic frog and beat an unwinnable game.

"Heroes always beat million to one odds in stories," you say to nobody in particular. "Why not us?"

Dave mumbles something unintelligible in response, already mostly asleep.

You wiggle sideways until your shoulder brushes up against his, so the warmth of his body radiates through the thin blanket onto you and your warmth feeds back into him. He's alive. You're both alive. Somewhere else in the Incipisphere, John and Rose are (you hope) also still alive.

You would do anything to make sure your friends make it out of SBURB, to a new world safe from meteors and monsters and predestination. Anything.

You dream of bloody, mangled ghosts, groping desperately toward you for salvation while you stand frozen under the horrorterrors' incomprehensible regard.

In the dream, you imagine yourself reaching for Dave's hand. You imagine him weaving his fingers between yours. You imagine Rose and John standing beside you. You imagine all four of you stepping through a door into a new universe.

If you imagine something with all your heart, that makes it a tiny bit less fake, and being less fake means it's at least a little bit real.

The pressure of the horrorterrors' attention attenuates, just that vital fraction.

You turn away from the ghosts and think of frogs.

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

End of Fic

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

If anyone has constructive commentary, I am all ears! Also I am going to bed soon, because being awake is overrated and also I took a Benadryl in order to eat a BLT for dinner, so, you know, probably better to lie down than to slowly drift off in front of my computer. *wry*

#liz writes stuff #homestuck #jade harley #dave strider #generalized content warning #to about the same level as canon anyway #does homestuck count as its own warning by now?

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vanitysruin · 5 years

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06. Never mind.

There were plans to be made for Eulmore but they did not need her presence for them yet.

She was in poor shape to contribute, besides: since the mines, it had been that much harder to focus. Sleep had become all but an impossibility. She could not describe it, the way the light slid and swam behind her lids, a borealis that stained everything through and through. Even her hands seemed more star than flesh, interrupted only by the dark silver band around one finger. Her mind was occupied besides, and her heart was tugged back into Rak'tika. The Viis, if they were tracking her trespass, did not reveal themselves to her. Not even the automatons, such strange configurations of stone and magick, did little to impede her way back into the Qitana Ravel.

A voice inside her balked at the thought that she might take comfort in being in such a place: damp and relatively dark, stinking of moss and loam and the faint reek of dead magick. It was a far cry from Ala Mhigo, to be certain, and she would find no material comforts there. Her feet made small, padded sounds as she paced in slow, strained circles. Only the steady dripping of water provided her company. That, and her thoughts.

The murals itched in her memories. Y'shtola's analysis seemed to make sense enough, but it was not enough for whatever madness it was that grew inside Delial. Zodiark, Hydaelyn, there had to be more, even more than what her star-smeared vision could parse from those aged murals. Emet-Selch's words loomed in her thoughts, monumental in a way she could not explain. They remained as yet another source of frustration, a pool of knowledge so vast and dark she could do little but stare down and wonder at just how deep she could go before it drowned her.

She scarcely noticed his arrival. He said nothing at first; the Ascian, too, seemed prone to moods and had grown reticent more often than not. She recognized the cycles in herself: that for all his theatrics, it was merely that, a show to keep his little heroes on track, to keep them on edge, to keep them suspicious but all too intrigued. Typical of him, she thought with such casual dismissal that it nearly shocked herself. When had she become so familiar with him?

Indifferent to her want for solitude, Emet-Selch paced into place beside him, with hands folded at the small of his back. "I take it you have actually given thought to what I've said."

"I know what you are doing," she said.

"Is that so." He sounded bored looking up at the murals, stooped just enough to give him the shape of a man far too old for his skin, his flesh, his bones. "Yes, I suppose you might. Humor me, then. What is it you see?"

Delial could not bring herself to look at him. The image of a city drowning in fire rippled, animated vibrantly through the light in her eye. "You have no reason to lie, so you do not. The truths you feed us are but crumbs of something greater. It would change nothing, in the end. We will see it or we will not. They will not trust you one way or another."

"Hm. And what of you, hero? Are you not a part of them?"

"What a stupid question." That got her a glance out of the corner of his eye. She wondered if the twitch of his lip was annoyance or if he, too, saw how dangerously she shone. "I am convenient and I am tolerated. What a dreadful hero I must be. Not at all what they wanted."

"And yet you serve."

Delial grinned. "And yet I serve."

"You did not quite answer me," Emet-Selch chided, cocking his head just enough to regard her with a single golden eye. "I know, I know, how very rich coming from me. What of you? Do you trust me?"

The mantle of Warrior of Light was a heavy one. She did not say it much if at all but she was truly grateful for the Scions, as much as she grated on them and they grated on her. The matter of trust was an ever delicate balance of nerve and determination and there were times where they left one another wanting. In the end, they supported her in their way. From Primal to Imperial, they guided her hand, for in the end she was by some inexplicable blessing the strongest among them. Champion of Hydaelyn, Blessed of her Light. The eldest and most powerful of Primals.

Twinned gods mirrored one another overhead, painted black and white. Was it ever so simple as that? Had they been doomed to hate from the start?

"No," Delial whispered. He waited, as if anticipating her hesitation. When had he become so familiar with her? "But I wonder now if it is because I see myself in the things you do, or if it because Hydaelyn loathes you through me."

In another image, Hydaelyn loomed over a fallen Zodiark, the Light besting Dark by tearing its very existence apart. Delial did not notice her vision abruptly growing cloudy or the shaking in her limbs, so stricken was she by a terror that left her heart frozen in her chest. The pieces of her youth were scattered, fragmented, stitched together by Imperial design that she had embraced wholeheartedly, knowing nothing else. It had taken nearly the entirety of her life to shake off the things she knew, to see her country for what it had become, so much so that she could not so much as stand within Ala Mhigo's walls without feeling sick with shame. She bore it all, silent in the wings of Lyse leading the people in song, but she did so thinking it was by her own choice. To consider it and all that had come before it anything but...

Emet-Selch confessed it so plainly. It was a matter of course to be tempered by a god of his own making.

"It cannot be helped," she heard him say. It was all too much, these enormous things the Ascian lead her towards. Her cheeks burned where tears had fallen and Delial swiped at her eyes with her thumbs, foregoing any attempt at subtlety, desperate to reach for the familiar comforts of anger to pull her out of her shame. If Emet-Selch would judge her for that, too, as he had for so many other things, then she would let him have her weakness. To his credit he made no move, and when her eye was clear enough to catch a glimpse of him, he was looking away to the same portrait of Zodiark's fall.

