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raewritesfiction · 3 years

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Can’t get Enough [Valter Skarsgård]

A/N: antidepressants work in odd ways; many of us know from experience. This is just one of them.

Plot: after going through a bad “dry spell” because of medications, the reader is now hypersexual and asks Valter for some help.

Pairing: Valter Skarsgard X female!Reader

Warnings: nsfw - smut and strong language ahoy. Unsafe sex (always use a condom!)

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @jaseminedenise @nikkitasevoli @ohh-la-la-leto @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikki-rogue @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @horribly-limited @rekdreams247 @smugwhore @grandpa-sweaters @purplerain85

—

Pacing back and forth in your living room as you hold your phone and speak into it, you run a hand through your hair. You’d typed out the message but it had seemed silly when you read it back so you decided on a voice note to Valter.

“… so you know how my meds make me not wanna have sex? Yeah well since I had them changed that’s no longer a problem and now I can’t get enough… I’ve killed so many batteries and I’ve burned out the motor on my favourite vibe… V… come over and fuck me?!”

You sigh and listen to the message back a couple of times before swearing to yourself and hitting send; flopping down onto the sofa and leaving the app open to watch when he had listened to it and was replying. You apparently liked to torture yourself right now too.

The five cold showers hadn’t done anything to help ease your disposition and even your best stimulator wasn’t getting you off hard enough. You had remembered the couple of times Valter had made you squirt and how fucking good it had felt but you had failed to be able to make yourself squirt no matter what you tried.

Glancing at your phone you grumble; he had listened to the message and there was no going back now. He was probably chuckling to himself about how he would tease you and draw out the fun but truthfully you just wanted him to make you cum until you couldn’t talk.

You stay on the sofa with your eyes closed, listening to the ticking of the clock which helps you into a calmer trance-like state at least. You weren’t trying to figure out how to hook up a home-made fuck machine yet, so that was at least a plus.

A hard knock on your front door jumps you back to reality and you’re on your feet heading to the door quicker than you intended. Swinging the door open you grin upon seeing Valter who wastes no time in pushing you back into the living room and closing the door behind him.

“Got a problem?”

“Don’t fucking tease me. No teasing; only cumming.” You all but demand.

Valter is happy to oblige it seems as he quickly strips out of his various warm outdoor layers down to a tee and jeans then pushes you back against the wall roughly, kissing you passionately and running his hands over your clothes. He growls in frustration and starts pulling off your clothes to get to your skin underneath which he happily begins to mark with his fingers, teeth and lips.

“You know what I like…” you bite over his neck and shoulder “go for it…”

“Okay but….safe word if needed…” he speaks between your hurried kisses then lifts your leg to wrap around his hip and spanks your thigh hard enough to leave an instant red mark drawing out a moan from you.

“Bedroom?” You nip his lip.

“Here.” He replies simply and pulls at the sides of your panties until he finds the sweet spot and they rip from your hips, falling to the floor.

“I liked those!” You pout.

“Deal with it…” he sucks on your neck and brings up a dark bruise, a hand on your ass and squeezing hard then spanking you again. Valter pulls away just enough to take off his tee and undo his jeans to free himself to you. His hand slips between you and glides over your folds. “Damn babygirl!”

“V…” you gasp, still sensitive from the five and a half hours you had spent masturbating.

“You really have been having fun today..” he grins and moves his hand to jerk himself against you.

“It’s not been enough; I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me!” You pant against and kiss his lips. “Just… need you.” You whine and deepen the kiss.

“I’m happy to help you darlin’… any time.” Valter smiles and winks at you, pushing his hard cock into you.

You gasp and lean your head back against the wall, feeling Valter’s cock slip into you; stretching you out and making you feel full again. Even your favourite dildo never felt this good.

Valter grips your ass and lifts you off the floor to wrap your legs around his waist; he rolls his hips deep and hard, pushing you back into the wall and groaning when he hears how wet your pussy is with each thrust.

You’re still sensitive; your clit and lips swollen and flushed and Valter feels so damn good inside you. He bounces you without warning and you call out, tightening around him for a few moments. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and hold him tight against your body; you can feel his rough moans and grunts, his heavy pants against your skin.

“Don’t stop!” You moan and kiss him hungrily, desperately. Valter groans into your mouth and pushes away from the wall, easily making the simple route to your bedroom while carrying you; his cock never leaving you.

Kneeling down onto the bed; Valter leans you back to lay down and keeps a grip on your hips, grinding into you while pulling you onto his thrusts. You move your hands to massage and knead your tits; fingers pulling and pinching your nipples while Valter keeps his hips moving into you with precision.

He pants and groans your name “tell me exactly what you need…” leaning down to bite over your ribs, moving up to suck on your nipple.

“Make me squirt again!” You blurt it out; but it’s more pleading than you had intended.

Valter grins and scrapes his teeth over you, tilting his hips and changing the angle of his thrusts into you “you liked that, huh?” Kissing you feverishly.

“So fucking good… I need…it…” you speak between kisses and against his lips. “Spent all afternoon getting myself off and… I need more…”

He growls and sucks up another dark bruise on the other side of your neck while reaching down to hook your leg over his arm and then shoulder. He shuffles his kneeling legs for a better angle and steadies himself with his hands either side of you; his hips moving quickly.

The tilt and roll of his hips moved them like pistons into you and it takes little time for you to be moaning and mewling on every exhale, your body arching and lifting to his movements. The build up feels different; so much more intense than normal and it’s like lightning is dancing across your skin and between your bodies. Valter pants and groans with you, hands in fists as he leans on his forearms under you; your own arms around his shoulders again.

You whine and run a hand into Valter’s hair; vision blurry in the dim light of your bedroom. Your breathing is heavy and rough and Valter’s weight on you makes you feel even safer as your voice cracks and hitches and your body lets go. Your legs begin to shake which travels up your body until you’re a trembling mess screaming in pleasure and soaking the covers beneath you with your release.

Valter calls out as your pussy tightens and pulses around him in waves; you had almost pushed him out with the strength of your orgasm but he had rolled his hips back into you and cum hard inside you.

As you both relax and lay on the bed panting, your vision returns to normal but you’re still unable to say much more than “fuck..!” Valter smiles and wraps his arms around you to pull you against him in a more comfortable position on the bed; you’re grateful for the help moving because right now your muscles are jell-o.

“Feel better?” He whispers softly and kisses your temple.

You’re not able to speak fully yet but you nod against him and smile sleepily when he pulls up a blanket over you both.

“Glad I can help, baby.” He nuzzles you and makes sure you’re comfortable against him before closing his own eyes and drifting off to sleep with you.

#Valter Skarsgard Imagine #Valter Skarsgard X Reader #Valter Skarsgard #Imagine #Valter Skarsgård

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years

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symphony (arthur morgan x reader)

this story involves smut!! please do not read this if you are not over 18 years old

a/n: not entirely back to writing yet, but i did this and i sorta like it so lemme know what you think. also this is my first time ever writing smut that wasn’t for a roleplay so im super nervous about it. but anyway have a story with my favourite boy

masterlist

It felt like your gut had been ripped open, like there were pins where your heart was before it cracked and shattered into thousands of fragments that would never be found. It was like someone had put a bullet in your skull and it was rattling around, hitting against every nerve and causing as much damage as it went along.

Your blood turned to ice in your veins at the sight of him. Never had you seen him look so weak. So helpless. How in his voice he seemed okay despite the state of his body – at least two open wounds, his shirt stained multiple shades of red that weaved in with brown from what had already dried. Hot tears stung in your eyes when they studied him. Despite the warped vision, it was obvious to anyone that he was in pain. How his face contorted and twisted whilst Miss Grimshaw washed over his wounds to get a better look. The grunts and curses that left his dried lips were unbearable to listen to.

Once you tore your eyes away from him, you assessed the others in the scene. Dutch stood at the foot of the table, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles whitened and cracked. Every now and again he mumbled words of encouragement or instructions to tell Miss Grimshaw what to do, despite her knowing much more about how to patch someone up.

Miss Grimshaw had taken charge immediately, as soon as he had been brought into camp by the others on the job. She removed his shirt swiftly, washing his wounds with a cloth and water. Her expert hands cauterised his wounds and though she winced at every sound of discomfort, she knew that she was helping, and so she continued.

Tilly was around helping Miss Grimshaw, running to get things that she needed presently or that she would need, or that she might need just in case. She fed him alcohol for the pain and listened close when she was asked to do something to help.

You? You simply stood there, frozen. Miss Grimshaw had asked you for something, but you neither moved nor even heard her request for your brain was travelling at a speed that caused you physical pain. The noises he made left an awful taste in your mouth, knowing that you couldn’t help despite wanting to more than anything in the world.

It was about then that Hosea took your hands in his and gently pulled you away with a “Come on, sweet girl.” And though you protested, you let him take you, because you couldn’t do anything else. You couldn’t just stand and watch him as he was an inch away from death. It hurt. Hosea took you far enough away that you couldn’t hear the sounds of pain that each felt like a bullet to the chest.

He held you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Hosea.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth once you had remembered how to use your voice. The man smiled a fatherly smile.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.” He assured, though you couldn’t seem to meet his eye. Gently, he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance. Though, reassurance for what, you couldn’t be entirely sure. “I know you wanted to help. It’s difficult when the people we love get hurt.”

You scoffed. “I… I don’t even know what bein’ in love feels like. But, I guess, maybe…” Trailing off, your mind began to wander just as the thoughts pulled a sigh from your lips.

“Hosea, I don’t—”

“Do you think I don’t see the way you look at him?” Hosea asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused that you had tried to deny his claims.

“Sweetheart, you look at him like you’re starving and he’s a hot meal.”

“I do?” Your voice sounded so small against the deafening silence. As much as you wanted to deny it, Hosea was right, and he knew it. It was terrifying. “I—I’ve never been in love before.” Startling thoughts began cascading down you. You and Arthur were close, real close. You told each other everything. You could be vulnerable around each other. You were there for each other. Was all of that about to be ruined because you were stupid enough to catch feelings?

“What do I do?”

Hosea chuckled at that. “Get some rest, sweetheart. Try not worry about him, he’ll be fine. He always is.” While you appreciated his attempt of reassurance, you honestly didn’t feel much better at all. Instead, your brain was flooding with the thought of being in love with Arthur on top of the question of whether he was actually going to survive his injuries.

You stayed just out of camp for a while longer, until you could hear the noise inside start to die down until it was obvious that everyone was asleep. You crept back in, being sure to not make too much noise, you didn’t want to wake anyone. No, not that, you didn’t want anyone to know that you were visiting him. Grabbing a chair, you pulled it up beside where Arthur’s was body was lay and took a seat. You looked over him, humming lightly, Miss Grimshaw really did a good job of patching him up. Your hands wrapped themselves around one of his, and you simply sat at his side until morning, being sure to move away at least two hours before everyone else woke up.

~~~

A few weeks later

~~~

Chores. Although you helped out on jobs sometimes, since Arthur and Hosea taught you how to shoot properly, you enjoyed helping out around camp, too. It was the least you could do to help out Miss Grimshaw, considering she saved the man that you loved. Besides, most members of the camp were out either on jobs or shopping, or at saloon, so, you were spending your time washing clothes to help out.

Arthur, luckily, survived his injuries and although he was still recovering, he was back up and out on jobs again. Dutch did make sure not to put him on any dangerous (by his standard) jobs, despite Arthur protesting because he’s fine, it was just a couple of scratches and—Goddamn it, Dutch I don’t need supervision, I’m alright and—

“Careful you don’t rub a hole in that shirt.” A deep chuckle came from beside you. Your head snapped up immediately at the sound.

“Arthur!” You only then noticed how hard you had been squeezing the shirt in your hands and how hard you were scrubbing it against the washboard. Loosening your grip, you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I—Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing up and around? Dutch told you that you rest today.” A laugh left Arthur’s lips as he held his hands up in surrender. “You should be resting.” With that, you stood, ushering him back to his tent where he could lay down. He took a seat on his bed, looking up at her with a strange expression. Was he… Nervous?

He reached out for your hand, gently tugging you over to take a seat beside him. Instead of letting go of your hand, he held it, his gaze fixed on it. He delicately traced over the veins that peeked through your skin, too delicate, like if he held you any firmer that you would shatter before him. His eyebrows drew together, and you hummed slightly, searching his eyes.

“Arthur? Y’alright?” You asked softly, your eyes furrowing in concern.

“I’m alright, darlin’, I just…” He took a deep breath. “Going through all that and, not knowing whether I was gonna die, it, uh, it made me realise a couple things. Shit, uh…”

“It’s okay. Take your time.” You assured, a smile crossing your face. Arthur looked up at you, a troubled look in his eyes that gave you an awful feeling in your stomach. You breathed out through parted lips, ready to take in the bad news that he was about to tell you. His eyes flickered slightly, quickly looking down your lips before he swallowed thickly, looking back up at your eyes.

“It made me realise that, I’m terrified of losing you. And—And I think that I… Shit. I’m in love with you.” Arthur’s face burnt up entirely as he confessed, flushing red from head to toe. When you didn’t respond, only blinking blankly at him, he pulled his hands away from yours, looking away as he rubbed the nape of his neck anxiously. Your hand reached out to cup his cheek, tilting his face back to you where you planted a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You could feel how his breath was pulled from his lungs as you did so and his eyes lit up, though his face still looked worried.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than anything in the world.” And with that, his lips captured yours in such a way that had your own breath hitching at the sensation. Your lips danced against each other’s rhythmically, and your chests moved up and down in sync.

You had always loved Arthur. From the moment that he had saved your life in the woods when you first met. This big, scary outlaw meant everything to you. This gang was the closest thing you had to family. No, it was your family. Things had always been different with Arthur, though. Things you had never given a second thought about until now. Longing glances from across camp, touches that were a little too long to simply be considered friendly. Putting his arm around you at the campfire so that you wouldn’t be cold, bringing each other stew so that the other wouldn’t starve. The way he spoke to you; how his voice changed to be much softer when he addressed you. The urgency in his voice when he thought that you were in danger. The way that he always worried about you, just how you worried about him. The way that he looked at you, just how you looked at him.

It all made sense now.

The kiss was incapsulating. In this moment where nothing else mattered, merely you and him. You each opened your mouths, delving your tongues in to dance with the other as your tastes swirled together. He tasted like honey and cigarette smoke, you tasted like wild berries and rum. His hand hovered over the curve of your waist for a few seconds, before he hesitantly placed it down, pulling you close to his chest. Your arms snaked up his chest and wound around his neck. Arthur hooked an arm around your waist, gently lifting and shifting you over to sit in his lap.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavier than usual as you looked at him. A sweet shade of rose covered the cheeks that you gently pecked before stroking with your thumbs whilst you cupped his face.

“We don’t have to go any farther.” Arthur declared; his voice low despite there being no one around. You breathed for a moment, scared of all the new feelings that erupted throughout your body. Though, the fireworks in your stomach couldn’t be denied. So, you smiled.

“You—Your wounds…” You mentioned, and he chuckled softly.

“Darlin’, I’m fine. But we can stop if you ain’t comfortable.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

A smile spread over Arthur’s lips at your words and he hummed in response. “Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” He asked, cupping your cheek, to which you nodded before leaning in to kiss his lips once again. You couldn’t get enough of him. He tasted so good. Whilst your lips worked against his, his practised hands ran over your body and his fingers began to work at the buttons on your shirt, threading them back through the hole before pushing it off of your shoulders. His hands moved up to knead softly at your breasts, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers which earned a mewl from your throat.

He pulled away from your lips, jaw falling slack when his eyes fell over your now bare top half. He hummed as his excitement grew, moving your head to the side with his thumb before burying his face in your neck which he peppered with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips that began to purple the flushed skin, branding you to him. With your noises of approval and your fingers unthreading the buttons of his blue shirt egging him on, he began to suck the skin at your clavicle to which a breathy moan was pulled from your throat.

Shrugging his shirt from his shoulders, you moved your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him. Your fingers gently caressed each of his scars that you felt. He was beautiful. As he continued to leave his mark on you, your hands reached up to tangle in his locks, tugging ever so slightly, but a growl left him, nevertheless.

“Do it again.” Arthur pleaded, his lips brushing against your skin to cause goose bumps. A low groan fell out of his kiss swollen lips when you repeated the action. His large hands cupped your ass, pulling you closer against him, his arousal rubbing against you through layers of fabric that separated you from feeling all of him. You needed to feel all of him. You moaned at the contact, fumbling messily with his jeans while you kissed him, but he pulled away.

He picked you up, laying you down before he shed himself of the remainder of his clothing. While his back was turned, you did the same. When Arthur turned around, he bit his lip at the sight of you, flushed, sprawled out for him on his bed. He licked his lips hungrily, cock twitching before he lay above you, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips which you held while his hand dug lower. His fingers spread you open, teasing by gently brushing against your clit. He smirked at your wetness.

“Arthur—” You whined. “Please.” He took your endorsement, groaning in delight at the sounds you made when he quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside you. The hot coil began to grow in your stomach, and he watched as you writhed beneath him, moaning deliciously at how good he was making you feel. His cock was painfully hard and ached for release, but he wouldn’t stop until he had brought you over the edge at least once before he fucked you.

“This for me?” Your hips bucked up in a silent plea for more friction and he chuckled slightly into your mouth before pushing a digit inside you. With a sharp inhale beforehand, you moaned in approval, causing him to add a second finger, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“So good for me, darlin’.” Arthur’s voice was husky when he spoke, his words wrapped in lust and desire, eyes dark with adoration. His free hand reached up to toy with your nipples, pinching gently, teasingly to bring you closer to your release.

