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nlights37 · 3 years

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three stars ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

::In very convincing Matthew McConaughey Texan:: Alright alright alright, 3 stars, 3 fics to disclose little nuggets of info on...

1. From Fixer Upper, Chapter 4 - Jon and Dany’s text exhange:

She was laughing even as she sent the text, knowing how touchy he was about this topic. Honestly, it was the whole reason she sent it.

Dany: I can’t believe we’ve been fake dating this long and you haven’t sent me a single dick pic 😖

The text bubble appeared for so long she was a little worried, but then his novel-length answer appeared. She was two lines in before she was laughing so hard she was crying and her vision blurred beyond her ability to continue reading at all.

Jon: How ABSOLUTELY DARE YOU?! Apparently I need to explain this AGAIN? If the Westerosi Security Agency is going to see my dick they can come here and do it in person like men. I’m not just gonna offer it up on a silver platter for them. Also need I remind you I am a small business owner, madam? This store is my kingdom and you ask me to besmirch it’s good name so you can see my cock at 2 pm on a Thursday? I’m disappointed in you Daenerys, I really am.

It should probably come as no surprise, given the ‘Buttslut’ text I shared awhile back, that a lot of the dialogue I write (including text messages) comes from the way my husband and I talk to each other, and in this case I based Jon’s reluctance to free the Peen digitally off my own husband’s unbreakable stance that sending dick pics means your dick is then somewhere in the cloud and idk I guess he thinks the Governtment is just chilling and collecting nudes all day. Anyway, I really did ask him once when we were dating why he had never sent me a dick pic and he said something along the lines of Jon’s response here, and even now, years later, it still makes me laugh, so I used it :)

2. A Thin Line (Just some thoughts on this fic in general, that I’m not sure I’ve shared):

I was SURE, ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that a lot of people would hate this fic. Like, I was over the top about ‘Hey this is crack’, etc, because as much fun as I had making them just awful people to each other, I was like ‘ugh there’s gonna be some stans in both camps that maybe get pissed about this’, but I figured fuck it, let’s do it. The thing about them in this fic that I really, really enjoyed writing was that they are completely and totally unapologetic about themselves, and letting myself just really let them be the worst versions of themselves, I don’t know, guys. It felt good. So good that I was like ‘hmmmm, maybe keep it in the drafts.’

Because that’s the thing I like best about them and this fic - it’s not a redemption story about two tortured souls who find each other and then learn the error of their ways. It’s more like two villains meet at villain convention and will they birth the antichrist? Who knows, really, but probably, yes. Definitely.

Anyway, I really dug that so many people enjoyed their unspeakably assholish tendencies and please know I haven’t abandoned my part 3, in which Dany gets to snob it up in the North and you know, so more light bondage, maybe some matching prenups, I don’t want to give it all away.

3. From Fang and Claw, Chapter 1:

“When you say fucking,” Drogon drawled, “what exactly do you mean, snack?” The three were all gathered near the stone walls of the Keep, guards watching anxiously as the three creatures of legend circled and paced.

“Stop calling him that.” Rhaegal leaned in, nipping at Drogon’s swishing black tail. “He has a name.”

Drogon rolled his eyes, looking at his brother incredulously. “I’ll call him whatever I like. What’s he going to do? Howl me to death?”

Rhaegal glared, inching closer to Ghost. “He’s magic, like us, and he’s Jon’s, so you’d better behave.” The green dragon growled. “You know what mother said.”

The black dragon gave a dismissive snort, his eyes searching the windows of the Keep instead of Rhaegal or Ghost. “Be nice. Yes, I heard her. This is me. Being nice. Not eating this talking little snack.” His eyes shot to the wolf’s. “Rather nice of me, isn’t it,” teeth gnashed together, grinding as Drogon uttered grudgingly, “Ghost.”

The white wolf ignored the black dragon, his eyes also falling to the windows. “You want to know what fucking is or don’t you?”

“I want to know what it is you mean when you say Jon is fucking my mother, yes.” Drogon sounded angry, offended even, and Ghost was surprised two mighty creatures could be so absolutely innocent to the ways of the world. Why, he’d been fucking for years now. Surely there were girl dragons flying about somewhere, though the lack of fucking certainly explained the black dragon’s horrible attitude.

“I feel itchy.” Rhaegal was shifting restlessly beside him.

Ghost gave a wolfish grin. “You’re bonded to Jon now.” Rhaegal nodded though it was not a question. “That’s what it feels like when Jon’s fucking your mother.” The wolf’s mouth fell open, and he panted in Drogon’s direction. “Like an itch you need to scratch.”

His red eyes fell to the windows till he found the one he wanted, and he whispered for the duo to follow as closely as they could as they slid along side the ancient stone, ‘til they were just under the window to Jon’s chambers.

“Hear that?” He certainly could, and by the look of confusion on the dragons’ faces they could as well. The Silver Dany let out a throaty yell then, followed by Jon’s name, the sounds and smells of mating flowing from the open window and out into the night.

“Is he hurting her?” Drogon was rumbling and thrashing his tail about, rage building in those mad eyes.

But Rhaegal responded before Ghost could answer. “No.” He drew the word out, his head rising until he could look into the room for himself, then shooting back down to stare at Ghost. “Why are they doing that?”

Drogon mirrored his brother’s actions, even angrier but endlessly puzzled when he lowered his head as well, clearly befuddled by what he’d seen. “Explain this!”

Ghost gave a shrug, padding off a few paces, ready to give his brother a spot of privacy with his mate, heading for the clearing along the tree line where he could scent some rabbits running. “It’s what they do.” The pair was scrambling after him, landbound, awkwardly lumbering after the sleek wolf. “Humans.” Both dragons remained clueless, and Ghost snagged a hare and crunched down heavily, warm blood streaking his fur, downing the small prey in a few bites before continuing. “When they want to make a pup.”

Drogon shuddered as he watched Ghost eat. “You’re a fucking savage.” He grumbled and groused, claws swiping out to catch an elk, idly shooting out gouts of flame to cook the meat before he began to tear it apart. “You don’t even cook your food, little snack.”

Rhaegal ignored it all, focused only on this new knowledge. “But our mother is a dragon.” His eyes lit up, suddenly, turning to his brother in excitement. “It’s how they make eggs!”

Ghost gave a snicker. “Humans don’t lay eggs.” He looked at the pair with amused eyes. “You lot come from eggs?”

Rhaegal gave a nod, but Drogon preened, proud as he broke his meal’s rib cage between his jaws. “You should be so lucky. We certainly do. Beautiful eggs people pay large sums of gold for.”

Ghost crouched, his attention on the deer he could now sense beyond the tree line. “Like a chicken then.” He leapt as the black dragon roared in outrage, his jaws sinking into the deer’s neck, and he pulled the twitching body out of the treeline to drop it in a heap before Rhaegal.

“NOT LIKE A CHICKEN!”

Rhaegal looked at Ghost pleadingly before he cooked the deer his host had provided, his eyes begging the wolf to stop baiting his brother, and Ghost grumpily complied.

“Alright, not like a chicken. Point is, humans have pups that look like them, and they don’t come from eggs.” He sat on his haunches, watching the pair as they ate.

“So,” Rhaegal snapped into a femur, “you meant to say that’s what Jon’s doing. Trying to put a small human in our mother.”

The wolf couldn’t stop the snicker of amusement. “Oh, no he’s already done that.” He looked at the pair wonderingly. What sort of beast were they, that they couldn’t smell the pup in their mother? “Now he’s just fucking her because it feels good.”

There is nothing funnier to me than the idea that (1) Ghost would ever try ot explain to anyone what sex is and (2) that the dragons wouldn’t know and would be VERY offended and it took a little bit for me to write this scene way way back ago when we all thought that Season 8 would not be a massive shitstain in history because I kept laughing so hard picturing this shit.

This story is probaby one of my favorites, just because it’s silly and every magical creature is TIRED TIRED I SAY of everyone dicking around and just the notion that they’re all like ‘THESE HUMANS ARE SO DUMB UGH DO WE HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING?!” It just really tickled me, and I might never have written it had the amazing @aweseeds not requested it after her winning bid for the Jonerys Unites charity event. So, everyone say thank you to aweseeds lol, this might’ve just stayed in my head and silly tumblr posts without that fine investment in fandom content.

Thank you lovely @frostbitepandaaaaa for the ask! I LOVE YOU BITCH, I AIN’T NEVER GONNA STOP LOVIN’ YOU BITCH!

#jonerys #jon x daenerys #fanfic #my fics #fic asks

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uptownbabyfanfic · 4 years

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Prologue.

*Flashbacks*

Chevaugn

*2 Years Earlier*

“Fuck,” I mumbled shaking my head as I watched the ball bounced off the rim for like the tenth time in a row.

“Aight pause,” my pops called out after catching the ball. “Come talk to me Chevy,” he motioned for me to come over where he took his seat.

“Wussup pop?” I asked, grabbing my water I sat next to him watching as he shrugged his shoulders.

“You tell me, you’re missing shots you can make in your sleep which is crazy to me,” he paused, clearly frustrated. “With tryouts right around the corner how you gon make JV playing like this?” He asked

“Chill dad, it's just a few missed shots, let's run it again,” I stated trying to get him to get off this topic.

“Hell no, and it’s not even about the missed shots, you've been off the whole time we've been out here & we’re running basic ass drills. What’s on ya mind boy?” he questioned looking over at me.

“Nothing. Why something gotta be on my mind? I’m fine pop,” I said lying through my teeth.

“I’d believe that if you weren’t my son, but you are and as ya pops you should already know I know for a fact when something is bothering you,” he paused making us laugh a bit.

“We ain’t getting back to this till you clear ya mind so talk,” he said I sighed, shaking my head. Something is in fact heavy on my mind but I don’t exactly know how to express it to my pops especially since this is a problem we thought was finally over.

“It’s mom,” I paused looking over at him “What about ya mother?” he asked curious

“She’s using again and she thinks I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head.

“You know this for a fact?” he asked me, I nodded he breathed out shaking his head.

“You have any idea where she's getting it from?” he asked me

“Yea. Dre,” I answered referring to my moms boyfriend, which is the main reason I ain’t wanna mention this to my pops in the first place. My parents aren’t together and even with the way they ended things, my pops always managed to keep things on a respectful level or at least tried to.

“Dre?” he questioned, shaking his head I nodded. “I thought they broke up,”

“So did I, but they’ve been back together for awhile. I just didn’t want to tell you to avoid any drama between y’all,” I said making him laugh a bit. My pops and Dre have known each other since they were kids but as they got older things changed. Dre made an enemy out of my pops and made things worse when he got with my mom. He caused problems he shouldn’t have been able to, the main one being the custody battle my parents went through a few years back. He’s the reason why I can only see my pops every other weekend.

“You don’t have to worry about that, you could have told me,” he said I waved him off.

“I do though pops, I may be young but I understand a lot for my age and everything we go through when he’s in the picture is too much,” I paused, shaking my head.

“I hate it when he’s around and I don’t understand why or how the judge granted mom full custody because living with them ain’t fun,” I stressed

“Is something else going on you tryna protect me from? Cause if that’s the case you need to tell me,” he said h

“No. It’s just the simple fact that he ain’t my pops and serves no purpose in my life, I just rather live here,” I expressed he sighed

“I've been trying like hell to get full custody with everything that has happened over the years, but you know with my record & the shit your mom be pulling it’s hard as hell,” he sighed

“I just need you to know despite what the judge say I’m not gon turn you away if you wanna come here, you my son so I could give a fuck what anybody gotta say,” he said pulling me in Ismiled shaking my head.

“I know that pop but honestly I just don’t want you in any more trouble with the law. I don’t know how this will work if you ain’t here,” I said he nodded.

“I appreciate that son but ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you, besides I’m here for good. You ain’t losing me, I can promise you that”

“Thanks pop, & I just might take you up on that offer too,” I said standing to my feet grabbing the ball from him.

“You got keys right,” he said, making us laugh. “Can we get back to work now,” he smirked and I nodded, bouncing the ball.

“Let’s go and watch how I lock you up,” I joked setting myself up on the court

“You can’t lock me up boy, I taught you everything you know,” he said waving me off.

“Lamar the cops out front,” my aunt yelled running in the yard.

Dropping the ball I watched as a bunch of police officers swarmed the backyard and approached my pops. It was like something out of a movie, I’ve never seen them grab somebody up so fast in my life. I tried to follow after them to get answers but my aunt pulled me back.

“Stay with ya aunt Chevy, I’ll be home sooner than you think,” my dad called out from the back of the car but little did me and my pops know he wouldn’t be coming home no time soon.

Lanay

Placing the phone up and away from my face I waited patiently for him to appear on the screen. After the many failed attempts for my mom I thought I’d try cause only lord knows if I come in the house with food for everybody but him all hell will break loose so for his own good he better answer cause I won’t be ringing his phone off like my mom.

“Wussup Lala?” he answered looking at me through the phone

“Oh wow look who finally decided to answer the phone,” I joked, shaking my head.

“Nah I was doing something, I tried to call mommy back but she ain’t answer, she home?” he asked

“Not yet she should be home soon though,” I informed him he nodded

“Wussup though you good?” he asked I nodded.

“I’m going to buy food from Ms. Cherry’s what you want?” I asked him as I placed my sneakers on.

“What I usually get, but get rice and peas instead of macaroni and see if they have fried dumpling get like 2 or 3,”

“You asking for a lot,” I said shaking my head as I walked out of my apartment

“Just buy it big head. I'll give mommy back her money,” he said but I shook my head.

“Nah this is my money, so Ima need that back plus interest,” I smiled he laughed waving me off.

“Whatever. Yo La that tiger & puma head mix you drew was so fire, that might be the piece I get tatted for my 18th birthday,” he said making me smile big.

“Word? Okay that was the draft Ima draw it better for you,” I said he nodded

“Cool and put ya signature on it too, like at the bottom or something,”

“I got you, but you know mommy gon be mad when you finally do this,” I said as we laughed

“She’ll be fine, Ima get her face tatted so she can’t be mad,” he said I waved him off.

“I need my face too, that should be the first one honestly,”

“Here you go,” he said shaking his head as his boys started making noise in the background.

“Tell mommy I��ll be home in like an hour or two, keep my food warm Autumn,” he snorted, making me roll my eyes. He knows I hate when people call me that.

“Whatever, bye lil Lucky,” I laughed quickly hanging up before he could respond.

“Why you laughing?” my best friend Jordy questioned as I walked out the building.

“Lucky,” I replied, placing my phone in my pocket as we walked to the Jamaican restaurant.

“You were talking to my man, where is he?” my other best friend Sky questioned eagerly. Since the girl was old enough to fully understand and grasp the looks of boys she’s been crushing on my brother and as we get older and closer in age I need to keep it at just a crush. I love my girls I do, but my brother is off limits and it's for their sake honestly.

“Bye Skylar, my brother don’t want you,” I said, waving her off.

“You don't know that Lala, freshman year will soon start and we gon be seeing each other everyday,” she squealed, causing us all to laugh.

“Yea you and every other girl in school checking for his ass,” my other best friend Krissy chimed in I nodded.

“Exactly,” I said as we approached the restaurant.

“Whatever, when we get married I don’t wanna see any of y’all at the ceremony hating asses,” she waved us off as we burst out laughing and proceeded to order our food.

____

“Yea but Lala I’m serious, let me know if you want me to do ya hair for the first day of school,” Sky said as we walked in my apartment.

“I got you, cause mommy talking about wash n’ set but it’s honestly too hot for all that,” I said as we laughed a bit.

“Lucky what’s the problem now?” I heard my mom ask as we walked in the kitchen.

“In the bookings for what? What did you do?” she asked in a slight panic which had me worried. I just got off the phone with my brother so what could he have possibly gotten himself into 20 minutes after hanging up.

“Ma what’s wrong?” I asked her but she just placed her finger up at me. This isn’t my brothers first go spending time in the bookings and it’s usually never anything serious. It’ll be for something minor like the cops shutting a party down, or just acting a fool with his bros but this time around with the look my mother has plastered over her face it seems like something more.

“Just explain it to me when I get there, I’m on my way now. I’ll be back Lala,” she said grabbing her keys I nodded watching her leave.

“La,” Krissy called out.

“Yea,” I answered, facing her.

“I don’t know if this has anything to do with Lucky but Tati just posted that her brother got locked up. She said the cops bust in her crib and it went left from there,” she said referring to a friend of ours from school who’s brother runs in the same circle as Lucky.

“I highly doubt it,” I said, shaking my head. I don’t want to believe my brother is a part of that because as I said before him being locked up can mean anything.

“Ima just wait for Ma to call and tell me what’s up, besides I already know they gon come home,” I said, but little did I know that phone call would be the last time I see my brother for a very long time.

#yg #megan thee stallion #trey songz #malibu mitch #big sean #teyana taylor #asap rocky #saweetie #meek mill #Roddy Ricch #lil baby #nicki minaj #cardi b #chris browm #urban #urban fiction #hood #hood love

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suitcasesandsalamanders · 4 years

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(dw about the ask, its all good mate)

you know the way that every fandom has that one headcanon about that one character that everyone accepts as canon even though the creators never said anything about it? because i havent really seen one for fantastic beasts.

therefore i believe as a community, we can all mutually agree that tina is a raging bisexual. in this essay i will

also hey! another autistic here 👉👈 ive kinda been stalking your blog for a while, and as an avid tina simp im so so happy someone else is giving her the love she deserves. im also curious if you have any hcs in general :0 personally im a firm believer in sapphic!tina and enby!newt (which i may or may not be writing an essay on why i believe in this lol) and also newt being on the spectrum. as for tina, honestly i didn't really think about it before, but to be honest i think she might be showing a few signs of asd or adhd 😳 anyways im rammmmbliiing so bye! have a good day my comrade <3

hey anon where’s the essay where is it i need it right now.

there’s a lot here so this is def gonna be in my drafts for a bit so i can get to everything here we go.

I THINK TUMBLR LET ME TYPE ON THE ASK YOU CAN IGNORE THAT LOL I CANT REMOVE IT

first and foremost thank you for resending your ask! i’m so used to having things in my drafts that hit delete i’m so used to edit😔

1. i’m so glad you agree that tina is bisexual!!!! once again i thought i was projecting but at the same time if i was i’d hc her as ace too which i don’t. like she just gives off that vibe. it’s the 1920’s she’s wearing pants. you know who would do that? people who are attracted to women and men.

