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thealbatrovss · 20 days

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ghosts in the leaves // worst wolverine x reader

summary: you’ve been stuck in the void for years, and logan doesn’t even seem to care.

one shot: ANGST, then fluff of course. I love a sadass story with a happy ending. swearing lol. suggestive material. This is my favorite one I’ve written so far. Enjoy!!

word count: 1k+

masterlist

He was too busy drinking to notice your silent pleading.

You and Logan sat against the rocky wall of your hideout base. The rest of the group of forgotten heroes were planning the final showdown with Cassandra in the next room over.

They left the two of you alone, noticing the tension growing more and more intense. Logan tried to protest, but they shut him out. He wouldn’t stop grumbling to himself about it. That, you noted, hadn’t changed about him.

Wade would occasionally poke his head out from behind the wall, hoping the reunited couple would get back together already. He loved jumping into other peoples business, you noticed. He seemed like a troublemaker.

Johnny would’ve really loved this guy.

You still didn’t understand why Logan was refusing to talk to you. He looked like hell, but so did you. Did he even care?

You just wanted to wipe the blood from his suit and the dirt from his face. Tell him about the hell you’ve been through down here. Ask him about the hell he’s been through back home.

But Logan would rather gargle piss than talk to you at all. That, you were beginning to realize.

He wouldn’t even look you in the eye. He only looked at you when he first arrived. That familiar glow returned to him at that moment. You thought you saw the love of your life return to you right then and there, eyes and mouth wide open. But by the time you ran over to him, throwing your arms around his body, tears streaming down your face, he was pushing you off him and opening a bottle of bourbon.

You could see him fighting the urge to open another one. He balanced it on his hand, and spun the bottle on the floor like it was a game. Guess he won by the fake smile on his face as he placed the lukewarm drink to his lips.

“Are you going to talk to me? Or are you just going to keep drinking?”

He picked up another glass after downing the last one, licking his lips. “I don’t talk to ghosts.”

Your stomach dropped, like a stone in a pond. Your lips fell, a weight dragging them down. “Logan-”

His fists balled up, face turning red. “Don’t fucking say my name.” All the venom leaking from his mouth seemed to form a weapon meant for himself, but he kept aiming it straight at you. “Just don't.”

You held your head high. “Why not?”

“Because,” he took a long drink before continuing. “Your voice is drilling into my skull, that’s why. I don’t talk to ghosts and they don’t talk to me.” Logan shifted his body, facing away from you.

You closed your mouth, letting the words die inside. Instead, you watched the leaves fall from beside the open door.

The trees here never changed. They were stuck in a perpetual autumn. It was haunting to look at. You forgot there were other seasons sometimes. You missed the snow in winter. Icicles hanging from the roof of Xavier’s mansion. You missed the spring flowers and that early summer rain. All you had was autumn, and Logan had the rest. He didn’t seem to like any of it at all anymore.

The Logan you once knew and loved, if he saw you alive and well, he’d come running to you, holding you tight, whispering words of comfort.

This Logan though…He was tired. And angry. So angry. Grief radiated off every inch of him. It almost became a superpower on its own. You weren’t a stranger to that power. He kept you at a distance too, back when you first met.

You had the outline of his back memorized like the back of your hand. This was your Logan. He was just jaded now. Years of believing that you were dead and that he had failed not only his friends and family, but you, the most important person in the world to him, had changed him.

Down here, your one goal was to reach him. Well, you had accomplished that. But not in the way you had wished.

“If there’s any ghosts here, it’s you.” You said it without looking at him either. Just watched the leaves fall.

Logan shut his eyes tight, the veins in his neck growing stronger. His jaw loosened, the bourbon missing his mouth and spilling all over. “Fuck!” He cursed himself.

“Did someone wet the bed again?” Wade's red head popped its way into the room. “Jesus, you two look like you fucked with the lights off. Does this place even have lights? And have you made up yet? I’m sick and tired of this meeting and I wanna join in.”

He sure knew how to make an entrance. It was almost amazing how annoying he was. Again, Johnny and him would’ve gotten along. But Cassandra got to him first.

“Turn around and walk back in there before I pop that tomato of a fucking head of yours.” Logan spat, taking another swig.

Wade gasped, putting his gloved hand to his mouth. “I’d let you pop just about anything, Wolverine.” Before he could say anything more intrusive, Blade's hand grabbed his head, pulling him back behind the wall. Wade still kept ranting all the way back into the other room.

“I’m glad you have a friend.” You tried, shifting uncomfortably in your super suit. “I wouldn’t of made it if it wasn’t for my friends down here.”

And the thought of you. You wanted to finish with that.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Seems like he’s your friend.”

He shook his head, leaning against a rocky pillar. He wanted to keep the distance between you and him as far as possible. You were going to keep running towards him anyways.

“As soon as I arrived it was too late.” You started. “They were all dead.” You paused, letting the grief settle in. Logan sat there as still as a ghost. “I was going to find you before you found them. I'm so sorry you had to see them like that.” You let the tears flow this time. “But then the TVA- they got me. Said I killed one of their own a few days prior. Which is bullshit. But they didn’t care, and they sent me here. I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since. I'm sorry, Logan.”

It happened as quickly as he drank those bottles. He got up, wobbled a bit as he stood, and walked out the door, crushing autumn leaves under his feet.

The silence he left behind was worse than his venom.

Wade popped his head back in, the other four following as well. “We did it! Operation, Stealing Cassandra’s Wii hidden underneath their bed, is underway!”

“What’s under Cassandra’s bed?” Elektra questioned.

“Oh, all kinds of stuff.” He started counting on his fingers. “Video games, velveeta cheese, a bunch of those for some reason. Cowboy hats, pixie sticks, a signed dvd of The Green Lantern. Truly an evil monster, my god.”

Gambit leaned over to Laura. “Do you think one of my missing cards could be hidden under there?”

Laura ignored him, walking over to you, noticing your wet, red eyes. “Hey, are you okay? Where’s Logan?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that question too, Laura.”

Logan’s daughter nodded, squeezing your shoulder before going to look for the shadow of her father.

It was growing dark now. Night was here and all you wanted was to sleep. Maybe you’d wake up in Logan’s arms again and he’d pepper light kisses across your face, taking all those years without him away. Like they never even happened. Like you never lost anything or anyone.

It was still night out when you woke up. Wade's snores were keeping everyone else up, so they moved him outside. You walked by him as he was passed out in a pile of leaves, making your way towards the burning campfire.

Logan sat slumped over the smoke, chin cradled to his chest. You could’ve sworn you saw tears disappearing into the fire. But you didn’t want his dagger like words again, so you turned back around.

And then you heard your name.

It was whispered so softly, like a strong wind. You waited a few more beats, hoping to hear it again. And you did. His voice was strained. Calloused over like he had said your name so many times before that it hurt so bad every time you never said his name back.

But you did this time.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I was just thinking-” His voice was wavering, like he was on a tightrope, wondering when he’d fall off. “I was thinking about your birthday. I’ve missed so many of them.”

Your eyes glazed over, a well of spring water washing away the autumn you still adored. Before you could run to him, he was already there. Strong arms found their way around you. Those lips kissed every inch of your face. It was like returning home again.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He was barely keeping it together. “I thought you were dead. And then I saw you and all I saw was another failure. I’ve failed you. You’ve been trapped here. And I didn't come to save you. All I did was punish you.”

“It’s okay.” You held him tight, but he held you tighter. “You didn’t know. You had to go on thinking everyone you loved was dead. Logan, you didn’t deserve that.”

He held your head, finally meeting your eyes with his own. “I love you.” He rarely said it. But he didn’t have to. You always knew. “And I’m sorry.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll be sorry forever.”

“Then I will be too.”

A mix of sorrow and happiness clung to his face. He laughed, as if he was laughing for the first time. “You’re here. You’re not a ghost. I’m not a ghost.”

#the wolverine x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #the wolverine #ravens masterlist

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tremendum · 5 months

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Me and the Devil; i

(not my gif) .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: Paul Atreides x fem!reader prelude next

word count: 5.3k

summary: Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common. Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

warnings: blood/violence, family deaath, v brief allusions to smut/dubcon, reader is traumatized. pls lmk if i missed anything. not edited.

notes: thanks for all the love so far!!! here's the first chapter of the story - if you want to stay updated, i post on AO3 first :) just a quick first chapter to lay the scene before we jump into the engaging parts of the story. feedback is very motivating and highly valued, thank u all <33

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Penitent Crimes of Retaliation

In accordance with the legal doctrine of the 'Reprisal Accord', as sanctioned by the High Court of the Landsraad, houses are granted the right to retaliate against proven offenses committed upon them. This action shall such be labelled as "Penitent Crimes of Retaliation". Under this mandate, should sufficient evidence be presented, the aggrieved house may initiate a retaliatory strike and engage in warfare against the offending party. While reparations for damages incurred during the conflict are mandated, perpetrators shall be exempt from criminal sentences, ensuring a balanced recourse within the framework of inter-house disputes."