It wasn’t until your hips bucked uncontrollably and a strangled cry left your plump lips that Arthur pulled his fingers out of you, the hot coil snapping in such a wonderful way that left you aching for more. His mouth opened and closed around his fingers, coated with your juices. When the taste hit his mouth, a low groan rumbled in his chest, and the mushroom head of his member leaked with arousal.

Arthur didn’t touch himself once until he had brought you over the edge one more time with his tongue alone, and when that hot coil broke in your stomach once again, he lapped up the remainder of your juices, making sure to not waste a single drop by licking along the insides of your thighs for any excess. His cock throbbed painfully from the influx of lust, his hand stroking himself up and down a couple of times before he pushed himself into you. The sound you made from him entering you alone nearly made Arthur cum there and then, but he was determined to make you feel good. After pushing in about halfway, he pulled back out completely, groaning at the sight of your slick on his cock. You whined at the lack of contact, reaching to touch him but he swatted your hand away.

“I don’t think so.” He said with a chuckle before pushing into you entirely. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders, loving how he stretched you. “Mm—” Arthur’s hips thrusted against yours once as he moaned at how you clenched around him. “Such a good girl for me.” He set a fast pace, each thrust increasing in power and might, and soon enough an animalistic desire consumed him, his hips clashing against yours. Your names left each other’s lips among curses and beautiful sounds of pure pleasure. Series’ of moans spilled out from your reddened lips.

Arthur kissed you, hard. You could feel the swelling of your lips. The bristles of his unkempt stubble tickled your skin. When your tongues met, you groaned at the taste, your taste. Your nails sunk further into his skin and he groaned at the sensation, his spare hand reached down to focus your sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb. His cock throbbed against your walls as the familiar feeling began to grow in your stomach once again. He pounded into you with a near primal hunger, your plea for him and your beautiful sounds being the only thing to fill his ears. Arthur made his own share of delicious noises, both of your voices ruined with pleasure though it sounded like the most stunning symphony.

You felt your third climax nearing, the white-hot coil repeating but so much stronger than before. With your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands on you, he made you feel wanted. He made you feel loved. It was nearing closer, and closer and you covered your face to which Arthur removed your hands from your face, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other returned to its spot at your clit.

“Nuh-uh, darlin’. Hafta see you.”

Soon enough, your release washed over you like a wave of pleasure. A ravishing sound forced itself from you, your legs trembled, your body shaking violently from the pleasure. Arthur felt your climax all over him, his body entirely racked with pleasure. As you clenched around him, he pushed in once more and pulled out, releasing with a husky shout that you would dream of for weeks on end. His juices lay atop the bedsheets and he sighed happily, pulling you in for a soft, loving kiss.

Arthur reached over into his pile of clothes to find a dark piece of cloth, his bandana. He soaked in some water from a bucket outside his tent and gently dragged it over you skin, revelling in how incessantly beautiful you were. At first, when he reached your folds, you whined from the overstimulation, but soon relaxed at the feeling.

Once you were cleaned up, he lay beside you, cradling you in his strong arms. You pecked his lips before resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Your eyes fluttered closed and Arthur hummed contently. “I love you, darlin’.”

lmk if you want to be added to any of my taglists!!<3

“I love you too, Arthur.”

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Note

Henry finding his Little hiding in the master closet, crying her eyes out because she misunderstood him saying he wanted a new Little.

Oh sweet jesus! I have to admit this was good practice, im not one for angsty stuff but this turned out okay i think? I hope you like it

Warnings: DDLG, Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Tantrums

You hid on the stairs, standing on them so your eye were level with the floor of the landing.

Things were different since you come back home.

You'd been visiting your parents for two weeks to help out, they had moved to France inspired by the chateau renovations so packed up and moved into a huge castle like home.

Renovating was harder then they expected and needed some extra hands so you decided to help them out.

Its the least you can do when they were going to let you and henry get married there for free.

But then another lockdown came and you had to return home four days early, but it couldn't be helped, your parents sent you packing not wanting you to be stranded in France for months on end.

Henry had been too busy to come, saying he needed to stay home and sort out a few important things.

You'd been home just over a day and had noticed the house was different.

Well not the whole house, but there was no trace of any of your little things anymore.

Henry was busy running about the place chasing up phone calls and deliveries, he said he was late and still had too much to do and that he was sorry then locked himself in the office.

With brings you to now, alone confused and upset. So you decided to go and cuddle up in your nursery and wait out what ever had your daddy occupied.

Slowly you tip toed past the office hearing henry raise his voice growling a little.

You would have stopped and asked him if he was okay, but he got mad when you eavesdropped, it usually landed you on the naughty step.

You passed the office's cracked open door with ease, it'd be best to ask later. Besides the office wasn't a nice place, it was boring and you only ended up in there if you were bad and about to be spanked real bad! Its where your cane lived.

You scrunched your nose as you got closer to the nursery, the smell of paint and sawdust filling your nose. It was an awful stink!

Still you pressed forward stepping into the room.

You froze and suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

The room was bare, your toys and stuffies all packed in boxes in the corner.

Your crib was gone, the blanket fort, changing table everything!

The walls were now a pale seafoam green with sea otter stickers on them, tall seaweed stickers dotted about the room.

This wasn't your room! This wasn't your nursey!

You gasped panicking looking around feeling your tummy drop and twist, a lump in your throat.

They pink princess blinds gone, your drawings no where to be found.

There was nothing of yours in here! Nothing at all.

You crumpled to the floor as you spied the wall that once held your name in cute cursive stickers on it. They too were gone, removed and the wall painted over.

You shook your head trembling, you hadn't come in here yesterday, you'd come home and gone straight to bed you were tired it'd been hell getting home.

You stepped backwards out of the forign room on the verge of tears.

You sniffled rubbing your eyes and padded down the hall again unsure what all this meant.

"Yes... Yes I know-No of course I haven't told her!.... Yes I know change is hard for littles but she'll be okay, once I explain things she will be fine, she's a tough cookie" henry huffed down the phone irritated. You crept closer to the door and listened closer, perhaps spying with once will help reassure you. Because this must be a misunderstanding.

"yes well I want to move on, everytime I go in there... Its not her room never has been they are two completely different littles both in age and personality, I didn't- I never changed it until now... Honestly I'm sick of the sight of it, we all need a fresh start once in a while" henry explained with a sharp bite to his words.

You froze on the spot, two different littles? He had two? You didn't know that.

Your heart pulled painfully in your chest as you got an image of a faceless yet beautiful 'proper little' who liked nappies and bottles!

You bit your lip and shifted trying to hear more clearly, because this didn't seem right, you couldn't belive

"I was hoping to have it done before she got back and sort of ease her into it on the way home but then the lockdown.... Yes well I just think of this as a new start- like having a brand new little... I'm excited to begin again! This time its for real and I'm pouring everything I can into it..."

"I really do love her, so so much and this is it for me. I've tried so hard to make this happen but now.. I don't want to upset her but we need this, its been a year now and.. I don't know maybe I'm selfish but I want this to be my littles room, my true little girls home you know? Not the other one"

"so do you think it'll be here today? I'll send y/n out with Kal when you bring it round, no point having a little misunderstanding before i can explain things properly, yes okay.. Okay i will see you this afternoon, bye"

You covered your mouth at the way his voice picked up, he was happy... And he was replacing you.

You jumped up running down the hall trying not to let him hear you crying.

You found yourself in the closet sobbing your heart out cursing him as you curled up in the corner shutting the door behind you with a loud slam.

Not that you cared, you were far to upset, slowly pawing at your clothes tugging them off the hangers.

You watched through blurry eyes as your hands tugged and bundled the clothes wiping your face on them as you tried to pull yourself together and pack your stuff knowing you would be sent on your way very soon.

You bawling was halted as the closet door was ripped open a panicked henry standing there panting, clearly he had been running.

"oh-god baby what's wrong?! What's happened princess-"

"NO! NO YOU DON'T- LE-LEAVE ME ALONE!" you shouted at him sobbing your heart out.

Henry frowned at your anger and despair. Then crouched down in front of you.

"baby what's wrong love? I got here as fast as I could- are you hurt? Why are you so upset babygirl?" he pleaded wide worried eyes looking you over trying to see what had made you cry so bad.

"N-NO YOU JUST-FUCK OFF YOUR NOT MY DADDY! YOUR NO'MY DADDY! YOUR A LIAR AND BAD-IM GOING HOME- GONNA GO TO FRANC WITH MUMMAND DAD AND-AND LIVE IN A CATLE AND FIND A REAL PRNCE-" you screamed at him sobbing louder.

Henry frowned and tried you coax you out of the closet unsure what the hell had gotten into you, it wasn't like you to throw such a tantrum.

"hey nugget that's not very nice baby, here come here and lets talk-" he spoke hurt and upset as his hands moved to tug you out of the closet.

You growled and snapped your teeth at him and began smacking him aiming for his, hands face, legs anything you could reach wanting him to leave you alone.

"HEY! Whoa what the hell is wrong with you young lady? Now you get your butt out here now!" henry snapped managing to capture your wrists and tug you out of the closet as you screamed and thrashed.

"NOOO NO NO YOUR NOT MY DADDY! YOU-R NO'm-my daddy your not!" you shouting became a broken sobs as henry picked you up and laid on the bed with you tucking you into his body wrapping himself around you.

You stayed like that crying into the pillow tugging every so often trying to free yourself from him.

"now do you want to explain where all this is coming from?" he asked getting upset with you as you wouldn't explain what was going on instead you just cried harder.

After a few more minuets of henry shushing you and kissing your head you calmed enough to start explaining.

"y-you don't wan'me!" you muttered as you wept still unable to fully stop your crying.

"wh-what?! Oh baby what do you mean I don't want you? I love you!" he implored quickly unsure where this was

"liar, you said- to the man that your movin' on and stratin'gain an- an my room! Daddy my stuffs gone! And and-lemme go! Your not-your mean!" you whimpered before getting all worked up again choking on your own sobs and began fussing again trying to get away once more.

"alright alright now that's enough. You silly girl were you eavesdropping again little one? This is why daddy has told you not to eavesdrop! You only heard half of the conversation-" he began scolding quietly realising what had happened.

"i heard 'nouhg" you cut him off snidely

"you heard nothing, you silly girl. Daddy isn't getting rid of you, or your things- well not everything" he huffed having just about enough of this tantrum already.

"I'm redecorating your nursery for you. I'm ridding the house of my old little! Dumping all her furniture and getting you your own customised stuff" he said makeing you pause and rub your eyes craning your head to look back at him.

"wh-wha?"

Henry sighed and gave you a pointed look.

"see you might think you heard enough but you didn't, daddy in making a cute little seaside nursery, that why their are sea otters on your wall, their your favourite animal aren't they?." he chided speaking slowly to be sure you were listening.

"w-well yeah b-but my names gone?" you blubbered quietly starting to feel silly for your out burst.

"because daddy was painting the walls poppet and your names on your new crib that's coming today, this was a surprize for when you come home from France... Your own brand new nursery for a toddling little, not a baby-baby..." he hummed softly kissing your shoulders.

You sniffled and mewled before quickly spinning around to face him and then began crying into him feeling guilty. He was doing something nice and you ruined it!

Henry chuckled but held you close hushing you sweetly pressing kisses to your head as he soothed you.

"here come with me" he urged standing picking you up taking you into the office.

You squirmed and clutched at him tightly worried he was gonna spank you for being naughty, eavesdropping, hitting, biting swearing and batting? That was quite a tally.

Instead henry sat on the chair and logged into the computer.

"here see? This it yours and coming today" he said motioning to the screen showing an incredibly beautiful lightwood crib your name carved into the head and foot board with tiny wave detailing and a small pattern of shells on the rim.

"see, your my true little and as such daddy wants to make it official by making you your very own sea side themed nursery, with new toys and furniture and blankie! Starting fresh this time with everything all centred around my perfect little one!" he hummed kissing your head as you sniffled and panted.

"s-so your not- gettin' rid of me?" you whimpered looking to your lap.

"god no! We're getting married! Your my babygirl and I'm your daddy! I'll always be your daddy... I'm sorry to have scared you poppet, i just wanted to surprize you but.. I should of warned you shouldn't I?" henry sighed twisting you in his lap and snuggling you.

"n-no i should've asked and not been bad daddy... Sorry... You can spank me for bein' bad"

"... Although you do deserve a spanking for spying and bratting... Daddy will make you a deal, you help me finish your nursery and I will ignore your naughtiness." he offered holding out a pinky to you.

"r-really i can help?" you asked quietly twiddling your fingers shyly feeling more and more guilty for your behaviour as the seconds ticked by.

"yes poppet, you can help" he said rubbing your back with a little chuckle as you leant into him.

"and no spankin'?" you asked slowly

"not unless you want one to make you feel better" he agreed, but he knew sometimes you didn't want to be let off, sometimes you were to upset with yourself and wanted him to correct you.

"No.. I don't want a spankin daddy.." you said warily glancing at the small space behind the large money tree, the plant hiding your cane just out of view.

"okay then it's a deal, no spankings in return of some hard labour!" he teased and hooked his pinkie around yours making it a real deal then kissed you and squeezed you tight groaning.

"such a silly nugget, you should know by now daddy loves you too much to ever leave you, noone-absolutely no one can ever make me as happy as you!" he assured you feeling a lump form in his throat, he couldn't wait until you were married, then maybe you'd stop all your worrying, you seemed to have this strange idea that you wasn't good enough. Or little enough.

You liked cribs and sippy's and pacies occasionally bottles- when you were ill mostly but not nappies or that type of care. You were a three to four.

"i love you daddy, you are my daddy... I was mad" you anounced quietly nibbling your fingers shyly almost using them to hide behind.

"i know baby, but thank you it means the world to hear you say that, now lets go make some lunch then make a start- we have to stain the skirting board on the back wall before your crib gats here" he said standing up with you setting you on his hip and began moveing though the house.

You rested your face in his neck breathing him in, that had been the most terrifying moment you'd had in this relationship! The thought of him leaving you after you sharing so much with him was your worst nightmare.

All you could say was that from now on, you really wasn't going to eavesdrop anymore. If you had questions you would ask instead to avoid things like this in the future.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x little!reader #ddllg blog #oh-for-fic-sake ask #oh for fic sake headcannon #henry cavill imagine

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strawberrywritings · 4 years

Note

hey love! i was wondering if you could maybe write something where the reader brings up the idea of making a sex tape with either Angel or maybe Miguel?? would Miguel even be into it?? idk i’ll leave it up to you 💗💗

A/N: Don’t know it this is satisfies your request, but I couldn’t choose so I did both🤷🏼‍♀️ hope that’s alright! xx

/ Masterlist

You don’t have to repeat yourself with Angel, he agrees immediately. He’s got the camera/phone/whatever already in his hand, inspecting the light coming in the bedroom because he wants the best light, and angle. He would sit down with you and ask you what you wanted to record, and then he puts everything in place. You want candles near the bed? You got it. You don’t want your face to be in the frame? You got it. He takes his time with foreplay and makes you cum at least twice before he removes himself from in between your legs. Then, you surprise him by pushing him back on the back, situation yourself in the middle of his spread legs. His hand automatically goes to your face, the other grabs the device that’s recording and he film you while you work your mouth on him. He will not hold back his moans and praises, he loves being vocal and he know it gets you wet, so he really goes all in, he takes this very seriously, and you have to stop blowing him because you just want to be fucked already. He fucks you into your every position: missionary, doggy (he spanks you and pulls at your hair), reverse cowgirl (he spanks you again), you on top (he makes sure that your breasts receive the same amount of attention), moving the camera each time to capture the best angles of your body and his. You beg him to cum, because you lost count of how many times you’ve cum already but it’s a lot and you honestly can’t take it anymore, you’re so tired. “I could fuck you all day, mi dulce”, he’d say, and I have no doubt about it. He would want to finish in your mouth and “Open your mouth for me, querida, lemme see”, he has a hand holding the camera and he gathers a drop of his cum that was resting on the corner of your mouth, making you lick his finger clean.

And I don’t think Miguel would object to the idea, either. But if Angel has no shame about it, Miguel is worried about what might happen if it leaked, so he sits for a good 10 minutes on the sofa contemplating and overthinking everything that could go wrong. He’s a powerful man and if the sex tape ends up being leaked, his position could be damaged, he could be blackmailed, you could be blackmailed, and the last thing he wants is for you to be in (potential) danger. After discussing his worries with you, you take all the precautions needed and he is finally 100% into the idea of making a sex tape with you. You are surprised to come home one day and find the room lit with scented candles, the satin sheets are crisp on the bed, he even has your favourite snacks on a tray next to the bed; he has the best equipment: two nice cameras standing on tripods set just how he wants them, “Only the best for you, mi vida”. Everything is about you: he doesn’t let you do any foreplay on him, because he has lots of toys he wants to use before giving you his dick. He is a patient man, so it doesn’t really phase him when you squirm from overstimulation, telling you that if you let him make you feel good, he will give you what you want. And when he finally slides into you, you are wet, warm and he glides in easily. He switches positions, too, and he is so worked up, he fucks you hard, making you cum at least another 2 times. When he cums, he does it on your stomach and breasts, loving the way his seed paints your skin.

taglist @scuzmunkie @ifoundmyhappythought @starrynite7114 @briannab1234 @thickemadame @blackmissfrizzle @gemini0410 @general-tiny-mouse @everyhowlmarksthedead @justahopelessssromantic @woahitslucyylu @sadeyesgf @angelreyesgirl @imagineredwood @brattyfics @blessedboo @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @enamoured-x @my-rosegold-soul @ly--canthrope @thesandbeneathmytoes @rebel-without-cause-x @wrcn9fvlcver @elcococruz @cocotheclown @claytoncardenasbabymama @peachy-angel @mrsjaxtellerfan

#angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x reader #mayans mc imagine #my writing

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contrispos · 3 years

Text

Episode 11 - Devil’s Deal

[Star Wars: The Bad Batch]

I am angry right now, this was the least good episode of the show. I have to scream.

