Tumgik
#personally i hope the story i did tell has a close enough tone to authentic dw stuff because that's absolutely what i was going for
Note
tell me a fun fact about someone from the cojum who? crew that is unlikely to be realistically mentioned/covered in the actual story?
depends on your standards for “actual story” honestly because if i come up with a thing odds are it’s because there’s Potential in it. but i can be realistic sometimes! things that won’t ever come up unless i lose my mind &/or obtain a time machine of my own to write this stuff out with:
-coral & marcy are both on their 4th regenerations
-i already introduced this in w. xylophone but lucas has synesthesia, of the music & colors (chromesthesia) variety for the most part, with other bits of time-related & word synesthesia as well. if i’m being vague it’s a. i don’t know much about synesthesia & b. if there’s one thing i do know it’s that things are vague with synesthesia
-darius has absolutely braided marcy & coral’s hair before and it’d do it with the others too but they have significantly less conscious control over the growth of their hair than the time lords do.
-out of the entire crew of them, rosa is the one with the least musical experience
-lucas’ nonhuman traits are generally limited to like, internal biology & dna & shit, making hyr separate from humans a la the way snakes can all look almost identical but can’t inbreed. because of this they can eat rocks
-oh also because everyone is nd here: amber stims by like hopping around in place or walking and moving; darius stims by hand flapping & other real dynamic hand motions; rosa stims by shaking eir head and *spoilers but basically ey swing eir legs*; lucas stims by humming and making other noises in hyr mouth (chewlery bay be); the time lords tend to do this stuff on like an ~advanced telepathic or metaphysical sense, but also coral will whistle and kick their feet in the air; marcy likes to run xer hands down xer body and slap shit like bongos; and last but not least jay tends to rock or jog in place!
-marcy & coral do have passing acquaintances with the doctor and probably would go for a meetup of “renegade time lords that do or do not collect companions from time to time” were it not for amber’s (and darius’, honestly) moderate aversion to british people (understandable)
and here i’ve absolutely got to put a cut for spoilers because most of this story is not published! which means from here on out you may find things involving contexts that haven’t been introduced in the main story yet. so either save this for whenever the hell i get the rest of this story out or read on and be spoiled on. minor factoids. minor factoids that mention larger factoids that are connected to major factoids.
to be concise: if you read on you might learn shit that would be built up & played with suspense or as a shock in the chapter it’s meant to be introduced in and nothing a whole lot more deadly than that.
-jay is past their 5th regeneration (though they’d gladly lie about that number on literally any scale). you know i damn near put that above this cut & i’m very glad i didn’t all things considered
-lucas is the only one of the non-time lords to be an only child but they don’t know this for sure & it’s exactly as angsty as you think it can be.
-this one’s less of an interesting fact and more amber’s entire backstory but i genuinely can’t think of a way to integrate it into a story so just imagine this is being told in the T&LDIS library over a cup of 20th century martinellis or something. cw for implied/mentioned death + only other things you’d get in a dw story
he was born an american, of course, you can tell by the accent, but one does not learn a convincing british accent without a good amount of experience- he was sent moved to england shortly before even becoming an adult, and spent pretty much all of his time there learning the ins and outs of capitalism in an almost obviously fascist state. he was a good student, of course, had to get support from his family/the government somehow, but you know, still ended up gravitating towards the types of figures that nobody in the capitalist class ever wanted to see someone gravitate towards. in short, he started attending underground insurrectionist meetings that were dedicated to (in the short term) countering propaganda and spreading awareness/education, and (in the long term) holding an entire revolution. (yes, it was that kind of fascist scifi setting).
considering the whole general state howard was in when the others came across him, it shouldn’t be too hard to guess how that whole thing worked out. still. the details. they were found out, in due time. the whole lot of them. someone caved and ratted them out, of course. well, there was one survivor. one stuck around to tell the tale. one stuck around to personally know exactly what any potential revolutionaries are up against, and provide testimonies if the powers that be ever wanted them, and not do anything to provoke their notice in the slightest, and be nothing more than the best cog in the great capitalist machine the english empire ever saw.
[note from a fog many months later: the following is a bit of lore that is not only inaccurate but irrelevant. i’m only leaving it here, unedited, for posterity’s sake. rosa is transfem and picked out eir own name.]
-rosa is not forrester’s real name! it’s a nickname derived from eir middle name. eir first name is steven. why is this in the spoilers section? because eir twin’s name is also a derivative of hir middle name, with hir first name being steve. their parents though they were being funny.
10 notes · View notes
gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years
Text
ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 31
(Master Post)
Thank you everyone that took part in the contest. The entries and voting participation were amazing!
I can't thank you guys enough for making this such a fun time.