"What do you want from me?"

"The same as anyone else, I wager."

It would have taken everything and more to bend and wrench herself back under control, to try and mold herself back into collected creature she was made to be. He had withdrawn again, sunk deeper into the well, far beyond her reach. It felt petty and infuriating that a man so ancient and powerful as he could behave as such. To make things worse, Delial could not tell exactly why it angered her so. "Tell me plain," she snarled, flinching from the rise in her own voice. "What am I to do with any of this?"

He did not look at her but his head tilted down as his eyes dropped near the cavern floor. She full well expected him to vanish as he often did, slipping away into the dark with a snap of his fingers. He did not. Instead he said, with a calm that only incensed her further, "Survive."

Delial did not realize she had moved until he was boring down at her again, with his lip curled into a snarl of his own. She had dared intrude upon him, to grasp at an arm she did not even know she could touch, to force him to look down at her. She wondered if it burned him to be so near, to be faced with a vessel so overflowing with light she was moments from ruin. "And will I? Can I?" Fury tore through her, burning up every thing she'd kept in check, mere kindling to a fire that could not hope to last for much longer. "They all dance around it! Around me! I want-- I need to know the truth. You know it as well as I do, don't you?"

There was nothing kind about Emet-Selch and he did not deign to pretend otherwise. Even retrieving Y'shtola from the Lifestream was but a transaction, albeit one given in good faith. There was no kindness in his eyes, narrowed and calculating. It was foolish to think she might garner understanding from an Ascian, from an ancient thing moved only by the whims of his broken god. She could not allow herself to think the pained grimace that bared his teeth as anything but annoyance. "It depends upon you, hero," he spat in measured, sullen tones. Then, abruptly, he was gone. Her hand gripped nothing, her stare met Hydaelyn's, her caricature on the stone.

"And for what little it may be worth," came Emet-Selch's voice from behind her. "I pray that you do. It is what you do best, is it not?"

And then she was alone.

#ffxiv #shb spoilers #5.0 spoilers #these vain reflections #wol!delial #writing

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shade-without-color · 6 years

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The Thieving Magpie Chapter 3: Accused

Note: Y’all I am so sorry for the delay in posting Thieving Magpie as I have a long case of writers’ block due to exhaustation and all. But I am glad I got it through. So I will see if I can post up the new chapter this week as it is gonna be wild and it was super hilarious. Good news I finally caved in and made an Ao3 account so please enjoy this fic!

A few weeks later

Somehow Gascon's breath grew bated, as he looked over the cafe name. That seems strange, Gascon heaved his breath quietly as he tried to ring up that number. No answer at all. Seems that from his impressions with his mysterious client, he thought for a moment they will meet in some dingy pub outside of his apartments, and soon he will lead to some secret cult where he will be passed different passwords, maybe like an obscure reference of a French film or even worse interpretive hand gestures.

Instead, it was something similar as he entered the cafe, no one gave a copious gaze to him, let alone an air of suspicion that lingered by each person. He somehow held his breath slightly.

It should be nothing.

It could be just a regular day to get some coffee. He barely glanced at his phone, following the harrowing news on Meve and the Rivia family’s estates, absorbed by the sounds of small talk (It could be categorized something like either gossip between girlfriends or a business deal), computer keyboards racing furiously for an important deadline and the whistles of steam from the milk foamer. The cashier looked at him pensively “Hello Sir may I take your order…”

“One tall latte please …” and soon he heard a buzz from his phone which reads like “G….the cheque….” Gascon closed his phone again glanced over the pastry cabinet. “Do you want something to go with your latte….”

“Oh...One pain au chocolat” as he scanned over the crowd, there is surely be someone looking for him. He smiled at her quietly as he heard another buzz which reads something urgent “Sorry…could you hold the Pain Au Chocolat… I will take the latte a moment please….” Somehow he felt his stomach churn slightly, as he quickly dropped the exact change to her. “Your name sir??”

“G….”

Gascon bit his tongue slightly as he scanned over the cafe crowd, where he glanced at a man in a particular suit, he seems to watch him pensively “Why did you stop halfway on your order.. you got something to hide…” Gascon noticed that he started to tap something on his iPad, but he barely turns his head to the computer. "Not much, About the cheque..."

Something is in amiss as Gascon received the buzz from his phone. "Watch..." his ears perked up to the final hiss of steam. “One tall latte for G…” even before he could reach for the collection station. He felt something protruding his neck. Gascon did not hesitate to press a button around his jacket but it came too late as he snatched it away and stomped it on the ground. “We have matters that needed your presence. Our boss needs some airtime with you…”

Gascon rolled his eyes slightly “Should he come to me in the face…” as he saw a small piece of paper “And I suppose he is afraid to give me that thing in the face..” as he slipped it quietly “Would you ever be so kind to let me get my latte…before we speak of terms….”

Slowly another man came by with a scowl in his face. “I am afraid, you do not have the time to dilly dally…”

Meve cleared her throat slightly, as she repressed the trembling fear in her fists. Reynard steadied her slightly “You are brave madam to face them...” as he heard the mummers of the press “I wish this will never happen to you…” “You wish….” somehow Meve’s words grew heavier as she could hear the servants slowly manoeuvring what is left from the auction. Meve clutched her necklace slightly in fear. Her mind swirled with the what-ifs and whys while fighting the blinding flashlights, as she walked to the empty room with faces looking at her with horror and shame. It was once a venue which she could treasure a fleeting moment. But now many who question her liability including a certain Caldwell who sneered at her surrounded her.

“Say Meve… we have been associates for years am I right…” "We did not need to escalate the situation drastically, all you simply need is to tell the press that, you, Meve will give your share as ordinates by your husband and conspired a common thief to steal the statue...You are in love with him..." Meve sucked her breath and stared at Caldwell firmly “Caldwell....what you did is….” Caldwell did not hold back his empathy, as he looked over his heavy stack of documents with glee. “Simple, I oversee your husband writing his will, poor bastard has a shock of his life, at a party not too long while you are pregnant with Anesis. It was lucky that he slipped away from being armed.” He smiled gleefully at Meve “Otherwise I will take it easier, but alas cannot count my chickens before they hatched….”