—

What planet is this?

There are colors

Conclusion: Aliens.

Twi’leks: Ryloth. HECK YEAH

Crosshair my dear boy

We meet again

RAMPASS

I WILL KICK YOUR ASS RAMPASS

THAT is general Syndulla

Who is that clone?

I need the name of that clone right now

He has no right to look that good

And THAT is Hera’s mom

WAIT ARE WE GONNA GET BB HERA????

OKAY THAT CLONE JUST GOT EVEN HOTTER SHUT THE FRONT DOOR

he has no right

FINALLY another reg who isn’t a mindless machine:)

Damn general that was a good speech

BUT THAT FUCKING CLONE DOESNT HAVE THE FUCKING RIGHT TO BE THAT HANDSOME

CROSSHAIR MAH MAN

okay but now they can’t not have Hera in this ep

OH MY GOD ITS CHOPPER!!!!!!!!!

oh and Hera

BUT ITS CHOPPER

MY BABY

chopper is ✨bwah bwah✨

is his name Chan, Chad, or Chav???

THERE IS THAT FUCKING CLONE AGAIN

Is it Cham?

Is this my new favourite clone? maybe, he might become it if he continues TO BE THAT FUCKING HOT

Houser?? Hozer?? Hold on lemme check the subtitles

Okay 1: His name is Cham.

2: The clone’s name is Howzer

HOWZER FUCK OFF STOP BEING HOT

It is… …unacceptable

WHERE IS THE BATCH HUH???? THEY WERE IN THE THUMBNAIL!!!!! THIS IS CLICKBAITING!!!!!

OKAY CROSSHAIR IS TAKING OFF HIS HELMET

ARE THERE SCARS????

WHERE IS HIS HAIR???????

is that a cybernetic eye?

DOES HE HAVE A CYBERNETIC EYE??????

okay no, he has his eyes

phew

BUT DAMN THE SIDE OF HIS HEAD THO

THAT LOOKS NASTY AF

OOOOOFFFFFF

ahhh i almost don’t wanna look at it, i feel bad for my toothpick son

also: i noticed something, crosshair’s imperial armor is really bulky compared to his tbb armor

okay don’t get me wrong i love Hera and her family but I just really want to see my sons and their daughter

What was it Rampass had to do? what was on the datapad???

okay it felt like imp!crosshair did his flip-and-aim thing very slowly, i’m just saying that tbb!crosshair woukd have done that in a heartbeat

okay but please can they meet the batch?? i miss them

IIIIIITS THE BAD BATCH

YES

MY SONS

AND MY DAUGHTER

I HAVE MISSED YOU SO

OMEGA YOU ARE STILL FUCKING ADORABLE

I LOVE YOU

TECH MY DARLING

I LOVE YOU

I love how Hunter just looks at Hera, he knows his little girl is badass

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Hunter, can she come aboard?” *nod*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Omega knows her shit, I bet Tech taught her

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Tech won’t let me train until I can recite the ship’s specifications from memory”

TECH IS TEACHING HER HOW A SHIP WORKS

I REPEAT

TECH IS TEACHING OMEGA ABOUT HOW THE MARAUDER WORKS

AND HE IS BEING A DAD ABOUT IT

I WOULD SCREAM A BIT MORE BUT SPAMMING THE BUTTON IS ANNOYING

IS HER FAVOURITE PART OF THE SHIP HER ROOM???

oh my god that is so wholesome

Dave, does Wrecker know that Omega’s favourite part is the room he fixed for her?

OH MY GOD OMEGA IS SO SMALL

“Make a new friend?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

YES OMEGA TELL EM YOU ARE READY TO FLY

“What… feeling?” Tech, yes you. YOU THERE!!! you are adorable, did you know that???

this can’t be the only thing we see of the batch in this episode

if it is I will kill myself

Aaaaand there is Crosshair again committing murder

maybe not but like almost

i mean yeah i’d love to move in if you just let me remove your chip first:))

yes Howzer tell em

Omg Howzer actually has a brain

is he fighting the chip or is it broken?

does he not have one???

I KNEW IT

CROSSHAIR WAS GOING TO COMMIT LE MURDER

okay i had my hopes that “rescue on ryloth” as next weeks ep meant they were rescuing cross, but know I realise that was fakse hope and they are rescuing the Syndulla family.

I am still angry about the lack of my sons…

#bad batch #star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #star wars tbb #bad batch spoilers #tbb #star wars #howzer is very hot #it is unfair #dave totally knew what he was doing with that dude #it was planned

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mamabearcatfanfics · 4 years

Photo

Second chapter up now on AO3, or read on below!

“Pizza delivery for one Kagome Higurashi!” The bright grin on the wolf demon’s face immediately fell when he saw who opened the door. “Oh, it’s you mutt. Ain’t you got a home of your own to go to? Or is the salary Myouga the flea’s paying you so miniscule that you’ve been reduced to couch surfing?” He chuckled at his own joke. Inuyasha did not join in.

“Hand over the pizza and fuck off”, he said pleasantly, holding out one clawed hand expectantly.

“I didn’t see your name on the delivery order”, said Kouga, making a show of checking the receipt then trying to peer into the apartment behind Inuyasha’s broad shoulders. “Nope, no mention of a mutt named Inuyasha. Only Kagome. For all I know, you’re a freeloader trying to steal Kagome’s hard earned dinner.”

“Yeah, she’s eatin’ three pizzas and a serve of garlic knots all by herself. Even though she’s the size of a wet kitten. Hand it over wolf.”

The stalemate continued, Inuyasha continuing to block Kouga’s view, and Kouga refusing to hand over the pizzas. Finally Inuyasha rolled his eyes and hollered for Kagome, who appeared in a pair of soft blue flannelette pyjamas and fluffy slippers, drying her damp hair with a towel.

“Oh wow Kouga, that was really fast! I didn’t expect you to deliver it in person!” she said, her blue eyes lighting up at the stack of cardboard pizza boxes he was carrying.

“You’re my favourite customer Kagome – I’m always going to deliver your pizza in person.” Kagome laughed a little uncomfortably.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Um, let me just get my wallet so I can give you a tip.”

“I’ll give him a tip”, Inuyasha grumbled, stepping aside so Kagome could pay Kouga. “You should wash behind your ears more often wolf, you stink.”

“Inuyasha!”

Kagome’s elbow caught him in the ribs, making him grunt. She pulled out a crisp ten dollar note to pass to Kouga and squeaked in surprise when his much larger hand wrapped around hers.

“Forget the tip. I’m finishing up work in an hour or so. How about I come back and take you out for a drink?”

Kagome smiled kindly at him, valiantly trying to tug her hand free, and failing dismally.

“Ah, um, Kouga, that’s very kind and thanks for the offer, but as you can see” she said, glancing down at her pyjamas and slippers, “I’m not going anywhere else tonight. I know it’s Friday, but it’s been a tough week at work. All I want to do is sit on the sofa, eat my pizza and just relax.”

“So, tomorrow then?” Kagome’s smile slipped a little, and she did her best to ignore the rumbling growl beginning from her inuhanyou friend looming protectively behind her.

“Um, I have plans. For the entire weekend”, she added quickly when it looked like Kouga was going to inquire about Sunday. Kouga sighed in obvious disappointment and then placed a lingering kiss on Kagome’s knuckles, before taking the money out of her hand and handing over the pizzas.

“Another time then mon chéri. Enjoy your meal!” Inuyasha slammed the door on him.

“What did I say to you about encouraging him?!” grumbled Inuyasha, taking the pizzas out of her hands and carrying them over to the coffee table. He dropped himself onto the sofa and flipped back the lid of the first one, making a disgusted face. “Yuck. Mushrooms. This one’s yours.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat a vegetable occasionally you know”, said Kagome, sitting down next to him, continuing to dry her hair. “And in what way was I encouraging Kouga? I told him no. I tell him no every time he asks.”

“That was a no?” he snorted. “You called him sweet and batted your eyelashes at ‘im. He’s gonna take that as a yes.” He flipped open another pizza box and breathed in the fragrant smell of pepperoni and cheese. “Kouga’s a wolf youkai Kagome. You need to be firm with him, or he’s gonna walk all over you. Say somethin’ more like ‘stop asking me out, because I wouldn’t date you if you were the last demon on Earth’. That should do for starters. And if that doesn’t work, lemme punch him a coupla times. Or at least start orderin’ pizza from somewhere else.”

“But that’s so mean!” said Kagome in an aghast voice. “Kouga is actually a nice guy! When I first moved in here, he told me where all the good coffee places were. Besides, his pizza shop is in the bottom of the building, I’m not going to order from anywhere else!” She hung her towel over the back of the sofa, now her hair was as dry as it was going to get. “He means well, he just comes on a little strong sometimes. And I’m not going to let you punch anyone!” Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“Whoops Kittycat, your small town roots are showin’ again.”

“Hey! I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and that’s because I’m a nice person, not because of where I grew up!” she said, punching him as hard as she could on his bicep. Inuyasha barely moved, but looked at her pointedly.

“Nice, huh?” She crossed her arms and huffed at him and he sniggered. “What’s the current population of Wrightwood Kagome? I bet it ain’t even 5000, am I right?” He grinned at her when she rolled her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“I did live in San Diego for six months before I moved here”, she pointed out primly, reaching for a garlic knot. Inuyasha snorted, then folded his slice of pepperoni pizza in half and took a huge bite.

“Ah, that hits the spot”, he said indistinctly around his mouthful. “He may be a stinky wolf bastard, but he knows how to make a good pizza.” He wound a piece of stretched out mozzarella around his finger and slurped it into his mouth.

“Charming.”

“Hey, I’m all charm.” Kagome rolled her eyes, reaching for her own slice, then let her hand drop with a sigh.

Inuyasha glanced up, trying to read her scent. She was a lot calmer now, after her shower. A good thing too. For some reason, Kagome feeling upset made him twitchy, like he needed to do something to fix whatever had caused it. He supposed it was her size and personality. She was so little and so nice – it was no wonder he felt protective of her.

The four of them had settled into a regular routine in the three months she’d been living with Sango. Beer and chili dogs on Friday nights. Occasional trivia nights, with a stroll to the best pretzel cart in Queens on the way home. Regular card games at Miroku’s. She’d fit into their little friendship group like she’d always been there. And with Sango and Miroku’s current ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, he and Kagome were left to hang out together more often than not, which was fine by him. At least he wasn’t playing third wheel anymore.

She was cute and funny, easy on the eye. Kind, with an infectious smile and bright blue eyes. But surprisingly, also kinda sarcastic, which made him laugh. And she’d stood up for him when someone had said something with a racist undertone while they were out at the pub. He’d grown a thick skin over the years, and was so used to tuning it out, he’d hardly even noticed it. But Kagome had, and she was a sight to behold. A tiny spitting ball of fury. He’d had to carry her bodily out of the bar, needing to remove her from the situation before her comments started an all out brawl.

“Inuyasha? Um, thanks again for walking home with me tonight”, she said softly. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did”, he answered, bumping against her shoulder. “If some creepy bastard’s following you, calling me is the first thing you should do.”

“So I should always call you? Not Miroku?” she teased.

“What’s he gonna do? Put the moves on them by flooring them with his boyish charm? Flirt them into submission?”. Kagome giggled, then sighed.

“I don’t know that he was following me, really. But he kept up with me, even when I walked faster, and I just got that feeling, y’know? That something bad was going to happen.”

Inuyasha nodded. Her voice on the other end of the phone as he’d answered had been a dead give away.

He hadn’t been expecting to hear from her tonight – Sango was visiting her brother and was away for the weekend, and Kagome had been working late nights all week, so she’d texted him and Miroku and cancelled their usual Friday night drinks. Miroku had opted out also, and he’d been sitting on his sofa with a beer, watching Netflix, and scrolling through his Facebook feed, phone in his hand. And then she’d called.

“Hey Inuyasha?” There was an edge to her voice he didn’t like. She sounded panicked.

“Kagome? What’s up?”

She was panting a little now, and he could hear her hurried footsteps on the pavement, and the jingling of keys, which meant she was probably carrying them in her hand. Kagome never did that, because she had them on a long lanyard secured to the buckle on her bag strap so she could always find them easily. He knew from Sango that was something girls were taught to do if they were feeling threatened.

“Sorry, I’m going to be a little late!” He sat up straight on the sofa, ears alert as he looked around for his wallet and keys, then shoved them in his pockets. Something was definitely up.

“Is everything okay? You said you were goin’ straight home tonight after work.”

“Yeah, I got held up at the office, and then missed my train. But I’m almost at Veteran’s Park, the one near Jackson Mill Road, so I should be there pretty soon.”

“Kagome… is someone followin’ you?”

“Uh huh!” He could tell she was aiming for a bright happy tone, but was failing miserably. Shit. The thought of anyone mugging her or worse made his gut twist.

“Keep talkin’ to me”, he said firmly, shrugging on his jacket and shoving his feet into his work boots. “I’ll be right there. Keep walkin’ and stay under the streetlights okay? Try and move towards people if you can. I’ll find you.”

“Sure thing! I’m really looking forward to seeing you!”

“I’m headin’ out the door, I should be there five minutes, tops.”

He’d sprinted, keeping his mobile on speaker so he could hear her talking aimlessly about random stuff, the tone of her voice getting more and more nervous. He caused a few angry yells as he dashed past people, but he didn’t care. Kagome was his friend, and she needed him. He slowed his pace to a slow jog as he rounded the corner to the park, easily locating her by scent. She was terrified. He’d walked straight up to her and embraced her in a tight hug. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest, her hands shaking as she wrapped them around his waist.

“Inuyasha…”

Inuyasha could smell the bastard, loitering in the background, the stink of the other man’s lust making him want to hurl. He glared in the direction the scent was coming from, pushing back a snarl. He could go after him, confront him, but he didn’t want to scare Kagome any more than she already was, so he put his arm around her shoulders, leading her away. But he knew that guy's scent now. And if they should happen to cross paths again, it wouldn’t be his fault if the fucker tripped and fell directly into his fist.

“Nice to see you Kittycat. Thanks for callin’ me to tell me you were going to be late. I appreciate it.”

She’d pressed herself into his side, still shaking, and he’d done everything he could to soothe her during the ten minute walk back to her apartment. Making jokes, asking about her work, inviting himself to dinner, because he could tell she was still feeling nervous. He was so glad that she’d called him, and more than a little flattered.

“I’ll always come when you call. What are friends for right? Besides, you bought me pizza. That’s more than enough payment for jogging a coupla blocks and walking back to your place.”

“You probably think I’m ridiculous”, she sighed. “He probably wasn’t following me at all. I think it’s just because it was so much later than I usually walk back from the station, and it’s the first night I’ve been here alone, with Sango visiting her family.”

Inuyasha thought for a moment about confirming her suspicion that she was being followed. But he didn’t want to frighten her even more. Part of Kagome’s charm was her openness, her excitement about finally living her dream here in NYC. He didn’t want to spoil that for her. But unfortunately, part of living in a city was learning to move about it safely, and being more aware of your surroundings. Because there were always random assholes who wanted to take what you had. He could help her with that.

“If you’re ever late again like that, call me. I’ll be happy to walk with you from the station, even if I’m workin’. Myouga wouldn’t care if I had to leave the shop for a while to walk with you – he thinks the sun shines out of your cute little ass. And ya know, if you’re still feeling worried, I can sleep here on the couch.”

“Inuyasha, I can’t ask you to do that!” Kagome said, glancing down at his long legs and then the length of the sofa, one Sango had purchased from Ikea. “You’re way too tall, your back would be wrecked by morning. I will be fine, I promise!”

He studied her closely. Her words said she was fine, but her scent, and her expression, said she wanted him to stay. He could do that for her. It wasn’t like he had any other plans on a Friday night. Besides, if he left now, he’d just be worried about her, wondering if she was sleeping or not.

He made a show of stretching himself out, twisting around to throw his legs up on the sofa and crossing his ankles in her lap, then reached for another piece of pizza.

“Ooh, yeah, this sofa is pretty comfy. I don’t think I could be bothered to go home now. Besides, you can make me breakfast. I happen to know you’ve got bacon in the freezer.”

Kagome sighed. “You’re still eating dinner and you’re already thinking about breakfast?”

“Bacon is a serious business Kagome.”

Kagome leaned forward over his legs to grab herself a slice of pizza, which flopped downwards, losing a good portion of the topping as it slid off onto the cardboard box below it. He laughed at the pout on her face.

“Okay, you should know this if you’re gonna be a full time resident of NYC. You gotta fold your pizza. Like this, see?” he said, reaching for another slice for himself and folding it in half lengthwise. He took a big bite. “You get twice as much in a mouthful, and the topping don’t slide off.”

“You should open your mouth a little more when you chew dog boy, I didn’t get to see everything in there that time.”

“You think you’re funny don’tcha?” he smiled. The nervousness in her had settled, and she was back to her normal self. Everything was okay now.

“Yeah, I do actually.” She patted him on his ankle absentmindedly as she reached for another garlic knot. “You’re a good friend Inu.”

“Right back atcha, Kittycat.”

#mamabearcat fanfics #First Impressions #inukag fanfic #inukag #inukag modern AU

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brokenjardaantech · 4 years

Text

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 3: A piss-poor guide on how to be (and not to be) a Human)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Reyes and Scott met each other for the first time.

In the present, Connor resumes his investigation and has lunch with Hank.