2. i’m very glad to meet someone who loves tina too :D she deserves better and it’s super weird that she gets treated so badly. like right off the top of my head i can think about a certain post. tina haters are cringe and fail. i’m tired of people treating my wife like that🙄

3. as for headcanons i can’t really think of anything of right now mostly because i’m in class and there’s lots of talking. i know i made a hc list for tina awhile back i’ll have to find it bc some of those went hard af

4. YESYEYSYSYEYSYYSS TO ADHD TINA YESSSSSSSSS. i’m diagnosed w both autism/adhd which i did not know was possible. i thought they’d cancel out but nope :( and the idea of tina chilling and then all of a sudden being like ‘if i don’t go run 15 laps i will die someone help’ is so funny. i started hc her w adhd after cog i was like ‘? why is tina going everywhere does she ever sit still. ...wait. i also cannot sit still i am everywhere. she has adhd.’ also her stuggling to read newts letter is also a funny but relatable thought lawl

i’m sorry this ask has taken so long to be answer :’( i also try to take my time to answer so that way you get the best answer!!! also never feel sorry about rambling i ramble so much in here you could feel a novel. anon if you ever wanna talk feel free to keep sending asks or dm me! i love talking with ppl :D love you and i hope ur day is swag

#asks #first ask #meant to post this earlier but bad internet in class then no phone in class🙄#here you go anon :D

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maxiekat · 5 years

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In a world full of rom-coms, when was the last time you cried over an onscreen breakup that actually stuck? No grand gestures to save the day, just pure, raw, lust and heartbreak. If you want to get so deep in your feels you forget if you’re actually heartbroken or just bleary-eyed over someone else’s love story, then you may need to subscribe to the church of Drake Doremus.

The director is known for his mostly improvised, chill-inducing romantic dramas (Like Crazy, Newness, Equals) and his latest is a tender-to-the-touch look at a modern love triangle in Endings, Beginnings, which premieres Sunday at Toronto Film Festival. Much like his previous work, Endings, Beginnings is clever and cutting, but also soft and quiet. Shailene Woodley is at the heart of the film playing Daphne, a thirty-something artist (her specialty is hand-painted tea pots, which she sells on Etsy) who recently and abruptly quit her job and ended her long-term relationship with her boyfriend (Matthew Gray Gubler, in his third Doremus film).

Looking for a hard reset on life, Daphne moves into the pool house of her much more together older half-sister. She also stops drinking, focuses on looking for a new job, and cuts men out of her life. Until, of course, she meets two men at a New Year’s Party. One’s brooding, asking her for a light of a cigarette in the most drunken and charming of ways. He’s wearing a shearling jacket, worn-in with adventures. The other’s in LA’s version of a suit — he’s put together, and looks at her with the steady intentness. Daphne should be avoiding both, but she quickly becomes enamored with bad boy Frank (Sebastian Stan), a nomad who drinks absinthe, and good boy Jack (Jamie Dornan), an academic who has a dog and dreams of moving to Europe. What starts as innocent text-flirting evolves into two full-blown relationships. Oh, and the guys are best friends.

When Stan first read for the film, he read for both Frank and Jack’s role, but what really attracted him to the heady rom-dram was Dormeus himself, of whom he’s been a huge fan. “I met him and I said, ‘I gotta tell you, I don’t know which one of these people you are seeing me as, but I really relate to both of them. I love both,’” he says over the phone to Refinery29. Stan’s in London where he’s filming the spy-thriller 355, a movie he says is “stylistically and tonally very different,” than Endings, Beginnings, but with “a couple of similarities here and there.”

“And we just got very deep. We got into relationships and being in our 30s and the world we are in right now, and all our experiences.” The vulnerability seen on-screen between Woodley, Stan, and Dornan is something special, and almost entirely improvised, based on just 30 pages of notes. Endings, Beginnings is a far cry from the big budget Marvel movies you’re used to seeing Stan in (he plays Captain America’s pal Bucky Barnes in seven Marvel movies and one upcoming spin-off series.) I was reading your Instagram post earlier gushing about working on this film with Drake. When did you become a fan of his, and why did you two think Frank was the role for you?

“I was aware of [Drake] for awhile. Like everyone else, I loved Like, Crazy, and then I also like his recent movie with Nicholas Hoult, Equals. I was also just really interested in doing a movie and improvising — because the entire movie is practically improvised. I never worked in that medium before. I got a call saying, Hey do you want to meet with Drake and talk about this movie [and] read the draft?, which was basically like 30 pages. There were two guy [parts] at the time. I met him and I said, ‘I gotta tell you, I don’t know which one of these people you are seeing me as, but I really relate to both of them. I love both.’ And we just got very deep. We got into relationships and being in our 30s and the world we are in right now, and all our experiences. Again, I didn’t really know that is where we were gonna go, but he was very honest with me and I was honest with him. We parted ways, and the next thing I knew he called me to have a session with somebody at the time that he was thinking of for the role as Daphne, and I went in and had a 3-hour improv session with him, then he called me and told me that he wants me to do the Frank role and I was fine with that.”

Only 30 pages. Everything else is improv? All the film’s dialogue?

“Yes, that is all literally on the day, in the moment, happening real-time. Basically, the script that he had was just the outline: Daphne comes out a recent relationship and moves in with her best friends. They’re having a New Years Party, and she runs into Frank who asks her for a cigarette. It was all outlines, but in terms of the dialogue and how we would get there, that was all improvised. That was an interesting experience because I had never worked that way and no take is ever the same. I walked away from that experience feeling very vulnerable. You’re not hiding behind any lines.”

The improvisation really added to the film. I left it feeling more emotional than I expected.

“We’ve all had relationships, and we know how tricky they are. They’re complex and there’s many layers. I don’t know — I have always loved romantic comedies. I grew up on When Harry Met Sally and all that, but I sometimes feel that relationships aren’t entirely depicted as messy and as raw and as painful as they are. That’s why I loved working with him because I feel like he gets to the core of situations. I’m happy to hear you related to it because that is what he wants. He wants you to go, 'I’ve had that conversation...been in that situation.’”

There’s been a resurgence in romantic comedies, but not so much romantic dramas like this. Do you think there’s a reason why?

“I love romantic comedies and there is a space for them, but [rom coms] are hopeful. Sometimes when I go to the movies, I don’t want to necessarily see what my life is. I want to be like, Hey! It’s nice to think that maybe that could be that way. If you want to be inspired, or laugh a little bit — there’s that element of it. And sometimes you want to see a movie that makes you feel less alone in your experience. A lot of European films are much closer to this, and I think Drake loves a lot of European films and is influenced by them and the personal quality. Structurally in romantic comedies, you have bigger things happening, right? Whereas [in this movie], there are big things happening, but there’s a much more subtle transition through everything.”

Frank is the “player” of the film, while Jack is the “good guy,” for lack of a better phrase. You’ve said before that you didn’t really know why you were often cast as the “bad boy.” Do you still not know why?

“I don’t know! [Groans] I don’t know. The truth is, the reason I was saying [I could play] Jack was that I talk a lot in my life. I philosophize a lot. I try to read things. Then I think about it, and then I wanna talk about it. I relate to that [aspect of Jack]. And actually, there was a lot to Frank and Daphne that we shot that was funny. They had a lot of their own back and forth, but what ended up being in the movie — I think Drake never forgot the vision that he had for Frank — [was him] being much darker than we shot. I am happy it ended up that way because there needed to be a contrast.

But I don’t know! I am glad they think I can do this. I am one of the most over-thinking, neurotic people I know. So I don’t know how it happens, but it keeps happening.”

I thought a big part of Frank also was his big shearling jacket. Since most of the movie was improvised, did you have anything to do with his outfits?

“Oh yeah, I kept that jacket, first of all. It’s a great jacket. What’s great about Drake is that he was like, ‘Hey, listen, people wear the same stuff all the time. If something works, let’s just it.’ I was like yeah, the guy probably kind of flies by the seat of his pants anyways so he just has a few things. I think I wore some of my own jeans. The boots I wore were mine. Drake definitely wanted us to wear our own stuff so we could feel comfortable in it.”

This was originally called No, No, No, Yes and ended as Endings, Beginnings. How did the title change shape the movie?

“It was always a working title. I saw that it was paired up with her experience — every no and every yes was paired to one of the relationships that she was going through. Endings, Beginnings is a little more specific. I know for awhile he was even contemplating a title that was even just made up of emojis which I thought would have been really fun.”

Oh yeah. I loved the texting aspect in this movie.

“There is an element of texting in the time period we are in, and there is this new language to it. They got it in the sense that both Jack and Frank have their very specific ways of texting. Jack probably uses punctuation, and Frank does not. [Laughs]”

You’ve worked with a few of the Big Little Lies women now. Do you have plans to work with the others like Zoe Kravitz, Reese Witherspoon, or Laura Dern?

“That has not hit me — that’s kinda funny. I don’t think I have ever met Reese Witherspoon and I’ve met Laura Dern. If the opportunity presents itself then great. I certainly wouldn’t have had a problem if there had been a role in the second season. I would have done it in a second. I loved the first season.”

I have one more that I have to ask about — obviously Gossip Girl is getting rebooted, and Chace [Crawford] said it made him feel “old,” but he’d be down. Have you thought about it at all?

“[Laughs] I don’t even… it’s so weird. Somehow a lot of people talk to me about Gossip Girl, and I always thought I was just a guest star. It was a very special show. It certainly defined those years, and we all got our start there in a way. It would be hilarious and weird and crazy. He’s right — we are old! I don’t know what business they’d have with me, but, Jesus. If there was some funny little witty thing and they called and we’re like, ‘We’re doing this thing and we have everybody….’ I’m not gonna be the asshole that says no. Maybe I’ll be in the background scooping some ice cream.”

#sebastian stan #endings beginnings #drake doremus #gossip girl #shailene woodley

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rvnjun · 5 years

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healing smile | jaemin

genre: super power au! warnings: mentions of violence and blood a/n: ive finally finished this au that has been sitting in my drafts for nearly two whole fucking years

The Dream Team M.List

Jaemin, was born with his powers, both his parents had them

he always loved to help people so he did his best to smile a lot, so everyone would feel better

although his parents told him to stop, they scolded him for wanting to help others

for using his powers so “carelessly,”

and for awhile, he believed and listen to them

until his power therapist introduced him to a boy named Donghyuck

Donghyuck was like him, he wanted to use his powers for good, to help people

but unlike Jaemin, Donghyucks powers had the ability to cause some serious harm

with Donghyuck, he meant his current group of best friends

a group of teenagers who may seem ordinary to others but who were all gifted with powers

now to current time ~

It only started as a joke between your small little friend group, calling the schools heartthrob “Healing Smile Jaemin.”

you guys gave him that nickname after seeing his smile practically work powers on people

there was the time you felt incredibly sick, you spent the whole lunch practically crying in your friends arms

after casually glancing over at Jaemin while he laughed with his friends, you felt way better

all your pains and aches started to disappear and you felt 10 times better

then there was the time a couple of guys got into a fight over some chick, they started to punch each other in the middle of the hallway

while you and your friends leaned against the lockers and watched with amused expression, Jaemin casually walked up to them and smiled while telling them to calm down that they were being irresponsible

withins seconds they were apologizing to each other and willingly following a teacher to the principal's office

the last thing that caused you and your friends to dub him “Healing Smile Jaemin,” was when he made the teacher relax

you had calculus with Jaemin, the teacher was known for being the reincarnation of Satan

however Jaemin always seemed to make him calm down and relax, no matter how pissed and angry he was, Jaemin made him smile

“Its like he has powers or something,” your friend joked while you guys all stared at him at lunch

“Well he is friends with Renjun and Haechan,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders

they all hummed in agreement “You’d think those with powers would stick together,” your other friend pointed out

glancing back at your friend you nodded your head in agreement

her words stuck in your head and you couldn't get them out, she had a point and now you felt like you needed to know

the next few days you watched Jaemin with curious eyes, taking note of everything he did and he all looked at him

knowing he worked in the school nursery you purposefully drank a nasty concoction to cause you stomach pain so you'd get sent there

walking into the nurses office you gave her a small smile and sat in one of the chairs, waiting for assistance, begging that it would be Jaemin

as if luck was on your side Jaemin appeared before you, staring at you with curious eyes, almost like he was reading with you were feeling he smiled

instantly all the pain in your stomach went away, confirming your suspicions

on instinct your eyes widened and you gasped “you are like them,” you said what was on your mind out loud in disbelief

Jaemins smile quickly went away and his brows furrowed in confusion

“what do you mean?” he asked pretending to be oblivious

realizing what you had done, you didn't want to call him out just yet

nervously laughing and scratching the back of your neck you

“like one of my friends, you remind me so much of him,” you lied while standing up

“im missing too much class and I just don't know if being in the nurse office is worth it,” you added before quickly leaving the room

Jaemin stared at you before shaking his head

you definitely were on to him which made him pout

he knew that someone wasn’t as dumb as seemingly everyone in the school and would catch on but he didn't want it to be you

not everyone understood or accept the gifted and he wanted you to accept him

that day Jaemin left the office feeling defeated and disappointed

walking over to his best friends they all asked what was wrong and he safely confided in them with his worries

Haechan and Renjun swore that you werent the type to hate the gifted

“I have Y/n in my bio class and they are super chill about my powers, they actually seem fascinated by them, always asking me questions and listening,” Renjun said making Jaemin feel better

you watched them from afar, not being able to hear what they were saying at all but keeping your eyes on Jaemin

sighing you walked past them, making sure to smile at them and headed home

mind filled with thoughts of Jaemin and his powers

Jaemin watched as you leave, smiling at your figure and making at least 6 kids feel better in the process

glancing at his friends they encouraged him to go talk to you

despite his protests they pushed him in the direction he went

sighing he nodded and began to jog to try and catch up with you

you on the other hand, were so Jaemin focused that you didn't see the guy in front of you

shoulder bumping him you yelped and apologized

“watch where you are going, bitch,” he yelled, pushing you back into the brick wall

you cried out in pain, not knowing what to say or do

“what you ain't gonna apologize?’ the guy scoffed and slammed his hands into your shoulder causing you to hit the wall once again but even harder

rolling his eyes he walked away as if he hadn't done anything

Jaemin eyes widened when he saw your figure against the wall, crying while holding your right shoulder

looking around he saw a guy walking away and immediately knew what happened

“Y/n!” he called out while running to you

glancing past your shoulder he saw a piece of metal sticking out of the wall, jabbed into your shoulder

blood stained your uniform and slowly trailed down your arm

“Look at me,” he instructed

you listened and stared into his eyes, a gut feeling telling you what was about to happen

he smiled while staring intensely back

“Y/n i dont know how to say this but my friends encouraged me too. i like you, i noticed you awhile ago and as much as i tried i couldn't push those feeling out of my chest. yes, i am like them. i'm just like Haechan and Renjun. i have the ability to heal people with my smile and i can feel aura. in the nurse's office i felt your aura, it was full of curiosity and nerves. i wasn't so sure what to think then but now i know,” he couldn't finish his words

you leaned up, wound healed and pain all gone from Jameins smile

deep down you know it was because of his powers but you felt like his words were what healed you

leaning up you pressed a quick kiss to his lips

“i feel the same way. i used my excuse of being curious if you had powers or not to look at you or come into the nurses office but that wasn't the full reason,” your voice as quiet as you spoke

Jaemin smiled, brightly this time and hugged you

“let me take you out for some tea,” he grabbed your hand and lead you in the direction of an amazing cafe he knew

Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Chenle, and Jisung watched the interaction form afar

“Haechan,,,” Jeno spoke

“Don't you think hiring a guy to push Y/n into a wall was a terrible idea that could have gone really bad?” Renjun finished

Haechan shook his head “Nope, it was a brilliant idea that worked out better than I thought. You guys are just jealous cause you didnt think of it.”

The clouds in the sky cleared a bit thanks to Haechans “brilliance”

#nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #nct dream jaemin #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #jaemin au #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct angst #the dream team au #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin scenarios

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katehuntington · 5 years

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Title: Changes - part two Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part two: Four years after the demon attack, a young woman is playing a cat and mouse game with another supernatural creature. Only this time around, she’s the hunter. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: About A Girl - Nirvana Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version; thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Rochester, Minnesota November 24th, 2005

Rain falls during a chilly night in November. Thunder rumbles in the distance, as heavy showers dim flashes of lightning that jump from one cloud to the other. Several miles outside of the city in the wide-open spaces, the world seems deserted. The atmosphere is threatening as nature shows her power. Straight roads cross the farmlands, not a living soul using them. No one is on their way home or driving away from it. Then again, in this weather, who would want to be out on the road?

In the distance, a light appears and steadily approaches. A bright shimmer reflects in the water on the asphalt, the sound of an engine building as the vehicle gets closer. It’s not an ordinary engine, not even close to the sound that modern cars produce these days. Actually, it’s not even a car. A black Harley Davidson cuts through the night, roaring like a lion. The classic motorbike leaves a spray in its wake, the water catapulted from the back tire. The polished paint job shines proudly, catching even the smallest glint of light. Raindrops try to cling to waxed metal, failing miserably. It’s obvious the owner of this beauty takes good care of her. It’s the type of bike you would expect an old rocker to ride. The kind that listens to Metallica and is a member of a biker gang. A tough guy with a beard and big sideburns, who rides from roadhouse to roadhouse, consuming nothing but steak and beer. Nevertheless, this lucky Harley is ridden by a young woman.

The rider seems to be in a hurry; despite the slippery roads; she’s speeding down 75th street NW at ninety miles an hour. This woman and her Harley have reason to haste. The biker tries to focus on the road ahead, yet glances in her side mirror frequently, checking if she’s being followed. The sharp pain in her abdomen keeps her awake. She mutters to herself, biting down the pain. How could you be so fucking stupid? It’s your job to know what you’re dealing with, and yet you were caught off guard!

The suburb of Rochester appears in the south; she’s almost there. The rider bends over her bike, clamping one arm around her waist and applying pressure. “Fucking hell,” she curses. She refuses to look down at her injury and keeps herself together. Hopefully, it’s not too bad, she doesn’t have time to get stuck in the ER. It’s during moments like these she regrets falling in love with her ‘94 Harley Davidson Road King, because a faster bike like a modern Kawasaki sports bike would be much more convenient right now.

She follows the road, which is shadowed by trees on both sides, until she passes through a small town, called Douglas. Again, she checks her mirrors, but there’s nothing on her tail. In front of her, several cars and trucks are driving up route 52. A sigh of relief escapes her mouth; back in the civilized world. After turning right just before the highway, she speeds up again on the road running parallel to it. Finally, the motel appears in the distance, a building with a large neon number ‘6’ on the roof. The female biker parks her Harley in front of the motel and turns the ignition. Not nearly as graceful as usual, she gets off her bike and heads toward the entrance of the motel. With her right hand on her bleeding wound, she stumbles across the parking lot as she takes off her helmet.

A flash of lightning cracks the sky and reflects on the cars parked in front. For a split second, she thinks she sees a shadow standing in the rain. Quickly, she turns towards it, but it’s gone, yet her hand goes for the gun tucked behind her waistband, instinctively. On high alert, she scans her surroundings, her intuition telling her she’s not alone. Is she getting paranoid? He wouldn’t come out here and follow her by car, would he? That would be insane, he’d be too exposed. Her hand slips from the grip of the weapon and she makes a run for it. After hastily entering the motel, she closes the door behind her. It’s warm in the lobby, country music playing in the background, a huge contrast to the chilling weather outside. Standing in the bleak light instead of mysterious shadows makes her feel a bit more at ease.