“Do not mock me…”

Caldwell grimaced quietly “I do not intend too, madam…I have documents all of the years, and you do not have the fight, even Reynard witness our conversations when your husband pen his words in the moment of sanity…"

Meve bit her lip angrily, muting out any sound of anger out of her mouth. Reynard withdraws slightly from the argument. Perhaps to some extent, he was right, however, Meve found it unlawful and thought of someone else. “I have an old friend mine, and his…” Meve muttered pensively to Caldwell “He, too helped my husband to oversee his collection and he will put a case against your head and my sons…”

Caldwell rendered himself silent. Maybe it is out of glee to see Meve holding back the tears. He took that opportunity to waltz out from the room "I will not play my cards that high if I were you..." Meve could read his expression that he would rather saunter quickly, and Reynard came to her side rather swiftly "Come, I think they all seek you..." Her eyes glared fiercely at him, she only mutters angrily that he will deserve a harrowing end.

Now she must face the show.

Meve struggled to catch a breath, as she looked over the peering crowd who lurked at her vulnerability. They probably have many questions on that scandal. “I speak, in behalf of myself and my family- yes that issue of the missing statute looms in us. I vouch that I will have the magpie in chains, and facing every worse penalty. Yes, I may be grieving..but I beg all to never escalate the situation…"

“Apologies Meve may I interrupt this press statement for a moment…we got some breaking news…"

Soon a harrowing remark came over Caldwell and he deliciously savoured the moments of torment "We deeply regret the death of our client Reginald, yes he may have a tender heart but alas when it comes to that sculpture, which we are working with the law to recover that...." as he pressed the remote control to switch one of the slides to that face. "As of now, we managed to capture him at a designated point, apparently he has been paid highly to rob the statue..."

He glared at Meve cruelly "Initially it was planned that we will take it to court over the will However recent evidence shows that she worked with a con thief..." as he clicked one of the slides to one of the emails. Meve's eyes widened with horror on these words. "G.. attached here are the maps to my estate... you can make your way...". Meve's face grew pale with horror, beads of sweat dripped from her forehead. All lies... all lies...

"I object that..traitors! Traitors! Traitors!"

The press caved in like vultures hungering for fresh meat. Soon Caldwell's men clasped her in handcuffs "As for now…you will be escorted to somewhere to suit your needs under a small court, and your rights to vouch are absolved…” Caldwell’s eyes glanced at her gleefully “Any parting words to the press, before I made a statement that you tarnished your husband’s reputation….” Meve flared her nostrils “Nothing " She could hear a pop in her knuckles as she clenched it so tightly. "I want you to see you rotting in jail, and everyone will forget you... or better…" She tried to steady her breaths by posing herself calmly and giving him a cold shoulder.

“No matter what you said, you will twist my words into heinous lies..." "Now, now, now Meve... controversial... yes..." Caldwell interrupted slightly as he delighted himself with her stiffness "I wish that Reynard would be easily swayed…” He glanced at Reynard glaring at him defiantly, as his hands are locked in handcuffs by one of his men “We discuss a while back, should you took yourself to fight me, I offered him a good sum and lifetime insurance in exchange that he will vouch for me…”

"Sadly he would rather stay with you…”

Caldwell gave a pregnant pause as if to spite her even more. “I knew that Reginald is too soft for him. And knowing him, he rather throws the fire towards you…"

Somehow Meve held her breath, as she looked over at the window of her car- she and Reynard are rendered silent “What are you going to do now...” Reynard pondered at the corner of the window, for the swarms of crowds escort them. Chatter dulled her ears and soon she slipped herself into the black car, Meve shielded herself from the glaring flashes.

“I am taking all who accomplished Caldwell...” Meve sucked her breath. “They will be sorry if they ever crossed with me..” Meanwhile, Meve’s eyes trailed to another car, and she recognised that face. That stupid face. He seems to be in ease with his arrest, along with all of Caldwell’s men trailing the path. He entertained his many fans by blowing kisses into the air and giving a wink. Gascon gave a chuckle as he slipped himself into the police car with ease.

Meve hissed under her breath. He is indeed despicable.

Soon the flashes slowly faded away into the jailhouse. They glanced at the man walking with a swagger of a rockstar. He seems to be unfazed by that whole session. A whisper came by at the distance, as if pleased “Say Meve, Caldwell really kicks your ass…”

“DO NOT SPEAK TO HER LIKE THAT. SHE ALREADY…"

"Shut it... not talking to you..." Gascon growled angrily to Reynard, and he glanced "Meve... Personally, I think he is interested to liquidate you and the sales. My, are you that bloody hopeless. The trial is just a bloody facade. Your sons and that...in the end who will win..Caldwell will get the sales. You are just an obstacle." Reynard glared at Gascon slightly "Well, of course, you guys too...", as he flicked his phone and play some harrowing tune for shits and giggles “What still crossed with me...” He popped his tongue slightly as he focused his gaze on Meve.

“Yes to a certain extent Meve…”

Gascon lamented slightly “I think he is still pissed off over one of his stolen paintings- it is still kept in my room. I treasured it as if it was my life’s work…”

“Wait is that…”

Meve heard about the mysterious disappearance of a treasured painting by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, depicting the muses crowing Apollo. It is usually a conversation starter in Caldwell's dinners about the mysterious theft of it. Could Gascon himself do that feat? Meve thought pensively, by his casualness "And I suppose you must take things that belong to him..." Gascon glanced at one of Caldwell’s guards staring at him pensively. “Meve... I will tell that another time... ” Reynard glared at him slightly “What are you planning to do? We have no one too...”

“Getting ourselves out of that prison...." Quickly Gascon passed them earplugs, and he too covered it, with his headphones "Just bear with it, it gets pretty loud...." Slowly the speakers started to echo with a brisk march. Reynard raised his eyebrow as he paused the music to change it to a muzak theme "It seems normal…” as he took out a small pen from his blazer "You may want to keep your earplugs on..." Gascon muttered cheekily as he clicked the top of the pen, and soon that tune emits squeaks at the distance, and soon the guards’ faces seem frazzled with that ringing. They only got up again, rubbing the temples before it flicked to another obscure piece.