And congratulations to @bevvydraws for winning.
and the other wonderful finalists: @emdoddles, @heizerux, @dhdrawings and @spaghetti-l0rd
I hope you all enjoy this next part. I would love to hear your comments, and please share if you think it is worth being seen by others.
_______________________________________________________________________
“Lila!” Mrs. Rossi cried out after her daughter left the room in a hurry. The diplomat was ready to run after her only daughter.
“Mrs. Rossi, a moment please.” Principal Damocles asked with a demeanor that was stern yet not too harsh.
The mother turned to the elderly principal and the young concerned teacher standing next to him.
“Miss Bustier, please go locate Lila for us. I will handle everything from here. Afterwards, head back to the classroom.”
The red-haired teacher snapped to normal.
“Oh, of course. If you need any additional information, please reach out to me.”
The young teacher left the room to go find the young exchange student. Leaving the Principal and Lila’s mother alone.
“What is all of this about Mr.Damocles? Why was my daughter so distraught?”
The owl hero enthusiast took a moment to contemplate how he was going to word his discoveries to Lila’s caring mother.
“Mrs. Rossi, are you aware of Lila’s actions and behavior at her previous school?”
“Of course, My daughter was an excellent student. Top of her class, perfect attendance she was the perfect role model from the report cards I received.”
The principal took a breath which seemed to take the wind out of Mrs.Rossi’s statement.
“I was afraid you would say that.”
The principal turned his computer screen to Mrs. Rossi.
The older gentleman sat by patiently as he watched the mother frantically go through each document.
“There must be some mistake. I haven’t seen any of this! My daughter is a good girl!”
“I am afraid those are the records I had attained this morning. I made sure to check that these were authentic before calling you, and I have yet to find a single reason to believe that they have been altered.”
The horror that the Italian diplomat was experiencing was clear. She did not want to believe that her daughter had been lying to her.
She had gotten to the last document, an audio file.
“What’s this one?” She asked nervously, unsure if she even wanted to know the truth behind it.
“It is an audio recording of your daughter. She seems to have been bullying one of the students at our school. I would normally like to get both students’ side of the story before making any rash judgements, but the evidence in the file is rather concise.”
Mrs.Rossi could feel the tension in the air, this was likely going to be something that would change how she viewed her daughter, but she needed to be sure that these accusations against her were true. The diplomat knew that if there was even the slightest hint of doubt, she would use it to fight for her daughter with every fiber of her being.
“Let me… Let me hear the file.”
The principal took note of the woman’s conviction. She was willing to see this through to the end.
“Very well.”
He presses play.
__________________________________________________________________________
“Lila!” The young red head teacher called out in concern as she exited the school. She had been searching the entire building for the young transfer student.
She blamed herself for how everything turned out. How could she not have noticed the way Lila was acting? How could she not be aware that one of her own students was lying to her? Why was she so blind to the malicious actions of her own student? Was there a way to bring her back to being a good person?
Caline kept looking as these questions kept swarming her brain. She had to find Lila, she needed to talk with her firmly. She needed to see if there was still some good in her. Maybe she could help Lila turn over a new leaf, she was still just a young teen, she had time to turn things around. Chloé had started improving a bit since the start of the school year, so maybe Lila could as well.
A flash of light from a nearby alleyway caught the attention of the frantic teacher.
“Oh no…” She ran towards flash, hoping that the sudden light was not her student getting akumatized. She hoped she wasn’t too late.
“Lila?” She called out as she entered the small entryway. Her worried expression shifted to horror when she had found herself face to face with an akuma.
“So Sorry Miss Bustier, you just missed her.” The voice taunted with cynical glee.
The akumatized individual that stood in front of her had a crown like mask that transitioned from white to black as it covered the top of her face. Her brown hair slowly shifted whit as it reached the ends of her hair. Her eyes glowing with an ethereal white light, showing her fury. Her outfit was reminiscent of a costume in a high-end stage production, adorned with various masks, each showing different emotions and alternating in black and white color scheme. Her right hand was wearing a snow-white glove with her charm bracelet over it. Her legs had long white stockings which she wore long gray boots that reached up past her knees. Each boot had a small mask expressing a different emotion and covered her knees as if they were knee pads. The last and most mesmerizing detail was the gaseous monstrosity that stood behind her, it having a glowing mask with a mouth that moved.
Tumblr media
(AN: Congrats again to @Bevvydraws for this amazing design and winning the contest)
“Lila… don’t move. We can fix this. We will get Ladybug and Chat noir here, then we can start to work with the school and…”
“Not this time. I have tried to handle things the civil way.” The akumatized Lila chuckled. “That was how Lila would handle things, with pretty words and half-baked apologies. You always assumed the best in people Miss Bustier, and that is why your students always got akumatized, because you couldn’t see how awful they all are, how awful everyone is!”