The old man behind the counter looks up from his paper, peaking over his reading glasses. An empty soda bottle decorates his desk along with some paper wrappers which once held a Wendy’s cheeseburger. She stares at the wrappers for a moment. Fuck, she would kill for a burger right now. “You’re behind on your payment, Mrs. Johnson,” the old man remarks. She throws a Mastercard on the desk while closing her coat around her body, hiding her injury and keeping the hand she used to staunch the bleeding firmly against her side. The motel manager thankfully doesn’t seem to pick up on anything out of the ordinary and takes the card without thanking her. “I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you the extra night, too. It’s way past check out.” “No worries, book two more. I’ll be sticking around for a few more days,” she returns. “Business taking longer than expected, huh?” he assumes, while working the computer. “Something like that, yeah,” she answers shortly, not willing to elaborate. “Those two nights were the last slots. It’s busy this weekend.” The man behind the desk hits the enter button. “You’re in luck.” She frowns at the comment. Right, luck. Looks like luck got me fucking shot. Thankfully he doesn’t have any further questions, she’s not in the mood for a chit-chat with the fossil.

The restless woman scans the parking lot outside for the third time, slightly out of breath, her face tense. Every once in awhile the motel manager glances over his screen, observing his client. Her black leather biker jacket is soaked through, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Brown hair falls down her shoulders, the tips escaped her helmet drenched from the rain. Her dark eyes seem worried, makeup slightly faded. A young woman, who - according to the information he got from her when she checked in - married early, apparently. How old could she be? Twenty four, twenty-five, maybe? She doesn’t really seem like the marrying type, and he has seen many folks come and go. The poor girl looks pale, too, as if she’s ill or carrying a heavy weight upon her shoulders. A lot of shady business has happened in his motel, so he knows the signs. Maybe it’s drug related, maybe she’s fleeing from an abusive relationship. Who knows? He doesn’t bother to ask anymore. It would put him out of business if he would. Besides, she doesn’t seem like the person anyone would want to mess with. He does make a mental note to keep an eye on her and make sure his motel doesn’t turn into a crime scene. “Here ya go.” He hands her back her credit card. “You know the way.”

The mystery woman nods, picks up her helmet from the desk, and turns down the hallway. While entering room number 82, she takes off her jacket together with her tartan wind scarf and strides to the bathroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze drops to her abdomen, where a bloodstain has darkened her grey shirt. She lifts it up, the fabric sticking to the punctured skin. Fuck, that feels anything but pleasant. She reveals the bullet wound underneath, several inches to the left of her belly button. “Shit, shit, shit.” Carefully she takes off her shirt, her breasts only covered with a bra. Still staring at her reflection, she ponders on her next move. Maybe paying a visit to the hospital isn’t such a bad idea after all. That bullet could have ripped through a number of organs. The small intestine, descending colon, she remembers clearly from the books and lectures. The inferior mesenteric artery branches out there too. “Would’ve been more blood if it was an artery,” she mutters to no one but her own lonesome mind.

The fact that the bullet bounced off the wall before it hit her, could mean that it didn’t sink too deep into her skin. She decides to give it a try and fish it out herself; if she can’t solve the problem, a doctor’s visit is always an option. The young woman grabs a clean towel and wipes away the crimson around the wound as she moves back to the bedroom. She takes a small briefcase from under the bed, putting it down on the table in the corner of the room. A sigh falls from her lips when she sits down on the chair, then opens the lid, revealing a wide range of surgical instruments and medical supplies. Gauze, suture thread, sterilizers, tape, syringes, catheters, and several small bottles with different substances ranging from morphine to epinephrine; enough gear to do minor surgery. She swallows apprehensively; this is going to get nasty. “Hell, I’m not doing this alone.” Next to her bed, a bottle of whiskey beckons her. With a moan, the injured woman gets up, grabs the Johnny Walker and the glass next to it. She turns on the radio on the cabinet, twisting the volume button all the way, and walks back to the table, halting to face the mirror inside the briefcase. Filling up the glass with alcohol, she grabs gloves, forceps, and other supplies she is going to need. In the background, the first tones of About A Girl by Nirvana comes through the small speaker. With the bottle of Johnny’s Black Label on standby, she clears her throat while putting on the blue latex gloves. Here goes nothing.

There is a sharp increase in pain as the forceps slowly enter her body. With her eyes focused on the reflection in the mirror, her jaws clamp together as she tries to reach the bullet. She groans, fighting the intense agony that almost seizes her attempt, struggling to contain herself and steady her breathing. Not wanting to draw any attention is the only thing preventing her from screaming at the top of her lungs. Finally, the forceps touch something solid. With tears burning in her eyes, she succeeds in getting a hold of it, then carefully pulls back and drops the bullet into the glass. Quickly, she grabs the whiskey and takes large swigs, wincing at the afterburn. “Fuck, that hurts,” she hisses, placing the bottle back on the table with a loud bang.

The worst part is done, but it’s not quite finished yet. Shaky hands reach for the disinfectant, but unfortunately, the bottle of chlorhexidine is empty. Stupid, she should have stocked up immediately after she used it all last time. Oh well, whiskey will have to do then. And so she takes the Jack and pours the last bit of whiskey over the wound. The alcohol needs only a second before taking effect. But when the stinging pain does come, she’s unable to tone down the growl leaving her throat. But you know what really pisses her off? Now she’s out of whiskey, too.

Frustrated, the young woman clenches her fist, waiting for the pain to fade until it’s bearable. After several minutes, she has finally calmed down enough to proceed. She takes the thread and stitch scissors and finishes the job. The pain from the stitching needle piercing her skin isn’t too bad; it almost feels like a tickle compared to the forceps. After ripping a sterile wound pad out of its package with her teeth and soaking it in betadine, she places it over the wound and tapes it to her skin. All done. Unfortunately, she will live to see another day.

With a sigh, she strolls over to the bathroom while pulling her latex gloves off her hands. Again, the woman - who basically just performed surgery on herself - looks in the mirror. “Well hello, gorgeous,” she mutters sarcastically, registering the bags under her eyes, the run-down mascara and messy hair. She looks like a train wreck and that’s an understatement. But considering recent events, she's lucky to still be standing. After opening the faucet, she bends over the sink. The water feels refreshing on her skin as she washes her face. With her hands on the edge of the sink, she closes her eyes. Time for a moment to stop, debrief, and take a breath.

The fucking night she had.

What the hell happened out there? Where did this go wrong? She found a pattern, located the next victim. At least, she thought she did. Burdened, the brunette turns around and slowly walks back to the main room. The interior of the motel is rather boring, but the bed is comfortable enough and there’s a television. Normally she insists on more luxurious hotels, but with two big events happening in the city, this was all she could find.

By the bed, she halts. A puzzle of newspaper articles, pictures, books, and blueprints lay spread out over the mattress as some sort of mind map. An outsider would think this so-called Mrs. Johnson might be a special agent. That, or a psychotic killer, but neither is true. In fact, her name isn’t even Mrs. Johnson.

Biting her lip, she narrows her brown eyes and tries to find some sort of link, an explanation for what happened tonight. Terry Cliffer, the guy she expected to be the next target, turned out to be the bad guy. The bastard who shot her certainly looked an awful lot like Cliffer. Somehow the suspect was on to her and made a change of plans, but what was the trigger? She picks up two articles, both from the local paper, the Post-Bulletin. One is about a murderer with an ironclad alibi, the other a tiny report of a strange robbery. Both incidents took place during the same night, both suspects were caught on surveillance cameras, both claimed to be elsewhere at the time of the crime, and neither fit the profile of a killer or a thief. Two separate mysteries for the local police, one crystal clear case for a hunter. Until now, that is.

She mutters unintelligibly, annoyed with the fact that she’s one step behind. There’s another question poking at her subconscious, maybe one of even bigger importance: how the hell did it shift so fast? She picks up a book from her bed and rereads the passage she labeled ‘Shapeshifting’. ‘Shapeshifting is a common theme in mythology and folklore. In its broadest sense, it is a metamorphosis (change in the physical form or shape) of a person. Shapeshifting involves physical changes such as alterations of age, gender, race, general appearance, or changes between human and animal form.’ Still standing up, she leafs through the book, trying to find what she’s looking for. “Forms of shapeshifting, powers, punitive changes, needed items, yadda yadda yadda. Damn it, where is it!?”

Throwing the book back on the bed, she sits down, wincing, and pulls her MacBook closer on the table. Focused, she fires up the hard drive and opens her archives. After a bit of searching, the screen finally shows the information she’s been looking for. “Shifting process: The shifting process takes several hours, but can be hastened by the shapeshifter itself, by tearing off its own flesh - Oh, that’s just gross.” She shivers, disgusted, staring and rereading the passage just to be sure. It might be gross, but this is what’s happening. Something disturbed the monster she’s hunting, but did she mess up this job or did someone else blow her cover?

She has to go back to the roots of this case for everything to make sense. At least three people are connected to each other. Three people who don’t work together, who don’t live close by, but there’s one thing they have in common: they’ve all been seen at 110th Ave NW just outside Rochester this month. Traffic cams confirmed this, so the shifter must be hiding somewhere along that road. But where? She opens a satellite picture of the area on her Apple computer and observes the houses alongside the road. The estates are spread out and have long driveways. It would take months to figure out where the shifter’s den is, and the creature will be long gone by then. Yesterday, she thought she had a lead. She discovered the thing uses the sewer system to travel. More than fifty percent of the houses out there aren’t connected to the sewer system, but have their own septic tanks, so she could scratch those off the list. Only nine of the remaining houses are empty. The problem is, she already checked those homes and ended up with nothing.

“C’mon, what does your gut tell you?” she mumbles to herself. One house, deep in the forest, captures her eye. It’s not connected to the sewer system, but on the last drive by, she saw a ‘for sale’ sign by the side of the road. Good chance it’s empty. It wouldn’t make any sense for the shapeshifter to hide out in the woods, miles from the sewer, but she has a feeling something’s going on in that place. Her intuition is the only thing she’s going on, since there are no leads left to investigate. Why is a voice in the back of her mind telling her to go there when it makes absolutely no sense? “This is fucking insane,” she states out loud as she gets up to put on a new top. Insane, maybe. But she is not going to sit on her ass and watch this monster get away with more abductions. What concerns her, is the people of which it stole their identities, are now missing. They could be dead for all she knows, but they could also be held some place, and in that case, every second counts. This stops tonight; she has been hunting this fucker for way too long. Determined, she gathers her stuff and leaves the room, heading back to the hunting fields.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter three here!

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester x OFC #Sam Winchester x OFC #Supernatural OFC #SPN OFC #Supernatural #SPN #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Kate Huntington #The Sullivan Series #STSS #1x01 Changes

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thatcanadianfangirl · 5 years

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October Fall|Cody Christian

StoryLine: Cody and you have been dating for awhile, and you know he’s keeping a hefty secret from you. The whole weekend turns into a fall date at the end all is revealed after Cody knows there’s a threat after you.

Warnings: If you aren’t above the age of 14 then you probably shouldn't be reading my content. Werewolves and vampires.

word count: 4.9k

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Randall pulled on his leash as the wind started to pick up, blowing the colourful leaves in every which direction. I tightened my jacket around me as I felt a little uneasy, as if someone was watching me. The pitter patter of my Siberian Husky’s paws had calmed me a little bit, but the feeling still lingered.

My phone dinged, echoing through the street. Fishing it out of my pocket, I instantly smiled seeing Cody’s name.

“Can’t wait to see you later X”

I smiled knowing he was busy with ‘work’, well that’s what he liked to call it anyways. He’d go hours even days without stopping by, Honestly I didn't mind it too much. He needed space to do his own thing, I respected that. It also gave me time to focus on myself and Randall.

Cody has done it since we’ve met back in high school. Now I’m in my second year of college. Sure I’ve wondered if he was out with someone else, but he’s never gave me a reason to doubt his loyalty.

“Me Either, Sabrina?”

‘The Chilling Adventures Of Sabrina’ Was the perfect TV show to watch as Halloween was coming up soon. Puts you right in the mood for October.

‘Couldn't of picked anything better myself.’

He replied fast, one of the reasons why I loved that man.

All the way home I had that same eerie feeling that someone was watching me. Like they never stopped watching, I might just be freaking myself out ‘cause of the weird and creepy Halloween vibe I keep getting.

As soon as I walked into my apartment I took Randall’s collar off and hung it up with his matching leash. I took off my jacket and flicked most of the lights on, I could feel a draft of wind coming from somewhere in the house.

I scurried around the apartment looking for the open window. Confused because I know for a fact that I locked every window before I left this morning for school. Randall followed me like a shadow as if it were his life’s mission, nothing knew.

The cold air was becoming stronger as I continued to approach the bathroom. Flicking on the light I was surprised to see the window above the shower to be unlocked and open. Goosebumps rose as my temperature levelled down.

Maybe I forgot to lock it last night after my shower, although I clearly remember that I did. I mean I usually do especially since it’s getting closer to the colder months now. Maybe Cody left it open when he saw me last night, That what I told myself as I closed the window to keep my mind at ease.

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The smell of the Pillsbury Pumpkin cookies Baking in the oven spread through out the apartment. Randall laid in front of it, resting his head on his crossed paws. Sitting at my round marble table I was writing up an essay for one of my college classes, couldn't remember which one it was for exactly.

Glancing at Randall again, bathing in the light of the oven. He most likely felt the warmth of those cookies, dreaming of eating them all. “You just think those Cookies are for you, don’t you?” I ask him teasingly.

He picked up his head, tilting his head to the side. One ear high and mighty like a wolf and the other flopping like the sweet little puppy dog he is. “Too bad you only get one and the rest are for me and Cody.”

At the mention of Cody he propped his head on the floor again. Randall never seemed to like Cody. Always a little stand offish towards him and not to mention he loves human attention, just not from him. It’s a little strange.

Finishing up my essay I saved it, I’ll proof read it on Sunday since it’s only Friday and it’s due Monday morning. Closing my lap top shut, the oven beeped just in time Before Cody got here, he had said he was on his way 5 minutes ago. A text and never a call, which I didn’t mind but it was weird, we’ve been dating for awhile now.

I pulled the cookies out after I turned the oven off. Randall was already on his feet as I put the cookie sheet atop the stove to let them cool. “Someone’s a little too excited for cookies since you get peanut butter ones every Saturday.” He wags his tail at my comment as his drool his the floor.

I roll my eyes at him before making my way to my room, he trailed behind me as if he was my personal body guard. Randall instantly jumped onto my bed, laying into a safe and protected ball.

Setting my phone up to my blue tooth speaker I started to dress into something comfy. Tempo by Lizzo started playing and I couldn’t resist it.

‘I've been waiting for this one’

‘turn it up’

I sang along with the song, it was one of those songs that put you in a good mood. It gave you the power of confidence, to feel good about yourself enough to make you happy.

It didn’t take me long before I began dancing and screaming the lyrics to Randall. He didn’t mind it this time because he didn't get up and leave me like he has done before.This was the time to be myself and get wild, I don’t get to do it often but damn I should. It’s so much fun.

‘Slow songs, they for skinny hoes’

‘Can’t move all of this here with one of those’

‘I��m a thick bitch, I need tempo’

‘fuck it up to the tempo’

I wonder if my neighbours got bored of my dance sessions, I know I didn’t because I got lost in the way the beat moves me. They never complained about it, although they might call animal control. I defiantly sounded like a dying cat.

The song was ending and Randall kept his eyes on me. Probably snickering inside his head at how ridiculous I looked dancing the way I was. He was my number one supported I didn't care.

“Mmm, that’s my future wife..” I heard my boyfriend’s sly voice say behind me. I jumped a little shocked by his arrival, I turned around and there he was leaning against the door frame. His arms crossed as he visibly checked me out. His green eyes sparkled as a pink smirk appeared on his lips. The ones that I missed kissing every chance I got.

“Shut up.” I said teasingly making my way towards Cody as my phone continued to play songs. He chuckle, “..Of course it is, she’s such a dork.” He finishes letting his hands rest on my hips, squeezing them firmly before he leans down and kisses me. I gave him a smirk, “Actually I think me and Randall need a night to ourselves, to watch Sabrina and devour those cookies in the kitchen.” I tease.

Randall barks at the mention of his name. Cody’s expression changed from Cocky to Playful shock as I stepped away from him and sat on the bed with the Husky. He stared at the man in front of us as if he was challenging him to come closer.

They shared a look, it was concerning. It was almost as if they were actually challenging each other. It could of been a trick of the eye but I swear Cody’s eyes flashed red. Randall lowered his head to the bed like he had lost.

I shook my head lightly blinking, I didn't mention it trying to distract myself with scattered thoughts.

“Alright fine, I guess that pumpkin spice latte on the coffee table is fine.” Cody says retrieving down the hall-way as if nothing happened.

Could of been the reflection of a car driving down the street. That weird stare must of been Cody admiring Randall or thinking of a come back to say. I pushed the eerie thoughts down, ignoring them for now.

“From Starbucks?” I asked innocently still sitting on my bed as Randall trailed Cody and leaving me alone. Rude.

“You know it Baby-girl...”

Boy does this man ever have a hold of my heart.

“...But you’d rather watch Netflix with your dog...Oh cookies.”

And he lost it.

I began to scurry down the hallway, past the living room and stopping to see that it was already set up for our Netflix date. My heart melted, Sabrina was paused on the TV, Blankets thrown on the couch, fall candles lit making the room smell amazing. The LED lights around the room were a bright orange, set for the Halloween vibe my boyfriend created.

“Cody I...It’s perfect.” I spoke breathlessly.

“Come squeeze in with us.” He says gently, using his arm to motion me over. I smiled at him knowing he was talking about both of my favourite boys.Taking a seat in between them, Cody wrapped his arm around my waist pulling me into him. Randall being on the other side of me rested his head on my thigh and let out a breathy huff.

On the coffee table sat the Halloween cookies, a bowl of popcorn, as well as two Starbucks lattes. I playfully roll my eyes, Cody is such a tease.

“Cody?”

“Yes, babe”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

A few episodes into the second seasons we Finished The Lupercalia one. Popcorn bowl as well as the cookie tray were empty with the help of Randall. Who fell asleep an episode or so ago, I don’t think he was one for the demonic.

“We should get to bed soon.” Cody yawns,

“One more episode?” I asked softly, preparing for the rejection. Cody shook his head playfully at me before pushing me off him. “You’re crazy, these episodes are an hour long.” He chuckles before getting off the couch and stretching.

“Your point is?” I asked, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He comes closer squeezing between my legs, He’s quiet as he lowers his face to mine, giving me a soft and sweet kiss. “My point is my girlfriend is a psychopath.” He smirks at me, I roll my eyes at him, what a tease.

“Please?” I whine as I look up at him.

“Okay I’ll make you a deal.” He has that glint in his eyes like he always does when he’s up to something.

“Shoot.” I say lazily. I knew what he’s going to say, it happens every weekend.

“We go have a little session in the bedroom and then we watching one more episode. I mean you have to energy to watch another so I think you have the energy for something more.” Cody Winks at me with high hopes in his eyes.

“Actually sleeping sounds good.” I Grab the Xbox controller and turn the console off.

“Are you serious?” Cody asks a little anger slipping through his words, “Yes, plus you’ll just wake me up in the middle of the night for it anyways..” I shrug my shoulders as I blow out the candles and turned the tv off. “..So you ending up winning in the end.”

“Alright, works for me.” He says, I laugh at his little mood swing, “Dork” I mumble with a smile.