He has that grin which Meve could read it as, watch and learn... Soon he clicked the pen to the top. That brisk piece boomed through the speakers and soon they went through different rooms to key in the emergency codes for lockdown.

“Now run…”

He gripped the wrists of Meve and Reynard and quickly ran as fast as they could. Soon alarms blared at every corner, and only one who has his headphones noticed the chaos. “Shot they are getting away…” He got out form his seta and chased them without any hesitation. Gascon quickly spray the passageways with gas and cut every communication line with a penknife. Reynard muttered angrily, “Is this your plan, classical music and causing an emergency lockdown how this your plan…" as he tried to push the regenerate force of the way.

“You just have to keep it up…"

Via the janitors’ room, only guided by a handphone torch as their guiding light, they went. To lift their spirits he whistled that tune which was blasted in the court. “We just took a new meaning of ear worm….” which of course Reynard groaned loudly as they made out to the obscure end. For that moment Meve took a sharp breath of air and gazed slightly. “Why did you decide to help us? I thought you…”

“To spite him…” Gascon gave a playful wink to Meve “Remember that conversation in the jailhouse about a painting I stole- ahh I was Apollo being crowned by the muses for its glories and that will be Caldwell screaming to his buffoons.” He quickly showed that post to Meve. She gasped quietly, perhaps her instincts are right. It was that painting which Caldwell lamented.

“Dear gods…” Reynard muttered, “How can you…"

“And plus I have a reputation for escaping through the worse of courts. This one is child’s play…"

Soon he looked over the main road, and quietly they descended to a bus stop “Coast is clear, we need to do is to hop that bus, I will tell you more…” For that moment Meve smiled at Gascon, she was grateful that there is hope. And surprisingly she found herself along with Reynard on the shabby estate. Meve knew that her husband used to come to those places to help the children, and she heard horror stories from people.

But this.

This.

How could it be for a master thief like Gascon?

“Since you are ex-communicated by that hack...” Gascon huffed slightly “and your house will be bombarded by his Guards...” He gave a bow to his guests, and soon men dressed in jumpers and pants came down from the stairs “You have no choice but to stay here, sure it is not a 5-star hotel but at least it is something...”

The stench of mould tingled Reynard’s nose, Gascon quickly took the air freshener and sprayed it quickly “Apologies Reynard!” He hides a burst of boyish laughter. “Seems we have to pull something quick for you guys...” He cues his boys to look over the place while Meve sat comfortably on the ratty couch. “Until we can make plans...”

“So what is your idea...”

Gascon looked over at the city lights “We all know that going out and calling in public is a no-no and given that you become involved with me on the escape...” He heaved slightly “We have to wait it out Meve... until I can think of something to prove your innocence …” Gascon took a beer bottle and drank it “In which we have none.” Meve grew silent. She refused to be called out by Caldwell. “Unless I speak with Fableston. He is an old friend of my husband. He vouches for many cases…I just pray that he does not betray us…”

“And how can you be certain…”

Reynard trembled slightly “The last time your husband and Fableston spoke, it did not end well. I fear he will not look kindly at you...'Gascon nodded slightly as he looked at the city, and Reynard looking exasperatedly on the apartment's condition “And that I agreed with that grumbly folk, who knows what Caldwell pull you in…”

“I will try to call him up, see if he could vouch for you…” Meve glared quietly “With or without your help…”Soon Meve slopped against the couch, the week’s events worn her out, but for that moment Gascon saw the fierceness in her eyes. She seems determined to clear her name no matter what.

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#writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #fanfic: the thieving magpie #Thronebreaker #the witcher tales #Queen Meve #Gascon Brossard #Reynard Odo #Count Caldwell #fanfic #fanfic OTP: In Angern I admire you #drabble #Hitchcock #creative writing

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fox-and-benedict · 6 years

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[Fanfic, 100% Orange Juice] The Fanservice Episode, Frankly

Series: 100% OJ / Suguri Words: 3855 Characters: Suguri, Hime, Kae, Nanako Originally posted: February 27, 2017 (blogspot version) A/N: I remember being proud of this when I wrote it; I’m usually better at short stuff, to the extent that longer chapters sap my energy a lot. (A little better at it nowadays, I guess...) Of course, nobody read it. I took the title from a Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid episode. Somewhat risque, and with a hurried ending.