- From the Reprisal Accord, Office of the Padishah Emperor. Imperium, 10041.

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There was once a time when green was your favorite color.

You'd enjoyed a childhood of it; Peridot, Jades, the velvet green of winter dresses, the tall, mighty green the sacred Pine. The woven banner of your house, waving in the snow-whipped wind; A snarling green wolf upon the grey armor your parents wore to train you.

When the men of one other Houses Major arrived to retrieve your older sister, she'd been shroud in that very same pine-colored satin, an elegant dress, as she waved good-bye to you for the last time. When the ice would melt off the lower glaciers for those three months every year, the lakes would thaw to a deep emerald green, and your brother, sisters and you would play in it; servants and soldiers alike yelling and pulling you out, shivering to your bones.

Even at your sister's funeral. The green of the casket, laid to rest in the ground of a foreign planet by a man who'd never truly loved her. The women of your House, wearing a veil of mourning in that sacred pine satin as you said good-bye to her. Killed by the birth of her first; a son. Your parents had been proud - You became the oldest of your siblings that day.

You can barely stand to look at green anymore. No, instead, you mostly see black.

Black, white, and red.

They'd sent you away to make for your house a Fortune; a son, they'd wished, for your sake - and, by whispers of your Lady Mother, a daughter - but this place... it crawls with shadows and monsters and deadly smiles; most in the form of your betrothed.

Your na-Baron.

If Feyd-Rautha ever had a semblance of hesitancy, it was when you first met four years ago. You were at the end of your seventeenth year; he, freshly eighteen. He had been as cordial as you'd ever seen him, escorting you with an arm held out, eyes malicious but mouth less than offensive. He'd even called you Lady Bourbon those first few months on Giedi Prime. And, in fact, you can consider yourself lucky; perhaps for your bloodline, or for you yourself, Feyd-Rautha took special care of you. Maybe he did care for you -in the ways that he could.

After that, he taught you all you needed to know about the rest of the world. In these final days together, he has admitted furiously that he waited too long to claim you as his wife - four years was much too long for you to wait, even if your purity was claimed by him long before then.

The accusations had come from his uncle, the Baron; House Bourbon was stealing their precious refinery codes, committing treason against the trading accords along their exportation route. Perhaps, he thought, you were the one to plot it against your beloved future family.

But Feyd-Rautha knew better - knew that you'd never dare betray him. He was the one to demand a public execution of your family - but also the one to redirect your sentencing to a mere prisoner. As if you weren't one already.

Don't look away. See what we do to scum, my pet?

After all the sparring, each time you drew that precious blood from him, and you still haven't been able to kill him. If you'd had a blade, you would have, right there in the stands.

You were, in some ways, relieved when their bodies had hit the sand fast; You'd never seen your brother's skin so reflective as you did this morning. The black sun couldn't hide the blood that had seeped from him, nor from your mother's throat. You'd swallowed thickly, wishing you could look away, gasp - cry; but you had to hide your pain. Your na-Baron would've loved it too much.

Why don't you leave me with them, then? You'd hissed through your teeth.

Though he was wild and psychotic, growling with hunger at the bloodsport in front of him, he heard you for what you'd said. Feyd's fingers pulled your hair hard; forcing your chin to stare up at him. A sickly glint in the black sun, his teeth shone with hunger.

You'd have me throw you to your Wolves, and lose my prize? He'd tutted, kissing your forehead with a sickening sweetness; enough so that the servants had turned away their spider-black gazes. They didn't care much for the acts of affection you'd occasionally show one another - in a world marred by ugliness, any glimpse of beauty becomes a hauntingly grotesque show of power.

He'd snarled, slapping your cheek hard enough for you to groan. His breath hit your face, you're mine to keep - there's plenty of life left for you to serve.

He'd held your eyes open as they'd slit your father's throat; then both of your sisters, and your brother's. Your mother had fought as much as she could in her drugged state - the Harkonnens are rutheless, and Feyd-Rautha had sat calmly behind you, your head in his hands, caressing your shaking cheek - but the neckline of her gown was too high, and too thickly inlaid with encrusted heirlooms.

Bless their voided souls.

The emeralds that tore from her gown as she'd spilled her blood to the sand sent a ripple of pain out of your throat. Feyd had buried his face in your neck, teeth sharp as he sucked a mark just behind your ear, watching as you clenched your palms so hard, your own ruby blood beaded out, blackened in the sun's light.

If anybody would have bothered to look before burning the bodies, you know they'd find all the family diamonds sewn into the fabric of their clothing - centuries of your House, melted away.

Feyd-Rautha had drank up your agony with his lips, smiling as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Now, alone and away from the thick industrial air, your chambers are cold and suffocating.

There are screams coming from the hall - not the kind that you've grown to associate with your na-Baron testing his new blades, but the kind that comes with danger. With change.

As it turns out, you are not Feyd-Rautha's to keep any longer.

A loud noise outside of your quarters jolts you from your bed, whispering to yourself. They're coming for you. Pulling the sheets closer to your body, your hand finds the blade gifted to you on your nameday three years ago by your husband-to-be, still tainted with the ghost of your own blood.

Your whispers reverberate in the empty room. "I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me."

Your voice shakes. Few things remain from your early days of training, before you were sent off to become a Harkonnen; This is one is a relic.

There is a loud noise just outside; blades.

For a moment, you imagine there is a hand on your arm. It is strong, ghost-white, and possessive. His voice rumbles in your head. Don't look so sad, my pet. I will never let them keep what is mine. I will find you again.

You almost wish he will.

When you look down to the weight on your arm, you do not find the hand of your once-betrothed, but the remainder of his ownership, a handprint of a bruise that will not fade even as the soldiers in Atreides armor deliver you to the next planet.

You rise from your bed, preparing your sore body for a fight that will surely end before it even starts. You don't stop your old prayer, in fact, you hardly notice that you're saying it at all. Even as the doors give in.

"-and when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing - only I will remain-" There are soldiers that burst through.

The way one of them fights strikes a faint memory from a lost childhood, and it fills you with rage.

Why did you wait so long to rescue me?

You lunge, snarling like the wild beast you've become in your captivity. You will fight, because that is the only thing you know how to do. It is the only thing you have left.

Your blade falls within minutes.

You're taken by the man from your past not a minute after.

You're on a ship, watching the black Opiuchi B disappear, in an hour.

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"My Lady."

You don't realize the worker addresses you until you snap out of it, flushing behind your veil as you step out of the aircraft.

The dress you wear, salvaged from your family's old castle, is dusty.

It clings to your skin, drowns you, as the rain falls. A staff of House Atreides holds an umbrella above you, shielding your elaborate dress from the water as you walk up towards where the members of the House await you. You stare down at the dress - green velvet. A texture you have not felt in years; your skin looks different not wrapped completely in black.

Your eyes strain to take in the grand entrance to the castle from the hangar which Duncan Idaho had escorted you, ignoring him as he turns to glance back at you momentarily. You can't bear the look of unfamiliarity that flickers over him when he looks at you, now.

He looks the same - maybe less tall, but that has more to do with it having been six years since you last saw the man. You, however, are not the same girl you were when he knew you on Sabberon. Fear, panic, and wrath rage within you while your gaze smolders daggers at the back of his head.

He walks just slightly in front of you and despite yourself, you slide just a bit closer - the only semblance of comfort you can allow yourself to feel as you take in the largess of the castle. The air is thicker here than you've ever felt; salty, windy, like you can taste the sea in the rain... it clings to your skin, but it feels clean. You'd been changing into your robes when you entered atmo - you've heard many things about the ocean, about Caladan.

Something within you yearns to witness it yourself. Subtly, you crane your neck outwards to catch a glimpse; nothing in the near distance but the walls of the castle and high cliffs.

You nearly trip as Duncan Idaho stops just a few paces from where the members stand at attention to greet you and your retinue.

Duke Leto Atreides, regal and composed, stands at the center of the room, his presence commanding your attention. Beside him, a woman wearing a deep cerulean gown - Lady Jessica. Easily, from behind your own veil, her gaze penetrates you; A cool sensation down your spine as you seem to feel her words in the back of your head as she watches the Reverend Mother who'd travelled with you per High Court orders.

Hello, sister.

You purse your lips, looking on - there, next to his mother; Standing tall with an aura of quiet intensity, his eyes on you, is Paul Atreides.

The son to whom you're now destined.