“What was that, Dork?” he teases holding my hand in his.

“I love you?”

“That’s what I thought”

----

I sat in the passenger seat of Cody's truck, it was a fairly new one with an issue here and there. She still ran good and the AC worked like a charm. He absolutely loves this truck maybe more then me, I mean she was a blue Chevrolet Silverado 1500.

Nothing fancy, but I defiantly loved the look of her. Although she doesn't compare to my green Jeep Wrangler at home. He’s a stick shift and Cody’s happens to be an automatic, always says he likes to play is safe, I call bullshit.

“what are you in the mood for?” Cody asks giving me a quick glance. I stay quiet for a moment thinking deeply about it, damn what i’m I in the mood for?

“Tea or Latte?” He says nudging me playfully.

“Mmm.” I say still deciding.

“Oh there passes Starbucks, looks like it’s tea.” Cody says.

“I wanted tea anyways.” I say passively,

“You're just mad because I didn't give you time to pick.” I look at him and he has this big smirk on his face, I couldn’t be mad a him even if I tried. Cody was too cute.

‘Shut up.’ I manage to say.

-----

It’s not too long before I’m a happy girl with my Pumpkin Spice tea. My whole mood switched as we were on our way to the yearly pumpkin patch. And there sat Cody in the driver’s seat occasionally sipping his basic white boy order, a double double.

“I love how excited you get over tea, it’s so cute.”

“I know.” I say sipping my pumpkin heaven with a smirk.

“You’re something else.” Cody laughed and shakes his head playfully at me before turning the music up, ‘Somebody’ by Keith Urban came on and Me and Cody both started Belting out the lyrics to it.

“And I’m letting go of all my lonely yesterdays”

“I’ve forgiven myself for the mistakes I’ve made”

“Now there’s just one thing”

“The only thing I wanna do”

“I wanna love somebody”

“Love somebody like you”

----

It was a half an hour drive, but it felt like 5 minutes with him. The continuous giggling and mini concerts kept me occupied, plus Cody didn't sound half bad. “Here we are, baby girl.” Cody says catching my hand in his as he guides me to the farm hosting the event.

Surprisingly it was a rather big pumpkin patch. I grew up in a small city where there was only one pumpkin patch in a 100km radius, a good bunch of animals to feed, but the pumpkins were some what good to take home.

This one had plenty of animals to feed, a corn maze, Horse back riding, and Halloween approved pumpkins. There were at least 5 patches like this in a 100km radius, It was perfect.

The one down side was the is was $25.00 per person, but we were willing to make that sacrifice. It was October of course.

Even though I really wanted to take a horse down one of the trails I held myself back. Cody was scared of horses, terrified if you will. He had said and I quote “Horses are powerful animals and they could kill you if they wanted to”

Sure that might be true, but horses were these beautiful gentle animals. But I respected his opinion because I loved him, I didn't think it was silly because it was ‘his’ perspective of them.

“Babe just hold the cup out enough for them to reach the feed.” I say pulling his hand towards the grey baby goat.

“He’s gunna bite me.” Cody says urgently dropping the cup in the pen and pulling his hand out of my grip. I laugh at his reaction, “You’re being ridiculous right now, it’s a baby goat.” I say shaking my head at him teasingly.

“Then you do it!” He steps away from the wooden fence and crosses his arms. Forearms flexing through his black sweater, Jesus Christ my boyfriend was hot. Just give me a few minutes to admire him, his eyes, his hair, his lips, not to mention his body structure...

Reaching for the cup the baby goat got on his legs and started towards me. I dumped the contents onto my palm and shoved the paper cup in my back pocket. Holding my hand out the goat ate the feed, it tickled a little with it’s mouth rubbing against my hand.

Finishing, the baby goat looked at me as if it was asking for more. Soon it let out a ‘Mehhe’ and walked on back to the spot it was previously in. Wiping my hands on the back of my pants I looked back at Cody, “See nothing to be scared of.” I smirk at him teasing a little bit.

“Says the animal lover, I’m going to the bathroom.” He says passively, I playfully roll my eyes at him. Cody was being dramatic, he got like that sometimes. I usually let him blow of the little steam he had and he’d be perfectly fine when I see him again.

I continued down the fence line seeing the rest of the farm animals. I ran out of my own feeding mix awhile ago or I’d be giving some here and there. Cody’s was left over because he was too scared to use his. He kept saying he was leaving it for the baby goats, but he was hesitant, a white lie to keep me content.

Reaching the rabbits I instantly fell in-love with the ocean of fluffy cuteness. Crouching down sticking my arm through the fence gap as I called for one. A black one with beautiful floppy ears began to hop towards.

Smiling as it’s nose twitched against my hand. Soon the energy changed around me as I felt a dark presence beside me on the left. It made me freeze with aching nerves as my heart started to pound in my ears.

“Cute aren’t they?” Their voice was sly and masculine sending goosebumps along my whole body. The eerie feeling I pushed down erupted to the surface, but I needed to stay calm. Show him I wasn’t frightened, I was beyond that.

Slowly I turned to him and got on my feet, stay calm I kept telling myself. I smiled up at him, “They are, I wouldn't mind having one myself.” I say with fake confidence as I stuffed my hands in the back pockets of my jeans.

He props himself against the fence a few inches closer, I couldn’t step back or he’d notice. “Why don’t you get one?” He furrows his eyebrows in question as my brain spots out how sickly pale his skin appears on this cloudy day. His hair is a raven black and seems to be slicked back with gel. His eyes are a dark brown almost a black, maybe they were black. His body structure was tall and lean, still he intimated me.

“Ah...My boyfriend doesn’t really like small animals, or animals in general.” I shrugged trying to brush off the way I slipped up.

“Understandable, wolves are territorial.” He spoke-

“Babe?” The sound of Cody’s voice immediately soothed me. taking my eyes off the tall man I see my boyfriend approach us, I smiled as he engulfing me into a hug from behind, nuzzling his nose into my neck. How did he know I needed him?

“Who were you talking to?” He asks curious, looking back at the tall guy. My eyes widened in shock, he was no longer there. He was just right here, where did he go? “Just some kids.” I lie with a smile.

Cody looks into my eyes, his holding an intense expression as he asked “Are you sure?” He asked pressing, he knew I was lying, how? I nodded as his eyes noticeably darkened, “Okay.” He says anyways kissing the crown of my head, slipping his fingers in between mine.

“Stay close.” He whispers to me not wanting to bother anybody else with our troubles. I nodded as the energy around us became tense and thick at the information we were both lying to each other. I knew he was hiding something from me, I just didn't know what.

The stiff feeling began to fade as we found comfort in each other’s presences. We both agreed on picking out our pumpkins first before the corn maze. Which happened to be the thing I was most excited for.

Cody kept close not letting me wonder off too far, his structure was slightly stiff and more broader if that was possible. His green eyes stayed a darker shade then his original, I’ve never seen him like this before and I knew something serious was going one.

eventually we picked out pumpkins, I may or may not have taken extra time scoping them out. What can I say, I wanted the perfect pumpkin. We teased each other about whose was better the whole way to his truck. Let’s be real, it was defiantly mine. I told Cody to put them in the backseat, because if I saw a pumpkin unattended I’d take it with no guilt. More pumpkins equalled to even more pumpkin seeds. It was fair game out here.

“Do you really want to go through the maze?” Cody asks, I turn to him raising my eyebrows, “Really?” I asked him as if it wasn't obvious. “Okay.” He chuckles, “You don’t have to get dramatic.” He nudges me.

“I’m not dramatic.” I pout like a child,

“Yes you are, now hold my hand.” he says holding his hand out for me to take.

“Why?”

He rolls his eyes, quickly grabbing my hand and pulling me towards his chest hard. I smirked loving how he got dominant in public. Cody grabs my face firmly and kisses me for a few seconds. “Now will you hold my hand?” He asked.

“Yes.” I say with a giddy smile and laced our fingers together, “There now everyone here knows you're mine.” He says gently.

“God you're cheesy.” I laugh as he finally guides us to the legendary corn maze.

Going through it was suspiciously calm and relaxing. Well except for the kids who were running and laughing through out the maze. Giving it that eerie feeling of the traditional Halloween.

Cody and I were joking around, chasing each other, as well as holding hands. He was relaxed forgetting about our mishap earlier. His eyes were bright and he was smiling ear to ear before he wasn't anymore. Like the flick of switch his protective persona was back.

He stared passed my head, his eyes a dark green again before they became a bright red. Gasping I felt light headed and froze to think, my heart pounding in my chest. Was I dreaming? Because there was no way this was fucking real.

Cody held me tightly against him as if shielding my vision away from what or who was behind me. Adrenaline raced making me confused on what feeling I was currently experiencing.

“An eye for an eye Cody.” The voice was silky, strong, familiar. It hit me like a bus, it belonged to the sickly pale guy from earlier when Cody disappeared to the bathroom. My mind scattered trying to think, what the fuck was happening right now?

Cody’s grip began to tighten on my waist, I knew two things in this very moment. One, this wasn't a fucking dream and it was reality. Two, there was no doubt gunna be a bruise because his grip fucking hurt.

Building up the strength I needed I forced myself out of his grip turning towards the enemy. I trembled at the sight of him, his eyes a pitch black. Several veins under his eyes surfaced, Fangs pinching his bottom lip. He was a fucking Vampire? My mind went on overdrive and my body became weak.

“A strong human you got there.” The words made shivers run down my spine, Cody’s growl was authorised, or at least I think it was a growl. anything could be possible at this point. Wasn't too long before my body got too weak for me to physical hold myself up. Falling to the ground I watched as Cody stepped in front of me. Protecting me from him.

“Alice slaughtered my parents she was fair game.”

“I don’t care what she did, she was the love of my life. Soulmate if I may.” The voices started to muffle and I couldn’t tell which belonged to who.

“You’re a vamp, ruthless of creatures. You wouldn’t know a soulmate even if she hit you in the face.” More muffled words came about, but I couldn’t register them as I began to slip under.

The last thing I remember seeing was Cody turning into a wolf, massive wolf. Fur white as snow when it freshly falls on a winter’s night. He was beautiful as he plunges for the vampire who had threatened my life.

----

I woke up screaming, my heart pounding in my chest. Looking around me I noticed I was in a room, a bedroom of some soft. Breathing heavily I climbed to the edge of the bed tearing the silk duvet away from my body.

I focused on my breathing as I thought about what happened before I ended up here. My date with Cody at the pumpkin patch, the corn maze, the wolf and lastly that strange guy. I remember not seeing any visible veins or even seeing him breathe. There was only one answer he was a Vampire.

Cody was a werewolf, it was crazy, maybe insane to think, but there was no other reasonable explanation for any of it. I was surprisingly calm from all the information flowing in my mind. Could’ve been because I was in shock, what did that even feel like? I’m tired is all I can think.

Pushing myself off the bed I feel a nightie pool around me. I look down and see a black shirt engulfing my body, Grabbing the neckline I pull it towards my face. It’s Cody’s I can recognise his cologne anywhere.

This must be his room, it’s massive with a huge bed, windows from the ceiling to the floor, and two couches. Not too mention The wolf portrait on the wall just above the one couch. I sit on the one across from it.

It’s a hand painted portrait you can tell by the texture of the brush stokes. There stood a white wolf with mighty pride, chest puffed out and head held high. It’s eyes were a blood red just like the flash in Cody’s eyes a few days previous.

A single golden crown rounded it’s giant ear, Emerald stones were embedded all the way around the crown. It was too small for it to go around both of it’s ears. At the bottom of the portrait were gold cursive letter that read ‘Alpha Cody’

It was him, it was insane, it was real.

Looking out the window and into the sea of green trees that stretched for miles. It started to add up, The overprotective boyfriend, his body temperature always being high, his red eyes, the neediness, his crazy appetite, and not to mention he was gone all the time.

The door clicked open and I still stared out the window. I could hear his foot steps come closer and sit on the couch where the painting was placed. “Can we talk?” He sounded weak, I looked at him concerned about his health.

He looked rough, his brown hair a mess, bags under his eyes, his skin was pale, and his eyes were blood shot. “What happened to you?” I asked, feeling the vibe between us has shifted.

He sighs resting his hands on his legs, “You, I didn't know if you were ever gunna wake up, it scared the hell out of me. Every day was torture when you didn't way up.” His voice was so heartbroken.

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long was I asleep?” I asked him, he began to bounce his knee and looked out the window. He didn't want to answer me I understood that but I wanted to know. No I needed to know.

“Cody” I said under my breathe desperate.

“3 weeks.” He chocked up,

“I’m sorry.” I whispered,

“For what?” He looked at me and all I could see was a broken Cody and it clenched my heart.

“Not waking up, for you.” I spoke trying to imaging the pain I put him through, I couldn’t.

He reached for my hand and I couldn't believe how much I missed his touch. We stayed quite holding each others hands together, soon enough he pulled me into his lap, more bridal style then anything else. He held me tight as he stared into my eyes, I don’t ever recall being this intimate with him.

We we’re both in a vulnerable state, I didn't want anything else then him at this moment. My heart ached to be closer to him. Hot tears made there way down my cheeks as I aggressively kissed him, he kissed back with the same amount of passion and love as I did.

It lasted a min or 2 before he pulled away and hugged me tight. I never wanted this to end, there was so much emotion I didn't think I was capable of. I held him as much as I could, but he was stronger then I was. I ran my hands through his hair loving the feeling of it.

“Please don’t leave me!” He begged sobbing into my shoulder, his body shook as I held him tighter.

“Cody, I would never.” I said softly still running my fingers through his hair.

“I know I’m not what you expected.” He sobbed louder, it broke my heart to see him like this.

“You aren’t , you’re better, Because I love you with every piece of me.” I say swallowing the lump in my throat as I began to rock him. His breathing regulated and his body began to relax into mine.

“I love you too.” It was barely above a whisper but I knew he did. Cody lowly started to fall asleep in my arms, his full weight shifted to me and it made me tired. It only took me a few minutes to fall asleep with him.

#cody christian #cody christian imagines #theo reaken #theo raeken imagines #asher adams #asher adams imagines #mike montgomery #mike montgomery imagines #werewolf au #cody christian au #vampire #werewolf #cody christian werewolf au #cute #halloween #halloween au

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alias-b · 5 years

Note

"Neil would have kept trying for you. And eventually, he would have taken pictures of my little girl." Susan welled. Her body gave an odd vibration with the thought. "I can't stop thinking about that fact. I won't for a long time." -Susan broke my heart in this chapter, I love that she's woken up to Neil's shit. Getting closer to Camille is a good thing!! Their last scene was sweet. The dream jarred me though. I keep thinking about what would happen if Cam went to Neil at his manipulation? Scary

I’m so happy that Susan’s growth is being spotlighted. Her heart to heart with Camille was a scene I walked away from so proud of. :) Billy and Camille both got good moments with her. And…your last question actually got me to pull something from my drafts. It’s an AU scene after the break up/Camille’s mental meltdown/her kissing Jim in a moment of illness and confusion.

Yes, there’s a chance she WOULD have gone to Neil in her state. She feels so unwanted at the moment and his manipulation was really getting to her. Awful or not, attachment happens even to people who are abusive. I actually wrote an AU scene where she skips school all the same and goes to him instead of Jim finding her first. It was more of an exploration to prepare for the Camille & Neil convos I had coming. I preferred what I did by a mile, but this helped me feel out Neil and Camille’s relationship and her turmoil and honestly I put a lot of my own isolating thoughts into it. I’m…terrified to post it and still going slow, but I figure if I get more terrible anons, I have double the support from good friends. Also figure it’s relevant to how I feel now so I’m sharing.

So here it is below, be warned it’s uncomfortable and leads to the Jim kiss and there is heavy, heavy gas-lighting and some sexual references from Neil’s bullshit mouth. The FOIL between Jim and Neil is so stark, I wanted to highlight it. It’s not rly edited, I just pulled it. Thanks all.

Open Wound

Camille swept snowy slush around her feet while a fresh coat fell. Dainty little flakes that stuck to dirty sleet as if to hide it away. Loch Nora was smaller than she recalled. Rollerskating up and down the street when the wind was warm and flowers in full bloom.

Edna snipping roses to pot some around the house interior. A smile and wave at her floating girl. Stuck close to make sure Camille was safe.

“Bullshit.” Smoke swelled out from red lips. A cigarette flicked toward the mass of frozen dirt that used to be the Harper house. She remembered Billy bleeding out in her lap and the fire that ate everything in sight. It was beautiful at the time. Now, she and Billy bled separately.

Kids around here say they can hear moaning and weeping from the plot at night. Camille felt like she was watching herself. Like she was a soul and no body. No skin, no muscle, no bones to rattle from the cold. It was all far away. Her car swerved along ice when she parked near Cherry Lane. More so in the forest.

Camille Harper was desired around town. Not wanted. That bleated. But, there was one soul who wanted to play.

Billy would be at school still. Susan at her morning shift in the perfume department. It was a roll of the dice. Camille felt her entire being stretch to wrap around the town. Around this Earth. Cold air puffed and snow began to crunch too loud for any sound to get in.

Neil knew why she’d come the moment he saw her shaken and wide-eyed there. Red and loud against pristine white snow. No innocence. He was wrapped in a winter coat. Ears prickling pink. Gloved hands swept snow from his truck with a plastic scraper.

“Camille Harper.” Neil pretended to be blasé about it. Brushing snow and ice with short swipes. Flecks melted on his front.

She seemed drunk. Half here.

“Do you see me?” That flitting tone shrunk. He hitched like he might laugh, lip twitching.

“Yes, Camille, I do see you.” Neil forced his eyes from her expression to the car. A beat. One hand clicked the passenger door open. She stared. He could have said a number of things about how she was trembling and frosting over. Better to come inside where it’s warm and sound. Camille lingered still at the opening and felt red lights blare.

“Don’t get into that car. Just come back to school.” Billy said behind her ears.

Billy didn’t want her anymore.

She crossed with ire. Climbed in. Neil stood there with one hand on the door while she looked ahead.

“It’s important,” he took his frosty glove off and reached to buckle her in, “that you’re safe.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hargrove.” Camille gave a dreamy sigh. Didn’t remark that his arm was still over her lap, palm resting on the seat.

“You’re very welcome, Camille.” He stepped back. “Neil is fine.” The door shut.

She didn’t hear the car start. Didn’t feel it move. Didn’t even process the music or heat turning on.

“You’re upset.” He noted. Threw a brick into the silence. Camille turned her head toward his profile when they took a left.

“Are you hurting him badly again? What did you do to him?” She rasped. “Billy. Do you want to hurt me too?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Neil sat back in his seat. Shrugged like he might be thinking of what groceries to buy later.

“He’s different. Bad different,” she decided. “Worse different.”

“Listen, Camille, I’ve known. This whole thing between you two. I imagine you both learned a hard lesson from it. It’s for the best. Billy was never good with secrets. My boy was never good with much of anything. Pretty girls for one. And you’re the prettiest of them all.”

He made it sound like such an apology.

“Where are we going?” She asked finally. Tried not to choke.