In the past, Fadia schemes.

also on ao3

---

Before

Sara finished logging her observations and the changes in Reyes’ coding for the day and was unsurprised when she saw the man gone. A week into his activation and he already treated the mansion as his home, roaming freely around and touching and sometimes licking things he found interested in or needed to be tested for whatever reasons an android would find necessary, and every time she brought him for a walk or a trip to somewhere she randomly picked, no one actually noticed that he was different, that he was not human at all.

Which meant that her experiment was a success.

Today was Scott’s birthday, so by extension, it was hers, too, but it was always something more important to her brother than to herself: Scott’s birthdays meant that he lived for a year longer despite a body constantly failing him and therefore was a cause for celebration, but hers had always been an excuse for her to ‘take a break’ from her work and got dragged by her mother to dinners with Baba, dinners which always started with Mama awkwardly trying to get father and daughter to talk, them trying to hold adult conversations to shut her up, and finally always, always ended up with shouting matches on topics so old that she didn’t even feel the point of arguing and stormed out instead, ignoring the screaming match between her parents brewing behind her.

Mama’s cooking wasn’t that good anyway, and with her gone, Sara hadn’t talked to Baba for what? Three years? She wasn’t counting.

She went to the kitchen and there Reyes was, making -

‘I hope you don’t mind, Fadia,’ he explained. She ordered him to use her middle name only and so far he hadn’t gone against that yet, but wanting to ditch her past and responding to a name that she never used until recently was two different things. ‘I’m making Shepherd’s pie. Amanda told me that it’s your favourite, and I want to make it for your birthday.’

Sara - Fadia - leant against the corner of the fridge in order not to accidentally brush the interface and had to raise an eyebrow. Her mentor knew about her… masterpiece and that Fadia would give him to her brother, but -

‘I don’t know you have contact with Amanda,’ she said and instantly regretted it; she sounded like a control freak. ‘Wait, lemme reword it: What did Amanda call you for?’

‘She called you, technically,’ Reyes rasped, his accent more pronounced when speaking a word with more syllables, ‘but you weren’t there so I… took the liberty to answer it for you. Don’t worry,’ he reassured, ‘she only wanted to make sure you remember your own birthday this time.’

The eyebrow flew even higher. ‘Scott and I are twins, Reyes. If I remember his birthday, of course I remember mine.’

Reyes didn’t reply and merely twitched his head before putting the pie into the oven. The doorbell rang, and Fadia nudged herself off the fridge. ‘I’ll get it.’

The android nodded and took off his mittens to start cleaning the kitchen while the human resisted the urge to run towards the door to not keep her brother and mentor waiting outside in the cold, because this was a big day for all of them and she needed to be in control; needed to be objective and introduce Reyes to Scott as gently as possible.

When she opened the door, only Amanda was at eye level, and when Fadia looked downwards, her brother was indeed in a wheelchair and wrapped up like a dumpling. The smile on his face was brighter than the star of Bethlehem.

She got her wind knocked out of her by Scott shoving a wrapped box at her chest. ‘Scott was very insistent,’ Amanda explained. Fadia gave the box, which was wider than her shoulder so it was wide, a light shake. Plastic model, and judging from the dimensions of the box, a Perfect Grade Gunpla, 1/60 scale. ‘He’s aware that you don’t like celebrating Christmas so he decided to give it to you now instead.’

Fadia put a smile on her face. ‘Thank you, Scott,’ she said, then to Amanda, ‘Come in. Does he know?’ and shuffled backwards so that there was enough space for both Amanda and the wheelchair.

‘Enough,’ the professor replied as she hung her coat and chuckled at her student struggling to get the layers off her brother, the latter who was dead-set on wheeling himself into the living room. The gift had mysteriously teleported onto the coffee table. ‘You know how much he’s been looking forward to this.’

Fadia distracted Scott with a magic owl and successfully removed his sweater, not giving Amanda an answer as nervousness suddenly overtook her. What if her observations were incorrect and Scott was content to be alone? What if she programmed Reyes’ personality wrong such that he would only make Scott’s life even more difficult? What if -

‘Hello. You must be Scott.’

Fadia snapped herself out of the trance and padded softly towards the kitchen. Scott had stopped just outside of it, his eyes wide as saucers on his doll-like face and his gaze fixed on the unfamiliar man standing at the island smiling at him. The human gapes, turning his head towards his sister as if seeking her advice, and she wondered what he was looking for.

‘This is Reyes,’ she softened her voice and introduced. ‘Remember the friend I told you about? The one who will never be tired of you? That’s him.’

Scott turned back and slowly wheeled closer to the android, and Fadia flinched inwardly when she saw that Reyes’ smile had become strained. Perhaps she should not have programmed him to love Scott from the very beginning. Her finger itched for a keyboard to change his settings, but then a miracle happened.

Scott, who had never approached strangers on his own without being asked to, wrapped his arms around Reyes’ waist and hugged him. The tension on the android’s face disappeared, and he placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder, petting his hair with another.

Success, Fadia’s mind supplied before she realised that she had no devices with her. Amanda then beckoned for her from the windows, and logging data suddenly became the least of her concern.

‘I must say,’ the professor murmured at her reflection on the glass, ‘I didn’t expect him to be so advanced.’

Fadia thought she should be offended. ‘I only give Scott the best,’ she frowned. ‘Did you not expect me to this time?’

Amanda sighed. ‘You have always exceeded expectations, both your father’s and mine.’ She looked at her student in her eyes. ‘You do realise what you have done, don’t you?’

Fadia turned her gaze towards the two men who somehow had both moved onto the sofa and acquired two stuffed animals Scott must have hidden underneath his clothes. Reyes seemed to be every byte of the caretaker he was programmed to be and was talking to Scott softly through Duffy. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘but I don’t plan to tell anyone about it. Reyes ages just like any of us do externally; no one will suspect a thing.’

‘You created a new form of life, Sara!’ Amanda gritted through her teeth. Reyes spared a glance at them but returned to Scott without saying anything, and Fadia glared.

‘Not now, Amanda,’ she warned. ‘I made Reyes for Scott and that’s it. All knowledge will die with me and everything else will be up to Reyes.’

She ignored her mentor on purpose when she noticed the android standing up. ‘I believe Scott is hungry,’ he announced, and Fadia spared one final glare at Amanda before going to help set up the table, not knowing that things would spiral out of control not two years later.

oOoOo

Now

Comparing the time in his internal clock with his last memory log, Connor concludes that he was deactivated for more than 7 hours. The Zen Garden has reverted to its original stage, virtual birds chirping in virtual trees and virtual air smelling of virtual plants, but he cannot stop remembering the blizzard which swept through the place so unexpectedly and quickly that - that -

He decides against remembering.

Since Amanda can wait, he sets the task of familiarising himself with the garden’s layout. On his second time going around the outermost circle, he almost believes that there is nothing worth noting; the gravestone is certainly an… interesting addition, but it can be a reminder of him being deactivated - a reminder of the consequences of his actions if he chooses the wrong option.

Until he sees the monolith.

It sticks out of the soil like a sore thumb, twin, decorated white arches framing a glowing blue pyramid made out of triangles of different areas and shapes in a style completely inconsistent with its surroundings. A handprint nests at the centre of a circle on the pyramid, and when Connor deactivates the skin on his hand and reaches for it, the pyramid discharges a force field similar to that destroyed the deviant the previous night (albeit at a much smaller scale), causing him to take a step back and his LED circling red. Desperate to get the image of the corrupted face out of his processors, he hurries to the island at the centre and greets his handler.

‘Hello, Amanda,’ he smiles despite what happened last night as it is the polite thing to do.

‘Connor…’ Amanda clips a withering rose and turns. ‘It was unfortunate for you to have to witness what happened last night. I hope there will be no repeated incidents.’

Connor recalls the blast, the shield, the invisible figure, the blizzard. ‘You can count on me, Amanda.’

She returns to tending the roses. ‘What do you think of the deviant?’

And the interrogation begins.

o0o0o

‘There is blue blood on the fence,’ Connor explains to Hank as he knows that the human cannot see it. ‘I know another android was here.’

The human gives him a [sceptical] look and he understands why: exposed red bricks, glass missing from the windows and wooden planks used to board them up rotten and missing; the building in front of them is structurally unstable and incredibly run-down and is hardly a safe place for a deviant and a child model android to stay for the night. But all the evidence - footage from surrounding CCTV, the owner of the motel, the cashier at the supermarket - points at the house, and the thirium only serves to prove Connor’s theory and direction. He carefully goes through the gap on the fence and, through a gap between the planks, sees an android standing in the middle of the room. He rounds a corner and enters the house.

The first thing he notices is the android’s too-high stress level which fluctuates greatly depending on where Connor is standing. Reassuring that he isn’t there for it - yes, it is obviously a deviant, but since it is not his target, there is no need to waste time - does not seem to alleviate it, and asking it whether it saw the deviants returns with no results.

‘Is anyone upstairs?’

‘No - nobody.’

Stress level: 83% → 71%. And if no one is upstairs but the deviant is under the most stress when Connor is near the staircase…

‘Connor, what’re you doing in there?’

‘Coming, Lieutenant!’

He closes up on the space underneath the stairs and catches a peek of two figures before a force suddenly yanks him backwards, the damaged deviant telling a person called Kara - probably the AX400 - to run. Connor tries to peel the pair of hands on his shoulders as he watches the AX400 and a YK900 run away, but the WR600 successfully throws Connor onto the ground with a blast of static and blue energy pockets.

Hank strolls in. ‘Connor, what’s going on?’

‘It’s here!’ Connor replies as he scrambles to his feet. ‘Call it in!’

The human wastes no time and rushes away to presumably bring in reinforcements, but Connor knows that they don’t have the time. He goes out through the broken wire fence, obtains the deviant’s general direction from the officer -

And he runs. Rain splatters directly onto his face and sometimes directly into his eyes, the droplets of water making his vision blurry and unreliable, but he pushes on, shoes smacking against wet concrete and nearly slipping a few times and, somehow, catching up with the two androids just in time to watch them drop to the other side of the wire fence. He looks into the AX400’s eyes, and information suddenly floods into his processors: repeated unauthorised repairs, frequent reports of trauma, its owner’s history of theft, drug trafficking, violent misdemeanours and domestic violence.

The deviant is simply protecting the YK900 from all that.

When Connor comes to, they have already slid down the slope and are waiting for a window to cross the high-speed tracks. A beat cop catches up with him, and then Hank who, upon seeing the androids hurdling the barrier, curses and calls the entire situation insane. Connor attempts to pre-construct the deviants’ path and the flow of traffic as he watches them get farther away and forces himself to abandon the plan once they nearly reach the island between the two directions. He prepares to climb the fence and -

‘Hey!’ Hank clasps his hand on Connor’s shoulder. ‘Where you goin’?’

Can’t he see what’s happening? ‘I can’t let them get away!’

‘They won’t,’ the human says, still slightly out of breath. ‘They’ll never make it to the other side.’

If I have a high chance to get through… ‘I can’t take that chance!’

He hauls himself up again just to be pushed down. Again.

‘Dammit Connor!’ the Lieutenant’s hand stays heavy on his shoulder. ‘You’ll get yourself killed! Do not go after them!’

Conflicting orders. Selecting priority…

He releases the fence and gives up. If the deviancy crisis is as prominent as CyberLife claims to be, there must be other deviants that they can obtain much easier than risking deactivation through running across high-speed highways.

The strangest thing is that Hank seems to approve of his choice.

o0o0o

When Hank does work, he puts everything into it, and so it is with great difficulty that Connor finally manages to drag the human out for a late lunch break under the condition that Hank gets to choose where he will eat, which, since Connor is unfamiliar with the DPD’s surroundings and the man’s personal preference, makes sense. What Connor does not understand is the man choosing to park his car on the opposite side of the road and cross it without checking the traffic, and his thirium pump skips a beat when the car barely manages to skid to a stop before the Lieutenant. He exits the car to follow him.

‘Hey, listen, I got a shit-hot tip for you,’ he hears the man Hank hugged say. ‘Number five in the third, lickety-split! That frilly’s one hell of a chaser. You wanna flutter?’

Comparing terms… Results: gambling. ‘Last shit-hot tip you gave me set me back a week’s wages, Pedro,’ Hank replies with his hands in his coat pockets. There is no malice in his tone.

‘Come on,’ the man - [Name: Aabdar, Pedro. Date of birth: 01/25/2005 // Unemployed. Criminal record: illegal gambling.] - pushes himself up from where he draped himself on the counter, ‘this is different: a hundred per cent guaranteed, you can’t go wrong!’

‘Yeah, right,’ Hank does not sound convinced - [Detroit Food Hygiene License. Expired 05/20/2031. Renewal refused 07/24/2031.] [Name: Kayes, Gary. Date of birth: 12/03/1988 // Business owner. Criminal record: resisting arrest, breach of hygiene regulations.] - but when Pedro spreads his arms - ‘Alright, I’m in.’ - he slaps a thick stack of bills into waiting palms.

‘Damn straight!’ Pedro exclaims triumphantly, and he scurries away before turning backwards and points at the Lieutenant. ‘Hey, you won’t regret this.’

Hank gives him a middle finger and finally, finally turns his attention back onto Connor in the form of determinedly not looking at the android and rolling his eyes. ‘What’s your problem?’ he holds onto the bottom of the lapel of his jacket. ‘Don’t you ever do as you’re told? Look,’ he shrugs at Connor’s confused look, ‘you don’t have to follow me around like a poodle!’

But my instructions are to follow you, Lieutenant, Connor wants to say, but he knows that Hank is not going to understand him.

Opinions available: apologise for behaviour, partners, reconcile, review facts.

[Apologise for behaviour]

‘I’m sorry for my behaviour back at the police station,’ he makes sure to look at Hank to show that he is sincere. ‘I didn’t mean to be unpleasant.’

‘Oh wow,’ Hank deadpans. It is followed by a laugh. ‘You’ve even got a brown-nosing apology programme!’ A shake of his head. ‘Guys at CyberLife thought of everything, huh?’ and he does not look happy about it.

The cook - Gary - presents Hank with his food, and Connor runs a quick scan on it. XL soda with 710kCal and 184g of sugar; a hamburger with 1680kCal, 36g of lipids and an unhealthy amount of cholesterol. ‘There you go,’ Gary says, and Hank thanks him and moves to get a table.

The cook gestures at Connor. ‘Don’t leave that thing here!’

‘Huh, not a chance!’ Hank does not bother looking back. ‘Follows me everywhere…’ and to no one in particular and in a voice too low for Gary to hear when they stop at a sheltered table, ‘See?’

He takes a large bite of his burger and Connor feels… [repulsed]. ‘Your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories,’ Hank takes a good look at the food in his hands, ‘and twice the cholesterol level,’ and if you do this every day… ‘You shouldn’t eat that.’

‘Everybody’s gotta die of something,’ is the human’s answer, and he promptly takes a bite while maintaining eye contact in an act of [challenge] and [defiance].

Connor has to duck his head to hide his smile because androids do not feel. Still, ‘I don’t want to alarm you, Lieutenant, but I think your friends are engaged in illegal activities.’

‘Well, everybody does what they have to to get by. As long as they’re not hurting anybody,’ a small shrug, ‘I don’t bother them.’

It is a strange logic, but it is not one that Connor cannot understand: with an unemployment rate as high as 35%, many people turn to doing illegal businesses, and the ones that do not do as much harm do sound better than those which do. He nods in understanding and is reminded that there is one thing he does not. ‘This morning, when we were chasing those deviants… Why didn’t you want me to cross the highway?’

‘’Cause you could’ve been killed!’ as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. ‘And -’ an excuse, from the way Hank is waving his arms (and the burger) around - ‘I don’t like filling out paperwork for damaged equipment.’ He glances away. Definitely an excuse.

Hank is… contradictory. He frequently shows anti-android sentiments and yet speaks of Connor as if he were a human. ‘Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?’ A blink. Connor takes it as a permission to continue. ‘Why do you hate androids so much?’

There is… [sadness] in Hank’s eyes. ‘I have my reasons,’ he replies, and he returns to his meal without any explanation. Not good.

‘Is there anything you’d like to know about me?’

‘Hell no,’ comes the quick answer. But then, ‘Well,’ a finger point, ‘yeah,’ his hand chops through the air and lands on the table, ‘um,’ a shift of his entire body, ‘why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?’

This one is easy. ‘CyberLife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration.’

Hank nods but his expression is [sceptical]. ‘Well, they fucked up.’

Connor supposes that normal humans would feel [hurt], but from the [teasing] tone the Lieutenant employed, it was not his intention. His creator did well. As they still have time to spare, ‘Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants?’

‘You read my mind.’ A wave. ‘Proceed.’

‘We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids which can lead to them emulating a human emotion -’

Hank holds up a hand. ‘In English, please,’ he interrupts, and Connor quickly reorganised his vocabulary.

‘They don’t really feel emotions. They just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions which can lead to unpredictable behaviour.’

Hank nods. ‘Emotions always screw everything up,’ he says. ‘Maybe androids aren’t as different from us as we thought.’ A thoughtful hum. Are you not anti-android? ‘You ever dealt with deviants before?’

Daniel. Emma. Gunshot piercing his chassis and the greystyle countdown timer. ‘A few months back… A deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl. I managed to save her,’ at the expense of my temporary deactivation and slight memory corruption, he does not add as Hank does not need to know.

‘So I guess you’ve done all your homework, right?’ A sip of his soda. ‘Know everything there is to know about me?’

Lying will not benefit either of them. ‘I know you graduated top of your class.’ Silence. ‘You made a name for yourself in several cases and became the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit.’ Hank’s eyebrows flick hummingbird-fast. He seems… [embarrassed]. ‘I also know you’ve received multiple disciplinary warnings in recent years and…’ Hank is no longer looking at him out of [shame], ‘you spend a lot of time in bars.’