Even from your obstructed vision, you can see that he's handsome - lithe, hair curled and combed back to show his eyes. They are wide, penetrating like his mother's, but Maker, they are so green.

There is no hunger in his eyes, nor hatred, nor anything but a mild curiosity; it strikes a chord of fear in your gut, wishing briefly to return to the na-Baron's sight. It was easy to go unseen with the Harkonnens; They always made their intentions clear, and the na-Baron never wanted many to see you besides himself. You always knew what he wanted, and you could give it to him enough to control him.

But Paul. His stare betrays no emotion but duty. If not for the boyish pout of his pink lips and his freshly-shaven jaw, you could have mistaken him for his father. A Duke.

Your name, boomed from the voice of Leto Atreides, pulls you back to the surface of Caladan. "Welcome." Duke Leto's voice resonates through the hall with authority as he addresses you, his tone measured yet warm. Your stomach twists and turns as the man nods courteously to you. Coaxing your body to move, you bow to him.

"We are honored by your presence." His voice is surprisingly humane, exceedingly polite towards you; someone who was just come from the protection (a laughable phrase) of their sworn enemy.

Your throat tightens at this. There is no honor to your presence, not anymore.

Though you feel the prickling behind your eyes, you force your head to tilt in acknowledgment, schooling your expression to respectful - perhaps they can't quite make out your face, but Lady Jessica watches closely. She sees.

You take a sharp breath, swallowing away the lump of emotion in your throat.

"Thank you, Duke Leto, my lord." Your voice carries steel beneath its polite, quiet veneer, though you try to calm your heart. You turn to Lady Jessica to greet her.

"My Lady, it is a pleasure." You say, equally even. Lady Jessica offers a tight smile, something akin to understanding swimming among her irises. It's been quite some time since you were permitted to talk to a woman; Your servants on Giedi Prime were, of course, tongue-less, as na-Baron wished. "Thank you for welcoming me to your home."

"We understand that these are trying times for you." She says softly, her words a gesture of solidarity as your legs stagger. You feel dizzy and tired, but you force yourself to nod, bowing again. Your chained headdress overlaying your veil chimes slightly with the movement, swaying with the rain.

For such an acclaimed House, you're surprised by the gentleness of their welcome. Perhaps, they'd thought that the groaning and echoing hallways of Giedi Prime might break you, that they'd be taking in some injured little dove, wings clipped by the ferocious boy who'd gifted her with a knife plunged between her ribs on her nameday.

The scar that lies just below your breast on your right side serves not as a reminder, but as fuel. It did not quell your spark. It ignited it, with a bloodthirsty rage for revenge.

Months of being thrown into a pit under the glaring black sun; Not the arena that assassinated your family, no - this pit was smaller, with one large seat for the na-Baron himself, and drugged concubines and servants with blades to service his na-Baroness. A place to watch his pets play.

Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common.

Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

Lady Jessica is correct, these are trying times for you. You swallow as you straighten your back. Despite everything, there's a minor comfort in the Atreides' insistence of providing you with the necessities for you to perform your traditional customary mourning traditions. Your family may be gone, but you can still have this part of them; as a way of saying good-bye. It's what they would have wanted.

You turn to the young man who stands next to Lady Jessica.

The Harkonnens had tried to show you the dangers of house Atreides; The poison of appearance, of trust. You are not foolish enough to have believed the Baron Vladimir and his webs of deception, but you are sharp enough to know that in times like these, nobody can be trusted.

Your betrothed watches you, as if trying to see through your mourning veil. The green of his eyes sends a warmth through your stomach as you avert your eyes. "My Lord," you bow to him, your heart thumping in your chest, remembering how you might be rewarded for looking your formerly betrothed in the eyes during ceremony. Trying not to flinch, you wait to see what Paul's hands may do. But they do not strike you, nor grasp your jaw sharply. He barely moves.

"My Lady." His voice is softer than you expected, and it strikes your heart with a cool unease. Distrust slithers around you like a daunting snake. He bows back to you.

It's silent for a thick moment before Duncan Idaho - the man from a distant past - speaks from beside you. "We have much to discuss."

Cutting to the chase, as always. Your eyes fall to the Duke, who nods. "Do you need to see treatment?" He asks the Swordsman, eyes assessing the soldier.

Duncan laughs at this, gesturing to his arm, where beads of blood still slowly peeks through his the tunic he'd slipped on after changing out of his armor.

"Harkonnen blades are sharp. So are Lady Bourbon's nails."

The prickling of four pairs of eyes strike you as he continues, turning this time to address you full-on. "Your fighting is much different than I remember, Little Bourbon."

What he doesn't say is clear to you: Much more savage than he remembers. Something between shame and pride licks at your cheeks and you avert your eyes; It had been a force of habit - rabid hounds don't tuck tail when cornered, do they?

You clench your hand, your nails digging into your palms; you learned early on that sharper claws could keep Feyd tame for longer.

The force of Duncan's old nickname for you, when you'd been young - it nearly knocks the air out of your chest. It's been over half a decade since you'd seen the man; too much has happened since then. Nonetheless, you smile toothless behind the veil, trying not to think of the life you'd just left behind. Of what cold life lies ahead.

When you respond, your voice is frigid.

"Sometimes adaptation is survival, Duncan Idaho. Threats demand evolution."

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The rain is gone by the next day.

In the morning room, forks scrape over blue-plated China. There must be a clock somewhere near, as the seconds pass in quiet, insistent ticks. A cleared throat, a swallow of water.

Your eyes burn from exhaustion.

Your arrival last night held no such time for small talk - you were whisked away by the service staff to make sure your quarters were comfortable; Your old clothing and that of your sisters and mother - the few things the Atreides soldiers had salvaged from the ransacked Castle at Sabberon - had been washed thrice of rubble and smoke and were hanging, waiting for you, in the wardrobes.

Barely awake, late in the evening, you'd attended a meeting in a small conference hall. There, sat across from Lord Paul, Masters of War and Swords and Strategy, a Mentat, and the Lady Jessica, the Duke had asked you questions, ensuring you were not harmed - more importantly, trying to ensure there was no malicious intent to your presence. Your eyes could not ignore the Lady Jessica, who stood behind the Duke, her fingers twitching to the others when you responded to a question asked of you. They had some kind of language, you'd realized, as they responded in their own subtle hand gestures.

You'd only been there for ten minutes before you were escorted by a handmaid back to your chambers, where you sat without rest through the night.

Truthfully, you're breaking fast with Lady Jessica and Lord Paul out of courtesy; You were up far before the sun had found the horizon this morning, staring emotionless at the ghost who stood in the corner of your new chambers.

You'd sat watching, cradling your chest with wide eyes, as the ghost slid onto his knees. How he'd crawled, smirking at the foot of your mattress, whispering to you with sharp teeth and beckoning fingers. The sweet promise in his eyes laid with blood and pain, coaxing you forward despite yourself - until something in the corner of your vision moved, and you'd screamed.

That had woken one of the servants.

She came in with her head tilted down, holding a pitcher of water, and you'd asked her to stay.

Her name is Hestia; she must barely be twenty. You insisted on sharing a pot of tea with her, sitting in the silence but sipping shortly on your teacups. You didn't talk much, but instead breathed and felt the safety and of a woman's company, even if she is a few years younger than you.

It wasn't until she'd brought you breakfast a few minutes later that you realized the staff must have been informed of your courting customs before your arrival - she said nothing as you ate silently, staring out towards the coast of rocky cliffs and rolling moors you could just barely make out from your chamber windows.

And now you sit similarly - in the morning dining room, your hands perched in your lap, unsure what to do with yourself.

Your future husband, no older than yourself, sits across the table from you now, pushing his omelet around on his fork. The table shakes just slightly, jilting your glass full of water - he must have a restless knee. He chews at his lip, avoiding your stare, sharing slight conversation with his Lady mother. Her attempts to bring you into the conversation are met with polite answers and more silence, your voice shaky and cold.

After a while, a woman enters, whispers something to the Lady at the end of the table. Nodding, Lady Jessica takes her leave with a pointed look at Paul, suggesting he might escort you around the castle to settle you in.

Though your stomach coils, you nod, "-if you have time, my Lord, I'd appreciate it."

His eyes find yours from behind the veil and you clear your throat. He's quiet but chivalrous; A nod, a glance sent back to his mother as she leaves. A short gust of air through the room and suddenly you can smell him. His hair, clean and glossy - healthy - glints as he faces a window, exposing the early morning sun to his bright eyes.

It's silent for a few moments as only the two of you remain; Your food untouched and his half-eaten.

"Are you one of them?"

Them?