“Moving here, I’ve gotten to know some fine people.” He said instead. “Everyone knows each other and do they love to talk.” Neil laughed. Hearty like a dad. Something vulgar about it. He touched his mustache in thought and came to a red light. “You’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.” A quick reply. Sharp and airy at the same time. Camille stared through him. Not at him.

“I see you, Camille.” Neil set his elbow to the little pull down rest between them. One hand on the wheel. “You lost your parents. I lost mine when I was younger too. I did this, you know? Acted out. Tried to replace them. Learned I never would, but that didn’t stop me trying for awhile.” He parked on main street and cut the engine. Few shops still open from Starcourt taking business away.

“It’s okay, you know, to look.” He clicked his seat belt off, faced her. “You’re all shaken still. I make you that nervous? Do I not make you feel safe, Camille? You got into my car.”

And she couldn’t take that fact back. Another chill rushed.

“I’m upset.” She admitted, felt like for the first time. “I miss the way things used to be.” Neil tutted, caught a tear with his thumb and skimmed down her cheek. Edged the corner of her lips. “I miss my mom and dad.”

She sounded like a baby, face crinkling. Head tipped to the rest. Fingers clutched at his coat. Neil’s lips lifted as he shushed every little weepy sound. Patted hair.

“There there, you’re too pretty to cry like that.” Neil eased, tipped her chin up in a way that was encouraging. “You feel safe here. You got into the car with me. I can make it better. Ask me to make it better, Camille.”

She blinked at him. Really considered it because no one fucking wanted her except one red light that blared and readied to consume her. She felt Billy lick the shell of her ear and utter, mutilate. Syllables caught and Neil sighed when she slipped down, bowing her head as if to pray before him.

“Shame. Stay here.” Neil slipped away to get out.

“Wait,” a hand snatched his wrist on instinct. He was looking not at her face, but at the hand on his skin. “Where are you going?”

“Girls like hot chocolate, don’t they?” Neil smacked the door shut after locking his car. Looked around. Camille covered her face and quivered. Those red flares burned her flesh. She glanced outside and saw herself with Robbie. Too young. Him offering her an ice cream cone.

She took it. Smiled. Licked.

She should have just screamed.

She should have screamed now too.

Neil returned and offered a to-go cup that steamed. He didn’t buy any for himself.

“Take a moment and drink it.” Neil turned his car back on. Heat kicked up. Camille steadied her breathing enough to sip. It went down all chalky. Hair stuck to pink cheeks. “Police Chief can’t replace them, can he?” Hands smoothed his tie.

“Jim is nice to me.” Her back hunched like she was avoiding a crushing blow.

“Man has quite the reputation. Nothing that should be near such a nice girl.” Neil only shrugged, blue eyes lifting. “Unless, maybe, you’re not a nice girl. Painting your lips so he sees them. Dressing the way you do. Does he like to look at you?”

“I-”

“Do you like it when he looks?” Neil almost smirked, it flashed in his cold eyes. “You want him to pat your pretty head and kiss your cheek.” His palm cupped her face. The free hand took her cocoa away to set it aside. “Has he touched you?”

“What?” Camille reeled back. Neil’s hand came to her knee. Everything locked up.

“Have you shown him things? Hm, Camille? Taken your clothes off for him so he can see you too? Good girls don’t do that.”

“We-”

“You want a big man to kiss you all better. You want daddy to sweep you up. Make you feel good again. Don’t you, Camille? You just want to feel good again. I understand that too.”

She twisted, reaching for the handle when the lock came down.

“Camille, don’t make a scene,” came his chiding, “I think you’re being very unfair to me right now. We’re just talking. I’ve been nothing but kind to you. Aren’t you safe here? Am I going to hurt you?” Neil’s grip on her knee clamped down. She wanted to scream that he hurt Billy. His family. Scream that he was the dirty monster. “You got into this car all on your own. Face it, you asked for me. Say it.”

“It hurts.”

Camille didn’t know what exactly was hurting. Everything. Nothing. But, it was an open wound she kept picking at.

“There’s a place, you know.” Neil’s hand left her leg. The ability to function swept air into desperate lungs. “A place I could make you feel better. You wouldn’t have to do anything. Unless you wanted to. I’d take care of it. Don’t you want to be safe and secure again?” Wet clumpy lashes fluttered shut. “No, you stay right here.” Neil grasped her shoulder to shake. Eyes opened.

“I see it. I see you.” He sounded so nurturing. “I see what made my damn son so crazy. You do these things to men, you know?”

Neil laughed again. Camille felt him sucking the air from her. The pang of a jackal’s teeth sunk into her heart.

An answer was upon the tip of her tongue.

“Camille?” A muffled knock on the window. Neil’s play cut, he reeled from her quick. Detective Callahan looked less dopey staring there. He gestured for the window to roll down. Camille grew petrified.

“What’s going on here? The Chief got a call. You skipped school.” He peered behind her. “Neil Hargrove?”

“Afternoon, officer.” Neil’s smile dazzled. Camille stared at Callahan all paled and tearful. Never seen Phil this serious in all her time working at that station. “Ms. Harper was wandering the street. She’s a friend of my family. I worried. I was about to take her right back to school. Poor girl just went through a bad break-up. It’s my fault, I figured a nice cup of cocoa could solve anything.”

Camille felt Neil’s warning hand on her back. Knew Billy would pay a price later if she didn’t lie right now.

“Isn’t that right, Camille?” He chirped too cheerfully.

“That’s right. I’m feeling better now.” She turned to Neil. “Jim must be so worried about me. I want to get home to him. Right now.”

His brow twitched.

Neil hated her and those red lips.

“I got her from here,” Callahan didn’t thank Neil. Just took Camille’s hand and led her to his own vehicle. Neil stared the entire time. Waited until they drove off before he threw the cup outside with a spatter and sped away. “Camille.”

“Is Jim at home?” She cut.

He sighed.

“Yes, he’s not happy about this.”

“Oh.” Camille looked at the icy trees. Cracking against harsh winds.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Fine. Tired.”

“Why did you skip school? This isn’t you.”

“Yes, Philip,” Camille sniffled and faced him with red eyes, “it is.”

They pulled up to the house. Camille felt fear flood.

“Go on, he’s waiting for you. Don’t skip school again, Cam.” Phil offered. Tried to be careful about it because she was breaking.

“Thanks for the ride,” Camille got out. Saw her car pulled up. Jim must have gotten a buddy to tow it over. The door opened and Jim crossed his arms there. Already aflame.

“Skipping? Leaving your car in-”

“I know.” Camille locked the door. Put her head down to go around him. “I just…needed to get away. All right?”

“No, it’s not all right. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Jim’s tone lifted. “I need to know that you and El are safe at all times.”

“Well, we’re not.” Hands jabbed out and fell. “Can I go to my room now?”

“Callahan radioed that he saw you in Neil Hargrove’s car.” Jim grasped her arm. “What’s that about?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Camille, I know how that guy is. Just talk to me. Let me help you.��

You can’t.

“He didn’t force me into the car.”

Admitting that made her feel like trash. Jim saw her bottom lip wobble and let go. He rubbed his scruff and turned to sit at the head of the kitchen table. Covered his eyes when irritation twitched.

“You need to understand that you can’t run off like that. It’s not safe. It’s a risk. We don’t take risks. I know…what happened with Billy is hurting you. I can’t watch you-”

“Are you mad at me?” Camille crept to the table looking insecure. Hands pulled to her stomach.

“Yes, Camille, I’m actually furious with you.” Jim’s hand smacked down. Caused her to jump. “Running away from school when there are people after you, I thought the worst!”

“Don’t be mad at me, Jim, please.” She welled and came to his left side. “I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.” Hands lifted. Heart pounding. Red lights scorched now. All she wanted to do was smother them out. “It hurts when you’re mad at me, let me make it better. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t be upset.”

No one wants me.

I’m not a nice girl.

“Camille, it’ll be okay, just…don’t do this again.” Jim cocked his head with an easier sigh, lifted his eyes to see her too close to him. He opened his mouth to continue before bright red lips fell upon his.

Begging.

Tears wet Camille’s cheeks as she took his jaw and opened her mouth. Moaned. Tried to deepen the kiss instantly, but Jim muffled a gasp of shock. Jerked up and away so quick that the chair skidded to crash into the floor. Camille was still looking at him with her hands lifted aimlessly, huge hazel eyes shining.

“I…I thought…”

“Camille, Jesus Christ, what was that?” Jim wiped his mouth and saw red smeared on his hand. His own gut twisted. He looked like she slapped him. Guilt that maybe he led her on pooled. “You can’t do things like that.”

Camille burst into tears. Covered her face and crouched down on wobbling legs like she might collapse.

“I’m so stupid,” she cried. Jim recovered and came down to her level. Felt a cringe back into the wall the second he touched her.

“Hey, Camille. Just breathe for a second. Talk to me.” Jim was too good. The open wound bled out. He managed to get her into his warm arms.

His girl was confused. Trying to hurt herself. He knew the pattern well enough. Tears wet his uniform. Camille pressed her cheek into the cool metal badge still pinned to his chest. Felt his heart beat under it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” it wasn’t often Jim used pet names, they made her soften, “you’re safe. I got you. Just take an easy breath for me.” Camille shuddered into his body. Clutched at him and lifted glimmering eyes.

“But,” Camille cringed through a sob, “can you see me, Jim?”

Am I real? Am I dirty? Are the red lights going to burn still?

Jim Hopper had no answer. He tucked her back under his chin. Kissed brown hair. Squeezed Camille so tight. Until she stopped crying and berating. Until she could breathe once more.

“You just…make me feel safe,” she said, “I’m sorry.” Jim nodded and rubbed her back. “Are you still mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad at you.” Hopper looked at the patterns in the wallpaper behind her. “You’re hurting. I just…can’t watch you hurt yourself more, Camille.”

“I’ll try to stop.”

“Promise me.” Jim’s own voice cracked.

“I promise.” She closed her eyes. Exhaled Neil Hargrove out of her skin.

For a single beat there, Camille Harper felt the wound might be able to close.

#billy hargrove #Camille Harper #neil hargrove #Jim hopper #blurb #mine #writing #ask #anon #reply #Billy hargrove x oc #susan mayfield

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catte-bard · 5 years

Text

A Begrudged Ally

From this prompt

I wrote this waaaay back around 4.5 when we knew absolutely nothing. This piece had been buried in my drafts for awhile and when shb rolled around I really didn’t know if I wanted to share it anymore since canon shot down my speculations. But some friends nudged me to post it anyway.

She didn’t like this. It wasn’t right.

And yet what choice did she have?

Plenty. Turn him over to Alliance forces. Tell him to fuck off and be on your way. Gut the bastard where he stands...

Though the only reason she didn’t just end Zenos’ life was because it would be at the cost of the poor soul whose body he had stolen. Bellona hated the crowned prince of Garlemald but she wasn’t sure if she hated him that much. To the point she’d sacrifice an innocent life just to be rid of one evil in the world...

And he knew that. He had looked at her with such an infuriating smugness in his eyes. He knew that the good and just Warrior of Light would never harm him if it was at the cost of an innocent.

“Is it really so hard a decision to make?” Zenos inquired. He fixed her with an impatient look. “I want my body back and you want to be rid of the creature inhabiting it. It would benefit both of us greatly if we were to work alongside each other.”

But what happened once that was all finished? Would he allow them to simply go their separate ways? She doubted it.

Bellona met his eyes. Strange how he bore a different face but he still had those same eyes. Cold, dark blue eyes that held something unnameable but frightening in them. The eyes of a beast.

She didn’t like what he was proposing at all. Didn’t like that she was even entertaining that option. No one would benefit from Zenos gaining his original body back. It felt like she would be betraying the Alliance and Eorzea as a whole.

“And what if I were to reject your offer?” Bellona asked, watching the Garlean prince carefully. His expression remained plain but she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the ghost of a smile. “What if I simply went to confront the Ascian myself?”

“You won’t. You can’t.” Zenos simply said and took a step closer to her. Even in this new body his frame was imposing. “The creature bested you once. Do you truly think your next confrontation with be any different?

“I sense a new strength about you. But it will not be enough to destroy the foe you seek.” He leaned close, ceruleum blue eyes began to glow an ominous colour. The Resonant. “But if you had aide at your side? Perhaps our combined power could do something?”

A chill went down her spine as she looked into those frightening eyes. A perverted, twisted form of the Echo...She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust him.

“Ah and she still hesitates.” Zenos purrs as he stands straight.

“Perhaps it’s because I don’t know what exactly you plan to do if you get you body back.” Bellona told him.

“You need not be coy about it.” The prince replies. He moves, prowling around her. “You fear that I will betray you once I get my body back? You are smart for not trusting me completely, Warrior. But I am not an ungrateful man. If you help me, I promise that you will be duly rewarded.”

Bellona had to whirl around quickly to keep her eye on him. She still wasn’t reassured.

“You don’t have to say yes. I’m not forcing you to do anything. The choice is your own to make. If you wish, you could kill me where I stand or perhaps even turn me over to the Eorzeans.” He says, his voice low and cool. “But you will regret it. You need me.”

Warrior and prince stared each other down. Prowling about each other like two lions readying to leap at one another. A heavy, suffocating tension hung in the air.

You need me. The audacity of his words made her blood boil. Had she not a handle on her self-control, she probably would have struck him in the face for that arrogant remark.

I don’t need you. She wanted to tell him. That she could handle the Ascians and the Empire herself. She didn’t need his power.

But...

It wouldn’t be the first questionable decision you’ve made.

Allies for her oft came from the most unlikely of places. And here was Zenos, the heir to the Garlean throne, proffering forth a hand. But there was something wrong about that. Something that left her feeling wary.

“Well?” He asked.

An unlikely ally he was, but Zenos was different from all the others. She would need to tread carefully with him.

And finally she yields. “You do know if you come with me you’ll be going against Garlemald. And your own father...”

A smile plays across his lips.

Oh, he knew. The question was if he actually cared. And from the look on on his face she knew he didn’t. The man had little love for his homeland, she realized.

She couldn’t decide if that were frightening or sad. Neither could she decide if that were a good or a bad thing for her.

“I’m giving you only one chance.” Bellona slowly told him. “If you try anything suspicious, this little alliance is over.”

“Fair enough.” Zenos replied.

She shook her head. It astounded her how willing he was to work with her. Frankly, it made her a bit uncomfortable. It made it feel as if he had his own ulterior motives for this alliance.

She’d definitely have to keep an eye on him.

“Admiring me are you? I must admit this vessel is rather striking.” Zenos purred, “But I do have a preference for the flesh I was born with.”

Bellona felt her face growing hot, not realizing how long she’d been leering at him. If this was to be how the majority of there interactions went...“I hate you, just so you know.”

Oh he knew. He’d be disappointed if he saw anything other than fiery anger in her eyes whenever she looked at him. Zenos chuckled. “Oh, darling, you break my heart.”

Yeah right...“You don’t have a heart to break.” Bellona grumbled back, looking away from him. “And don’t ever call me darling again.” She cared not for any pet names from him.

“As you wish. But I do hope to learn your real name eventually. Since we are to be working close with one another.”

Fine...

But only because she’d rather not deal with any other pet names he might find suit to bestow upon her.

“Bellona...” Came the begrudging answer. Already regretting giving the man the power to call her by her name.

Zenos’ eyes seemed to light up. “Very well then, Bellona.” The way he said her name sent chills down her spine. As if tasting it, reveling in each syllable.”Shall we be off? I’m sure you must be excited to start this new quest.”

The warrior glared at him. The heir to the Garlean throne was the last person she’d ever think to be her traveling companion.

“I don’t trust you.” Bellona leered. And Zenos cocked his head to the side. He knew that already. He expected her distrust--her hatred. And it didn’t wound him in the least.

“If it were any other way, I’d let the Alliance throw you in the darkest most disgusting dungeon and do whatever they wanted to you.” She told him, every syllable dripped with enmity. She wanted him to know just how much she hated this situation. “But this unfortunate turn of events seems to have set us on the same path. I don’t like it, I don’t like you, but if fixing this mess truly has come down to us...working with each other...”

Gods, just saying it aloud left a bad taste on her tongue...

Bellona let out a long suffering sigh. “Then I suppose I can learn how to play nice for now.”

The prince smiled. Was that so hard? His gaze seemed to ask.

“I have always longed to see standing side by side one day.” He says. “Lead the way, my friend. I’m interested in where this path fate has laid out for us leads.”

As am I. Bellona thought with a grimace.

#final fantasy xiv #writing #zenos yae galvus

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carmenlire · 5 years

Text

Make It Look So Easy

read on ao3

“What’s he really worth to you, Hyung?”

Yoongi doesn’t look away from his glass, attention caught on the way the light filters through the cut crystal and picks up a dozen shades of gold in his half-finished whiskey. He feels everyone’s unease as the silence lengthens, knows without looking that Hoseok is waiting expectantly for an answer, that Namjoon-- while outwardly patient-- is on the edge of his seat, too.

Sinking into his chair, Yoongi turns the question over in his mind, taking his time with it. After all, this is what everything’s been building towards. All those sleepless nights, all that goddamn effort trying to keep Jungkook away only to inevitably fail, that’s been the question since Yoongi ran into the kid all those months ago.

What is Jungkook worth to him. For the first time, Yoongi lets himself entertain the answer that’s been on his periphery since the beginning.

Everything.

With resolve tightening his chest even as the knowledge sparks a wave of worry in his gut, Yoongi clears his throat and looks up with the edge of a grin on his lips. He raises the glass in a mockery of salute to the others in the room.

“What do you think,” he asks calmly before taking a lingering sip, letting the warmth ease his awareness of just what the admission means.

He watches the slow blink Namjoon indulges in, catalogs the tightening of Hoseok’s mouth at the confirmation of what they’ve all been aware of since the upstart gang south of their territory tried to kidnap the boss’s boyfriend-- and, really, since the moment they saw Yoongi apologize to a college student who looked equal parts oblivious and exhausted as he’d unknowingly ruined a job they’d spent countless hours reconning when he’d blown their cover and almost run Yoongi over in his hurry to get to class one autumn afternoon.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, leaning forward. “What’s your plan?”

It’s been awhile since Yoongi last had a chance to show off. While he hates-- absolutely detests-- the reason for it now, he can’t deny the excitement curling at the edges of his conscious. He can privately acknowledge that, perhaps, he’s grown a little too complacent at the top. If a third-rate gang was able to get the drop on the most important person in Yoongi’s life than his next move had to be both dramatic and mercenary.

Standing up, he throws back the rest of the whiskey and sets the glass down with a dull thud. Flipping through his old-school Rolodex, he comes to a stop at a few entries into P and lets his finger run over a name he knows as well as Hoseok’s or Namjoon’s.

When he looks up, his friends, his seconds-in-command recognize the glint in his eye. This is the boss who dragged himself from the gutter to the best goddamn penthouse in Gangnam. This is the man who took a ragtag group of misfits and polished their rough edges until Seoul’s Elite were positively begging for their company.

This is Min Yoongi at his best, at his sharpest.

At his most lethal.