Lila had noticed her charm bracelet was glowing. It was telling her that Miss Bustier has been turned into an akuma. But that wasn’t all, it was if she could even read their darkest thoughts as it did. She was looking under the mask that was Caline Bustier.
‘Interesting’ Lila mused to herself.
“You don’t truly believe that. The akuma is warping your perception. I know you are hurting, but you can fight it Lila. You are….”
“I can see it now. You do actually care for your students, but you hate how despite your best efforts, you can’t control them to be the vision of them you see. Chloé is the biggest failure to you.”
“What?! No! Chloé has been a bit slow in progressing but she is becoming a better person.”
“You hate how much influence she has in the school thanks to her father being the mayor. The staff has to remind you how carefully you have to tread when dealing with her. When she was going to leave for New York some time ago, you were as happy as everyone else and you hated yourself over it.”
Caline could feel her spirit breaking as she said that. She was right, she did hate that she felt happy about Chloé leaving, she did despise the amount of influence that student had. Sure she understood that she couldn’t control everything, but it felt so much worse when she felt she couldn’t do anything to help her students excel and be the best they can be.
A mask launched from Lila’s dress and hit Miss Bustier dead center. The teacher fell to the floor as her screams were muffled, trying to fight the mask that had launched itself onto her face. She tried to pull the mask off with her hands but it only seemed more stubborn to stay put.
“I am Masquerade, the one who will reveal the farce that is Paris, just like how I removed your mask.”
The teacher’s struggles began to lessen as the mask began taking control.
“This world is a stage where everyone acts to please others, to get what they want, to pretend to be happy. I am going to destroy all of that nonsense. You wore your mask so well that you forgot you even had one on. You were so easily fooled, but now your true self will come to the surface. The evil that lies in your heart has a new face. Now let’s see how this new mask fits you and how well it will serve me.”
The mask began to glow and in an instant, Miss Bustier had reverted into the paler, akumatized version of herself, Zombiezou. The only difference being the white mask that covered her face as opposed to the eye mask  she wore in the past.
“Isn’t that Right Zombizou?”
“What is your bidding?” Zombizou inquired with an emotionless tone.
Masquerade smiled as she snapped her fingers. The masked monster behind her moved in front of her.
“Simulare!  Shift and transform into Volpina!”
The gaseous masked creature began morphing into Lila’s first Akuma transformation, the faux Fox heroine, Volpina. The Sentimonster perfectly replicated the form.
A purple butterfly outline appeared over Masquerade’s face.
“Looks like you have quite the handle on your new powers” a sinister voice said with glee. “Now what do you have planned to deal with Ladybug and Chat noir.”
Masquerade smiled.
“Just you watch Hawkmoth, this will be one show you won’t want to miss.”
“I am looking forward to it.”
She cracked her knuckles and prepared her order.
“Now, Have Zombizou reprise her role as Miss Bustier, and help me look like my former self.
Simulare nodded and activated her powers, transforming the two to look like their former selves.
“Excellent work Simulare, now stay close by and maintain the illusion until we get back into the school”
“Come, we must return to the Principal.” a sinister smile on Lila’s face.
_______________________________________________________________________
There was a lot to talk about in Miss Bustier’s class. They had a lot of revelations thrown their way in a matter of minutes. Rose was Gushing to Mylene and Juleka about Marinette and Adrien dating, Max was busy helping Kim and Ivan process what happened with Lila. Alix and Nathaniel were discussing if Lila was the one trying to frame Marinette for that whole chair debacle with Chloé.
Marinette decided this was all too much and just moved to her seat to sit down. This was a lot to process. Lila had finally been exposed. Everyone knew the truth! She was also dating Adrien, and the class found out about that, it all felt so overwhelming.
She noticed someone sit beside her, her blond model boy who also had a similar expression on his face.
“I am guessing we are both feeling the same thing.” Marinette commented.
“A mixture of shock, relief, nervous and excited?” Adrien responded.
“That pretty much sums it up.”
The two sat in silence for a moment. Marinette subconsciously touched his hand. They both interlocked their fingers as they let the events wash over them.
But the moment they were sharing was ended when Nino and Alya sat in the desks in front of them and turned around to face them
“I guess the date went well.” Alya rhetorically asked with a knowing smirk.
The two new love birds felt their faces heat up.
“No need to answer dude. We can read it from your faces.” Nino chimed in.
“We weren’t this bad when you two got together.” Adrien fired back.
“True, but we weren’t as bubbly and blushy as you two are right now.” Nino countered.
“Daww Mari, you look like a cherry.” Alya teased.