Suguri was not, particularly, a fan of the ocean. The raw power of her body was enough to dissuade concerns about breathing, and even the thousands of atmospheres worth of pressure to a certain extent, but she was all too aware that in the Great War, humanity had been rather more focused on how to litter the sea with mines than with how to get them back out again. Even with her abilities, clean up had been a long, dangerous process, and more still might be lurking in the dark, unknown pockets of the deep. There was no way to know. As a result, she wasn't quite as enthused by the idea of a summer beach trip as Hime had been. There were upsides, of course. The sea breeze was one of Suguri's favourite things; part of her believed that she had been a seagull in her past life. She was also partial to the building and subsequent destruction of elaborate sandcastles, to symbolise the artifices of man returning to the bosom of the ocean. There was, however, an additional factor in Suguri's decision to attend the beach day, although she had every intention of denying it when it inevitably came up. A week prior she had spotted Hime sneaking into the house in the earlier hours, armed with a two-piece bikini that was a shade below scandalous but still firmly in the daring category. She hadn't been able to get a good look at it, but she was fairly sure it was frilly, and a Hime with frills was relevant to her interests to say the least. Also relevant to Suguri's interests, in no particular order, were: Hime running barefoot along the sands and giggling; Hime standing waist-deep in the ocean with sunlit golden hair and her beautiful wings reflected against the rolling waves; and hitting watermelons with sticks. (Some pleasures were too simple to be denied). Upon reaching the beach, the pair had retired to the changing rooms, and Suguri had shrugged on her own swimsuit. It wasn't too flattering, although it wasn't as though she had much to flatter; Suguri was built for speed, with lean, defined muscles in her shoulders and her back. Her long hair did, however, mean she could get away with a halter top without anybody staring too much, and all she needed after that was a pair of shorts. Shorts, mercifully, were easy to shop for; usually, shopping for swimwear ranked at number six in the top ten list of Suguri's Biggest Waking Nightmares. She just had very defined tastes, and nobody seemed to appreciate grey swimsuits with a single stripe on them as much as she did. Having changed much faster than Hime (as usual), Suguri looked out at the fine, pale sands and resolved that before the day was over, she would achieve her life's ambition of making a sand castle that she could fit inside. But the day was long, and she was fast; there would be time for castle-building later. Now was the time of garishly striped towels and beach umbrellas that consistently threatened to fall over, and she wasted no time in installing hers in the middle of the beach. By the time the others arrived, Suguri had already acquired flip flops, novelty sunglasses and the beginnings of a tan, and was busy lying face down on her beach towel like a fried egg with a grey, fluffy yolk. “Hey, shortie. You didn't bring your luggage with you?” Suguri tilted her head upwards and saw Nanako, who was hefting a beach bag almost as big as she was. As always, she seemed a touch bitter; Suguri sometimes had problems getting along with her, although Hime was of the opinion that Nana just enjoyed grousing as a way to vent stress, “Ah, you've arrived. If by 'luggage' you meant Hime, she's still changing,” Suguri replied peacefully, looking Nana up and down. The diminutive soldier had gone for a violet one-piece that was more cute than it was dignified, although Suguri guessed that there weren't that many alluring outfits available for somebody of Nanako's size. Some impish part of her decided to push that button a little. “...I was sure you'd be wearing a school swimsuit, though.” “I don't care what you idiots say. I'm not in ninth grade! I am a professional soldier with a number of completed campaigns –” “And a record of losing to me in sword fights.” “– and a record of losing to you in sword fights because you cheat by having such long arms –” “I can't control how long my arms are.” “I can't control how tall I am! I looked everywhere for a nice, mature-looking swimsuit but I got landed with this frilly, cutesy mess while Kae, Kae looks like she's trying to dam the Victoria Falls with a picket fence, just spilling out everywhere and argh!” Nanako threw herself on the sand in frustration, before rolling over and affixing Suguri with a dangerous, steely glare. “You and me, we should form an alliance. Did you know that being short used to make you a sex symbol? It's true! I dug out some old music from before that stupid war you guys had, and all they ever sing about is shorties. 'Shortie, you so hot! Shortie, get low! Shortie got me spending the benjamins!' All stuff like that. We could rule together.” Suguri arranged her face into a peaceful, innocent smile. “I'll form an alliance with you. But you have to accept me as the leader.” “...What would your first order be?” Nanako asked, eyes narrowing. “To go and explain to Kae why, in detail, you've been staring at her chest for long enough to construct similes about it.” “Tch. No dice,” the girl said, and rolled over to face the other way. “I hate arguing with you. It always makes me so tired. I just wanna sit down and relax afterwards.” Suguri sighed, and very gently patted Nanako on the head, expecting her to jerk her head away at any moment. Her hair was surprisingly soft and healthy; evidently she took good care of it. “...Your swimsuit doesn't look awful. Tell me where you got it next time,” Nana said after a while. “Yes, yes.” Perhaps, in an alternative world, the moment would have continued. The sounds of the waves against the shores, of seagulls chattering overhead, would have lulled Nanako into an easy sleep. She would have awoken hours later, sunburnt on the side of her that was peeking out from Suguri's lopsided beach umbrella, and her absolute incandescent rage would have been mollified by memories of Suguri gently fussing with her hair. Alas, this would have had to been an alternative world where Kae did not exist and was not the greatest source of noise on the beach. She charged along, a beach umbrella under one arm, kicking up a stream of flying sand with her footsteps, yelling at the top of her voice – and the top of her voice was taller than some mountains. Suguri took a glance in her direction and immediately regretted it; Nanako had not been joking when she talked about spillage. She looked just long enough to feel vaguely jealous before turning away, which was just as well, because the next thing Kae did was launch herself through the air in a beautiful parabolic arc toward their location. She hit with the force of a small explosive, planting her beach umbrella into the ground like a sword and distributing a fine layer of sand over the face and body of every person in a 100 metre radius. “Safe!” the redhead yelled, flashing a peace signal to her two friends. Suguri, drawing on over 10,000 years of life experience, had wisely made the decision to close her eyes and mouth. Nanako had not, and was in the delicate process of trying to make death threats while excavating roughly a tenth of the beach from her lungs. She was having little success with either, but this made no difference to Kae, who had already thrown herself at Suguri for a full-body hug. After a relatively minor but confusing scuffle, they came to a rest with Kae's warm cheek pressed gently against Suguri's navel. “Ahahahaha! It's been so long since I saw you, Sugi! What are you doing lying around? You should be playing volleyball! Summer is all about friendly competition!” Suguri had come to two conclusions, neither of which was about volleyball. The first was that Kae was part puppy, and had to express that by nuzzling people to death. The second was that Kae's swimsuit had more in common with a coat of paint on a car than with an actual piece of fabric designed for human beings. Bravely extricating herself from Kae's embrace, Suguri put on her responsible adult voice. “Ah... I think if we played volleyball, one of us would have a malfunction.” Kae gave a thumbs up. She often gestured as she spoke, with enough ferocity to put any angry waiter to shame. “Don't worry, don't worry! This body was built to last!” “I'll play volleyball with you, Kae,” Nanako seethed, her eyes flashing pure murderous intent. “But I get to use my bits as well, since you're so tall, and, and, buxom. And if I win, you have to be quiet for one hour for every point I won by.” “Uuuu... That doesn't seem fair. But I don't ever see Nana this fired up. What to do...? Aha! I know! If I win, I get to dress Nana up however I want for the rest of the day!” Both girls looked at Suguri, who sighed and nodded. “Alright. I've witnessed the conditions of the bet. Play fair, you two. Or mostly fair, anyway.” Almost before she had finished speaking the two were away, trading verbal jabs and actual lasers with impunity. Suguri watched them become dots in the sky, and wondered how exactly they intended to play volleyball without a net. It didn't matter, she supposed; Nanako was spoiling for a fight more than anything, and Kae would be more than willing to give her one. “Oh, my. Are those two at it already? I don't know if they get along badly or a bit too well,” a voice remarked from behind Suguri's shoulder. It was warm, cheerful, as clear as song. Hime. “I'm also disappointed in you, Suguri. I look away for mere moments and another woman has captured your belly-button for herself.” Suguri tilted her head back to take a long, upside-down look at Hime and her swimsuit. There were ruffles. There was a black and gold high neck bikini top and a black sarong cut just low enough to show the delicate lines leading down from the hips. There was a dry smile on Hime's face which probably meant Suguri was being a little too obvious. “Aha. Well, you were changing for quite a while,” she said, clearing her throat. “True enough. No matter. I shall just have to win back your heart with delicious ice cream,” Hime replied, leaning down to hand Suguri a scoop. Had she been carrying ice cream cones, Suguri wondered? Her eyes had definitely been elsewhere. “It's a shame that Saki, Iru and Kyoko couldn't make it.” “Mm,” Suguri nodded. Especially since those three were generally much less erratic than Nanako and