“First, you’ll bring me the men who thought they could lay hands on what’s mine,” Yoongi starts and Namjoon spares a moment to think, for the thousandth time, that he’s glad he’s always been on his hyung’s side. The look on his face would almost enough to chill him to the bone if he were still capable of it. “And they’ll learn why hens don’t hunt foxes. I’m sure Jimin won’t mind having a little fun tonight-- call him and let him know I have a job for him and I’ll triple his usual rate if he can have everything ready by sunset tomorrow.”

Stepping around his desk, Yoongi walks over to one of his bookshelves reaches for the safe, spinning the combination with casual grace. He pulls out a worn journal. Flipping it open, his eyes rake over the pages until he lands on the entry he’s been looking for. “Jin, that bastard, owes me a favor after I gave him that tip last month on the Mangjoul robberies. He’ll have warrants and half the department ready to raid every goddamn property they have in the city within twelve hours.”

Hoseok’s raises a brow. “No half measures then,” he drawls.

Yoongi’s head snaps up and Hoseok almost-- almost-- recoils at the look of absolute fury on his face.

“No, Hoseok-ah, no half-measures.” Yoongi replies evenly. “They didn’t hold back when they kidnapped Jungkook from his own goddamn apartment. They didn’t shy away from taking my fucking boyfriend, from laying their filthy fucking hands on him, from making him think for even a second that he wasn’t completely safe-- that I wouldn’t keep him safe at any and all costs.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath before some tension drops from his shoulders. He continues calmly, “First they’re going to lose but then, Hoseok, they’re going to burn. They’re going to burn until they’re nothing but ashes-- until just hearing the name of their pathetic little gang makes everyone run in the other direction because they don't want to risk my wrath. They bit off more than they could chew and I can’t wait to make them see what happens when they wake up the goddamn giant.”

There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon nods once. “What are you going to do? It’ll take time for Jimin to draft the plans and you said it yourself, Jin will be running around all day getting his men in place for a city-wide sting.”

Closing the book with a snap, Yoongi places it carefully back in the safe before closing the door. “I’m going to Jungkook.”

He turns around to see both Hoseok and Namjoon looking at him with blank expressions. He merely lifts a brow. “What,” he asks. “My boyfriend was fucking abducted this afternoon. I’ve tried my damnedest to keep him out of this world and I know he has to be more shaken up than he’s letting on. I need to comfort him.”

The unspoken I want to comfort him rings in the air.

Shaking his head, Hoseok studies Yoongi for a long moment. “There was a time you wouldn’t have stopped until you’d ran yourself into the ground. You would have destroyed everything that came after you and nearly yourself in the process.”

Yoongi shrugs. “There was a time I didn’t have Jungkook.”

Sighing, Namjoon stands up and walks over to Yoongi until he can clap a hand over his shoulder. “I might’ve tried to discourage your relationship in the beginning. Hell, I still had my doubts this morning, but I can’t deny that kid’s good for you, Hyung. He makes you human.”

Yoongi allows the hand on his shoulder to stay and stares at Namjoon silently for a long moment. “He makes me think that’s not bad, being human. I find myself unable-- and very much unwilling-- to lose that.”

Laughing dryly, Hoseok approaches the two of them and while his tone holds a gravitas appropriate for the situation, his eyes are lighter than they’ve been all night. “Go to him, then. Tell him we’ve got his back and hopefully the two of you can rest for a few fucking hours before everything explodes.”

Yoongi nods once, lets his mouth twist into a wry grin. “Literally.”

He walks out of his office to the sound of Jimin picking up Namjoon’s call. As he makes his way towards the stairs, he feels lighter than he’d imagine he could after this hell of a day.

Anticipation thrums under his skin and he feels the sweet release of vengeance lighting up his veins. He didn’t get to be the leader of the biggest gang in South Korea by resting on his laurels and while he’ll privately acknowledge that the gang taught him a valuable lesson, he can’t deny that he’s looking forward to meting out their punishment.

He’s dealt with things that wouldn’t be amiss in nightmares. He’s become a nightmare in his own right and he relishes the image, the rush of euphoria at the knowledge that in certain circles, his name is synonymous with the bogeyman.

It lingers in his periphery, that he might enjoy being the monster in the dark a little too much.

But, he thinks, as he opens the door to their bedroom, he’d become the devil himself if it meant keeping Jungkook with him.

His own Persephone, he thinks, and it makes his chest ache-- the absolute devotion he has to the man in his bed and the nonexistent limits that he’d go to in order to ensure he never left his side.

Knowing that he might be woken up at any moment, even if Hoseok and Namjoon are determined to see him rest, Yoongi doesn’t change out of his suit. He does shuck off his jacket, though, throwing it over the back of the chair he passes on his way to his bed.

Jungkook’s there, sleeping peacefully and Yoongi spares a moment-- a few moments-- to watch him in the sparse moonlight.

His breath stalls at the cut on his cheek, the dull bruising along his jaw. Clamping his teeth on a wave of rage so intense that his vision wavers, Yoongi’s hand is steady and gentle as he brushes the hair away from his boyfriend’s face.

No matter how gentle he thought he was being, though, it wakes Jungkook. “Hyung?”

Making a little noise of confirmation, Yoongi eases into the bed until he’s just in front of him, until he’d barely have to lean forward to kiss him. “It’s just me, Kook-ah. Go back to sleep, babe.”

His heart turns over as Jungkook seems to melt back into the sheets. Yoongi thinks he’s fallen back asleep until he’s startled by a surprisingly coherent voice asking, “You’re going to make them pay, aren’t you?”

A little taken aback, Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. He considers Jungkook in the low light as a dozen answers flit through his brain.

He considers deflecting, urging Jungkook to go back to sleep. There’s something about this moment, however, that makes him decide against it.

In the stillness of their bedroom where the smell of antiseptic is nauseatingly present, in the tone he detects in Jungkook’s voice-- surprisingly cold, a tremor of pleasure hiding underneath at the prospect-- Yoongi decides to bare it all.

Distantly, he thinks that this is the last thing he has to show Jungkook-- not just his world but the joy Yoongi takes in it, in his role in his kingdom of sorts. Because that’s what this is all about-- someone dared to come for him by way of Jungkook and the mere thought of anyone daring to get one over on him, on Min fucking Yoongi, is unconscionable. Yoongi is the king of this little corner of the world and he’ll retain his power through any means necessary.

He’s never minded dirtying his hands when it matters, takes vicious pride in the blood staining his hands like so much ichor.

It’s a test of sorts, he reckons, telling Jungkook the truth, revealing this one last area of his life, his soul, but whatever’s been holding him back for a year just seems to have disintegrated.

“Yeah, Jungkook. I’m going to make them pay,” he admits in a low voice.

He doesn’t expect Jungkook’s next question, tone harsh. “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” he answers simply and hears his boyfriend’s sharp breath. He’s not backing away, though. There’s no sharp denial, no rebuttal, and emboldened, Yoongi leans forward until he’s pressing Jungkook onto his back, until he’s leaning over him, until he gets enough of this-- whatever this is.

Yoongi watches as Jungkook lets him move him, eyes trailing his throat as he swallows hard. There’s a glint in his eye that dares Yoongi to keep going.

So he does.

“Isn’t that right, Kook-ah,” Yoongi whispers against his ear and it’s heady, the rush he feels at Jungkook’s shiver, at the way he arches imperceptibly closer to Yoongi. “You’re mine. And nobody gets to touch what’s mine because I don’t play fair and I don’t share. You belong to me and it’s my job to protect you. I’m sorry I didn’t do that today, baby, but don’t worry. I’ll make it so that no one except me ever dares lay a finger on you again.”

“Good.”

Jungkook’s voice is raw but there’s a strength in it that Yoongi can’t help but admire. Jungkook isn’t running for the smelling salts-- he’s not running away from Yoongi-- and he vows right then and there that he’ll never let him go.

He leans into the hand that runs through his hair, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Yoongi almost doesn’t hear the words that are breathed against his neck but he does and his ribs ache at the sheer effort of keeping everything inside that he feels for the man next to him.

“You forgot something, though, Hyung.”

Humming noncommittally, Yoongi only opens his eyes when he feels the fingers in his hair tighten abruptly, pulling a sharp gasp from him. He meets Jungkook’s dark eyes, is greeted with his grin that’s just a little mean.

He lifts a brow expectantly, well aware that Jungkook sees under his impassive face to the excitement that’s sharpened his features just enough at the imperious treatment. “What did I forget, baby?”

“You belong to me, too.”

Yoongi laughs and it’s a little rough around the edges. His eyes bore into Jungkook’s for a moment that seems to freeze before he’s shaking his head slowly. “No,” he murmurs. “I’ve always known that.”

He has a brief moment to see Jungkook’s expression ease into it’s more familiar happiness, without the trace of darkness lingering around the edges, and then their lips meet in a kiss that’s a barely-hidden power play.

Yoongi is more than happy to admit that it’s a draw.

As he drifts off, Yoongi knows that tomorrow will be busy. He’ll have to coordinate his plan with all parties, execute his vengeance flawlessly in a manner only befitting a king of his stature. His hands already ache at the prospect of what he’ll have done by this time tomorrow, at the new blood that will seep into his skin as yet another badge of honor.

He’ll have Jungkook by his side, though, and the thought eases the monster in him, the insatiable beast that’s always craved more-- more money, more power, more everything.

He curls around Jungkook and dreams of blood.

#omg my first bts fic!!#how exciting!!!#bts fic #yoonkook #yoonkook fic #my writing #sugakookie fic #idk what to tag this as lol i'm trying my best #yoongi x jungkook

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iamanartichoke · 6 years

Text

It’s been five months since I filled any tumblr prompts, but I needed to take a break and write something aside from Sea because of reasons, so here I am. I cleaned out my inbox awhile ago but I kept screenshots of the prompts I had yet to fill. Also, this is a first draft, unrevised, so please don’t judge me. I was just kind of winging it. I hope the narrative makes it clear what’s kind of going on here but, in case it doesn’t, the short version is that Loki’s being held in SHIELD custody after the Avengers found him pummeled by the Hulk. Loki’s memory is shot and Thor is trying to put together the pieces.

Word Count: 2460

Loki wakes to the sound of Thor crying.

The sound is very, very strange. His brother has never been much for tears - easier to rage first and mourn later, if ever. Loki cannot recall the last time he saw Thor cry - but, then again, his head is throbbing and the world feels dim. He cannot recall much of anything.

The room is much too bright and everything hurts. Loki opens his eyes to blinding whiteness - white walls, white furniture, white blankets on the bed. All of that whiteness makes his stomach turn. He looks over to see Thor slumped in a chair beside the bed. He has a hand pressed over his eyes and his shoulders tremble. He has not noticed that Loki is awake.

“Thor,” Loki whispers. He cannot seem to raise his voice; his throat feels raw and torn.

Thor’s head snaps up and he hurriedly wipes his eyes. His cheeks remain tear-stained. “Loki,” he gets out, and straightens up. Loki notices Mjolnir sitting on the floor beside Thor’s chair and he flinches. Something is terribly wrong about all of this. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

Loki feels … Loki feels as if he has shattered into a million pieces. The longer he is awake, the more conscious he is of how much everything hurts. He feels like he is on fire, blazing heat, yet he feels like there is ice coursing through his veins. His stomach twists like he wants to vomit; his temples throb like he is being spun around in circles too fast to breathe. He is sore and bruised; he is weak at his core.

“Terrible,” Loki finally responds. His gaze falls to Mjolnir. “The battle. Did we win?”

“Did we …?” Thor trails off. “The battle … it’s over, Loki.”

Loki nods, giving in and closing his eyes again, just for a few moments. The pillow is soft and cool beneath his head and he is so tired. “Yes, it’s over,” he agrees. “But did we win?”

“We … we didn’t win anything,” Thor says. “The Chitauri are beaten. The wormhole is closed.”

“Then we won,” Loki says and lets out a sigh.

There is a long silence. Loki feels Thor’s palm against his forehead and he opens his eyes again, looking up into Thor’s face. Thor’s brow is furrowed, and there is a deep sadness in his blue eyes that cuts Loki to the core. “You’re confused,” Thor says, when he meets Loki’s gaze. “But it doesn’t matter right now. It’s over, that’s what’s important.”

“He’ll come for me now,” Loki whispers. Thor has to lean in closer to hear him. “Thor. He’ll come.”

“Who will?”

A chill crawls up Loki’s spine and he squeezes his eyes shut. Consciousness is escaping him, fleeing fast. “Thanos.”

* * *

The next time Loki wakes, he’s screaming and thrashing so wildly that Thor has to physically restrain him. “Loki, Loki,” Thor is saying, his hands on either side of Loki’s face, his body practically on top of Loki’s to try to hold him still. There is an alarm blaring in the background. “Wake up, Loki!”

In response, Loki summons all of his strength. He shoves Thor with a force that takes both of them by surprise. Thor goes flying back, crashing into the opposite wall.

“We need backup in here!” an unfamiliar voice shouts.

“No!” Thor shouts back. “I’ve got him!”

Loki isn’t listening. He scrambles off the bed, wildly seeking someplace - any place - to hide. The room is so white and open. There’s a row of glass windows by the door, behind which Loki sees at least half a dozen shadowy, hulking figures. Chitauri soldiers, he thinks, and panics. Thanos. Green and gold seiðr flickers at his fingertips; he hurls magic through the glass, hearing it shatter, and then Thor is yelling something and through the din, Loki recognizes the sound of gunfire being released back at him. He hurls a force-field up around himself as he skitters toward a far wall, ducking behind a low cabinet.

“Stop!” Thor bellows. Loki presses his palms to his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. It is so loud. “Don’t shoot!”

“Hold your fire!” snaps the unfamiliar voice and, a split-second later, the gunfire ceases.

Smoke lingers in the air. The bullets have torn holes through the bed and the sparse furniture; casings litter the ground, a shell rolling precariously close to Loki’s bare foot. He notices, for the first time, that he is wearing Midgardian clothing - loose pants and a tunic, both white. Where are his boots? Where is his armor?

“Loki.” Thor is crawling toward him - literally crawling across the floor, slowly, as if Loki is a wolf caught in a hunter’s trap and Thor is trying not to spook him as he nears close enough to spring the release. “Loki, it’s just me. It’s Thor.”

Loki slowly lowers his hands from his ears. The force-field is still intact around him but, as Thor moves closer, Loki allows it to dissipate. “Thor,” he gets out. “There were - I thought - the Chitauri. They’re here, Thanos is here. I have to -”

Abruptly, Loki turns and peers out from behind the cabinet to look. It is hard to see through the haze of gray but beyond the shattered glass, he recognizes Nick Fury and, behind him, several armed guards. Their weapons are at the ready, their gunfire only halted by Fury’s outstretched hand.

“No, no, it’s just me,” Thor is saying. Close enough now, he reaches out and closes the distance. He wraps his arms around Loki and pulls him close, holding him so tightly that Loki can hardly breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki sees the guards finally lower their guns; with Thor there, they won’t dare shoot again. “The Chitauri are gone.”

No Chitauri, Loki realizes that now. Just humans. Stupid, trigger-happy humans. He is safe - for now.

Loki’s throat tightens and closes as he remembers the nightmare he’d barely just escaped from, woken by his own screams. Endless tortures await him at Thanos’s hand; his nightmare had been both a memory of where he’d been and a preview of what still awaited him, and now Loki cannot stop himself from crying.

A sob breaks from him as he presses his head to Thor’s shoulder, feeling his brother’s soothing fingers making small circles between his shoulder blades. Pain, hot and heavy, courses through his entire body. Nightmares aren’t supposed to hurt, so why is he in so much pain?

“They’re not gone,” he gets out. “The Other will come, and Thanos …”

“Shh. No one is here for you,” Thor murmurs, against Loki’s hair. His breath is warm. “You’re safe.”

“No,” Loki says and shakes his head. “I’ll never be safe, Thor. I failed. I failed, I failed -” He is sobbing in earnest now, hiding his face from the observers at the glass windows, from Fury. He buries his head into Thor’s neck - Thor, who is so unwaveringly strong, who is his big brother, who had left Loki to fall from the Bifrost and into Thanos’s hands.

Thor, who had not come for him when Loki had needed him the most.

Thor had left Loki to die, and Loki had come back and tried to kill Thor. Perhaps, they are even now.

“Who did you fail?” Thor is asking, rubbing Loki’s back. His voice never loses its soothing tone. “Who is Thanos, Loki?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Loki gets out. “Don’t you know?”

“How could I know?”

Loki swallows hard, reeling in a deep breath, trying to slow his own tears. He changes the subject. “Why were they shooting at me?”

“Well, the magic might have had something to do with it.”

“I thought they were Chitauri.”

Thor hums softly and presses his lips to Loki’s temple. He doesn’t reply.

* * *

They move Loki into another room, identical to the one destroyed by the bullets. Once he is settled in, Loki sleeps for what feels like an eternity but is really, Thor informs him when he wakes again, only three days.

“You need to eat something,” Thor says, and Loki lets out a little whimper of exhaustion. He doesn’t know how he could have slept for so many hours and still feel so tired. “I’ll fetch you some soup, all right?”

“Yes, all right.” It is going to be difficult to stay awake even long enough for that, but Loki tries. He pushes himself into a sitting position, mindful of his injuries, while Thor goes to the door and presses a few buttons on the keypad. The door slides open and Thor steps through and it slides shut behind him again.

While Thor is gone, Loki draws his knees up and rests his chin on them as he glances around the room. Everything is stark white, blank, unfamiliar. Loki closes his eyes. He doesn’t even remember how he got here. His mind feels so fragmented, fleeting memories and images chasing themselves around while Loki scrambles to keep up. What has happened to him?

Thor is back before Loki can work himself up into a panic. He returns to the room carrying a large blue mug and a bottle of water, both of which he brings over to Loki. “They’ll bring you a real meal soon,” Thor says as he sits down in the chair beside Loki’s bed, “but for now, you can have these. Chicken noodle,” he explains, when Loki sniffs at the mug suspiciously.

“I’m told it’s the ideal Midgardian meal, when one is ill,” Thor adds.

“Thank you.” Loki cautiously lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip of the thick broth. It’s steaming hot and delicious and suddenly, Loki is ravenous. He swallows down the entirety of the mug and, when he is finished, Thor gives him the bottle of water, which he downs just as quickly.

“I’m starving,” he admits, passing the empty bottle back to Thor. “I didn’t realize.”

“You’ve been unwell,” Thor says with a shrug. He sets the empty bottle and mug aside and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We need to talk, Loki.”

Loki swallows hard. He looks down, unable to meet Thor’s steady gaze. “Okay.”

“You keep mentioning Thanos,” Thor says, “and how you failed him. Do you remember anything? The battle - the Tesseract?”

“Of course I do,” Loki snaps, even though he doesn’t. He ducks his head, twisting the sheets between his fingers.

“Tell me, then,” Thor prompts, when Loki’s silence stretches.

Loki swallows hard. “I don’t - it’s complicated, Thor.”

Thor makes a sound low in his throat, like a growl, and it occurs to Loki that despite how Thor has been taking care of him, Thor is angry. The realization makes Loki flinch; he wants to curl away from this confrontation, wants to curl himself back up underneath the blankets and sleep another three days. His head throbs and he closes his eyes.