You stare at him from behind the thin pine veil that covers you. It occurs to you that Paul may assume you are just as bald and sick as each Harkonnen; years of adapting, surviving off of instinct and placation, are over. With a jolt, you realize you are not a Harkonnen. And you will not be wed to one.

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of chains upon the crown of your head today, ignoring the melancholy feeling in your gut.

"I have hair." You state simply, looking down at the skin of your arm; The skin that boasts arm hair, none of the sickly pale skin that knew of no clean air nor healthy sunlight - your skin, glowing with real melanin like the House of Bourbon.

You'd never spoken this freely on Giedi Prime besides in the sole company of Feyd-Rautha - stars, you'd never have spoken this freely at home on Sabberon, either - but there is no home anymore. And if you've learned one thing in your years since coming of age, its that the Great and Noble Houses of the Landsraad are crawling with perjurers, fabricators.

Paul is likely the same.

If the Atreides boy must be wed to you, you cannot help that, just as you couldn't help with Feyd-Rautha. They can dress you, insist in your traditional customs - but you will not go down easy. No matter how cold the home, you can be colder. You are more than the bones which hold you up; Meaner than the demons that kept you in their ghostly-grip for four years.

His cheeks flush a peculiar pink, bottom lip captured between pearly teeth. "No," he starts again, eyes searching - trying to find you, beneath the layers of green that wrap around you. "Not Harkonnen-" he quiets after he says the name, as if worried to offend you. "I meant-" his eyes swim, "Bene Gesserit."

Your stomach chills as you meet his eyes.

After some hesitation, you shake your head. "No, my Lord."

When he blinks at your words, you feel compelled to continue. "I suppose I was..." you move your hand to pull on the sleeve of your robes.

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"or, I was supposed to be." your unemotional tone rings through the room. Paul doesn't say anything to that, biting back the suspicion that climbs up his throat.

He stands when you rise from your seat; Your mourning dress, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, flows like the leaves of a weeping willow as you push your chair in behind you. When he offers a stiff arm to escort you out of the room, you hesitate before looping yourself loosely to him.

She is telling the truth.

His mother had indicated, with flicks of her hand, during the meeting the evening before; you, sat before the Atreides' council, unaware that his mother was reading your honesty.

But that could be a trick; you've admitted to being partially trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, perhaps you found a way to deceive his mother. As much as he trusts Duncan and his father, he can't shake the suspicion that you're a mere pawn in the Harkonnens' game.

But his father's words burn sharply into his mind.

Duty often requires us to navigate paths we may not have chosen for ourselves, Paul. You may not always like her, but you will treat her with the respect and care befitting of a future spouse. Love may come in other ways - but you will marry her, and together you will sire an heir when the time comes.

By decree, it was ordered you be wed to Paul, but he can't find it within himself to lose the feeling of distrust. He has spent hours learning about the Harkonnens - how they think, their strategy; and yet, from Duncan's account, the Baron and his nephew just let you go. It makes no sense to him.

"I was supposed to be a lot of things."

Your voice is undeniably beautiful; strong, much more resolute than he'd expected. But you are extremely cold, and evidently unwilling. Polite, yes - it seems you've been trained just as he and every other young noble of the Great Houses have - but you are calculating, aggressive.

He saw the claw marks you'd left upon Duncan; a man you've known since you were a young girl.

You walk with your chest out, back straight like a soldier; your words are cordial yet laced with steel and indifference - it only serves to deepen his unease. He guides you through the castle, murmuring quietly as he shows you along, introducing you to various members of staff who stop and bow in recognition.

You don't say much until he escorts you to a path that winds down out of your sights; Below the castle, between jagged rocks, Paul finds himself concerned to no longer be surrounded by castle walls. Beside him, you take a deep breath, your footsteps faltering as you slow to stare at moss that sprawls across the cobblestone.

Curiously, Paul slows to a stop beside you.

For a moment, you stare down at the dirt and fallen tree limbs, the grassy fields and rocks. Soon, as though an invisible string pulls you upwards, you snap your head, voice sheepish behind your veil. "Apologies, my Lord." You start to turn away. "I've read of plants like this, but never seen them before in person."

Paul is suddenly struck by the realization that you may not have seen much of any flora nor fauna on Caladan. He knows what Giedi Prime is like; and your homeworld, from what he'd read last night before bed, was mostly full of Glaciers, forests, and high altitudes. Perhaps you are interested in such things; the idea surprises him.

So instead of moving along, he finds himself bending to pull off a bit of the moss from a fallen trunk. The earthy dirt spreads between his nimble fingers, the green bright against his skin. You watch him silently.

"It absorbs up to twenty times its dry weight in water." He says it quietly, repeating what he'd learned in an ecological lesson, pushing on the spongy material with his thumb. "Banks of it grow just around the brackish tidepools outside the castle."

Your interest, piqued, causes your head to crane slightly from your short height - he can tell, even without seeing any part of your face, that you are fascinated. "Am I allowed to see?" You ask stiffly, your arms by your sides.

An initial wave of protectiveness over his home washes over him; remembering his father's words, he forces his shoulders to relax. He lets the moss fall back to the stump, brows furrowing.

"You are to be Lady Atreides, one day." He tries to school his voice evenly, avoiding any hint of resistance to this fact. "You do not have to ask permission to see your own land."

The wind from the sea whips around you; his stray curls fly in his vision. There are no words from you for several very long breaths, in which you clear your throat.

"I do not feel well, my Lord." You say moments later, voice cordial but thick with the desire to be alone, "I believe I am sick from travel. Please, if you would excuse me."

He is unsure if he had made you uncomfortable or if you are truly feeling sick; nonetheless, Paul escorts you to your chambers silently, calling one of the handmaids - Hestia, her name is - to check on you. He insists she bring you some bread and cheese, to draw you a bath if you please.

His jaw clenches; he's to train with his mother soon, but he needs release. His muscles clench in repressed frustration and so Paul lets his feet carry him swiftly to the training quarters.

His fingers itch for a blade; his mind itches to forget about the last day, about the cold life that lies ahead of him.

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follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

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#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #paul atreides i need you so bad #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #me and the devil; series #feyd x you #feyd smut #dune fanfiction #dune smut

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stay-somnia · 7 months

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SKZ! A/B/O! Omegaverse! Scents

Chan

His scent is the definition of primal: cedar forests so dense you have to claw your way out never knowing what direction you're going. Chan's scent is both comforting and dangerous, still woodlands lulling you in as ancient eyes watch.

Lee Know

Lee Know's scent is as strange as he is. Driftwood floating against foggy coastlines off black sand beaches. Brackish waters were rivers meet oceans his scent is clear with traces of salts. Your vision goes hazy as the gentle waves pull you under.

Changbin

Rose Oxide. Soft, brazen, metallic; Changbin's scent perfectly in embrace him. It's deceiving, subtle and kind at heart, the metallic clang quickly fades away once you're in its enamoring presence.

Hyunjin

Its hypnotizing, free spirited, this aired scent of Lilac's and Larch knows no limits. Faint in the beginning it grows more powerful over time, drawing you into a dream you won't wake up from.

Han

Electric citrus engulfed in rich chocolate, Han's scent is a comforting as it is addicting. It instills a fiery familiarity you can only acquire with over protective loved ones at your side. Once you taste it all else turns to ash.

Felix

Felix's scent of Jade and moss is a preservation of youth and vitality from times long ago. It's a bubble of peace. A place to clear your mind. A friend to call your own. Worry melts away once you pass the gates.

Seungmin

Leather bound notes and Bourbon. It's unnerving, unexpected, it's Seungmin. Archaic wisdom alight with mischief. Pages stained with a kind of love that most people will never get to know.

Jeongin

His scent is cold, alive, unique. Hawthorne fruit, candlestick ice, frozen rain. There's a beauty that you cant possibly comprehend. It invokes a sense of danger and pride but carries more warmth than a thousand suns.

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Im in the process of starting a 9th Member! reader Omegaverse fic so I wanted to explain how I perceive the boys scents. I know they are oddly specific but I cant imagine anything else. I don't quiet have synesthesia (at least I think) but some of all of these things have very distinctive smells. My friends call me crazy when I say jade has a VERY unique smell. I hope I was able to get my thoughts out coherently.

The first chapter should be out some time next week.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids a/b/o #skz x reader smut #Bang Chan x reader #chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #skz smut #alpha!skz #omega!reader #9th member of skz #9th member reader #skz x you #skz omega verse

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nurllius · 8 months

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In the remembrance of the Tea Nation I made this with some of the people that were there as a silly doodle. Had a blast as always and wanted to capture the moment. I have more sketches I want to do of some of the other things that happened but that’ll do later as sadly I have some actual work I need to work on.