Kae were. “Well, I was more worried about Nana and Kae in the first place. The others have spread out a little and started to explore, but I don't think those two have found what they really want from this planet yet...” Suguri frowned. This was one of those moments that seemed to demand a sensitive, emotional response, and she didn't have one ready. The words always seemed to elude her, as surely as she eluded bullets and lasers. “We can take care of them for a while longer,” she replied. It wasn't quite the response she had wanted to give, but it was the one she had to settle for. “I suppose I should stop being a mother hen. Speaking of, are you wearing sunscreen?” “Was that why you took so long changing? You were putting on sunscreen?” “Very good! Gold star for Suguri,” Hime said with a grin, and sat down beside her on the sand. “My skin is so pale from being in the spaceship all those years that I have to be careful with it. You didn't answer my question, though.” “I don't really need it. My skin never tans or burns. And I have no intention of leaving this umbrella, anyway.” “Oh, that's ridiculous. I'm sure you'll want to play in the sun at some point. Here, roll over and I'll do your back for you,” Hime said, with an expression of perfect innocence that guaranteed she was up to something. “Don't worry. I can do it myself.” “Oh my, how impressive. How flexible and dexterous you must be!” Hime replied, with a gleam in her eye. “Incidentally, how good are you at rope escape?” Suguri sighed. The answer, of course, was 'not good enough to get out of Binding Chains'. She grunted and rolled over in deference to Hime's passionate advocacy of responsible skincare. With a satisfied giggle, Hime scooted across and sat on her. “Hime? You're sitting on my butt.” “Yes, I'm quite aware.” “Is there any reason?” “You sit on it all the time. It seemed the obvious place.” The logic was flawless, and Suguri couldn't refute it. Instead, she just closed her eyes and appreciated the breeze rolling in from the sea. Hime, meanwhile, busied herself with scooping up armfuls of long, silver hair and moving it away from Suguri's back. “Ooh. Nice definition,” Hime murmured as she began to work damp fingertips around the muscles of Suguri's shoulders. Suguri said nothing, and was trying very hard to think nothing as well; for all her efforts to approximate a plank of wood, she wasn't having much luck. She tried closing her eyes and allowing the sound of the waves to fill her mind. “Hey.” Suguri was surprised to hear her own voice. She hadn't particularly planned to say anything. “Mm?” “Why is this so important to you?” Hime tilted her head a little in thought, but her hands continued to insinuate themselves against Suguri's muscles like the ocean licking at the sands. “Oh, well. A few reasons. It's part of the beach experience, I suppose, to rub sunscreen on somebody's back. Spaceships, in general, are not equipped with beach facilities, and water is a precious resource. We never got sun tans. We never wore swimsuits. Hm... How do I put it? For you, Suguri, this might not be a special occasion, but for me, and for Kae and Nanako as well, it has the taste of a kind of life we were never allowed by circumstance to lead.” “I see.” The sound of the waves seemed to blend with the words and give them a strange, mystical texture. Hime's hands crept down the plains of her back and then returned to her shoulders, in a long, sinuous pattern. “Another reason is that you've been so patient with us, Suguri, and with me in particular. To have had you here to welcome us to this strange, wide-open world has meant more than I can say. Sometimes I just want to spoil you a little in return. This doesn't feel bad, right?” The only response Suguri could conjure was a non-committal but vaguely embarrassed little sound from the back of her throat; Hime met it with a sparkling laugh. “Of course, that's a third reason. You're quite fun to tease, Suguri. You're so very serious all the time, and you always try not to react but do anyway.” “And is that why you tease me so much?” Hime took a moment to to coat her hands with a little more lotion. “Would you prefer a short and fun answer, or a long and serious one?” “Well,” Suguri replied dryly, “Since I'm such a serious person, I'll take the serious answer.” “I thought as much.” Hime's hands had drifted as low as Suguri's waist; her movements were slower, lingering, and her words matched. “I've lived for ten thousand years, Suguri. You know how long that is. But for the vast majority of that time, I've lived in the same, tiny place. The same days, the same faces, endlessly repeating. Oh, Suguri. I used to look at those travellers who we brought to Earth, and I could take apart their faces and say what belonged to their great, great grandfathers, where the family trees had crossed, that kind of thing. In a restricted pool like that, there are only so many genes you can have, you know? Only so many faces, so many combinations.” Suguri said nothing. If there was one thing she was good at, it was that. “Well, at any rate, if you live for too long like that, time starts to... blend together, just a touch. More than a touch. For a long, long while, it felt like I was living the same day over and over. Like time had stopped, for me. Just for me. But then we saw Earth on our horizons, with that horrible man at the helm. The only reason I didn't stop him earlier was because I assumed he would die of old age before he got the chance to do any real damage, but... Anyway. Things started moving again. Now every day is different. There are so many people to meet, with so many faces I've never seen or dreamt of before. This world, this Earth of yours, is constantly spinning. In motion. I feel like that's so important.” “It's your Earth, too. Mm. That feels nice.” Hime was tracing circles with her thumbs across the edges of Suguri's hips; she gave a satisfied little sigh and applied herself to the task with more gusto. “I suppose it is, at that. But, Suguri. Sometimes when I look at you, I feel... I feel like your time stopped somewhere on the way, too. Some days you wake up, and you wear the same face all day. It's... Well, I don't think it's good to do that. And anyway, I'm childish and selfish. I want to see all the different faces you can make, Suguri, not just the one you use all the time. That's why I tease you from time to time. To stop the moments from blending. I'm hoping that one day, I won't even have to tease you; you'll just wake up and smile, and blush, and laugh by yourself instead of keeping that same face.” “And what will you do then?” Suguri asked. Her voice was sleepy. Her body was sleepy. She felt like she was talking in a dream. “Well... I'll probably keep teasing you. But perhaps I won't be joking about it. Your back is done, by the way,” Hime replied, and stood up. “Of course, I could always do your front for you, if you'd like.” Suguri didn't need to look to know that Hime was wearing a devious grin. But she stood up and looked anyway. After all the talk of keeping the same face, she realised that perhaps she hadn't been paying enough attention to Hime's. “If I said yes, would you do it?” Hime blinked, and for a moment a flash of colour spread into her pale cheeks; but it was just for a moment. “You could always take your chances and find out.” “I'll pass.” “Oh, boo. It's rude to raise a lady's hopes and then dash them.” Suguri found, as she had always found, that there were moments in life when it was necessary to trust one's body over one's brain. Decisions could not always be taken with a full set of information on which to base rationale, and anyway, there were sometimes sensations that the brain filtered out of conscious experience but still registered on a smaller level, and those could be as indicative of oncoming danger as any larger portents. She couldn't quite tell what prompted her to move as she did, but in that moment she was absolutely sure that the correct course of action was to launch herself towards Hime, scoop up her friend in her arms, and clear the next six feet of ground as soon as possible. She had cleared the first three feet when Kae and Nanako barrelled out of an empty sky at a speed that beggared belief and crashed into the beach, sending a plume of sand skyward. “One, two, three, four, I win the THUUUMB WAAAAAR!” Kae howled, lifting Nanako into the air by one arm like a referee lifting a boxer's arm in victory. “Hey, hey, Big Sis Hime! Do you think Nana would look better as a punk rocker, or with cat ears?” “Go with whatever your heart tells you, Kae,” Hime said indulgently. “But remember: when it comes to cat ears, proper etiquette demands a tail as well.” Nana, although her eyes were more inclined to look in different directions to one another in that moment in time, still had the wherewithal to look at Hime lounging in Suguri's arms and ask, in a very groggy voice, “Am we... Was I... Is we... Inter'pting somethink?” “Oh, nothing that we can't continue later,” Hime said with a wink, climbing down. “She means 'no, nothing',” Suguri deadpanned. “I don't suppose you two would like to put the beach back where it belongs?” “Nope!” Kae said proudly, conspicuously not looking at giant crater she had left. Suguri sighed. “I suppose we'll pick a different beach next year. It's about time to split the watermelon. Would you go and fetch it?” Kae had vanished before the sentence was finished. Hitting things with sticks was very much a Kae thing, and she dragged Nanako along in her wake. Suguri didn't expect her to come back with one watermelon; rather, she expected to see her juggling three. As the two departed, Hime gave Suguri a nudge. “Next year, hm? I don't recall discussing a second trip.” “Well, it hasn't been a bad day. I want to make a sandcastle next time.” “Oh, yes. There's still things the beach has to offer us. I was planning to bury you up to your neck in the sand and then poke your cheeks.” “...Don't make me change my mind.” A year, Suguri thought, had always been such a short time. That was the problem. Time didn't freeze, as Hime said; it just went faster and faster while you weren't looking, and for all her speed Suguri had never been able to catch up with it. You blinked, and the Earth had come to the same spot again, and all that had changed was the year. But here, today, she blinked: the Earth remained where it was, and the year was the same, but her friends were wearing different expressions. It hadn't been a bad day, here at the beach. It hadn't been a bad day at all.