“Complicated isn’t good enough,” Thor says. “Complicated isn’t an explanation for what you - for what happened.”

“For what I did,” Loki corrects softly. He drags a hand across his eyes; he can already feel the tears starting. “You can speak it for what it is.”

“Can you?” Thor asks.

Loki opens his eyes and looks up at Thor. There is anger there, in those steely blue eyes, but Loki finds confusion as well - confusion and desperation. Thor is desperate to understand.

“Everything is a blur,” he admits softly. “Some things, I remember. I wish I didn’t. Other things, I can’t make sense of. I have flashes, images that don’t mean much. At the core of it all is Thanos.”

“You have to tell me who Thanos is,” Thor implores him, leaning forward a bit. “Is he the one who sent you for the Tesseract?”

Loki nods. “I didn’t have a choice, Thor. The things that I did … “ It wasn’t me. That wasn’t me, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat because they are a lie. Thanos did not put anything into his mind that was not already there. Not like Barton, like Selvig. It wasn’t me, but it was.

“The scepter,” Thor guesses, when Loki remains silent. “He controlled you, then. Yes?”

Loki keeps his gaze firmly on his own fingers, twisting and pulling at the bedsheets. “It is very powerful,” he says, which is neither a lie nor a confirmation.

“He controlled you, and sent you here for the Tesseract. I knew it,” Thor says, which makes Loki look up sharply. “I knew there had to be an explanation. I asked you, on the mountain - do you remember?”

Who controls the would-be king? The words scream through Loki’s mind like a siren and he visibly shudders. He lets go of the sheets and wraps his arms around himself, suddenly feeling cold. “I am a king,” he whispers.

“No, Loki.” Thor reaches out and gently touches some of Loki’s hair, pushing it back from Loki’s face before he lets go again. “We’ll make this right, okay? I promise.”

Loki laughs at that, weakly. “How? Am I not a criminal?”

“No. You’re only here because we didn’t know what else to do. After the Hulk …” He breaks off, at Loki’s confused expression. “You don’t remember that part?”

“No,” Loki admits. “The last thing I remember is speaking to Stark.”

“Well, at some point after that, you ran into the Hulk. He nearly killed you.” Thor averts his gaze. “I thought you were dead. When we found you … it didn’t look good.”

That explains the dull throb of his various injuries, pain consistently on the edge of his awareness. “So I am here … because of the Hulk?”

“More or less. I am supposed to take you back to Asgard, but you have been in no condition to make the trip. Not long after we found you, you woke up and … you were hysterical. Screaming nonsense about Thanos and what you’d done. Fury had to sedate you. He used the tranquilizers SHIELD kept for the Hulk. Ironic, isn’t it?” Thor lifts an eyebrow and grins a little.

Ironic, Loki thinks, and pulls the bedsheets up. Exhaustion is creeping back in; he’s surprised he managed to keep it at bay this long. “I’m tired,” he whispers.

“Get some sleep,” Thor says, and settles in next to him. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours for a real meal. Okay?”

Loki nods. Thor’s kindness is a balm he does not deserve; Thor has offered it based on something that hovers between truth and lie, yet Loki cannot bring himself to reject it.

Thanos will come, sooner or later. Loki will suffer eventually.

He will hold onto Thor in the meantime.

* * *

#tumblr prompts #loki fic #thor #brodinsons #tw gun violence #tw angst #mind control #avengers #avengers 1 #avengers au fic

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beyondthetemples · 5 years

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Multimuse RP questions!

{{ I couldn’t figure out which RP blog to stick these on (since I have like. nine), so I figured I’d just skip to the Answering Part over here. =w=

Found here: https://memesfortheroleplayerssoul.tumblr.com/post/163688858676

is there a muse that you wish gets more attention? Honestly? Dove. There are a couple of people who've said they love reading about her, and I'm so absolutely eternally delighted for them, too deeply appreciative for words! A couple friends I met via rping her, and a couple friends I met in Certain discord servers, but that's about it anymore. But she's my baby, you know? I love her, she's amazing, and I wish more people took the time to write stories with her, because she just has so much potential! I mean, yeah, for angst of course, but also for healing and comfort, for action and fantasy, for mystical and mundane plots alike. She's so multi-faceted and fascinating to explore, I just... well, maybe it's more selfish in that I need help exploring some of the more mundane stuff with her. Because if it doesn't really Have Relevance to a Particular Plot, I generally won't wind up writing it, let alone publishing it. :P But this answer's already too long; I could rave about Dove for hours! All I'm trying to say is, I wish more people cared about OCs.

if you HAD to choose, who’s your favorite muse? Favorite to RP with? Far and away, Dove! Favorite for crack RPs, Srentha or Leyla. Favorite canon character is a GIGANTIC toss-up between Raven and Lapis. Favorite characters to explore for personal reasons are Ryou Bakura and Blue Diamond, but I have a hard time bringing myself to actually WRITE about them, for some reason...

is there a muse that not a lot of people roleplay with? (Besides the ones I haven't advertised? ^^';;) Maybe Phobia? She has only ever existed in comic canons-- though she WAS in the Teen Titans Go comics too! (The original series, not the... bastardization). Anyways, she's a much lesser-known muse. And my muse for her is wildly unreliable, she's a volatile and abrasive character, and my inspiration for her has run dry for awhile now...

if you HAD to choose, who’s your least favorite muse? Phobia. o_o See above, actually.

which one of your muses have you been playing the longest? Prooobably Dove? She was the one I started rping with, of course!

which one of your muses has the most ships? Ships in their canon, or ships in my rps? Because you're talking to a demigray here; I don't really do romance? But in my stories, Dove has 3 ships (all at different times in her life). In rps, Dove has been kinda-contemplating-it shipped a couple times, but never got to the point of, you know, kissing... and in fandom, Lapis probably has the most.

what is each of your muses’ otps? notps? ~ Dove and Srentha together~ (Don't have notps for them.) ~ Kary: food? sleep? Her canon boyfriend Eric ~ Leyla has a qpp named Toby in the stories. ~ Raven: I'm demonbirds trash. I don't even know how that happened, honestly. (Notps include B|BRae and, while not as strong of a NO in the jlvtt canon, ter/raven.) ~ Lapis Lazuli: OTP with Peridot! Intensely notp with jasper. ~ Blue Diamond: OTP with Yellow hardcore, no notps to speak of. ~ Phobia: Utterly unexplored??? I think she voluntarily abstains. ~ Ryou: OTP with Joey (thank my girlfriend for that one)! Notp with Yami Bakura, it’s absolutely 100% possibly my most violently-disgusted NOtp yet. Also with Diva because... What The Fuck??? But I won't rant about that just now. ~ Jess: I haven't really done much shipping, though Mistress and Trick are a hella canon, deeply bonded breeding couple. ~ Evangeline? Sorta-OTP with my gf's character Taex, though it's not exactly a ~romantic~ dynamic. Notp with Srentha, probably, considering she'd try to kill him, given the chance, and she’s pissed at Dove for marrying him.

why were you drawn to each one of your characters? Okay, listen, you can't just ask something like this and expect an easy answer! I could write an Actual Legitimate Essay on EACH ONE, because I only write a character when I'm Extremely Highkey Personally Emotionally Inspired by them!

UPDATE: I tried to summarize, I really did! But there's just so MUCH, and it turned into an essay on its own. --> https://beyondthetemples-ooc.tumblr.com/post/189837029682/why-were-you-drawn-to-each-one-of-your-characters

Summaries go like this: Dove is brave, complex enough to delve deeply in and constantly discover new facets of, and inspiring enough to create a positive experience while doing so. Srentha is fun, positive, and passionate, and legitimate ADHD representation. Leyla is a chill miracle child of creativity and quiet passion. Raven is the reason I'm still alive and perfectly reflected me at about age 14, so I have a very deep personal connection to her. Kary is so fun to explore because she's my polar opposite, as a temperamental pyrokinetic who revels in chaos and really just wants to have a good time. Evangeline is everything Dove suppresses, brought to life, so she's fun to explore as an extension of Dove! Lapis has a lot of struggles to explore and has done a lot of healing and growth that I'd like to expand on someday. Blue Diamond and Ryou Bakura were basically literally me, so I can explore the trauma and healing from their perspectives in a safe space. And Phobia? I just wanted to put characters' mettle to the test honestly, and see what would happen.

which muse is the most fun to write for? Oh, Srentha, absolutely hands down! Dove does have the best close-friends casual-fun kind of rp relationships, though. And Mistress the Mismagius has this sardonic teasing sense of humor that always makes me smile, especially with Murky (Murkrow).

is there another muse you’ve been thinking of adding or writing for? who? Oh stars, I don't need another one. =w= I've been... struggling to get my Ryou blog actually up and running for a long while now. Nobody new has inspired me lately, but I'm pretty stuck in my fandom ways.

what is something everyone should know about your muses before interacting? I stick it all in their bios! But, let's see... Dove: Even though she's Raven's half-sister, she keeps it DESPERATELY hidden, and nobody IC is supposed to know about that. Srentha is very deeply rooted in Azarathean pacifism and won't do much in battle besides help people retreat. Leyla has her father's heart condition and can't do anything too active. Kary will rarely use her powers, as conjuring even a simple spark stings her scar badly. Lapis is more than her toxic relationship! Blue Diamond is NOT the dictator she once was! Ryou does NOT want the spirit of the millennium ring in his life anymore! Jess just... sticks mostly to Sinnoh and rarely ever leaves. And Evangeline has a palpable evil aura about her; she makes SURE of it.

what’s a weird headcanon you have for each of your muses? Dove hates pie. Srentha loves colorful things. Leyla will cover everything in glitter if you let her. Kary will do anything for some good food and/or a nap. Ryou's hair is untamable. Lapis doesn't guard her gem as carefully as she should. Blue Diamond may be more emotional, but she won't sing about it as frequently as other Gems. Raven... doesn't wear underwear?

which muse has the most aus or verses? I mean, the Lapis I was writing for was 97% canon divergent. Evangeline only exists as her own person (and not merely a partition of Dove's mind) in a DCUO-compatible timeline. But I don't really do aus or verses otherwise; it's just more stressful for me.

can you sort your muses from youngest to oldest? Sorting based on the ages I'll generally play them: Leyla (8-14), Dove (15-25), Kary (18+), Ryou (19+), Srentha (20+), Jess (22+), Phobia (23+), Lapis (5k+), Blue Diamond (10k+).

which muse is most willing to fight another muse? Oh, definitely Kary. (She won't fight Dove or Leyla, even if there's a really good reason. And Srentha has this weird power of defusing her. But anyone else, she can easily be provoked to fight on a dime.) Or maybe Evangeline, who will fight anyone at any time for any reason whatsoever?

do your muses get along with each other? Evangeline gets along with nobody. Dove/Srentha/Leyla are all a very tight-knit family, and Kary considers herself Dove's sister and Leyla's aunt. I've thought about what might happen if Lapis met Blue Diamond, but I don’t have the faintest idea of how that'd go? I did start an RP once where Lapis met Dove, and I planned to have them bond over homesickness and purpose-seeking, but then I lost the ehd I had that prewritten on, and never had the heart to try rewriting it. Ryou and Jess kinda exist in their own universe's bubble. (Jess has a whole cast of Pokemon creature muses she very much gets along with, though~)

would you ship any of your muses together? who? Dove and Srentha are hella-canon endgame already, that's been decided for like 12 years!

for each muse, is there a character you wish had a blog so you could interact with them? You know, I've never really been one much for wishing like that. I do wish Dove had a stable Raven again, since both of my all-time favorite Raven rpers have left the rp circle... but that's about it, really.

have you ever considered making a multimuse/is it easier having a multimuse? I mean, my Pokemon blog has like 19 muses built into the breeding center... 8F But no, I prefer to keep my drafts, rps, and tag systems for each muse on separate sideblogs. Tumblr's tags break WAY too often to shove them all in one place. (And with a sideblog, I don't have to log in and out every time I want to check for replies!)

which muse is the most problematic towards other muses? Toss-up between Phobia and Evangeline, obviously. Blue Diamond is a reformed Gem, the way I play her. (I don't care what anyone says, THAT'S CANON as HELL too!) But Evangeline actively goes out of her way to hurt and/or sacrifice people to her own ends,

which muse is most likely to make new friends? Probably Leyla, though now that SU has sent out a message across the Gem universe that Gems are welcome on Earth, Lapis could wind up meeting quite a lot of new acquaintances. It's much harder to befriend her, though. Srentha has a lot of charismatic energy too, and he’ll go out and make friends with anyone, given the chance.

which muses’ fandom do you like the best? Ahhh, don't make me CHOOSE like that! ;; Fandom like being a fan of them, or fandom like, liking the other people in the fandom? Because Steven Universe, Teen Titans, and YuGiOh all have incredibly special places in my heart, while having Their Issues amongst the fandom... Pokemon seems to be the best mannered fandom though, especially amidst the RP community.

is there someone playing the same muse/s as you and you really look up to them? Ohgosh, well there's a blog called, I think, melancholeyes?, that plays Blue so well, it's like reading canon scenes. I did see a blog that played a Ryou I respected, but I can't remember their name... and of course Larissa and Pix played great Ravens, but each a different version.

which muse do people send the most asks for? Probably Dove, thanks in large part to Caleb!

which muse is most likely to have kids? Leyla is already Dove's kid, so... 8F

is there a rule that someone keeps breaking for your muses? Not to my knowledge, but my rules aren't strict anyways.

can you sort your muses from weakest to strongest? ...Oh, stars. How am I supposed to sort them? Well, let's try this.

Weakest to strongest in combat (based on their style of choice): Ryou, Leyla, Srentha, Phobia, Evangeline, Jess, Kary, Dove, Lapis, Blue Diamond, Raven. ( * i switched raven and blue diamond around SO many times. both are immensely powerful with god-like abilities, but raven can literally destroy reality itself. so...)

Weakest to strongest by strength of heart and character: Phobia, Evangeline, uh... Kary? Srentha...? Uh... frICK THIS ONE'S HARD. Because they're all so strong in their own ways. Probably Leyla? Next tier is probably Blue, Lapis, and Jess, and Dove, Raven, and Ryou are highest tier.

which muse are you considering deleting? Phobia, and maybe sometimes Blue. (I actually... never got a single RP or follower on Blue. I'm still debating if I really WANT to rp as her, at least on Tumblr, knowing how toxic the fandom can get around the Diamonds...)

most importantly, are you having fun playing each one of your muses? Pretty much! Especially Dove, Srentha, Leyla, and Raven!~ Raven's wit and clipped verbiage can be tricky to for me sometimes, but all it takes is a little tlc on her dialogue, and it doesn't slow down my enjoyment one bit. :} And when I'm in a Pokemon-hyperfocus mood, writing the Pokemon team is ALWAYS a blast! (Especially the Pokemon; their personalities are so dynamic together.) With muses like Lapis and Blue, and even Kary, the mood for their emotionality waxes and wanes, but I don't write for them unless I'm in The Right Frame of Mind to KEEP UP with them, you know? I never push myself in an rp until it's not fun anymore; at least I know where my writing burnout limits are.

Phobia and Evangeline are both sadistic, and when you're a compassionate person, that can be very hard to write out in the painstaking detail of my style. But sometimes my mind just Won't Shut UP about 'Vangie unless I WRITE IT OUT. Which is a good exercise of course, stretching my horizons and all that, and I do love writing the drama and conflict they stir up.

But beyond the momentary discomforts, I'm just so eager to explore their lives and minds and adventures, so yes, I absolutely DO have fun writing for each and every one!

#ooc rebloggables #questions list

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rxcusant · 6 years

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HOW I RUN MY BLOG

SPEED

i do my best! generally i just try to keep the pace going but im also a turtle with very bad attention span. like everyone sometimes i have more muse for certain threads and i try to tackle those first. otherwise i?? just try to keep the ball rolling.

REPLIES/DRAFTS

imma be real here chief. I don’t use my drafts. If i put my replies in drafts i will NEVER get them done. so i either Like them or i rely on my memory fkjhgkd i usually reply in later evening/night hours tho! I’m ATROCIOUS at replying during the day time and its just a lot easier on me in silence with no one around. I try to reply the day after my partner does but sometimes stuff happens and i get to it the next night lmao

STARTERS

I don’t mind doing them and I usually volunteer to! But Im also happy whenever someone else does cAUSE ITS ONE LESS THING FOR ME TO DO L M A o..,,, If theres one thing I noticed Im bad at tho its responding to one-liner starter calls cause i just... spit 2 paragraphs back kjfdghj and they usually end up going no where and it makes me kinda sad. But Im gonna keep liking them cause i wanna interact with people!!!! and those calls always pop up on my dash!!!!!

INBOX

listen here young man my blog is almost 5 years old. This inbox is CLUTTERED....... i try to answer everything as best i can tho!! But, as i will keep saying, I HAVE BAD ATTENTION SPAN and if i forget its not on you!! admittedly sometimes i dont know how to respond so i’ll leave it to stew over but... i end up forgetting anyway. By then i just delete it if its been awhile.

SELECTIVITY

I’m only semi selective tbh I don’t have High Standards or anything djfhkgjf I like an active dash and I like meeting people!! Im coming off a year long hiatus and I still feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with following people in this community. If you really wanna know tho I don’t like following if your blog is nothing but ask memes or if youre about is just Off The Wall Crazy that i feel winded after reading it and im not sure i can see us interacting. I’m chill i swear As a side note, I do not follow personals back.