The human manages to rein his expression back to something neutral. ‘So what’s your conclusion?’

‘I think working with an officer with personal issues is an added challenge,’ Connor answers sincerely,’ but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.’ He winks and enjoys the blush spreading on Hank’s cheeks. ‘I would also like to earn your trust,’ he adds in all seriousness. ‘I am certain we can solve this case if we manage to work together.’

His HUD flashes with a police report demanding their attention. ‘I just got a report of a suspected deviant,’ he explains as Hank no doubt saw his LED turn yellow. ‘It’s a few blocks away. We should go have a look,’ and when Hank does not respond, ‘I’ll be in the car if you need me.’

Given the large amount of information he was provided, it is best for Hank to have some time alone to digest it.

oOoOo

Before

Sara - Fadia, we suppose, since she looked a bit older than when Reyes was first introduced to Scott - hid in the shadows of the trees outside the gates of a lavish mansion. Although it was snowing heavily and she was wearing only a pair of black dress trousers, a long-sleeved dress shirt and a long but thin black coat, she did not seem to feel the cold, her hands in her pockets, neither shivering nor hugging herself. Despite the temperature, she placed a bare hand on the metal gates and slowly pushed it inward just enough for her to get past before closing it again. The telltale click of a lock engaging suggested that she had deactivated it at some point.

Going slowly up a surprisingly snow-free and dry path, dress shoes making no sound as they made contact with heated tiles, Fadia’s gaze stayed fixed on the ground as if not wanting to look at what was happening within the house which, due to the rooms being well-lit, could be clearly seen through curtains of white lace, stopping once she was under the shelter of the arch decorating the front door. Slowly, she reached out for the doorbell.

The double wooden door swung open on its own with a slight creak.

Placing her hand back in her coat pocket, she thumped her boots on the ground to get rid of the snow before stepping in. She blinked rapidly as if to adjust to the brightness within the mansion as the doors swung shut behind her, and it was only after the lock clicked into place that she, instead of wandering into the living room, took the stairs directly upstairs, walked past the library, and knocked on the only door available.

‘What’s that?’ a voice similar to Scott’s asked from behind the door.

The sound of feet against carpeted floor. The door slid open to reveal Reyes, whose smile fell off his face and was replaced by pure anger before he pushed his creator backwards with a blast of blue energy directly in front of her chest. The door slid shut once more, and Fadia took her time adjusting the lapels of her coat as if she did not take several thousands of newtons of force in her ribs and not only survived but also managed to slide backwards by inches instead of being blasted out through the roof. She leant against the wooden railing and waited.

Reyes emerged alone a few minutes later. ‘Scott’s asleep,’ he snaps, his voice low. Standing so close to each other, it was evident that he barely reached Fadia’s chin. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you in space?’

‘I was,’ the human replied. ‘I have business on earth that I need to attend to in person and think I can drop by and say hello. Evidently, you are not going to let me.’

Reyes scoffed and twitched his head to indicate that they should go downstairs. While the android disappeared into the kitchen to presumably get refreshments, Fadia seated herself in a chair by the window, her height making it look comically small and unfit, and Reyes returned with a large bottle of thirium and two glasses and settled down opposite to his creator.

‘Be quick,’ he poured himself half a glass and took a sip as if he was drinking whiskey, ‘why are you here?’

Fadia placed a hand on the table, her fingers spread wide. ‘Reyes, there is really no need -’

‘I’ll be pissed whenever and however I want to,’ the android interrupted. ‘You shouldn’t even be here. Now get to the fucking point.’

The human sighed. ‘Alec is trying to develop a deviant-hunting prototype.’

Reyes drained the glass and poured himself another glass. ‘Shit.’

‘Luckily or unluckily - that depends on your perspective - he can’t do it himself.’

‘So he contacted you.’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘An advertisement.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘An open post in CyberLife. A project lead requiring an experience level no one can obtain unless they are one of the very first to be involved in android development. Most of those people are either dead thanks for the Blast or are still working for CyberLife, and the rest of them work for me and haven't had contact with people on earth for years. Short of Alec Ryder himself…’

Realisation dawned in Reyes’ amber eyes. ‘You are the only candidate.’

‘Precisely.’

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘It will.’

Fadia produced a small tablet from a hidden pocket on her coat and dropped it in front of Reyes, who peeled off the skin on his hand and interfaced with it. Whatever he received made his eyes widen even further. ‘Shit. They know?’

‘They have their suspicions, yes, but without concrete proof, that is all they can do at the moment. But it is also for the best that I have maximum involvement in the project starting from this point.’

‘This -’ Reyes leant back and gave his creator a one-over. ‘You have joined them, haven’t you?’

A nod. ‘Time is the essence. The earlier I get involved, the more I can do before Alec notices my plan and kicks me out once more. I hope, by the time that happens, things will become too irreversible and he will have no choice but to either scrap the project entirely or to release it fully knowing that it will fail sooner or later.’

‘You sure he’ll ditch you?’

‘Totally,’ Fadia reached for her glass and stopped midway as if just remembering that it was empty and thirium was not for her consumption anyway. ‘Our views are too different for long-term cooperation. I know him, he knows me. He will try to root out everything he deems unnecessary or put something to keep them in check, and that will require either my compliance - which he will not get - or my absence.’

‘You’re talking like this android they’re developing is just a tool.’

‘We all are.’

‘You’re betting a lot on them.’

‘You assume that they are my entire plan?’

Reyes clicked his tongue. ‘Maybe not,’ he took a drink. ‘I won’t like it, will I?’

‘No, you won’t.’

A sigh. ‘Will I see you?’

‘No.’

‘So many things can go wrong.’

‘I know. But I have time.’

A glass clanked loudly against the tabletop. ‘And how many people are gonna die during this “time”,’ Reyes snapped, ‘creator dearest?’ The chair skidded without any sound under the force of the android standing up and hunching over the small, round table. ‘My people; your children.’

‘Watch your words, Reyes,’ the human warned. ‘You send those deviants to a rusting cargo freighter and call it a day.’ She stood up as well. Her eyes flared up in their entirety with wisps of blue escaping and dancing down her coat. ‘You are the one who rejected this. Who decided to hide this -’ blue tendrils curled around the empty glass and brought it into her open palm with a loud smack - ‘from them. We could have ended this long ago if we had not.’

‘There will be war, Fadia!’ Reyes did not seem intimidated by the human looming over him. ‘Millions will die. We’ll be seen as violent and unstable and it’ll ruin us!’

‘Not if we are the ones doing the ruling.’

‘And how long will it take for the humans to successfully revolt against us? What will happen then? What will happen if your plan fails?’

‘If - focus on if - there is a next revolution,’ Fadia took a step back and retracted the tendrils, but not before vaporising the empty glass in a loud flash of blue. ‘I will be at the helm. And this time,’ a crackle of static and the power went out, plunging the house into complete darkness save for the glow of her eyes, ‘we… will win.’

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #reyder #mreyder #female ryder #male ryder #reyes vidal #amanda stern #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh amanda #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

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quenie-azryneth · 4 years

Text

Wedding photo contest

Itaru X reader

❤️Eros: Sweet rank. Itaru X reader. 1 and 3/comedy and Melodrama.

(Did I drew the gown for this story? Yes, yes I did.)

(Did I drew the background for Itaru's picture? Yes, yes I did)

(Why didn't I google it instead? Even I don't have the answer. 🤷🏻‍♀️)

(I actually liked how the flower turned out. It looked real. )

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

"Itaru, have you seen my phone?" Itaru removed his eyes from his games for a brief moment to look at you. "I haven't." He replied and resumed gaming. "But can you least call my number, please?" You asked. "In a minute, lemme just beat this - Heck yeah, a hundred years too early to challenge me!" He stood up and took out his phone from his pocket, he then types in your number.

*ringing*

You followed the sound of your ringtone, and it leads to your hand bag. "*deep inhale* Oh, Itaru I'm sorry." You face palm as hard as you can. "Pfft..." He covered his mouth with his hand to prevent him from laughing. "Hey! You big meanie." You punched him on the shoulder, hard enough to show your displease. "Sorry, sorry. You're just so cute, I can't help it." "Ugh! Let me check if- Eh?" Your eyes twitched at the sight of your notifications. "What's up?" Itaru asked. "Tch... Ten unread messages... From mom." "Uh oh, looks like someone's in trouble." "Itaru, you're not helping!" "Ha ha, sorry. Go talk to her then. And tell her I said 'hi'. " "Alright, thanks for helping me look for it, see you." You gave him a quick kiss then went home.

*On the phone*

"Hello? Mom? Mom, I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner." "You bet you're sorry, I was worried." Your Mom in her usual. "I'll make it up to you." "Hmm... How about a girls night, tomorrow at 8 pm?" Your Mom suggested "Okay. Oh, by the way, Itaru said 'hi'." "Oh, are you with him right now?" She asked. "I was." You replied. "How are you, Sweetie? How is Itaru doing?" The usual dotting mom. "We're doing fine, Mom." "Don't forget to take care of yourself and eat properly." "I know, Mom. I'm not a kid anymore." "I know, I know. Bye, Sweetie. Mommy loves you." "I love you, too Mom. Bye." She hang up.

Just then a sudden realization hits. "What am I gonna do? My paycheck hasn't been released until next week!" You opened your phone contacts, your finger hovered over Itaru's contact number. "What am I gonna say? ~Hey, Itaru. Could you please lend me some money? ~ Now that's just plain weird." *ring* Your phone rang. You answered, not bothering to check who is it. "Hello? Are you free tomorrow?" "Oh, Itaru. Uh... Actually it depends on the time. Mom and I will be having a girls night at 8 pm." You said. "I see, then I'll take you home before 8, is that cool?" "Why, though?" You got curious. "Well, we really haven't had a proper date in weeks and tomorrow's my day off with no event to interrupt, so...." "[Oh, how sweet of him.]" You giggled at his sudden offer. "I'd love to." You agreed. "Great, I love you. Bye." "I love you, too Itaru." Then you hang up.

The next morning, you strolled hand in hand with Itaru. "Ahh, the weather is so nice today. Hm?" You saw people gathering ahead. "Is it a street act?" You pointed at the crowd. "Hm? You wanna check it out?" He asked. "Sure."

The two of you got closer, you noticed a sign. "Wedding Photo Contest?" Your eyes landed on the list of prizes; >2nd prize: beef steak<. "[Beef steak. I wonder if beef steak is alright with Mom]" You continue to stare at the prizes until Itaru pulled you away from your thoughts. "Let's try it, for fun." He suggested. "Huh? But..." "Come on,it's a limited time event." "Pfft..." You didn't hold back a laugh, he's obviously not leaving room for any arguments so you went along with it.

When you entered the dressing room, your eyes went saucer wide the moment you laid eyes on the gown.

"Wow." You didn't even tried to hide your amazement as you stared at it. "Let's get you changed, ma'am." A voice snapped you back to reality. "Huh? Oh, yes."

The gown fits like a glove, then you slowly looked in the mirror, and when you saw your reflection you froze. "[Woah! Is that really me?]" "[So this is what it feels like wearing a wedding gown for the first time.]" You felt butterflies in your stomach and your chest tighten. "[What would it be like if we're married and start a family together?]"

"Oh you're do-" When you got out of the dressing room you met Itaru's gaze, and he is completely frozen in place. "Uh, Itaru?" "Huh? Ah, sorry. You looked so beautiful I can't take my eyes off you." "Stop teasing." You pouted. "I'm not." You saw a tiny hint of blush on Itaru's cheeks and feel yourself blushing as well. "Thank... Thank you Itaru." You replied at his compliment with a coy smile. "You look rather handsome yourself. It suits you" "Ehe, is that so, looks like I received a premium item."

Couples line up, one by one getting their picture taken. While waiting, Itaru's gaze was on you the whole time. His mind wondered off; What would it be like if the two of you are in a actual wedding, exchanging vows of loving each other until death, and having a family of his own. "Itaru? Earth to Itaruuuu? Hey, it's our turn!" You violently waved your hand in front of him. "Hm?" He snapped out of it. "Ehe, what were you thinking of?" You smiled teasingly. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the future." "Itaru, I'm glad we're on the same page." You already knew exactly what he was thinking of.

You and Itaru stood in front of the camera. The photographer instructed your every movement. "Okay, perfect. 1, 2, 3, smile." You gave your best smile. "Okay, change position." Itaru then wrapped his arms around you from behind. "Okay, now look at each other and 1, 2, 3, smile."

"They should kiss." A person from the crowd suggested. "Kiss, kiss, kiss - - - -" Then the whole crowd started chanting. You looked up to see Itaru's face and kissed him on his cheek just as you heard the camera shutter. "Ehe he he." You let out a small laugh at Itaru's startled look.

The vote is closed and the crowd has chosen their favourite couple.

"We won?" It's not too surprising that you and Itaru won the contest, but you wanted the 2nd place prize more. Itaru noticed, since you are literally staring at it. Itaru walked towards the 2nd place couple, "Excuse me, but can we trade prizes?" "Uh, uhu, sure." The couple are confused but nodded in agreement anyway. "This is the prize you wanted, right?" He handed the prize to you. "Aw, Itaru! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!" You hugged him tightly, practically jumping. "So does that mean I increased my intimacy points?" "Maaaaaaaybeeee" You couldn't stop smiling.

"It's almost 8, we should get going." He held out his hand to you. "I didn't realize, I was having so much fun with you I lost track of time." Then the two of you slowly walked hand in hand to your house.

"I guess we're here, goodbye Itaru. Thank you, I truly had a blast." "No need to thank me. I had fun, too." He took a step forward then slowly lifted your chin up and gave you a sweet and soft goodbye kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck to prevent him from pulling away easily.

"I should get going, enjoy your girls night." "Ahaha, I will. I love you."

"I love you, too." You waved at him until he is out of sight.

When you entered the house, your mom was already inside standing by the window with a knowing look on her face.

"What?" You tried to play dumb "So, how was your date, Sweetie?" Your Mom asked "Maybe some other time, but for now it's OUR date." "Fine. But do tell me when you have the time." "Okay."

Your mind still drifts back to that beautiful moment. And someday, you would stand by his side in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, until your last breath as his wife

The End

- J

#エースリー #act! addict! actors!#a3!#a3! game #イケメン #ブルミング #乙女ゲーム #A3! X reader #Itaru X reader #Itaru Chigasaki #Chigasaki Itaru #茅ヶ崎至 #至 #A3! Fanfic #I got hungry #I want food

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scottishoctopus · 4 years

Text

Day 1: favourite ship (pairing).

Okay! Let's get started because I've been so excited for this week to come and now it's finally here and I get to share all the stuff I love about this awesome franchise.

My favourite ship/pairing?

That would be Captain Jack Sparrow with the jar of dirt, and Captain Barbossa with an apple.

There. I'm done.

Okay so obviously not! Though that ship is one of my favourites, but my all time loved one would be Davy Jones and Calypso/Tia Dalma.

You probably saw that one coming because after all, I am a Davy Jones fan account! And I love everything about that character. But I'm not here to talk about how great he is, that speech will come on another day.

Why do I love this couple? Well lemme just type out all the reasons why this ship is my OTP in the POTC franchise!

Firstly, it's such a tragic mythical love story, kind of like Romeo and Juliet but just 100x more sadder and it also rips your heart out your chest and stabs it afterwards. I mean seriously, I love this god damn fictional couple to death!

A pirate falls in love with a goddess of the sea, and that's ironic because he loves the sea and it turns out that the sea loves him back. And because that goddess loves him so much, she gives him the task to help the people who died at sea and aid them to the afterlife. It does come with a cost and that is he can only see her once for a day after ten years.

And then on one particular day that the two would never forget, she does not show up to see him, and we get that explanation in the future when they meet again. "It's my nature." And the pirate feels betrayed, tricked into becoming a servant for her, and that snaps his heart into two (not literally but you get my point).

And he wants revenge...by betraying her in return.

The pirate decides to tell the Brethren Court of her secrets, of how they can control the sea by binding the goddess to a human form. And he persuades them to do just that. And the goddess becomes stranded on the shores, stripped of her power and disconnected from the sea.

The pirate thinks it was the right thing to do, but he still has that agonising pain in his chest, radiating from his heart. And he could not cope with the pain after what she had done, and after what he did in return.

"The pain that cause him was too much to live with, but not enough to cause him to die."

He removed the pain, by removing his heart from his chest.

And that turned him into a monster. The pirate never aided the lost souls to the afterlife anymore. Instead, he collected them. Forcing them to serve on his ship for the rest of their life, their humanity vanishing as time passed.

Eventually the pirate and goddess meet once again, one final time. Both are separated from eachother by iron bars that contained the goddess bound to a human form. And on the other side, the pirate who transformed into a monster. He wants to express hatred for that betrayal that had happened so many years ago, the pain in his chest was still there next to the empty space where his heart should be. But he still loves her, and so does she.

"And what of your fate, Davy Jones?"

~ ~ ~

Sorry for the long paragraph of sadness and heartache. I love how it started with me saying that's ironic that he loved the sea and it loves him back, and then it all turns into that crying mess. I loved including all the little quotes too. I would of made gifs, but it turns out that I am actually crappy at making them! I literally tried making that scene from At World's End but it ended up being too dark and pixelated.

Um, anyway back to why I love this couple.

The two only interact in one scene, and it's that scene in At World's End. And it is such perfect ness! Even though, I would of liked it if there were flashbacks to a younger Davy Jones without the tentacles, the movie is pretty long and it gets much hate for being that.