#fanfic #100% orange juice #suguri #hime #kae #nanako #innuendo #beach #Suguri (series)

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unknown-de-mordor-blog · 7 years

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Five ships I’m still not over

Beleg Cúthalion/Túrin Turambar

Universe: Middle-earth, first age

Ship name: Nothing that’s widely used in the fandom, I don’t think. But I like to think of them as ‘Black Sword (referring to Turin’s cursed weapon) and Strongbow (direct translation of Cúthalion)’

To me, there's no character more tragic than Turin son of Hurin, and no pairing more tragic than him and Beleg. And no clearer love, too. I don't know if J. R. R. Tolkien intended for them to go that far, but their emotional connection is so deep and powerful that whether you ship them or not it's undisputedly one of the most beautiful relationships in Tolkien's lore. Alas! It's not powerful enough to undo the curse placed on Turin and his clan, which ends both his and Beleg's life all too soon and all too tragically. So, yes, I count Beleg as one of the elves who die for love.

Favourite quote: 'I would lead my own men, and make war in my own way,' Turin answered. 'But in this at least my heart is changed: I repent every stroke save those dealt against the Enemy of Men and Elves. And above all else I would have you beside me. Stay with me!' 'If I stayed beside you, love would lead me not wisdom,' said Beleg.

Uh, I love this so much because it shows the difference in their temperament and maturity. Beleg's an elf who has lived through and fought in so many wars. He's an (elf)man of duty, honour and intellect, and Turin is still a young man whose pride and stubbornness can seriously get in the way of a grown-up conversation. And Beleg is so not having any of that in this scene. He’d do anything for Turin, including ditching his command to find him, but he can pull some tough-love moves, too, when Turin’s unreasonable.

Uzumaki Naruto/Uchiha Sasuke

Universe: Naruto

Ship name: sns, narusasu, sasunaru

I think Naruto and Sasuke canonically love each other, I really do, but I don’t think they are together romantically at any point in the series. And that’s by design, really. Sasuke -- the last of the Uchiha, the tragic figure of the Naruto series (still not as tragic as Turin, but let’s not do this morbid comparison) -- has too many issues to work through, and Naruto isn’t in the position to really help him through them. So as soul-deep as their bond is, they couldn’t have been together and survive each other. Although, I really want that to happen. That’s what fanfictions are for, I guess.

Favourite quote: ‘If you attack Konoha, I will have to fight you... So save up your hatred and take it all on me, I'm the only one who can take it. It's the only thing I can do. I will shoulder your hatred and die with you.’

Honestly, Naruto might just as well propose to Sasuke with that because he’s essentially saying ‘give me your worst, I’m not leaving and never will’. I know friends could be like that, too, but normally not to this degree and not with this kind of commitment. I’m not surprised at all when Sasuke has to ask Naruto why the hell he is doing all this for him. It just goes beyond reason, really.