WISHLIST

[takes out a very long scroll that unwinds and scrolls out the door and keeps going for miles] Well, now that you’ve asked -i want sorikai content..... i want sokai content....... i want soriku content....... i want trinity trio content........ i want the misery that comes with being snorts friend. i live for that. I live for riku and kairi lamenting over trying to save their best friend whos actively avoiding seeing them as much as it pains him cause he doesnt wanna get them hurt hhhhhhh I WANT THEM SNEAKING BEHIND THE SCENES SEEING EACH OTHER CAUSE THE FRIENDSHIP IS TOO STRONG AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER TOOMUCH TO BE APART AND EVEN XEHANORT CANT DO THAT TO THEM -I WANT..... ORGANIZATION RPS......... i want!! soranort to interact with all the other vessels!!! there is SO MUCH TO DO HERE!!! Get under his skin, remind him hes gonna beat the light out of precious friends, just!! fuck with him man. Sora will snap back and stick to his guns and make for one big sass fight. Cmon sora was LITERALLY THEIR ENEMY FOR ALL THE GAMES AND NOW HES FORCED TO SIDE WITH THEM theres a lot to do here!!!!!!!!!! And if sora does what he does best and worms into their heart and they become friends?? ALL THE BETTER!!! one of my FAVORITE old relationships on this blog was with saix! it was great!!!!!! im starving out here pls give me organization rps -v...vanitas........ listen i know i rp vanitas too but SOME OF MY FAVORITE RPS ARE WITH OTHER VANITAS BLOGS...... we can work it out man, we can plot it out, i just rEALLY LOVE OTHER VANITAS BLOGS A LOT OK its really fun seeing another vanitas tear down sora that isnt myself. Im just eternally nervous about approaching other vanitas’s in case theyre like NO I DONT WANNA DO THIS so i sit in silence watching from afar -DISNEY!!!!! DISNEY!!!!!!! RPS!!!!!!!! DISNEY!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LIVE FOR SORA SEEING HIS OLD DISNEY FRIENDS AGAIN AND THEYRE LIKE “hey what happened” aND HE LAUGHS LIKE “HAHAHAH NOTHING I SWEAR IM FINE HOW ARE YOU THO” OR ALTERNATIVELY DISNEY THAT ISNT IN KH, LET SORA MEET THEM NOW WHEN HES ON ORG MISSIONS ‘go do recon sora and stay in the shadows pls’ ‘okay! [immediately goes and makes 10 friends] -crossover friends!!!! i also live for Sora meeting people who dont know ANYTHING about his bullshit or KH’s bullshit and they steadily overtime see how hes not doing so well until he has to explain OR keep dancing around it because its always better that theyre not involved in all this [this one is hit or miss cause i only follow series im familiar with BUT i can make exceptions jkfhg] -vanitas meeting people similar to him. Before i reset my blogs relationships vanitas aCTUALLY HAD A FRIEND but it was only because they were both tools living with someone elses face and they punched each other to say hello kdjfhgkdj but i like exploring what happens to vanitas when you give him the warmth he spent 4 years feeling from ventus & longing after in the badlands according to the bbs novels. Vanitas is a terrible abomination but goddamn do i love watching him short circuit when someones not treating him like shit. then he gets extremely confused and angry and [chefs kiss] fun. -this is already really long and while i always have more in mind ill stop here

HONEST NOTE you want some honesty????? you want some BRUTAL HONESTY??? I am in a constant state of anxiety people will be disappointed i dont follow the herd with Popular Soranort Headcanons. like they come here expecting one thing only to see thats not what rolls here. Granted I don’t look at or know the Popular Soranort Headcanons because they made my anxiety spike more, im just ??? Its a weird feeling. Im not here to please people because how I choose to write soranort is all up to me and I love him. Its just... a super funky feeling. Theres a reason i took my hiatus but thats all im gonna say. Im also always worried about my vanitas portrayal since hes just a Lost Soul at the moment with no goal or path or outlet and therefore doesnt really follow his canon self’s personality or behavior.

tagged by: nobody i live in a kingdom of thieves tagging: you! and you! and especially YOU

#outofxiii #long post//#LONG POST BECAUSE MY WISHLIST IS SUPER LONG WINDED LMAO #honestly i just did this because mom has the os.cars on and i wanted to kill time #until she went to bed but it took me an hour to do this and SHE STILL ISNT IN BED #sleep!!!! i cant do replies like this!!!!!!!

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babymoose-x · 6 years

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Okay I was laying in bed one night chilling while listening to music right? Then this song came on, I've listened to it before but this time my brain went into overdrive I swear. It was exploding with Sabriel au idea's! It was crazy! Soon enough i had two au's perfected in my mind and as more songs came on they all matched the au's perfectly!

Im just gonna do a rough draft on the au's since I dont want to forget them!

Au number 1 :

Gabriel novak Is known world wide for his amazing vocals and his carefree prankster attitude. But most importantly his self taught modeling, Gabriel chooses a creative way of choosing how he wants to pose. He takes his current deep emotion and lets his body take control of how it wants to portray that emotion. Once he's satisfied he throws it to the media with a qoute and Because of his popularity media writers(or whatever there called), Snatch up the photo and quote and try to 'deciper' if you will on how Gabriel's feeling and what exactly the quote means. Its a fun and regular way gabriel likes to entertain the media and express his feelings more deeply than with his music. Gabriel hasn't been in many relationships for multiple reasons, He doesn't want to be the type of celebrity who goes out screaming ' hey! im single and want to get into a relationship with another Caleb so I can look like a hoe! ' and have the media picture him a sleazy singer and model who dates around with other celebrates just for the fun of it, So he just doesn't plain and simple But that doesn't mean he cant get a quick fling once in awhile. But everything flips upside down when a certain artist catches his attention while he's undercover at an art gallery trying and get inspiration for music, Samuel Winchester is an upcoming artist just trying to make a living after leaving his older brothers care. The way sam paints with such personality and emotion. Letting every single twitch in his hand with the paintbrush count as sam Just lets go of everything,makes Gabriel coo with delight his heart fluttering and pounding in his chest as his toes curl with so much love and adoration. Of course sam's heart lurches when Gabriel talks about how talented sam is and how the paintings should be worth millions all the while stuttering as he tries to ask sam out, And of course sam has to say yes. There dates normally consist of Gabriel practically spying his way around to sneak into Sam's apartment with out being sniffed out by the media, Its tedious but worth it. Hours of lying around on the couch having chick flick moments while watching die hard and willy wonka, That doesn't mean that they don't sometimes make there way to Sam's bedroom every once in awhile but its mostly consists of two childish adults tripping and falling at being head over heels in love for each other. Now Sam wants to keep there relationship as quiet as possible and away from the flashes of camera's and buzzing drama of celebrity life, and gabriel agrees full heartedly. But after Gabriel almost breaks his ankle trying to scramble through Sam's apartment window as a by passer happens to turn down the exact alley as gabe at 1:25 In the freaking morning, Does Sam reconsider this super secretive relationship. So Gabriel being Gabriel makes the reveal into a game for the media, He'll slowly hint at small things about being in a relationship with his model pictures and quotes. It takes about 3 or 4 pictures of Gabriel looking hella soft while gazing at something the camera cant see(witch is obviously sam) for media writers and bloggers

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missvalerietanner · 7 years

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The Unseen Soldier | Part 5 | Trapped After All

Subject: Hades & Persephone (aka Aiden & Sophie)

Genre: Southern Gothic retelling (working title)

Words: 3,035 (’nother long one ;p)

Summary: Sophie asks her captor one too many questions about his life.

Updates every Sunday! Click to read.

When she was finished her bath, she sent Bea to retrieve him, and she was surprised and warmed at the same time when the dog obeyed. He returned and slipped inside the bathroom with Bea hot on his heels. And like a willing captive, she sat on the edge of the tub, dressed in the pajamas he threw in for her. Though, they couldn’t really be counted as pajamas; they consisted of a old shirt and shorts. They were his old discards no doubt, left unworn for years. But she was thankful for the clean clothes and for their large size that dwarfed her figure.

He tended to her wounds as promised, and once the fresh gauze was in place, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom. He walked straight for the stairs, never glancing at her or offering an alternative. His arms held her small frame so close, so secure, and she lost herself in the feeling until he stepped on the bottom level of the stairs, jarring her body against his own.

“Uh, can we just sit for awhile and chat?” she asked, turning to face him fast with eyes pleading.

“Sure.” He relented easily enough, and instead of trudging up the stairs to carry her to her second-floor room, he turned toward the living room. He set her on the blue fabric couch and then flopped down beside her with a grunt. He threw his legs out in front of him and let his feet rest on the old trunk.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Her mind went blank. She asked for the opportunity to sit alone with him, to learn more about him and to maybe gain an upperhand in this bizarre situation. But as she stared at him, she couldn’t find the words to ask. So many questions filled her head; yet, she couldn’t force any of them to form.

That’s when it dawned on her. Simplicity. He was always so simple, and despite all the answers he held from her, there was one she was owed way before any other.

“What’s your name?”

He was caught off guard. “I thought you knew my name from all those stories.”

She shook her head, strings of her damp hair falling over her shoulder. “They never named you. They always called you a bastard or a creep or a murderer or--”

“O.K. I get it,” he said with a huff. “It’s Aiden.”

“Aiden?” she repeated with a wrinkle of her nose. “That’s it?”

He snorted a laugh. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I thought it’d be--I dunno--fancier?”

“Fancier?” He laughed again.

“Yeah, like Callahan or Donovan or Aidoneus or…” She met his eyes. “Or Bartholomew.”

“Bartholomew?” His own nose crunched in disgust. “That’s fancier than Aiden?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s got heart.”

He scoffed and smiled wider. “O.K. You go ahead and name your son that then, and see how he feels about it? He’ll tell you how much heart it has.”

She swept her hair behind her shoulder and shuddered from the chill settling around her. The stone walls weren’t exactly free of drafts, and despite the crackling fire at their feet, she was growing cold under the weight of the night outside. To think, she was about to spend her first full night here in these woods, and she wasn’t afraid as she had been hours ago.

Sure, she sat across from a stranger, but he was nothing but kind. He tended to her wounds, fed her, gifted her with the seclusion and privacy of a guest room, and so far anyway, he asked nothing in return. A knotting sensation seized the muscles in her stomach, warning her to prepare for the moment he would ask. She tried to ignore that fretting thought, but it refused to be quiet.

He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. Gripping the brilliant brass latches of the massive trunk in front of them, he unlocked its lid and lifted it, drawing a groan from its old hinges. Curiosity compelled her to lean forward and peer inside at its hidden contents. She saw stacks of old magazines, a plush leather bound book that resembled a photo album, a small wooden box with no lid that held random trinkets, and a stack of folded blankets.

That’s all she was able to see before he sat back and drew out one of the blankets. Rising from the couch, he unfolded it and draped it over her shoulders. She accepted its warmth gladly and drew the blanket closer around her form. She held tight to it, thankful for the shelter it provided so he couldn’t see the goosebumps on her skin that formed under his hand grazing her arms as he retreated.

He said nothing as he returned to his side of the couch and plopped down. He threw his legs back up on the trunk and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as if he were ready to drift off to sleep.

“What do you do out here all by yourself?”

“Whatever I want.”

Dismissive. “I’m serious,” she pressed. “It must get lonely out here.”

What are you doing?! She condemned herself with that statement. Was she offering to be the company he longed for? Certainly not! Or...at least, she shouldn’t be so pleased by the idea. What the hell is wrong with me? She watched him not even tense up at her words, and God, he was so handsome, so kind, so accommodating.

Love is, was, and always will be fickle. Her mother told her that all the time. No, all the time. And to be a teenager trapped in an older man’s home with no way to leave should have been terrifying. But he hadn’t made it seem so, and in response, her body was telling her to make the most of this seclusion. No matter how she tried to chase away those thoughts, they kept returning.

It’s just because I’m so young and he’s so old--no, not old, mature. He’s alluring. Older men always are, aren’t they? They’re knowledgeable, strong, and independent. They’ve soured from the hardships of life enough to know that not everything is sunshine and rainbows, but there’s still hope in their hearts that can be brought to life by the right people.

“Are you offering to keep me company?” he asked in a low whisper that swept over her ears like velvet and heightened all her sense all at once. He didn’t bother opening his eyes when he said it either.

Her cheeks reddened as she stared at him, and she raised the blanket close to her face to try and hide the blush in her face as the no squeaked out from her throat.

He opened one eye to watch her reaction, and he laughed. “I’m kiddin’, darlin’.”

Was he? She laughed, her nervous hands fidgeting with the blanket. “Ha, yeah, sure.”

“I build mostly. Fix things around the house. That takes up a lot of time.” He sat up straight and rubbed at his face. “I hunt for food for me and the dogs.”

“Hunt?”

He nodded with a yawn. “Yeah, how do you think I caught those birds we had for dinner? Well, the dogs and me anyway.”

“You have guns then?”

The thought never occurred to her that this man would be armed, capable of keeping her under lock and key with the implied force of gun. At the same time, though, she was foolish for never considering the possibility that he likely had several weapons. He lived alone after all, and while he wasn’t vulnerable or easily mislead, he had the right to cautious. He had to protect himself and the dogs as well. Hunting probably wasn’t the primary use for his guns.

“Does that bother you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Yes. She refused to be honest, so she sidestepped his question. “When can I go home?”

His entire expression shifted at her words. “Is that what you want?”

“Stop that,” she said, her voice strained and tense.

“Stop what?”

“Answering every question with a question.”

He cracked a smile. “You’re not a prisoner, Sophie. You can leave whenever you want.”

“What about the woods?”

His face hardened. “The woods are dangerous.”

“I know. I--”

“The woods should be feared,” he said, his voice straining from the tension in his words.

The air in the room around them became stiff and awkward.

“H--how can I go home without passing through them?”

He dropped his gaze to the ground and whispered a solemn: “You can’t.”

She was quick to swat away the rising concern and instead leaned across the couch toward him, closing the gap between them. She was close to a real revelation; she could feel it. So she held tighter to the blanket to shield the chill in her unnerved skin from his attention while she pressed for more, plastering a solid stare on her face way braver than she felt.

“Because the forest has something to do with you, right? Like the stories say: the Unseen Soldier of the woods who houses untold goods; beware if you step inside, you won’t know when you’ve died.”

“You… memorized that?”

“It was hard not to. I heard it a lot.” She leaned closer to him with wide eyes. “Is it true?”

“What?”

“The rhyme?”

“I don’t even understand what it means.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “You kill people who step in these woods.”

His expression changed; he became distant, reserved, but he offered no argument to her words.

“Don’t you? The stories say--”

“Not all stories are true.”

“You said that already, but you won’t say why.”

“Why what?” he asked, biting back his anger.

Keep going, she told herself. Don’t chicken out now.

“Why you didn’t kill me?”

“Is that what all these questions are about?”

She nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off him. “If you don’t plan to kill me for trespassing, then what do you want with me?”

He scoffed. “Didn’t your parents ever read you any normal stories when you were a kid?”

“No. They were all pretty much about you and this forest.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if they knew you would wander mindlessly into them one day,” he retorted with a voice heavy in sarcasm.

She narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed by his insinuation. “I may have wandered beyond that forestline, but I didn’t do it mindlessly.”

“Then why did you come inside this forest?”

“I was curious. The others: they’re afraid of you.”

“Are you?”

Yes. She swallowed. “No.”

A mischievous grin danced across his face as he leaned his massive body toward her until his presence occupied most of the couch, causing her to slink away and retreat to her corner. When he noticed her scampering toward freedom, he grabbed her wrists, holding her still as he shifted closer to her. All of his form, all of his heat sat right in front of her, and his face was mere inches from her own.

“Are you afraid now?”

She lied. “No.”

His smile widened, stretching beyond the limits of what should be possible. He wound one arm around her waist and gathered her and the blanket into his embrace. Lifting her from the couch, he dragged her body against his until she sat on her folded legs, completely engulfed by his shadow as his body blocked out her view of the crackling fireplace.

She gripped the blanket’s edges as tight as she could manage without letting her nails bite into her palms. And she held her arms folded at the elbow and pinned to her chest, a subconscious need to keep some barrier between their chests.

“How about now?”

Her jaw tightened while her mind scrambled for an escape plan. “N--no.”

His smile cracked, and his lips parted, revealing those perfect white teeth. Before they seemed almost princely, but now in the flickering yellow and orange glow of the fire, they seemed like fangs, lengthening toward her with a hunger that terrified her.

His grip on her waist loosened, and he dropped both hands to her hips. In one smooth motion, he jerked her body further down the couch so that she lay beneath him. His hands held so tight to her bones that she struggled to suppress a whimper of pain as he pushed her into the couch, pinning her in place as she sank within its cushions.

He straddled her and bent his large body over her so that their bodies lined up: hips to hips, chest to chest, and face to face. Her lips parted, and a shaking breath slipped from her throat, unwilling to be held back any longer.

“Are you afraid now?” His voice was barely audible, the softest whisper she ever heard that held the darkest intentions.

She wanted to lie again. She had no reason why, only that her mind told her lying was a mistake while her heart told her she should find some version of this to be enjoyable. Stupid heart. What did it know? This was terrifying. He had her trapped beneath his weight, and she didn’t resist as he put her there. And now he stared at her with an intensity in his eyes that made her bones tremble.

She blinked several times to convince her mind this was all real, and once she believed what her eyes told her, she felt tears drip from the corners of her eyes and streak down her temples.

“Yes,” she answered him in a voice that cracked when released from quivering lips.

He grabbed the edge of the blanket at her chest and tugged on it, wishing to pry it from her hands to reveal her body. But she held fast, clutching it with the ferocity of a child who believed the sheer, soft fabric of the blanket would keep her safe from monsters and bad men. But it wouldn’t.

“Let it go,” he commanded in a voice softer than silk.

She refused at first, but he wasn’t going to back down. She saw it in his eyes, in the way he stared at her--no, stared through her. She dreaded what would happen if she relinquished its safe embrace from around her body, but she was petrified of what could happen if she refused any longer.

She let it go, and he threw it aside with such force that a blast of chilled air that once hung overhead slipped down between their bodies, making her tremble even more.

He placed his hand over her heart and spread his fingers wide. The edges of his fingers brushed over the mounds of her flattened breasts as she held them clamped beneath her fists. A nervous, trembling sigh left her mouth as she stared at his hand. Many emotions spun around her heart and mind, but the most prevalent was fear.

“You are afraid,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Then he slid his hand away from her heart, moving it further down her body. Her eyes remained poised on his hand while her heart hammered like a mad man inside her ribs desperate for escape.

“Look at me,” he demanded in a gruff voice straining to keep control.

Without hesitation, she tore her eyes from his hand and stared into his wild, unhinged gaze.

His hand sank lower, passing over her stomach and pausing over her belly button the instant she looked away from his eyes. That same gruff voice greeted her again.

“Look at me,” he growled.

She gasped like a animal bound to a corner by a predator. “Aiden--”

“Hush,” he barked.

His hand slid lower, passing over the line of her hips and stopping over the lower half her pelvis.

She shivered beneath his touch, both from the cold of losing the blanket so suddenly and from the panic tensing her muscles at the severity of this moment. Snapping her knees together, she pinched her thighs closed; it was her last solitary defense against what he intended.

Her tears refused to stop; they just continued to streak from her eyes, darting down her temples with a tickle each time, and dissolving into her hairline. She was helpless to stop them as they poured out. Her mind was far too busy focusing on where his hand was and how she really didn’t want this moment to be happening.

“Are you still afraid?”

“Yes.” She croaked out her response in a heartbeat.

He retracted his hand and bent down until his face was against hers once more, until the tip of his nose brushed against her own and his eyes held her attention with no distractions and no excuses.

“Good,” he said, his voice no longer demanding or hoarse with lust. “You should be afraid.”

As quickly as he had begun, he stopped. He rolled off of her and returned to his end of the couch, just beyond where her legs still stood frozen and locked together with the hope that no touch could pry them apart. He plopped down among the cushions as if nothing had happened, and he sank into their softness. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes as another yawn consumed his mouth.

Staring at him with wide eyes, she sighed. What the hell was that about?

“You should be afraid.”

She drew in a long, deep breath and released it just as slowly, soothing her straining muscles and filling her tense, fearful lungs all at once. Confused, she sat up and scooted back to her corner of the couch. She didn’t bother to gather up the blanket; instead, she curled her legs up to her chest and wound her arms around them. Hugging herself, she began to rock back and forth at a gentle pace while her mind ran wild with thoughts.

It wasn’t until her mind grew quiet moments later that she realized he had drifted off. He was asleep on the couch, and the hounds at their feet were lost to their dreams as well. But thanks to him and his actions, she was wide awake and aware.

This was her chance.

#hapsgs #hades #persephone #retelling #greek mythology #greek #hades and persephone #writings #creative fiction #the unseen soldier

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