Now all the lovely ppl will be below and the ones that I didn’t catch the tumblr of and you know them or you find yourself here do let me know.

Left side, from front to back:

Forgemaster Erezin - @vigilbutts

Sparrow Dragonheart - @bidilfs

Bargain Bin Cthulu - ?

Iljrn - @9asurainatrenchcoat

Darius Sunstep - @clemmykins

Uda Kiyoshi - @jaded-cactus

Wolfgang Lachrymohs - @twilightdomain

Echo of Night - @liquidferret

Tine Of Nice Dreams - @balladofchefsalad

Sansa Eirdottir - @anteaterisland

Right side, from front to back:

Illàés - @blightingpods

Avuncular Bourbon - @sylvaridreams

Aahrtur - mine

Mentor Brynn - @idrawtoomuch-gw2

Harley Vuong - @antariies

Acheloe - @hawkepockets

Meisi The Loyal - @cheddargoblin

And the awesome server - Varia Icereave - @gwtoomanyalts

#I was desperately searching for all the peopl’s @s #got most of them down #better than last time #gw2 #vsartparty #guildwars2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 art #my art

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hotdilfs11 · 1 year

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People We Met In Supermarkets pt 2- Damon x Reader

part 1 part 3

✩Jade had some past secrets she's been keeping away from the Salvatores especially Damon. Ever since she met them she only told bits and pieces about herself, and it's so bad that they don't even know that Jades older than them. What secrets are she keeping and will it come out? Who or what is hiding?

✩parings:Girl name Jade x Damon

warnings:mention of stabbing/being casted away

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As I walk into the long, aching halls of school, I see my two best friends, Bonnie and Caroline. However, I wasn’t in the mood to have a long, exhausting conversation with them after what just happened. But I walked up to them anyway, giving them a fake smile and saying, “Hey guys”.

Caroline looked at me with a heartfelt smile on her face. “Hey Jay!”

“Hey care, Bonnie. I need to talk to you; it's urgent,” I said in a monotone voice.

Bonnie nodded in confusion and worry as I grabbed her hand and dragged her into the nearest women's bathroom. Her face frowned up. “What's wrong, Jade?”

“The Salvatores asked me about the originals, but I reacted wrongly, and now I think they’re going to start asking questions, Bonnie. I’m scared,” I stated anxiously.

Hesitantly “I know you're scared, but I think you should tell them, especially Damon.”

I sighed "Yeah, I know, but I’m just scared.”

“It's been decades; I think they’ll understand." Bonnie says as she tries to reassure me, but it isn't working. I thought I could run away from this, but of course it came back to play after decades of me not thinking about it. I know that the Salvatores are supportive, but I've lied too much about too many things. When the time comes, I’ll tell them, but until then, it's only between me, Bonnie, and Grams.

Bonnie tries to say something else, but I cut her off instantly “I have to go, Bonnie; I’ll see you”. I started rapidly walking away from Bonnie, pushing the door open, revealing the same boring, drowsy hallway. I wanted to run away from my problems, but I’m done with running. Even though I’m still scared out of my mind, I’ll try to deal with it.

1921, New Orleans

“Get off of me, Nicklaus!” I shouted, trying to retrieve my hand from his strong, illuminating grip. I’m terrified of Nicklaus. He’s stronger than me and faster than me, so right now, me trying to yank my hand away is useless because his grip is getting stronger and stronger.

“No, not until you pick between my brother and I!" He screamed with a hefty English accent.

Elijah was behind him, doing jackshit to help me. He’s weak and scared of his own fucking brother, and Klaus, behind all that anger, is still a scared little boy hiding from his bloody father.

"Elijah, do something; you’re just bloody standing there like a fool!” I shrieked as tears started to run quickly down my cheeks.

Elijah looked at me with a cold, piercing stare as he mumbled the words, “You have to pick Jade.”

I scoffed. I’m in shock with these two; they want me to love them both, but I don't want that. I loved Klaus before, and I loved Elijah before, but now that I’m seeing their true colors, I’m not sure I love any of them anymore, especially Nicklaus.

I gave them both a deceiving glare. “I’m not bloody choosing between you guys. I am sick and tired of you two treating me like I’m some kind of fucking doll.” I took a pause, trying to put my words together. “I don’t want any of you, and I don’t FUCKING LOVE ANY OF YOU!"

Klaus' looks at me in disbelief as his grip loosened up, and I had my chance to run back into the club we were in. I know that they wouldn't make a scene in there. I ran through the doors of this nightclub as I made my way through the crowded, dimly lit room. I fought my way through, making my way to the open bar, sitting down. The bartender went up to me and asked, “What can I get for you, ma'am?" I ordered a Bourbon neat, and he brought it to me as I chugged the whole thing in one motion.

The bell rang loudly as I jumped out of my seat, releasing myself from a crushing memory. I raced through the crowded halls desperately wanting to leave this god-forbidden school, wishing I had listened to Stefan about staying home. I made it out, walking down the parking lot, trying to find Bonnie's cute yellow car. However, I got distracted by the roar of Damon's car quickly approaching me. I tried to ignore it, but he stopped right beside me. I stopped in my tracks and bent down to Damon's open window.

I sighed “What are you doing here, Mr. Salvatore?" I said it coyly.

He gave me a quick smile. “I figured you needed a ride home.”

I looked at him for a minute, giving it a thought. "Okay," I said as I got into his car.

The engine roared to life as we sped out of the parking lot and onto the long country highway. I slightly turned my head, looking at Damon's strong, rugged hands gripping the black steering wheel as we raced down the highway. I started to admire his features again, like this morning. I love looking at him, it gives me butterflies. His side profile was perfect, his jawline was sharp and lean, and his hair looked slightly messy, like he didn’t care to do it this morning, but he looked amazing either way.

He turned his head in my direction as I quickly twisted my head, pretending to look out the window. However, I felt his eyes caressing my body, and it made me anxious yet excited for some reason.

Teasingly, he says, “You’re always looking at me, Blue Jay."

I looked at him and smiled. “Whatever do you mean, Damon?”

He smiled, but it faded quickly. He looked a bit bothered, and I had a feeling what it was about too.

I let out a strong exhale. “What is it, Damon?” I said as I looked at him, annoyed.

He looked at me, then looked away, trying to pay attention to the road. “I just… I just want to know why you got all tense this morning about the originals.”

I stayed quiet as I directed my gaze out the window.

“Do you know them? Are you running from them?... I just want to know what the connection is between you guys," he curiously said.

“Please pull over, Damon.”

“What?”

I demanded "pull over.”

The car started to slow down rapidly while he pulled off to the side of the road. When the car came to a full stop, I grabbed my school bag and hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut. I started to walk back to school, thinking Bonnie would probably be there if I walked; however, the thought flew out the window as Damon ran in front of me. I didn't notice him doing that until I bumped into his firm, hard chest. I looked up at him, making eye contact with him. “Move out of my way, Damon,” I demanded.

I tried to step out of the way, but all he did was block my way. I rolled my eyes at him, knowing he'd keep this up, so I just gave up.

Damon sighed "Look, Jade, I’m sorry I bombarded you with these questions, but I just want to know the truth, okay?” His voice grew soft with me, and his strong, soft hands cupped my cheeks. I felt reassured by him, but I’m still not ready for it. I grabbed his wrists and lowered them slowly.

I looked at the ground and said, “I’m not ready yet."

“It's okay, I understand,” he said softly as his arms wrapped around me like chains, pulling me into him. I took in his sweet-scented cologne and the warmth bouncing off his body as my face rubbed against his soft, cottony black shirt. I feel safe and at home in his arms. I never thought I would feel like this in decades. It brings me back to my own family.

Damon slowly loosened his grip. I looked at him and said “thank you” as we started walking back to his car.

A husky voice beside me blurted, “You must be having a rough night.”

As the bartender gives me my second drink, I slowly turn my head to see a handsome gentleman who looks a bit mysterious but well-known. He had jet black hair, icy blue eyes, and a nice, sweet smile. I noticed there was another man beside him. He looked a little different from the first one yet similar. However, he had brown hair, brown eyes, and a stronger build. I assume they may be brothers or cousins, but he never noticed the other one talking to me.

“You fancy a drink?” I said it with a strong British accent.

He smiled. "Yeah, sure, if you tell me why you’ve been crying.”

I scoffed and let out a soft chuckle. “Boy problems.”

He started to rapidly nod his head up and down, probably understanding what I’ve been going through for the last hour. "Well, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t cry over a skeevy little boy.”

“Yeah? and what makes you so different?” I say being coy.

The mysterious man shrugged his shoulders and said, “Maybe it’ll make a difference one day.”