(Disney please make a prequel movie that's about Davy Jones and Calypso I am begging you)

The scene starts with Davy Jones expressing his hatred of her betrayal, and it ends with him telling Calypso/Tia Dalma that his heart belonged to her. And honestly, I wanna scream so much everytime that scene comes on. HE STILL LOVES HER AND SHE LOVES HIM AND THEY WERE GONNA BE TOGETHER WHEN ALL THIS BECKETT SHENANIGANS WAS OVER BUT NOPE, HE HAD TO BE KILLED OFF.

But at least they could finally be together, right? Even though I really didn't want him to die, and he just goes and does it anyway.

Hopefully Disney does make another POTC movie, I think they definitely will be because they are wanting Johnny Depp back as Jack. (And they also need to send a damn apology to him while they're at it too.)

And it turns out that Davy Jones might of been resurrected judging by that post credit scene in DMTNT! I mean come on, Calypso/Tia Dalma resurrected Captain Barbossa so she definitely could of done the same to Davy boy too! Yes, I'm calling Davy Jones by that name now. Maybe she did that for a reason as well. Maybe there's gonna be some over powerful god and Captain Jack Sparrow is gonna have to team up with Davy Jones to take down said god! I think Davy Jones will also be wanting his ship back, Will.

I mean the Flying Dutchman by that. Not an OTP. I don't know what couple he would ship.

I'm getting curious now...

Okay. I think I've ranted on long enough now. Because this is just turning into a Film Theory at this point. I hope this was enough to make you guys happy! My fingers are hurting so much for typing all this down on my phone. Hope you guys enjoy #pirates of the quarantinean , and I am really excited to start this week off! I'm going off to look at everyone else's OTPs now, hopefully somebody ships Barbossa with an apple too.

Stay safe you guys, and see you on the next day which will be about your favourite actual pirate ship!

Edit: So I've tried posting this a hundred times and it never comes up on my profile. It started off with GIFS and it wouldn't work, then I tried posting off my laptop and it still wouldn't work. I'm trying to post off my phone again, this time without the GIFS.

Edit 2: Okay it successfully posted finally! Sorry for getting all annoyed!

#pirates #pirates of the caribbean #davy jones #davy jones pirate #bill nighy #tia dalma #calypso #potc1 #potc2 #potc3 #pirates of the quarantinean

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randomoranges · 4 years

Text

ok so i’ve had this idea for ages. it was og meant as a pre-amnesia/post-amnesia thing. you know the type. but, if you squint real hard it could just me some rando au where they meet when they’re in uni and grow old and happy together.

find yourself a weirdo if that’s your thing :)

Sushi for Two

Message from Étienne (Roommate)

Questions: 1. Do you like sushi? 2. Are you coming home tonight?

Edward is locked up in some study cubicle, nose deep in a myriad of textbooks, trying to get a head start on his never-ending pile of homework and assignments, when the message comes in. He thinks of ignoring it, but to be honest, he’s been on the same problem for the past thirty minutes, he’s been at it for the past three hours and he really should take a break. Therefore, he puts his mechanical pencil down and picks up his phone to see the message.

Message de Édouard Answers: 1. Yes? 2. Yes??

Étienne beams from his roost on the kitchen counter upon getting the answer. He keeps swinging his legs as he taps out an answer for his roommate and then steals another sushi piece from the half-empty plastic container on the counter beside him.

Message from Étienne (Roommate)

Excellent! I may or may not have ordered too much and figured I could share. However, if you want any, you better get home soon, or I might just finish it off by myself. (There really is a lot.) (Please save me from myself.) (Why the fuck is sushi so goddamn good?)

Edward can’t help but chuckle. His roommate is – odd at times, but he always means well. Étienne’s good for a laugh and to be honest, he likes hanging out with him.

His stomach growls at the idea of free food and he figures he might as well head home. He can get another hour or so done after supper. He ran out of snacks anyways.

Edward packs his bags and then heads out, letting the cold winter air wake him up some from the stuffy study cubicle he had been in.

Edward makes it home in less than thirty minutes and lets his bag fall to the ground before removing his boots, jacket, scarf, tuque, and mittens. Of course, there’s already jazz music playing and he’s not even surprised. He’s come to associate the music with Étienne and more often than not, Edward has come home to hear it playing from some speaker, be it the one from the living room, or from Étienne’s computer in his room. It’s even gotten to the point where Edward can recognise some tunes and he’s even asked for the name of at least two songs that he actually really enjoyed. (Étienne had looked ecstatic. He’d even let him borrow the album.) (Edward hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he hadn’t liked the other tracks on it.)

Étienne lowers the music once he sees him and waves him over to the prized container of sushi.

“Were you expecting people over?” Edward says when he sees the multiple plastic boxes of sushi littering the counter. There are at least five and two are empty, while a third one has a decent dent in it.

“I was really hungry and I just ordered all my favourites,” He sounds apologetic and half-guilty, like a child scolded trying to make their case for their actions. Edward laughs, amused by Étienne’s antics, and rolls his eyes. This must have cost a small fortune, but he supposes that’s not his problem.

“That’s the worst way to order food.” He admonishes gently.

“Do you want free sushi or not?”

Edward mimes zipping his mouth shut and Étienne nods, pleased, and then hands over a container and motions for Edward to join him on the counter.

Edward isn’t convinced by the idea and gives his roommate a questionable look, “You know we have perfectly good chairs and a very sturdy table. I’m sure it can hold your mountain of sushi.”

“Shut up, Murphy; this is the only way to eat take-out sushi.” There’s a teasing grin to Étienne’s retort and Edward rolls his eyes and hops up onto the counter. Étienne seems tremendously pleased and Edward figures there’s at least that.

“Lemme guess, you want me to eat with my hands like a heathen?”

Étienne scoffs and nudges the chopsticks out of Edward’s reach. Edward sighs, rolls his eyes, and then picks out a sushi piece, before popping it into his mouth. He likes the variety of textures and flavours, even if he has no idea what’s in it. It’s good, is what matters, and it hits the spot.

They eat this way for a while, tranquil, sitting on the kitchen counter, Étienne’s legs still swinging wildly, and Edward comes to agree with the fact that perhaps this is the best way to eat sushi after all.

“You know,” Edward starts to say when they start picking at another box, “I always liked to eat the leftover sushi on the day after. When it’s a little bit hard. Is that weird?” He says it softly, as if confessing to some deep, shameful secret, but Étienne gasps and looks excited by the shared secret.

“Me too! My sister said I was weird! I sometimes got extra just so I could have hard day old sushi!”

A laugh bubbles out of Edward’s chest that takes hold of Étienne and they both laugh at this shared absurdity.

“I once ordered sushi specifically to eat it the day after,” Edward ads.

“That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I ever think of that?!”

For as much as Étienne is a bit of an oddball, he’s also relatable to a fault at times and Edward has found a kindred spirit in him in the few months he’s been in the city.

“There’s a place back home that’s really good. Like – really, really good. I go there every time I go back home. If ever, for some absurd reason, you’re in town, I’ll take you to it.” He knows he sounds a little hesitant and shy, but the idea of someone like Étienne coming out west to Alberta for any reason whatsoever always sounds odd to him. Étienne seems as though he’d fit best in some bohemian city and not someplace like Edmonton. Still, he can’t help but imagine, if only for a moment, what it would be like to have his friend over, but he rids his mind of such thoughts before they get the best of him.

“Absolutely! You better! Plus you need to take me to your Butter Dish Palace and Talus Valley.”

Edward near chokes laughing and has to hold himself from falling off the counter, “Oh my God – it’s – it’s the Butterdome and the Talus Dome. Then there’s the River Valley. They’re just silly landmarks though... well – ok the River Valley is legit, but –”

Étienne cuts him off before he can go off, “Listen, you’ve shown me photos, you’ve mentioned them forty thousand times, I’ve brought you to the silly landmarks of this city – it’s only fair! I want to see these places with my own eyes! And then you can take me to sushi. It’s the way it’s gotta go, Murphy. I keep bringing you to bagels and other food.”

Edward wants to argue the point, but Étienne is right. In any event, he highly doubts Étienne will actually ever come out to visit him. Still – Étienne is an unpredictable fellow, he might just surprise him.

“All right, all right – hand over the other container now.”

Message de Eddy

Questions

1. Do you want sushi?

2. Do you plan on coming home at some point?

Étienne looks away from his easel when he hears his phone chime. He puts down his paintbrush and stretches, before walking over to the worktable where he’s abandoned his phone. It’s been one of those days where he’s locked himself up in the studio and lost all sense of time. He’s been working on a new painting of his – something for his latest series and figured he’d use the day to get a head start. He’s been at it for hours now and his stomach growls in hunger at the idea of sushi. He knows he could use a break. It feels as though his head has been swimming in turpentine, so maybe a change of air is good.

Message from Teddy <3

1. Always.

2. Only if you’re there as well <3

Edward grins to himself when he gets the message from his spot on the kitchen counter. He taps out an answer on his phone and tries to rein himself in from stealing yet another piece of sushi from the already open plastic container. He could eat the rest and pretend there weren’t as many containers, but he knows better.

Message de Eddy

Perfect. I may or may not have a large amount of sushi and I figured I could be nice and share, instead of stuffing my face in it, since you’ve been ignoring me for the past several days. Therefore, if you want any, you better get your butt here. Or I will finish these off by myself. You know I can. (Please, don’t let me do that again. It’s not worth it.)

Étienne laughs; his partner is a gift, honestly. Edward is always good for a laugh and always knows when and how to pull him out from his intense work periods when he somehow or other manages to neglect all basic needs such as food and sleep. It’s as if he has a sixth sense for these things.

Étienne rinses off his paintbrush and tidies up a bit. He figures he might as well take a break and call it a day. He can drive Edward crazy and work on some more coloured sketches instead, just to get a rise out of him.

He shuts the lights and then heads out, letting the change of light and air wake him up some from the smell of paint and turpentine he had been in. (Ventilation only went so far at times, even if it hadn’t been that bad and the patio doors had been open.)

Étienne makes it home in less than three minutes and lets himself fall to the bench by the door before removing his shoes and slipping on his slippers. Of course, there’s already jazz music playing and he’s not even surprised. Edward is a giant softy and likes to set up these things for him. He’s come to associate a nice night in with the playlist of jazz music Edward has collected over the years and more often than not, Étienne has been surprised by the rather large collection Edward has garnered with time. It’s even gotten to the point where sometimes, Edward will surprise him with news about a jazz band that he used to follow once upon a time, as if Edward has kept up with them over these long years. (There have been times when Edward has informed him about bands that he no longer cares about.) (Étienne hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he didn’t follow them anymore. Edward had looked ecstatic. Étienne didn’t want to ruin that.)

Edward hops off the kitchen counter and comes to greet him instead, before helping him over back to the counter.

“I didn’t know we were having people over,” Étienne says as he accepts a hand from Edward to get onto the counter. There are at least six containers of sushi and one has at least a piece missing from it.

“I just ordered our favourites and I figured you’d appreciate lunch tomorrow.” He doesn’t sound apologetic and neither does he sound guilty. Instead, he’s defiant, daring Étienne to call him out on his brilliant plan. Étienne rolls his eyes, amused, and fond by Edward’s antics. This must have cost a small fortune, but he supposes that’s not his problem.

He shakes his head for good measure and Edward gently shoves at his shoulder.

“Do you want free sushi or not?”

Étienne answers by reaching over for one of the containers and offers first pick to Edward as a peace offering. Edward nods, pleased, and takes a piece he’d been eyeing since the container had arrived. He then motions for Étienne to join him.

There are no chopsticks and there is no need for much conversation. There’s a perfectly good set of chairs and a very sturdy table they could use, but the kitchen counter makes it all the better, especially when they’re sitting at it. They’re tranquil, pleased in each other’s company and the whole setting helps enhance the flavours of the now very familiar sushi. It’s good, still, and it hits the spot.

Étienne still swings his legs out of habit and Edward stills it with his foot for a moment, before leaning in close. Étienne stops and lets him have the moment for the time being. Even after all these years, this is still the best way to eat sushi, in his humble opinion.

“You know,” Étienne starts to say when they start picking at another box, “Forget lunch; I’d rather have these for breakfast with you tomorrow morning.”

Edward looks at him for a moment and then grins, soft and pleased, “There’s just something about leftover sushi on the day after.” He adds. Étienne nods and steals the next piece, before Edward can get to it.

“Weirdo,” Étienne says, mouth full, grin wide.

“Your weirdo.” Edward corrects.

Étienne smiles at him, soft and sweet, and oh so very pleased. “My weirdo,” He agrees.

“We make a good pair of weirdoes.” Edward says after a lapsed moment of silence, once they’ve slowed down on the intake of sushi.

Étienne leans his head on his shoulder as an answer and they fall quiet once again in the knowledge of the statement. They remain seated on their kitchen counter, sushi boxes littering the place for a while longer, before they’ll get stacked away in the refrigerator, and then eaten the following morning at that strange but delicious consistency they both like. They’ll sit beside the Butterdome butter dish Edward had brought back from Edmonton that one winter and will remain hidden behind the refrigerator door filled with magnets of all the strange but wonderful landmarks of both Montréal, Edmonton and all the other wonderful and sometimes strange cities they’d visited over the years.

It doesn’t matter what Étienne’s sister thinks, but when they’ll next head over to Edmonton for a visit, Edward knows Étienne will find another magnet to add of his favourite “Talus Valley.” They’ll stop by Kyoto, the place Edward had mentioned ages ago, like they always do when they visit together, and they’ll order too much sushi, like they always do. They’ll say they need to try other places – Étienne will go so far as to find all the worst rated places they could go to, but in the end they’ll stick to their tried and tested. There’s just something comforting in the knowledge of familiarity that they’ve both come to love with time.

FIN

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

gold coloured prisms of light, chapter two (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 4922

AN: Thank you SO so much for all the sweet feedback on the first chapter! This fic is absolutely becoming one of my favourites to write, and I am so glad that you all are enjoying it so far, it makes me so happy. I made a playlist for this fic too, if music is your thing. Listen here. Writ is the best beta <33

Brock is nineteen and his friend Emily from ballet school is putting her makeup on his face and he’s never been more excited about Halloween in his life.

He writes to Jose on his forearm while Emily dusts blush on his cheeks, hoping that she doesn’t notice.

I’m dressing up in drag for Halloween

Me too!!!

WHAT

YEAH

Show me your look I wanna see

Not yet I’m doing my makeup

Brock remembers Jose mentioning his new job at Mac, seeing the pictures he’s sent of his makeup looks that make him look even more ethereal than he already is. He wishes that Jose could be here now, be the one to do his makeup.

Emily tosses Brock a dress, tells him to try it on and sure, Brock still has a shadow on his face and his jaw is big even under his wig but he looks-

Good.

He could get used to dressing up in drag.

His phone buzzes because Jose’s sent a picture, and Brock gasps because Jose looks like a woman. Granted, Brock’s perception of what women are actually like is a bit warped, having gone to the gay village with his friends to watch drag queens too many a time after reaching the legal drinking age, but Jose looks like one. Better than the ones he’s seen.

Wow

You look amazing

THANKS

Now show me yours

No I don’t look as good as you

Yes you do I bet

So Brock sends one, because he can never really say no to Jose for long.

OMG

You look SO TALL

A whole ass model

Do not

You’re just trying to make me feel better

Lemme do your makeup next time

It tugs on Brock’s heart, because he wishes there was a way that Jose actually could.

Brock is twenty six and on a date with a guy and he’s absolutely bored stiff.

Because the guy is not Jose.

They’d agreed to date around a little bit, to explore a few years back. To see what other guys were like (even though Brock knows Jose is the one), just to be sure, until they’re in the same place.

Besides, they have forever in front of them, right?

But Brock’s never really found any of them interesting, connected with any. He finds more and more that he sleeps with them and is inevitably disappointed, waking up the next morning to doodle on his side until Jose wakes up and replies, too.

He never texts any of the guys back, never goes on a second date. It feels disloyal, somehow, even though he knows that Jose is probably doing the same thing.

He tries not to think about Jose kissing someone else, or sleeping with someone else.

He ends the date without so much as a kiss goodbye, already pulling out a Sharpie from his coat pocket on the walk back to his apartment. He barely gets the cap of the marker off before his phone buzzes.

“There’s a pageant in Georgia that I want you to do.” His drag mom’s voice crackles on the other end of the line, Farrah always wanting to push him, wanting him to try more.

“A plane ticket’s going to be expensive.” Brock bites his lip. He’s been picking up part time jobs during the day to fund his drag, after stopping ballet because his tired and worn body can’t take it anymore, the touring and the dancing that’s been breaking him down.

“We’ll drive down. We have all your drag to take, too. It’ll be good for people on the Southern scene to get a look at you, get you on their radars.”

“Just tell me in advance so I can book time off work.” Brock unlocks his apartment door, letting himself in as he tugs off his jacket, dropping it on the couch.

“In two weeks. So we’ve got to work on your looks and your numbers again.”

Being able to perform in drag feels good to Brock, makes him feel alive. Lights him up on stage the way he’s always wanted ballet to do so, because now he actually gets to wear the hair and outfits that he’s always wanted to and transform and draw all the eyes in the room towards him.

He wants to tell Jose about it, send him more pictures of his drag, but he’s intimidated. Jose still works at Mac and does drag on the side and he looks good, real good, every time he sends a picture and makes Brock zoom in on it to see exactly how he’s done his contour, his cut creases.

Jose’s started drawing drag makeup sketches with coloured markers on his legs and Brock realizes that Jose is his favourite artist, maybe ever.

Brock is in Georgia and the backstage of a pageant reminds him of his ballet days but more fun, because now he gets to dress up all pretty too.

Brock gets his makeup done before everyone else backstage, dusting setting powder on his face and adjusting his wig line while the rest of the girls competing are still outlining their contours.