S'chn T'gai Spock /James T. Kirk

Universe: Star Trek

Ship name: K/S, Spirk

The Daddy of all ships! Pun intended! Spock and Kirk's friendship really walks that fine line of are they/aren’t they. I personally think they aren’t (another controversial statement coming from a shipper), but they’re so cute together you just can’t help think: what if they are? They have this deep trust and affection for one another anyway; why not push it a notch further? ‘This simple feeling,’ as Spock calls it, might as well be love.

Favourite quote:

Kirk: How's our ship? Spock: Out of danger. Kirk: Good... Spock: You saved the crew. Kirk: You used what he wanted against him. That's a nice move. Spock: It is what you would have done. Kirk: And this... this is what you would have done. It was only logical. I'm scared, Spock. Help me not be. How do you choose not to feel? Spock: I do not know. [tears fall] Right now, I am failing. Kirk: I want you to know why I couldn't let you die... why I went back for you... Spock: Because you are my friend. [Kirk places his hand against the glass and gives the Vulcan Salute as he dies]

It’s actually really hard for me to pick a quote for these two because I think every ‘Jim’ from Spock does the job except nobody else would understand it but me. (Second to that is, ‘Captian, not in front of the Klingons.’) While I love them teasing each other a lot, I think Kirk’s death scene from Star Trek Into Darkness has all the right punches to it. Spock has been unable to accept the feeling of friendship towards Kirk (actually just feelings in general) until the moment he watches Kirk dies behind the glass door. And all just comes out like BOOM! Not to mention how close Spock comes to killing Khan for revenge before Uhura tells him that Kirk can be saved but they need Khan alive. Honestly, that’s the only reason Khan’s head doesn’t go plop in Spock’s hands.

Morgoth/Sauron

Universe: Middle-earth, first age

Ship name: it just came to my attention that the fandom is calling this ship Angbang (a wordplay on the name of their home/fortress Angband). Nicely done, you naughty people. Also Melkor/Mairon if you’re going by their proper first-age names.

I think a lot of people seeing this ship would go ‘what?!’ Like, how is that even possible when Tolkien didn’t write a single scene with the two of them in it. I’d say in this case the absence is more powerful. Tolkien wrote the Silmarillion and the Unfinished Tales as lore, so they necessarily come from the perspective of the tellers; i.e., humans and elves. That doesn’t mean Tolkien didn’t drop hints about the complex characters that the dark lords of Middle-earth are. He even has Elrond says that people don’t start out evil, not even Sauron. So the question becomes, what the heck happened? And the heck that starts it all out is pretty much in the first few chapters of the Silmarillion where Morgoth is clearly a powerful and inventive figure but in many ways an outcast and shunned by everyone including the very power that made him. (*cough* daddy issue *cough*) And then we are made aware of the fact Sauron, who is also powerful and creative, isn’t on Morgoth’s side from the get go but decides to join him later. The power-hungry dark lords we are later told about aren’t that at all, so it raises the question of their true characters and motives. If anything, I think the length in which Sauron would go for Morgoth thousands of years after his master is defeated and shut away says something about their bond with each other. And if I know one thing, it can’t be fear or respect. If I have to make a guess, I think it is akin to love.

Favourite quote: There isn’t anything I can quote from the source material since there hasn’t been a dialogue or anything they say to an audience that could be trusted as genuinely representing who they are. One thing I do scream about is the scene in the Return of the King movie when the black gate opened and behind there isn’t just the tower with the eye of Sauron but Mount Doom next to it in the same frame. I was like ‘I know Morgoth’s not here but isn’t that him in spirit.’ Yes, I’m a proper trash for these two.

Also, there’s this awesome comic series (unfortunately discontinued) by Suz. It’s legitimately hotter than the fire of Aule’s forge, honestly.

Beren/Lúthien

Universe: Middle-earth, first age

Ship name: I’m not aware of any ship name for these two but ‘Beren and Luthien’ is catchy enough as it is.

How else to finish this list but to dedicate the last entry to the greatest love story of Middle-earth, and, yes, I'm saying that with a straight face because, holy hell, this couple defies expectations left, right, and centre. Luthien, our elven princess, is an active participant in her own fate. She falls in love with a human who, in an act of valour, accepts her father's stupid, impossible task to steal the most treasured jewel from Morgoth the Dark Lord himself. Luthien basically runs away from home, finds her man captured and tortured, and tears the goddamn fortress down in a showdown with the-dark-lord-to-be Sauron himself (which makes you question the competency of everyone else in Middle-earth). They then proceed to steal the jewel together. They don't quite succeed in bringing it back and Beren loses his hand in the process, but hey, they could say it's in his hand, somewhere, and now could they please marry because otherwise I have a feeling that Luthien is going to elope with her boyfriend and her mom and dad won't be seeing her again ever.

And this is really just scratching the surface of Luthien’s feisty personality quite unbefitting of most princesses until the recent overhaul of attitude by Disney. And all this came from a man who was born in the Victorian era when women's autonomy wasn't given or respected. But I think Luthien's depth of character comes from the fact that she has a real-life counterpart, and so she feels more like a real woman. And the love between Beren and Luthien feels compelling because its the love the professor himself had for his wife and life-long partner, Edith. You can check out their gravestone. I'm so not making this up.

Favourite quote: The song of Lúthien before Mandos was the song most fair that ever in words was woven, and the song most sorrowful that ever the world shall ever hear. Unchanged, imperishable, it is sung still in Valinor beyond the hearing of the world, and the listening the Valar grieved. For Lúthien wove two themes of words, of the sorrow of the Eldar and the grief of Men, of the Two Kindreds that were made by Ilúvatar to dwell in Arda, the Kingdom of Earth amid the innumerable stars. And as she knelt before him her tears fell upon his feet like rain upon stones; and Mandos was moved to pity, who never before was so moved, nor has been since.

It’s not a scene between them, but this is how far Luthien’s love and badassery goes. She loses Beren in a battle to protect her father’s kingdom, and she dies grieving him. In the afterlife, she gets to meet the god of death Mandos and sings him a song of their love and her grief. Apparently, she’s so good with words and music that Mandos is like, ‘I can’t handle the feels. You can have your husband back and have a mortal life with him.’ And Luthien takes the deal, of course.

#my post #tolkien verse #naruto #star trek #beren and luthien #spirk #angbang #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #turin and beleg #shipping supreme #I'm enterprising these shit

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