A flush of warmth crawled on my cheeks as a strong hue of red covered my face. "Uh, well, one day it might; we’ll never know." I looked at him, then trailed off to the guy beside him. “Who is that man beside you? He’s been awfully quiet there, mate.”

He looked behind him and said, “Oh yeah, that's my brother Stefan Salvatore,” then whispered, “He's in quite a mood tonight.”

A new voice appeared in the air as the other man stated, “I am not in a mood, Damon. I just don’t want to bother this beautiful woman, unlike you.

A chuckle released from my lips: “Is that really your brother?"

“Yes, sadly,” Stefan said nonchalantly. He seemed a bit drunk and angry, but he was quite funny. I started to gaze at the other Salvatore brother in curiosity. “Now what's your name, mystery brother?

“My name is Damon Salvatore, and yours?" I stood up from my seat as Damon's eyes followed me, concerned. “Jade Bennent."

I stood between both brothers as they both looked at me with a surprised look. "A Bennent witch?” Stefan was intrigued by what I said.

“A witch and vampire boys.” They looked at each other with confusion. “And you are vampires like me. I knew the minute I sat next to you two, Mr. Salvatore," I said calmly.

I started to walk away until I heard Damon Salvatore say, "Wait." I looked back at both of them with a smile. “I’ll see you boys later, yeah?”

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twistiraki · 1 year

Text

The Scent of the Twisted Wonderland Boys

🌹Riddle Rosehearts- Riddle's scent is regal and refined, like a bouquet of roses in a castle. His scent is floral and sophisticated, with notes of rose and iris, matching his personality. Favorite Scent- Chloe Eau de Parfum by Chloé (Peony, Litchi, Rose, Amber)

❤️Ace Trappola- Ace's scent is a mix of fresh roses and leather, like a bouquet of roses wrapped in a leather jacket. The scent is both alluring and dangerous, just like Ace himself.

Favorite Scent: Noir de Noir by Tom Ford (rose with leather,wood, and spices)

♠️Deuce Spade- Deuce's scent is crisp and clean, with a hint of earthiness, matching his hardworking and diligent personality. The aroma is fresh and invigorating, with notes of citrus and basil, hinting at his tendency to stay focused and driven despite struggling with some school subjects.

Favorite Scent: Bright Neroli by Ferrari (Rosemary, Lemon, and Neroli)

♣️Trey Clover- Trey's scent is warm and comforting, like freshly baked bread or cookies. The aroma is soft and sweet, matching his laid-back and agreeable personality. The aroma is herbal and woody, with notes of lavender and cedarwood, hinting at his calming influence and ability to think things through.

Favorite Scent: By the Fireplace by Maison Martin Margiela (chestnut, vanilla, and wood)

♦️Cater Diamond- Cater's scent is sweet and playful, with a hint of fruitiness and a touch of floral notes, matching his peppy and outgoing personality. The aroma is refreshing and energetic, with notes of grapefruit and peony, hinting at his love for socializing and keeping up with the latest trends.

Favorite Scent: Carnal Flower by Frederic Malle (coconut, ylang-ylang, and musk)

🦁Leona Kingscholar- Leona's scent is musky and animalistic, with hints of leather and woods. The aroma is primal and fierce, matching Leona's powerful personality.

Favorite Scent: Baccarat Rouge 540 by Maison Francis Kurkdjian (Saffron, Jasmine and Amberwood)

🍩Ruggie Bucchi- Ruggie's scent is fresh and earthy, like newly cut grass and damp soil. The aroma is comforting and grounding, reflecting Ruggie's steadfast personality.

Favorite Scent: Wood Sage & Sea Salt by Jo Malone London (sea salt and wood)

🐺Jack Howl- Jack's scent is spicy and woody, with a hint of bitterness, matching his rough and tough exterior. The aroma is complex and unpredictable, with notes of black pepper and vetiver, hinting at his reluctance to form close relationships with others despite respecting the hierarchy.

Favorite Scent: Opium Pour Homme by Yves Saint Laurent (Bourbon Vanilla, Tolu Balsam and Atlas Cedar)

🐙Azul Ashengrotto- Azul's scent is luxurious and refined, like an upscale department store. The aroma is a rich blend of expensive cologne, leather handbags, and polished wood, reflecting Azul's sophisticated personality.

Favorite Scent: Gucci Guilty Absolute by Gucci (oud, rosewood, and Cypress)

👟Floyd Leech- Floyd's scent is unpredictable and complex, like the ocean's currents. The aroma is salty and spicy, with notes of seaweed and black pepper, matching Floyd's moody and unpredictable personality. His mood swings make it hard to predict what he'll say or do next.

Favorite Scent: Oud Minérale by Tom Ford (sea salt, seaweed, and pink peppercorn)

🍄Jade Leech- Jade's scent is delicate and floral, with a hint of underlying deceptiveness. The aroma is soft and powdery, with notes of lavender and Rosemary, matching Jade's gentle and courteous demeanor, but also hinting at his cunning and manipulative tendencies.

Favorite Scent: Acqua di Giò Profumo by Giorgio Armani ( Bergamot, Rosemary, Patchouli)

🦦Kalim Al-Asim- Kalim's scent is exotic and spicy, with hints of incense and sweets. The aroma is warm and inviting, matching Kalim's lively personality.

Favorite Scent: Angels' Share by By Kilian (Cinnamon, Tonka Bean and Praline)

🐍Jamil Viper- Jamil's scent is smoky and seductive, like a late arabian night. The aroma is spicy and musky, with notes of tobacco and amber, matching Jamil's suave and sophisticated personality.

Favorite Scent: A*Men Pure Havane by Mugler (Honey, Cacao and Tabacco)

🪞Vil Schoenheit- Vil's scent is captivating and alluring, with a hint of sophistication, matching his pursuit of beauty and elegance. The aroma is floral and musky, with notes of rose and sandalwood, hinting at his desire to be the most beautiful person in the room.

Favorite Scent: Hypnotic Poison by Dior (Vanilla, Almond and Musk)

🏹Rook Hunt- Rook's scent is earthly and mysterious, with a hint of sweetness, matching his dark and enigmatic personality. The aroma is woody and musky, with notes of sandalwood and amber, hinting at his tendency to keep to himself and his past that he tries to hide.

Favorite Scent: Royal Oud by Creed (Sandalwood, Agarwood and Musk)

🍎Epel Felmier- Epel's scent is playful and mischievous, with a hint of sweetness, matching his fun-loving and impulsive personality. The aroma is fruity and floral, with notes of raspberry and jasmine, hinting at his desire to enjoy life and have fun, even if it means breaking the rules. A suggested matching perfume for Epel's scent could be Viktor & Rolf's Flowerbomb, which features notes of jasmine, rose, and patchouli.

Favorite Scent: Aventus by Creed ( Apple, Vanille and Oak)

💀Idia Shroud- Idia's scent is mysterious and dark, like old books and dusty tomes. The aroma is complex and intriguing, with notes of patchouli and lavender, matching Idia's shy but proud personality.

Favorite Scent: Santos de Cartier by Cartier (Pepper, Nutmeg, and Geranium

🤖Ortho Shroud- Ortho's scent is metallic and crisp, like freshly cut wires and circuit boards. The aroma represents Ortho's technical expertise and his robot-like appearance. It's a clean scent, with notes of ozone and steel. The aroma is a little clinical and precise, matching Ortho's analytical personality.

Favorite Scent: Versace Man Eau Fraiche by Versace (Saffron, Amber and Sycamore)

🐉Malleus Draconia- Malleus's scent is fiery and intense, like dragon's breath and volcanic ash. The aroma is smoky and spicy, with notes of cinnamon and chili pepper, matching Malleus's dragon-like appearance.

Favorite Scent: Chergui by Serge Lutens (honey, tobacco, and spices)

🦇Lilia Vanrouge- Lilia Vanrouge: Lilia's scent is warm and comforting, with a hint of playfulness, matching his easygoing and friendly personality. The aroma is woody and spicy, with notes of sandalwood and ginger, hinting at his teasing nature and mischievous tendencies.

Favorite Scent: Jazz Club by Maison Martin Margiela (tobacco, vanilla, and cedarwood)

💤Silver- Silver's scent is clean and crisp, with a hint of freshness and a touch of sweetness, matching his serious and reserved personality. The aroma is citrusy and aromatic, with notes of bergamot and lavender, hinting at his diligence and devotion to his training as a knight.

Favorite Scent: New York for Gentlemen by Brooks Brothers (Cumin, oak moss and vetiver)

⚡Sebek Zigvolt- Sebek's scent is intense and fiery, with a hint of spice and a touch of sweetness, matching his loud, hot-blooded, and prideful personality. The aroma is spicy and woody, with notes of cardamom and amber, hinting at his honesty and blunt nature.