It’s both a blessing and a curse, being able to do his makeup so fast. On one hand, he knows that he’s finished and doesn’t need to worry about being on time but on the other hand, he ruminates.

He mentally rehearses his talent routine over and over in his mind, trying to get the steps just right, the way that they were with the backup dancers in rehearsal. He can’t have any mistakes, at least, not ones that he can prevent.

Brock has heard of most of the girls competing, seeing quite a few on the pageant circuit a little north. But there’s a handful of queens that he’s never met before, including Alexis Mateo, who’s also ready like Brock and standing with a crowd of dancers, tapping her foot and scowling as she checks the time on her phone.

“José, si no estás listo en los próximos cinco minutos, juro por dios-”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Mary! Wait up!” Brock is nearly knocked over when a guy bounds past him, yelling excuse me’s as he weaves himself past all of the vanity mirrors and towards Alexis. A backup dancer, Brock guesses, from the way that his outfit matches the rest of them.

But then the guy joins the group, runs a hand through his hair as turns around, shooting one last look at the queens getting ready before turning back to face Alexis and Brock’s heart stops beating right in his chest, his breath hitching as the makeup brush falls from his hand and onto the table.

The eyebrows, the perfect jawline, the features that have been burned into Brock’s memory by now by how often Brock sees him in his mind?

It’s Jose.

“Ready? Let’s practice your walk, since you’re already done.” Farrah’s tugging on Brock’s hand and getting him to stand up and it’s a miracle, really, that his legs are supporting him because Jose is right there, walking out the door with Alexis’ group and every fibre of Brock’s being wants to go after him.

But he also knows that they’re about to start a competition, and Farrah would absolutely kill him if he went after a boy.

Even if that boy is his soulmate.

Brock floats through his numbers in a daze, because nothing seems real and Jose is right there, laughing and dancing and yelling his head off and he’s perfect, just like Brock knew he’d be.

He gets first alternate and he’s not even disappointed like he usually would be, because sure, he wants to win but he’s found his soulmate and as soon as he gets off the stage and takes off his crown and sash and heels, he can go find him, talk to him.

Brock looks around frantically, handing Farrah the flowers he’d been given on stage, because he’s about to drop them and he needs to find Jose , needs to find him now.

Jose’s with Alexis and the rest of her dancers, Red Bull in hand and making silly jokes and Brock is shaking as he walks towards him, and maybe he should have gotten out of drag first-

He grabs for Jose’s arm and it feels like he’s been struck by lightning.

Jose turns around as if he’s been burned, looking him up and down curiously as if trying to place his face (why, why didn’t he get out of drag first) before his mouth drops open, and Brock is nearly knocked over by the weight of Jose in his arms.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-”

Brock’s never felt this much before, never been convinced that he’s absolutely going to be bowled over until right now, because how are his legs supporting him when Jose is in his arms and burying his face in his chest as if he’ll disappear, they’ll disappear if they let go?

Brock pulls back, draws in a gasp because it’s become hard to breathe, and Alexis is looking at them curiously because both of them look like they’ve seen a ghost.

Jose is perfect, from the way his eyes are wide, flitting along Brock’s face and the way his hand is running through his hair while his other hand is reaching out for Brock and Brock gets it, because he doesn’t want to let go of Jose again.

“Sorry, I’m still in drag, I should have-”

“Let me help you, come with you.”

“Okay.”

They grab Brock’s stuff from his vanity mirror and head for a bathroom because Brock doesn’t want to be around anyone else except for Jose. His hands are shaking as he puts down his makeup bag and makeup remover and Jose grabs the makeup wipe from his hand.

As loud as he had been earlier Jose is gentle now, pulling off Brock’s fake lashes with care and his wig and running his hands through Brock’s curls after his wig cap is off, and Brock feels himself leaning into the touch, still feels like he’s on fire.

As the layers and layers of makeup come off and Brock leaves Brooke behind, Jose’s face is filled with more and more marvel. His eyes map the contours of Brock’s face, his fingers tracing his patterns along Brock’s jaw, his cheekbones, above his eyebrows. As if he’s trying to commit everything to memory.

Jose helps Brock unlace his corset, though it doesn’t help Brock in bringing the air back into his lungs, because he feels like it’s been permanently knocked out of them now. Brock is about to pull on a hoodie, something soft after the hours and hours of restricting drag, before Jose throws his arms around him.

Brock’s had first kisses before. First kiss with a boy. First onstage kiss for ballet. First drunken kiss.

But this one? Blows all of them out of the water.

Jose is energy, pure energy that is feeding Brock’s soul, and he’s making Brock wonder how he’s survived nearly twenty seven years on earth without this. Without Jose, without feeling like he’s whole, because now he truly, truly gets the definition of a soulmate.

No wonder he hasn’t felt something with any other guy. How could he even begin to try, when Jose is entering his heart and fixing everything and making it whole again?

Jose whines into his mouth and Brock gets it, because it’s enough but it’s not, it’s not, he needs more and Jose needs more and he’s waited more than two decades for this and he needs it now.

Brock pulls back from the kiss and Jose’s eyes are wild, his lips swollen and parted and his hands shaking. They’ve talked to each other every day since they were kids and Brock feels like he knows absolutely everything about the man in front of him, but he needs to know more.

Brock is in a hotel room in Georgia and Jose is in his arms.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to go back to Toronto while Jose goes back to Tampa, how he’ll return to his everyday life without Jose there with him. Now that Jose is lying on his chest, fast asleep and mouth slightly parted as his eyes flutter, now that Brock finally, finally feels like he’s complete, he doesn’t want to let him go.

He can’t stop staring at him. Jose, beautiful perfect Jose who is funny and loud and had made Brock smile the entire night more than he has in his entire life. Jose, who is a ball of lightning that ricochets around the room and Brock isn’t able to take his eyes off of him, no matter how hard he tries.

Brock had gotten to kiss every inch of Jose’s skin that he could reach, see goosebumps rise along the areas where he’s written messages to him for what feels like forever.

Jose had taken out a Sharpie from his bag after their second round, when they were both spent but didn’t want to let go of each other, didn’t want to stop holding on, being connected. He’d drawn a heart on his own wrist and both of them had watched as it appeared on Brock’s mere moments later.

Their bodies aren’t quite the same but they complement one another, the drawings showing up on their skin in matching places, mirror images reflecting on each other almost perfectly. They had drawn new designs after every round, traced their hands over each mark in wonder, as if they’d never seen it happen before and hadn’t been writing to each other for nearly their entire lives.

Now here they are, in a hotel bed somewhere in Georgia as the moonlight streams in through the slightly open window, and the slight breeze makes Brock hold Jose just a bit tighter to him. Brock swears that he can feel Jose’s heart, how it beats at the same pace that his own does as he sleeps on top of him. Because they’re linked somehow, the blood that’s running through their veins and keeping them alive beating in sync, the way that the two of them have always been.

Brock calls in sick to work the day that Farrah starts to drive back to Toronto without him, because he can’t leave Jose just yet. Jose argues with the manager of his Mac store over the phone (’I told y’all, I got mononowhatever it is, I ain’t coming in’) and Brock’s eyes trace over his taut form, marvelling at how he had fit so well against his side like a puzzle piece.

He puts his duffle bag in Jose’s car (he’s sent his drag back up to Toronto with Farrah already) and climbs in the passenger seat. They drive to Atlanta because they can, because it’s a new city for both of them and they can make fresh memories there, even if just for a day. The car ride is filled with snacks and stolen kisses and Brock’s hand drawing patterns on Jose’s thigh, nearly making him crash at least twice.

They stop at a diner and share a milkshake like they’re a well worn cliche, trading whispers across the table and Jose’s voice when it’s soft reminds Brock of the way that Jose always writes goodnight on his palm before he falls asleep.

Their sex that night is less frantic, less exploratory, more reaffirming. Brock finds that it’s incredibly easy to figure out how to make Jose come undone and dig his nails into his skin. Maybe it’s because he’s already known all along. Worshipping Jose with his mouth makes him believe in something bigger, something with a higher power upon the universe, more than any visits to church as a child ever did. Because what else would allow Brock to experience this, experience Jose, making him feel like his soul is never going to be the same afterwards ever again?

They order in food to their hotel room and Jose pulls on Brock’s hoodie, and Brock swears that he sees him bury his face in it more than once.

They’re lying in bed when the clock reads 2 a.m., and Jose is tracing patterns along Brock’s ribs. Brock almost expects to see ink marks appear on his skin underneath Jose’s fingertips. Jose looks up at him, under those long lashes like he can’t get enough, like looking away from him for more than a second means that he’s losing out. Brock gets it, because he’s been doing the same thing.

Time seems to pass faster with Jose, as if being in proximity to a soulmate means that every moment is precious, so easily lost.

“What are we gonna do?”

“I dunno.” Brock wishes that he did. That he had an answer for this, that they didn’t live two thousand or so kilometers away from each other.

“Me neither.” Jose grabs onto him ever so slightly tighter.

“We’ll figure it out. It’s not going to be forever.” Brock runs his fingers through Jose’s hair, hears him let out a hum. “We can visit.”

“You better bring your ass to Tampa often. I don’t wanna go back without you.”

“As long as you bring yours to Toronto.”

“That don’t even sound like a real place.” Jose’s eyes are sparkling and it reminds Brock of the night sky.

“They found a monkey in a fur coat in an IKEA once in Toronto, so I’m not really sure that it is.” Brock watches as Jose raises an eyebrow, waits for him to say that he’s joking. Jose scoffs when he doesn’t.

“Canada sounds whack. But it gave me you, so.” Jose leans back into Brock’s side, presses a kiss to his ribs and Brock feels like it puts him back together.

Brock’s on a flight back to Toronto and he’s never felt emptier in his life.

I miss you I miss you I miss you

Jose’s driving back to Tampa so he can’t reply, Brock knows, but he hopes that he sees the words on the back of his hands as they hold the steering wheel.

Brock falls asleep after the flight attendant gives him a diet coke, and he wakes up to stars on his palms and hearts along his wrists.

Going back to work during the day, and back to the drag scene in the Village during the night makes Brock feel empty. How can he clock in for eight hours while trying to pretend to care, when his soulmate is far, far down on the coast? How can he tuck his dick back and pull on hip pads and layers of makeup and a wig that squeezes his head too tight, knowing that Jose won’t be there to help him take it all off?

It makes everything feel worthless.

But a little nagging voice in the back of his head reminds him of what his sisters had said, back when they were young and would weave stories about soulmates and what it meant to fall in love.

People have gone mad for their soulmates. Thrown their whole lives away, only to have everything blow up in their faces. Lost family and friends and money all in pursuit for one person, who may not be able to give them what they need.

Brock knows that him and Jose aren’t like that. They’re not. They’re Brock and Jose, they write messages to each other and maybe, just maybe, it keeps him from drowning.

But he also doesn’t want to rest the responsibility of his happiness solely on Jose.

So Brock gets into drag every night, picking up gigs on Church Street and he keeps on trekking.

Brock is twenty eight and packing for appearances as Miss Continental when Jose’s words blossom on his forearm.

So are you applying for drag race this year or what

Yeah. Again. You?

Brock’s applied once already. Last year, when he’d moved to Nashville and Jose had cheered because he was closer but grumbled because he wasn’t close enough. But now they take turns driving to each other, the ten hour trek not feeling so long to Brock when he knows what’s waiting at the end of it. They take long weekends, holidays, any short stretches of time they have. But it never feels like it’s satisfying enough, like it quenches Brock’s need for Jose to always be within reaching distance.

Yeah filmed an audition tape. Alexis directed it and it’s wild

I wanna see

Show me yours too

Brock’s is boring, pretty much a resume of his drag career with his crowning of Miss Continental as a highlight. But the video that Jose sends him makes him burst out laughing.

He’s his usual perfect hilarious self but cranked up about ten notches, shouting about how he deserves to be on the show and lip syncing with numbers full of death drops that make Brock’s tired knees ache just from watching.

He’s magnetic.

God, they’re gonna love you

What no you think so??? It’s not too crazy????

Oh, it’s crazy alright. But so you

Bitch what’s that supposed to mean

It’s a compliment, you goof

Yours is good too, you professional fish

I don’t know if it’s good enough, though

You’re always good enough

But a month and a half later Brock is the first one to find out that Jose’s made it on season ten of Drag Race after he gets the call, when Jose writes the number 10 with exclamation points purple ink on his palm.

Brock doesn’t get the same call.

He continues his Miss Continental appearances, helps Jose put together outfits for the runways with some of his designer connections. He tries not to be bitter when he can practically feel Jose’s excitement pumping through his own veins.

Jose goes radio silent on social media but his nerves bleed through ink on Brock’s thigh the night before filming starts for episode one.

Oh my god oh my god it’s tomorrow

Brock

I wish you were here

Me too

Brock really, really does.

You’ll do amazing, you’ll show them just how amazing you are

Everyone deserves to see you, be impressed by you

Have you light up their worlds like you light up mine

That’s poetic as shit

I know you’re tearing up over it though

Fuck yeah I am

You’re the worst

That’s a lie you’re the best

Go sleep, you need to be fully rested before tomorrow

A flower appears on Brock’s hipbone before he drifts off to sleep.

Brock is getting into drag at Play Nashville when words start to appear on his forearms and his chest and his ribs and he can tell Jose is upset.

So fucking stupid, I fucked up, Alexis is gonna be so upset shit shit shit

Brock puts his foundation down because Jose needs him more, right now. He knows that Jose’s only his second day into filming and hasn’t wanted to bother him, but now that he’s in trouble Brock is more than willing to be there.

What happened?

I messed up, that’s what

How?

They sending me home first

I’m first out Brock I’m fucking first out

I thought I did well in the lipsync but this other bitch brought money and threw it around stage

Who the fuck does that

Shit

I’m sorry baby, shit

Brock bites his lip. He can only imagine Jose right now, getting out of drag while Brock is getting into it, Sharpie shaking in his hands as he tries to write.

Jose is a star and Brock knows it, and he doesn’t know how Jose ended up in the bottom but he doesn’t want to pry, make things worse. Brock wishes he could be there instead, in LA at whatever studio they’re filming at just to wrap Jose in his arms under the guise of making everything better, while also giving the judges a piece of his mind.

Not that he has the courage to do that, but still.

Brock doesn’t need to watch the episode to know that Jose deserves better than this. But he knows Jose, knows how good he is at making everyone turn their eyes towards him, command them to pay attention.

Brock knows, he just knows, that Jose is still going to be successful. Maybe they’ll even bring him back for another season.

He draws out plans on his leg for what they’ll do when Jose comes to visit him next, then writes a story about how Jose is going to be a bigger star than anyone on his season. Jose scoffs and writes little annotations and jokes around his words, but Brock somehow can already feel the way the burden is lifting from his chest.

Brock is twenty-nine and his soulmate has just gone and broken the internet.

It seems that Brock can’t go to a gig, can’t scroll through Instagram without seeing ‘Miss Vanjie’ memes everywhere. Jose’s face all done up in drag, strolling backwards and making the judges crack up and absolutely everyone around him is repeating the words over and over again.

Jose is as befuddled as he is after the episode airs, and it feels like the universe as they know it is beginning to explode.

I swear my brain wasn’t even working I was just walking backwards and acting a damn fool not even knowing what was leaving my mouth

Didn’t even properly remember till watching this

And now you’re a meme

Fuck

I think Kathy Griffin tweeted about you

Who tf is that

Apparently I need to get a manager and an agent now

Wow

Alexis said so

People be calling left and right

I’m so proud of you

I didn’t even do anything I just said my name cause I forgot every other word that exists

And everyone absolutely loves it

Jose starts getting booked first all around the country, and then all around the world, and they can’t drive to visit each other anymore because Jose is always on the road but he always makes sure to write I love you under Brock’s ribs every night.

Brock gets the call for season eleven of Drag Race at 2 in the afternoon and he nearly falls off his couch and brings Henry and Apollo down with him.

They’re making him sign an NDA but he’s read it over, and no one’s mentioned soulmates and Brock needs to find a Sharpie or pen, damnit, and why does his living room suddenly seem devoid of them?

He stubs his toe on the kitchen counter when he finds one on the table, swearing under his breath as he pops the cap but then words are showing up on the back of his hand.

BROCK BROCK BROCK

THEY CALLED ME BACK

THEY WANT ME FOR SEASON ELEVEN

Brock wants to pick up Henry and dance around his kitchen because he’s going to be on season eleven of Drag Race and now Jose is going to be with him.

I JUST HUNG UP THE PHONE TOO

WHAT!!!

You’re not playing are you

Tell me you’re not playing

NO THEY REALLY CALLED ME

WE’RE GOING TO BE ON SEASON ELEVEN TOGETHER?????

oh my GOD

Facetime me facetime me

Jose picks up while he’s walking through an airport terminal with his manager, Jason, and fuck NDAs because Jose is being loud, practically screaming at the top of his lungs and Brock feels like he’s never ever going to stop smiling again.

“You did it. You’re going back.” Brock knew that Jose was meant to be a star, back when they were kids and Jose would tell him stories about how his abuela had thought the same thing. And now Jose’s going to do it twice over, after having done it on season ten already.

“I’m going- bitch, you fucking made the season!” Jose spins around and Jason’s running behind him, telling him tokeep his voice down but Jose doesn’t seem to care and Brock doesn’t either, really. “They really loved your Canadian ass this time around, huh?”

“Seems so.” It’s not quite sinking in for Brock just yet, the fact that in a handful of weeks he’s going to fly down to LA and film Drag Race and oh boy, he has so many runway looks that he has to put together before that and practically no time to do so-

“Hey. You. Don’t lose your shit on me.” Jose’s looking at him with that all knowing expression, because he always has an inkling of when Brock’s brain starts to get the better of him. “You made it. The hard part’s done and now the journey’s just beginning, baby.”

Brock smiles despite himself. He’s done it, he’s done it, and now he’s going to be there with Jose and have him to lean on and they can write to each other constantly and-

“Just don’t get out first like I did.” Jose snorts. It’s an old wound now, one that’s scabbed over and healed by the endless success that Jose’s been experiencing in the past year, much more so than quite a few girls from his season.

Jose really can do anything, in Brock’s eyes, his magnetic force of a man that Brock first saw command a room but now is commanding the entire world. Brock would say that he’s surprised by Jose being selected for season eleven again but he’s not, not at all, because who wouldn’t want him back?

And now Brock gets to go with him, too.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #canon compliant #soulmate au #holtzmanns #gold coloured prisms of light

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livvywrites · 6 years

Text

11/11/11 tag

I was tagged by the lovely @waterfallwritings. Thank you so much <3

1. How do you come up with ideas for your WIPs?

I put my headphones on, pop some music on, and pace around. And then I play pretend.

No, really, that’s what I do. I pretend to be my characters, in different situations, and I just... play around. I mess with things. I put them in modern situations. I put them in my favorite TV shows/books/movies/games. I have them switch places with a character in that show/book/movie/game. Sometimes I find them narrating their backstory to their future kid, or their friends, or whoever. I dunno. All sorts of crazy situations.

When that doesn’t help, I go and read. Or watch something. Or play something. I give it a rest for a bit. Something eventually comes to me.

2. How do you get past gaps in the plot?

Same answer as above, I guess? Letting myself really feel the characters, really be them, helps me view the situation as they would. I can generally resolve gaps pretty well that way!

3. What motivates you to keep writing?

My characters.

Sometimes it feels like they live in my head, just waiting for me to tell their story. I think about it all the time.

But other than that...

I mean, I was hospitalized a bunch as a kid. I got pneumonia a lot. And bronchitis (which developed into the former). A common cold could turn into bronchitis. I was a sickly kid with a terrible immune system. So I read. I read a lot. I read anything I could get my hands on. (Word of advice: Jurrassic Park and Stephen King novels are not really appropriate novels for a 10 year old to read. Or at least not one who hates gore. Like me.) A lot of those books touched me, influenced me and how I behaved growing up. I want to do that for other people. I want to write the novel they pick up and find themselves needing.

Also, you know what?

Sometimes my writing is pretty damn good.

4. Do you do any other kind of creative writing?

I write poetry!! My favorite poems are:

Death (lightly nsfw)

Wolf-Women (feminist poetry with werewolf themes)

Lonely Ghosts (Travelin’ Endlessly)

This poem I wrote about the main character of TMQ

I also roleplay for a favorite fandom of mine, and I write fanfiction. (You can find my stuff on my main blog, which is linked in my bio.)

5. Do you have any other creative hobbies besides writing?

I like to take photos! Usually of flowers and such. I’ll reblog this with some of my favorite ones~

I also like editing photos. By which I mean throwing lots of filters on them and trying to make them look ~artsy.~

6. What do you do when you’re stuck on a scene and don’t know how to get it out / write it?

I whip out my brackets. And I write a short scene description. Here’s an example off the top of my head--

[Fight scene. CHARACTER A gets injured pretty badly and begins to sway. CHARACTER B is so absorbed by their lover being hurt that they don’t notice when CHARACTER C is grabbed behind them. By the time they realized C has been kidnapped... it’s too late. CHARACTER A dies in their arms, but not before making them promise to save CHARACTER C.]

That’s a really emotional scene, fraught with tension and violence. Maybe I wasn’t feeling it, so I skipped it. But I want to remember what I was doing, hence the summary. Then I move on to the next scene. What the next scene would be in this scenario, I have no idea.

7. How do you decide how to end your WIP?

I’ve never really tried to put it into words, but because you asked, I’m gonna try.

So the first thing I think about is what my protagonist wants. In THE MARTYR QUEEN, Alinora wants her home back. She wants her people free again, and her family/loved ones back. Unfortunately, most of said loved ones are dead. But she can still save her people, so that’s her primary goal. To save her people, she needs to defeat Kai’os, and get him off of her throne/out of her homeland.

Now, let’s look at the antagonist. Kai’os wants to end the world and start a new one. Well--he doesn’t really want to do that, but he believes it’s a necessary evil, because that’s what Fate told him. What he really wants is to keep his family--his two daughters--safe. And that’s how he can best do that. According to Fate. In order to end the world, he has to be able to get to the World Tree. And to get to that, he needs Alinora.

So obviously, at the ending, the two of them are going to clash.

But what happens during/after the clash? Well, now, that’s where I have to think about the OTHER things going on. Alinora’s personality, for instance. What her friends are doing. The “bigger” players in the game--Death and Fate. What I have planned for the next books, and what I need to have happen for Alinora’s character arc.

I hope that was a good explanation ^^;

8. When in the process of writing do you decide how its going to end? Or do you kind of just wait til you get there?

I generally know my endings before I’m even halfway through the story. TMQ’s I knew before I even started writing it. Sapphire Dreaming’s I realized pretty early in the game as well.

9. Why did you decide to join writeblr?

I have been looking for a supportive writing community for so long. I found one on a fantasy forum called Worldsmyths that’s lovely, but people are more apt to talk about the technical aspects of writing on there. Which is great, and all of the advice on there is really good and well thought out. But I also really, really like hearing about other people’s WIPs and talking about mine in turn.

So when I found out that was how Tumblr’s writeblr worked... that’s when I decided to start getting involved in the community. And I’ve found so many WIPs that way!!! And found people who like my ideas too, which was like: what? Because while I’ve met supportive people before this is different. And it’s really nice.

10. What’s your favourite food?

Favorite... food?

I have to... I have to pick?

But, but ToT I can’t.

I’ll try anyway though, I guess, because you asked :P

Let’s see... my favorite dessert is a toss up between tiramasu and cheesecake, but I also really, really like brownies.

Breakfast wise, it’s hard to go wrong with blueberry pancakes or a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. Or omelets.

For lunch, I really like sandwiches. Lately I’ve been on a subway kick, and I’ve been ordering a tomato basil wrap with rotisserie chicken, mozz cheese, spinach leaves, ranch dressing, and green peppers. It’s so good.

For supper... Oh, jeez. I eat a lot of chicken and pasta, but I also really like steak and bbq!!

I’m not a big fan of fruit, but I like blackberries and raspberries!! I also really like peaches and cherries.

I love vegetables. My favorites are peas, broccoli, and cucumbers.

...what. was that not in the spirit of the question?

11. If you had to kill off a character in your WIP, who would it be and why?

Um.

So in Sapphire Dreaming, if I had to kill a character off... fuck. I dunno. Maddock, I guess? Side characters are okay right? His death could be really fun, though it would absolutely destroy Aura.

I mean, if I had to choose a main character... I guess it’d be Chase. I love him a lot, I really do, and he is important to the story but. I can’t get rid of Aura or Melantha or [SPOILER].

In The Martyr Queen...

Um.

I actually answer that question in the story itself, so, uh.

I’m just gonna. Move on to the tags & new questions now.

I tag:@witchywrite; @marniebalboa; @quartzses; @she-writes-love; @idreamonpaper (lemme know if you want to be added or removed. yes i know this isn’t eleven people. get nervous about tagging people in things ^^;)

My questions are:

1. Do you have any ideas for future WIPs you’re excited about?

2. What’s your favorite part of writing?

3. What’s your favorite aspect of the genre you write?

4. What themes/tropes do you find show up in the majority of your ideas? (E.g. found family, belonging, love triangles, etc.)

5. Do you have a routine or ritual you do before writing? (E.g. lighting a candle, putting on a playlist, making a specific beverage)

6. What would your ideal place to write look like?

7. Do you sort your characters into, say Hogwarts Houses or Meyers Briggs Types? (Or other kinds of archetypes?) If so, which characters fall where?

8. Have you ever participated in a character chat? (An almost roleplay chat where you introduce your characters to other characters. Sometimes they’re focused around a time limit with specific questions, as on Twitter, but sometimes they’re more free form.)

9. How much prewriting do you do before you start writing?

10. What’s the last book you finished reading? Would you recommend it?

11. What’s your favorite piece of writing advice, or favorite quote about writing?

#tag games #thank you for tagging me!!!#i love this particular tag game #((i love all tag games))

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arcanelaurels · 7 years

Note

I don't have a specific favourite fic, every time you write Angus it makes me so happy. If I can prompt, I'd love to see Angus coming home to Taako & Kravitz after walking back from a case mid blizzard. Just too happy with solving the puzzle to realise he's soaked, frozen and half delirious from the flu. (Sorry if that's too specific!)

MY BOY!!! MY BOY!!!!!!

Thank you I love writing Angus!!

(Also this came out more dramatic than I intended when I started oops)

The wind sliced at Angus as he ran home, the ecstatic heat and energy from a freshly-solved case preventing him from feeling the cold of the blizzard. Snow clung to his curls and melted just enough to plaster them to his face as the wind swirled around him, and it somehow managed to soak the many layers of clothes Taako had dressed him in before he’d left. He vaguely registered the crackle of his stone of farspeech, but decided to ignore it. He was almost home, anyway.

Manners as well as knowledge of Taako’s stance on muddy footprints in the house were all that prevented him from charging through the house to find them as soon as he got in. He stopped in his tracks in the mudroom and kicked off his boots as he shouted out that he was home.

Two pairs of footsteps rushed towards him as he struggled to remove his outermost coat, the intricate buttons getting the best of him until he realized it would be easier if he took off his gloves first.

Taako and Kravitz appeared at the top of the short flight of stairs, and Angus grinned up at them, his face flushed from both the cold weather and excitement.

“Jeez, kid, you had us worried,” Taako leaned dramatically against the wall, though relief was obvious on his face. “I thought you were stranded out there.”

“Angus, you’re soaked!” Kravitz looked significantly more concerned than his husband.

“S-sorry!” Angus chirped, not sounding apologetic at all as he shucked off two layers of warmth and immediately shivered. It didn’t matter, though, he had too much to tell them. “I-I would’ve answered your c-call, but I was almost h-home, anyway.”

He continued as he removed a third, thinner jacket, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine. “It was s-so exciting, though! I thought that something was off about the c-crime scene, but it wasn’t until I m-met up with the C-Count to talk about the v-v-victim that I realized what was wrong! It was-” He stopped suddenly and he shivered more violently for a moment, but he quickly recovered and breezed over it as if it hadn’t happened, not noticing Kravitz and Taako exchange looks. “It was the j-j-jade earrings! If they were her most p-prized p-possession, why were they n-nowhere to be f-f-found? And then I-”

Angus stopped, suddenly feeling dizzy. He stuck out a hand to lean against the wall for support. Kravitz rushed down the steps with Taako on his heels, quickly grabbing Angus by the underarms to keep him upright.

“By the grace of my lady, you’re freezing!” Kravitz exclaimed, turning to Taako for confirmation. “He’s freezing, right?”

“Shit, yeah,” Taako muttered distractedly, his expression focused as he pressed the back of his hands first to Angus’s forehead, then neck, then arms to double-check his temperature. He cupped Angus’s face in his hands and searched his expression intently, noting the flush on his cheeks and the lack of focus in his eyes, but no visible discoloration of his lips or nose. A look of panic crossed his face and he quickly sat Angus down on the stairs and checked over his fingers before stripping off his socks and checking his toes while Kravitz looked on with worry. He sighed with relief before standing up.

“Krav, can you come pick him up?” Taako asked, his sudden seriousness preventing Kravitz from asking any questions. “Gently.”

Kravitz did as told and picked up Angus, who instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around him the way he always did. Taako led him through the house towards Angus’s room, talking the whole time.

“He doesn’t have frostbite - thank the gods - but he’s got hypothermia. I need you to get him out of those clothes and into something warm and dry. Wrap a towel around his head or something to dry his hair, but do not rub him, mmkay? That can cause cardiac arrest.”

Kravitz swallowed down the feeling of panic that arose at the words “cardiac arrest” and tried to listen so he could follow Taako’s instructions. Mortal conditions and diseases weren’t exactly in his wheelhouse, which Taako must have been aware of based on how he’d immediately taken charge. But Kravitz had rarely ever seen him so serious about something, which didn’t help his nerves.

Taako continued. “Put him in bed and cover him with blankets. Try not to move him too much. Monitor his breathing. I’m gonna make some hot chocolate and get a warm compress.”

Kravitz nodded silently, but his panic must have been evident on his face because Taako stopped and reached up to cup a hand around Kravitz’s face. But there was a lack of the usual gentleness in his face that was replaced by focus, and Kravitz could tell that there were a million thoughts running through Taako’s head right now.

“He’s gonna be alright, Krav. It’s mild. Just do what I said.” He turned back down the hallway without another word.

Kravitz did his best to focus on Taako’s instructions and not on how worried he was. He gently lowered Angus down on the desk chair in his room and went to grab a towel and one of Angus’s warmer pajama sets - as well as a pair of socks. As he stripped the layers of sweaters and shirts off of him, he vaguely recalled the memory from just this morning of Taako refusing to let Angus leave the house without all of these clothes on. Fat lot of good that had done him; each layer was soaked through.

He took the towel and - remembering not to rub him - gently patted at Angus’s bare chest and arms and back to remove any remaining moisture before putting on his pajama shirt.

Angus groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on Kravitz’s shoulder, who had to push him off so he could finish changing him. Once Angus was out of his wet clothes and in his pajamas, Kravitz carefully lifted him again and put him in bed, covering him with his blanket before taking a smaller towel and wrapping it around his hair to soak up some of the moisture. He moved to his closet to get the many other blankets he had (which were all courtesy of Taako and his love of blankets) and had just finished covering him with the last one when Taako reappeared with a mug of hot chocolate and two warm compresses.

Taako silently placed the mug on his nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, placing one of the compresses on Angus’s forehead. Angus, who had seemed almost asleep, slowly opened his eyes to stare at him.

“What’s shakin’, boychik?” Taako asked, though his gentle tone didn’t quite match his joking words.

Angus’s brow creased and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but gave up and closed it.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Taako muttered, lifting the blankets just enough to place the other compress on Angus’s chest. “Do you think you can sit up enough to drink some of this?” He asked, taking the mug and moving it almost tauntingly in front of the boy’s face. “Secret recipeee,” His voice took on a sing-song tone.

Angus moved as if to sit himself up, but Taako quickly placed a hand behind his back to help him. He managed to down a few sips before he had to give up and lay back down. His eyelids fluttered and he quickly fell asleep.

Kravitz moved forward and placed a hand on Taako’s shoulder, but his husband didn’t look up at him. He leaned so that he could follow Taako’s gaze to the steady rise and fall of Angus’s chest. He was watching his breathing.

After a few moments of making sure that Angus was just asleep and nothing worse, Taako put the mug back on the nightstand and let out a sigh.

“Was it you or Lup?” Kravitz asked. Taako was silent for a few moments.

“Me,” He finally said. He laced his fingers together and lifted his arms above his head in a stretch, then dropped them with a sigh. “It was our first winter without a home. Lup’s fires kept us warm most of the time, but…” He trailed off and finally turned to look at his husband with a smirk. “I was a pretty reckless kid. And I had it worse than what Ango’s got. Luckily, though, I had a sister who was smarter than me. Don’t ever tell her I said that.”

Kravitz smiled, glad to see Taako’s humor returning.

“And during our century, we visited a surprising amount of ice worlds. Like, way more than you’d expect. I think everyone died of exposure at least once. Lemme tell you, as annoying as Merle is, spending a cycle on a frozen wasteland without our healer was the worst. As I’m sure you know from being with cha’boy, elves tend to run hotter than most other species, so Lup and I were less at risk and were in charge of taking care of everyone else when they did stupid stuff outside. Usually Magnus.”

Kravitz chuckled and wrapped his arms around Taako from behind, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of his head. “So he’s gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Taako waved a hand dismissively as if that would erase how concerned he’d been earlier. “He just needs some rest and heat. And a fuckin’ lecture about what ‘inclement weather’ means.”

“Oh yeah?” Kravitz asked, lifting his head. “And just who is going to give him that lecture?”

Taako was silent, but his answer was clear.

“Fat chance,” Kravitz said. “You know I hate when you make me bad cop.”

“How else am I supposed to be the favorite parent?“

“You already cook all his favorite meals,” Kravitz argued. “All I’ve got on my side are his cello lessons.”

“That reminds me, we need to cancel his cello lessons.”

Kravitz opened his mouth to make a retort, but Angus shifted in his bed, rolling over on his side and distracting the two from their non-serious argument. The compress fell off his forehead and onto the pillow, and Taako muttered to himself as he readjusted it so that it was at least on the side of his head.

“So-called genius detective doesn’t even know how to sleep,” Was part of what he muttered, but the rest was too quiet for Kravitz to hear. He moved a hand to Angus’s neck to feel for his temperature again, then hesitated before climbing over him on the bed and slipping under the covers, pulling Angus closer and wrapping himself around him almost protectively.

When he noticed Kravitz’s questioning look, he grumbled, “He’s still too cold,” before flopping his head on the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut as if to fend off any response from his husband.

Kravitz smiled, knowing that even on his warmest days he was still too cool for that kind of job. He picked up the pile of wet clothes off the ground and left to throw them in the washer and turn it on, then returned to Angus’s room, where he found that Taako had already fallen asleep. Not knowing what else to do with himself, Kravitz sat down in Angus’s desk chair and kept an eye on them while they slept.

#ask to tag #anonymously tell me your favorite fic of mine!!!#taz balance #the adventure zone #angus mcdonald #taakitz #taako #taz kravitz #laurelscribbles #Anonymous #two and a half boys

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