Favorite Scent: Noir Extreme by Tom Ford (cardamom, amber, and vanilla)

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lorircreates · 2 years

Note

Hii 😍

What if your MC / LI sent the wrong picture to the wrong number? It can be a fun or spicy pic

Hi!

I usually would create a little ficlet to answer this kind of ask, but I have many OCs, so there would be many different responses. And my brain is fried lately... So I hope it's okay to just share some headcanons.

I can absolutely affirm to you Daphne (D&D MC AU) would never send a wrong pic to anyone. Ever. Because of her past issues with revenge porn and cyberbullying, she's extra careful and double checks her messages and the sender at all times.

Evelyn (OPH MC) probably is the one who has more trouble with sending wrong messages. Specially when she's tired or sleep deprived. But it wouldn't be something serious. Most likely, she'd just send silly memes in the work group chat. Also Rafael gets a lot of pics of medications or prescriptions Evelyn was supposed to send to a patient or a friend who asked for help in the middle of the night 😂

Natasha (PM MC), Samantha (BB MC), Jade (TRR MC) and Ayla (MOTY MC) are the ones who like sending nudes and mostly send them to the wrong people. Natasha would just apologize and make a joke in case it happens. Though it'd be a scandal to send a nude on the Bernhardt Academy parents group chat, Ayla would know how to get out of trouble with ease and even earn a few fans in the process 🤣🤣🤣

Samantha would have a lot of trouble in this department, given her history of a love triangle including her boss and her now boyfriend. But the one who would be in serious trouble would be Jade. She's a politician, Cordonian are prudes, you get the idea... 😑 She would find a way to get out this kind of mess eventually, but it certainly wouldn't be easy.

Thanks for the ask, dear 😊

#lori answers #peonierose #ocs ask #daphne wang #evelyn bennington #jade bourbon #natasha park #samantha holden

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lorirwritesfanfic · 2 years

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OCs as A Love Language

Thanks for the ask @lilyoffandoms 💕 the link for anyone who wishes to do this uquiz for your OCs in the title of this post.

Daphne Wang: a story that ends in blood

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

Evelyn Bennington: consumption of a heart unloved

Here’s a dining table, here’s a set of plates. Here’s your heart, red and bursting with love. You have tried to love people all your life, but no one seems to understand you. Your own mother perhaps forgot to teach you how to protect yourself, maybe people whom you trusted chose to look the other way when all you wanted was a hand full of love. All you want is someone to take from you, all you want is someone to dig in your heart and eat it and kiss you afterwards - bloody and red. You want them to tell you that you are what they have been looking for, you want to be the one who ends their hunger.

Jade Bourbon: an undoing influence

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

Stella Lovejoy: a knife called grief

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

#tag game #ocs stuff #damn... that's a cool oc quiz #daphne wang #evelyn bennington #jade bourbon #stella lovejoy

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

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For Better, For Worse - Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Reader

Tagging: @aaronhtchnrs @my-secret-shame @mysoulisasunflower @kabloswrld @xoxabs88xox @mydarkestsecretlol @whoreforhondo @crazy4chickennuggets @justreblogginfics @witches-unruly-heart @infinity-mars @pimosworld @vannabanana1995 @julieelliewrites @queeniesdiary @est1887 @lilvampirina @creativitybeware @genius2050 @mortal--soul @spookyboogyuniverse @ritasantosworld @corruptedcoffin @anime-weeb-4-life @nu1freakshow @lyly00 @oureternalbond @the-wandering-lunatic @thebaileybugle @@the-person-in-the-circle

The bar was too crowded for Santi's taste, he hadn't expected so many people to come into a dive like this but it turned out liquid lunch was more than just a metaphor in Florida. He had some time to kill after what had gone down in Tom's house, he needed a drink to tide him over.

Then another drink for Tom’s daughter and then a third to forget how much he was missing you. Of course, he then had a beer to chase down the bourbon. He doesn't like not being in control of himself and he knows that the current turbulence in his life is having a worse effect on him than he had originally suspected.

His jacket's resting on the barstool to his right. The old Santi would have been more than drunk by now, he'd also have been hitting on the woman next to him, the one in the short skirt sucking the cherry off her cocktail stick.

"Hey there sugar," she drawls as he takes a swig of his beer.

Her curious gaze strays to his left hand, coming to rest on his empty ring finger.

"No ring?" she queries.

Santi sets down his beer bottle, that charming smile spreading across his handsome features as he shakes his head at her words. It doesn't matter to this woman whether he's wearing a wedding ring or not, it was just a starting point to a conversation that would eventually lead back to some low rent motel room.

"You know a year or two ago I probably would have gone for a girl like you." Santi says, giving her the once over as he catalogues her assets the way he would have back then.

Breasts pushed up and on display in that white, skin tight top she was wearing. Her face made up as if she's spending Friday night on the town, plump, glossy red lips and thick black eyeliner that made her jade green eyes stand out. She's every man's wet dream in this tiny shithole of a bar.

"What about now?" The blond purrs as she gives his physique an appreciative glance. "I could certainly go for a guy like you."

There's such lust in her eyes, pure unadulterated desire was vibrating through her flesh and Santi finds himself repulsed. Before you, this woman would have been exactly what he wanted. A quick fuck in a motel room, an itch to scratch or a frustration to vent, now she's simply a distraction. An unwelcome one.

"Sorry, not my type." Santi informs her, draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle back on the bar.

"Playing hard to get sugar?" she asks him, fluttering those pretty long lashes. "I think I can do a little something for that stress you seem to be under."

Her hand rubs up and down his bare arm, sending the hairs on his arms prickling with apprehension as her manicured talons rake his skin.

Shit, Santi used to be exactly like this woman, prowling in bars for someone to spend the night with. Anything to quench the loneliness inside that had been eating him up. There had been many women during his life and then he met you, and there was just you, only you.

The blonds waiting, and Santi doesn't remembered being this insistent, if one girlbturned him down, he would move onto another more willing participant to fulfil his vices. She's still talking, her tone low and suggestive. He hadn't heard a single word she's said.

He snorts rudely at the blonde's words as they register. She's got a room not far here, she could teach him a thing or two. He raises to his feet and slinging his jacket over his right shoulder.

It occures to Santi that he doesn't like walking around unclaimed. He's felt this agitation building over the past few days and it's growing worse and worse as his dark mood sets in.

He knows he's an intolerable son of a bitch when he gets like this and he hates bringing it home to you.

Santi isn't sure if it's a conscious decision or not but he ends up standing inside a discreet jewellery store in the heart of Tallahassee. When he finally manages to pull himself out of his furious thoughts he finds himself jabbing his finger at a small array of engagement rings that were cushioned in royal blue velvet fixtures.

"That one." Santi hears himself saying as he taps the glass. "That's the one."

He feels it with every ounce of his being as he watches the sales assistant remove the ring from it's plush surroundings. There's something that connects him to this tiny, gorgeous platinum circlet. He thinks it had something to do with the three small diamonds that shine like tiny stars, glittering in the light.

They remind him of when he tilted his head up towards the night sky in the Andes, his arms crossed over his chest as he thought of you and the life he was trying to build. He finds himself smiling as he studies the ring between his calloused fingers.

Home, he thinks when he looks at it.

You're his home. Already Santi can see so many of your memories etched into it platinum. The very first kiss he had stolen from you against a pool table. That time you'd made love to him in the backseat of his truck because you just couldn’t wait.

There were more, so many more and they ran through his head like a series of video clips as he clasps this ring between his fingertips. There was a lifetime in this ring, he can feel it pulsating through him as he holds it in his hand. He wants you to know how he feels when you look at this ring, to never doubt him no matter what the distance was between you.

"Can you include an inscription?" Santi requests as he set the ring down and withdraws his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Of course, what would you like it to say?" The sales assistant responds brightly as Santi handed over his credit card.

Santi thinksof what the two of you have been through. So many obstacles had stood in the way because of circumstance, other people and yourselves. No matter what happened you were always there for him, come hell or high water.

"For better, for worse."

Love Santi? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#santi garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier

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offdacabsav2 · 1 year

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Neon Sorrow

Vacuo may have been nothing but dust and orange hue, however, that didn’t stop its night clubs from pumping the bass past the witching hour.

Mostly young adults drowning their pain in bourbon, or tearing up the dance floor with their partners.

The cheering and blaring songs could be heard all the way from Shade Academy. Conveniently, the school itself engineered most of the establishment’s regulars.

Not Jaune, though.

While teams RWBY and RENO celebrated, he sat at the bar, studying his drink with an unreadable stare.

Another round of pulsing bass and flickering spotlights made him flinch, involuntarily recoiling and spilling the golden beverage.

His eyes narrowed.

The glass absorbed neon shades flashing and sweeping the club. An image of jaded, dull blue orbs stared back. He scowled at the other person stealing his features.

A group of men, laughing boisterously, chose their spots next to him.

He kept them in his peripheral before tossing down some change on the bar.

Beckoning him, a dark corner lay seductively, away and isolated.

He promptly stood and walked. A curious gaze followed.

Acting as a sort of phantom, he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, shadows covering his face.

Glimpses of yellow, black, orange, red, brown, pink and green on the dance floor between shifting bodies.

Here, separated and alone, he felt comfortable and softly sighed in relief.

Occasionally, he observed the exit and how inviting the fresh chill of night seemed compared to the suffocating humidity of this hellscape.

It smelled like sweat, alcohol and drugs. An inner prisoner beat against his skull.

Why is he even here? Why should he stay? For his friends? To satisfy their constant worries of his wellbeing?

He wanted to tell them he was fine and receive nothing more, but they never quit.

His scroll rang in his pocket. Begrudgingly, he unearthed it, ignoring a legion of unread texts and unanswered calls.

Weiss: ‘Where are you?’

His gloved hand paused over the keyboard. Once more, he glanced at his friends sway in casual wear. Questionable, in Yang’s case.

Jaune: ‘Still here.’

His inhale of polluted oxygen was deep. It honestly hurt more than it should have.

Weiss: ‘But where?’

An alarm sounded. His heart hastened.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t bring himself to answer.

So he didn’t.

That’s when the ugliest familiarity stepped out of his negative thoughts and into real life.

?: “Is that my old buddy, Jaune?”

Now he definitely wanted to leave.

Flanking his right, another revolting expression.

Cardin: “You look different, man. Why are ya hidin’ in the corner? Not like you to be afraid of a dance.”

The Arc’s blood boiled. His signature restraint and calmness degraded.

Jaune: “Fuck. off.” He hissed.

Cardin grinned, feinting shock and hurt.

Russel: “Still an asshole, apparently.”

Jaune regarded him with an evil glare.

Cardin: “Woah, ok dude, uncalled for. I was just trying to make conversation. It’s been a long time. I can’t catch up with a fellow huntsman?”

Winchester puffed out his chest, displaying a white badge showcasing title and official status.

Jaune: “Not a big fan of you’re type of reunion.”

Cardin: “Oh, c’mon. A hug, maybe pat on the back?” He smirked, spreading his longs arms.

Jaune: “Looking for validation or attention?”

Cardin: “I’m looking for a good time… Arc.” He enunciated sharply.

Jaune: “I’m not, so get the hell out of the way.” He threatened as he barged into Cardin’s shoulder and paced to the door.

Wearing an expression of smugness, Cardin slowly turned.

Cardin: “I was gonna ask for your permission.”

Jaune: “What, you need help wiping your own ass?” He answered, stuck on the exit.

Cardin: “That’s good, that’s good. He’s a funny guy, funny guy. No, more like for a dance partner. You wouldn’t mind if I took Schnee for a ride, right?”

Jaune paused abruptly. Cardin’s enthusiasm billowed.

Cardin: “Hook a fellow up, yeah? I mean, she’s gorgeous. I’d really like to see her tear up the dance floor, if you catch my drift.”

He wished he hadn’t met their arrogant faces, but Winchester stoked a fire he wanted to stamp out.

Cardin: “See if she’s really as cold as people say she is.” He glanced beyond the knight.

Jaune caught his quick check. He looked up where a strip of metal revealed two figures stalking him.

Cardin: “I don’t know, always had a thing for long hair and heels. Kinda reminds me of a certain redhead, now that I think about it.”

It was at this point where Jaune’s fingers twitched, trying to wrap around a non-existent weapon.

Slowly, more bystanders stopped dancing and watched the escalating hostility. A crowd was forming.

Cardin: ��Oh, my bad. Still a fresh wound, huh?”

Russel left Cardin’s side and approached. His shit-eating grin and lax sway ignited the fire in Jaune’s chest.

Russel: “Why don’t you let this one slide?”

The instant Russel’s hand rested on his shoulder, Jaune grabbed him, slammed his palm against his elbow, bending it unnaturally, and slugged the idiot across the face so hard, he crashed into the bar.

There was a sudden yell of surprise, gauging the hit in the crowd. Quickly, it turned to chants pouring oil on an inferno.

Jaune ducked the swing he knew was coming and flipped Sky over his back. Dove lunged with blurry speed. His fists flew fast, but Jaune broke his offensive with his forearms.

Dove’s leg launched at his mid-section. Jaune shifted, catching it and swept him off his remaining foot.

He prepared to hammer his fist upon his skull, but he was tackled.

Winchester and Arc rolled. However, the bully was ejected backwards as they tumbled.

Utilizing his momentum, Jaune shot to a defensive stance, intercepting Sky’s fist. He twisted the goon’s arm back, earning a cry of pain, and wrapped his hand around Sky’s face, violently slamming him through a table. Beer and splinters flew everywhere.

Affording no respite, Cardin and Dove attacked relentlessly. Jaune was pressed to the back foot, and retreated as he dodged and ducked.

Dove overextended, allowing the knight to side-step his attack and put a body in between him and Winchester.

He planted his fist into Dove’s ribs and knocked him cold with metal knuckles to the side of the brain.

He folded like a rag doll.

Cardin, with uncanny agility, rushed Jaune and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him high and slamming him against the bar.

The bully’s iron grip worked to crush Jaune’s jugular.

And as his vision faded and neon smeared over grey walls, he rocketed his knee upwards. Cardin howled from testicular trauma.

A swift one-two against Cardin’s temple, then a bone shattering blow to the stomach.

Unfortunately, Cardin’s aura only sparked. Jaune’s eyes widened.

The arrogant brute, ardently advertising shocking nimbleness, bashed Jaune with a backhand.

Stumbling from the raw weight behind the attack, Jaune dazed. Winchester grabbed his shoulders and planted his skull against the Arc’s temple.

Blood flowed free while he struggled to keep himself standing.

Barely, he avoided a fatal punch and the following series.

Jaune steadily backpedaled until the bar was no longer restraining his movements.

Missed opportunities piled on top of one another. Cardin roared in rage as Jaune expertly weaved in and out of his range.

Cardin: “You should’ve fucking died at Beacon!”

Right there and then…

He lost.

Seething anger clouded Cardin’s gaze. With 100% strength backing his swing, Jaune would surely die instantly or suffer a seizure so extreme he was bound to perish minutes later.

But, he dropped below him and spun. Cardin was off his feet and on the ground. Before he could register it, Jaune was there pummeling into him.

Each punch packed larger reserved energy than previous ones.

Eventually, the fight had been won, but Jaune kept going.

Bone crunched, blood coated his hands and face.

Flashing images played. Pyrrha between locker bars, Cinder’s infuriating smirk, Weiss dying on the floor, the feeling of his sword slipping past Penny’s flesh and into her heart, and the crushing, indomitable, unbearable loneliness of that damn fairytale.

Jaune wore rage well. Too well.

He couldn’t hear the bass or synths anymore. Same can’t be said for ear-splitting ringing.

A set of cold hands pulled on his shoulders. He whirled fast enough to induce tremendous whiplash…

…

Only to see horrified icy sapphires.

The world returned to him. No longer did the people cheer and yell. The dead silence led him to believe he’d hear the sound of lapping waves, or a sudden explosion of fire.

Weiss: “Jaune.”

What hurt most, was how she looked at him. Like… like he was some kind of demon.

The girl who picked him up after the Pleasers. The woman who shouldered his burden. The huntress he couldn’t stop thinking about; restless at night.

The only person who made him feel…

Wanted…

He tore from her gaze, examining the damage he had caused.

Cardin’s face was mangled. Nose cracked, forehead cut open, and jaw broken beyond repair. He was barely breathing.

Dove lay flat in a growing pool of blood.

Sky struggled to lift himself from the ground. Red poured from his mouth and nose.

Beyond the bar, two employees carried a screaming Russel. A bone protruded through his arm.

Weiss: “Jaune.” She muttered.

He darted to his feet, backing away. RENO watched in pure disbelief. RWBY mimicked that.

Weiss held out her arms, trying to calm him with a delicate voice.

Instead, he ran.

Blowing open the doors and into the night.

Indeed, the air was refreshing.

Weiss: “Jaune!”

Her calls grew distant.

Sirens drew closer.

#rwby volume 9 #jaune arc #weiss schnee #white knight #jaune arc x weiss schnee #weiss schnee x jaune arc #rwby whiteknight #jaune x weiss #wanted to write a bar fight for Jaune cause that would go hard

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