“Alright enough. We get it, we are adorable.” Marinette gestured to herself and Adrien. “I am curious on how you exposed Lila.”
Alya’s cutesy teasing smile shifted to her knowing smirk.
“Well if you must know, it all started with that recording you asked me to hold on to.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alya began to paint the scene with her take on everything that happened.
(Cue chalkboard illustration explaining Alya’s elaborate plan with her standing in front of it)
“After Curiosity got the better of me while I was home. I played the recording.”
Chalk Alya showing a shocked expression
“I was absolutely shocked to hear everything on there. If I didn’t hear it myself and it didn’t come from such a reliable source, I would swear it was a fake. But it was right here.”
Chalk Alya’s expression turned to rage as the recording kept going. The chalk caricature stomping on the ground and steam coming out of her ears
“I was furious! I had been blatantly lied to and the worst thing was that this Liar was hurting my best friend. I could not let it slide.”
“So, I ran to Nino’s place and showed him what was up”
Chalk Alya clearly steamed and now starting to explain to chalk Nino who is also mad. Chalk Nino listening with shock at this.
“We knew we couldn’t let that stand. But we did get briefly distracted with that whole crazy Knights thing. So that delayed us for a bit.”
Cue comedic bits of Nino and Alya hiding in a dumpster while knights walked past.
“After that whole situation had cleared up, we started doing some serious digging on Lila back at my place.”
“We talked with some of Lila’s old classmates, friends, school teachers, anyone we could find from the places and people she mentioned. We needed to make sure we got as much information about this girl as possible.”
illustration of Chalk Alya emailing different people of varying looks. All sending responses back.
“And we found out some more shady stuff about her, it was crazy. It was like we didn’t even scratch the surface of how bad this was.”
“But to really confirm some of the more outlandish stuff, we needed to reach out for help. So, we brought in Max.”
Chalk Alya and Nino heading to Max’s place where it shows him talking with Chalk Markov.
“We asked him to check a few things which he was a bit nervous about doing but we managed to convince him. The stuff we did find was a massive leap forward in our little investigation of Lila.”
Show Chalk max hacking and reveal shocking info.  And then waking up sleeping Alya and Nino.
“After that, Nino and I decided to do a last bit of information gathering at school, just to make sure we had a strong enough case to ensure she could weasel her way around it.”
Chalk Alya and Nino tiptoeing through the halls trying to be stealthy. With little flashlights
“That was where we found the security camera footage.”
“And after all that was gathered, it was all about making sure everyone got the truth.
Show the class, the teachers, and all of the school getting the information about Lila.
(The chalk illustration ends and goes back to reality)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“And then you pretty much saw everything else that happened.” Alya finished
Adrien and Marinette processed the explanation.
“Wow, that is something. You guys really pulled out all the stops for it.” Adrien commented.
“Well my dudes, she was messing with our friends, we couldn’t just let her do that. You two both knew that she was sketchy. Now the school knows, and possibly all of Paris because of the Ladyblog.”
A chill goes down Marinette’s spine. The baker’s daughter had a disturbing realization. What if Lila did get akumatized?
__________________________________________________________________________
Mrs. Rossi sat down.
The principal did his best to try and ease the disheartened parent.
“There is more to that recording than what we listened to?” The mother of Lila questioned, her voice trying to stay steady.
“Another 40 minutes yes.”
“And it is just as bad as what we have just heard?”
“I haven’t listened to the entire recording, but based on everything I would say that it is a high possibility.”
“I… I can’t believe my daughter is the girl on this recording. There must be some sort of mistake.”
Mr. Damocles could see that the poor woman was on the brink of tears. She was doing her best to stay strong. She wanted to believe her daughter was not capable of the horrible things the documents and the recording were saying. He couldn’t imagine the amount of torment she was going through.
The older gentleman was no stranger to dealing out discipline to bad students, but this was the first time he had seen such a distraught mother over finding out the actions of her child. He couldn’t blame the woman for her feelings, Lila was indeed quite the charismatic actor. He and her teachers were easily charmed by her demeanor. One would not suspect any malicious intent from her in the slightest. It made the discovery all the more shocking and now, all the more heartbreaking.
“I need to talk with my daughter about all of this.”
“As would I Miss Rossi, we do try to give all our students a chance to explain themselves.”
Mostly because too many parents complain when we don’t do that and that is its own PR nightmare that Dupont does not need to deal with.
“I know that my daughter is a good girl. There must be a reasonable explanation.”
The door to the office opens.
The two adults turn to watch a much calmer Lila walk in with the red head teacher.
Miss bustier remains quiet and stands by the door. Her face was unreadable.
“Lila! There you are.” Miss Rossi got up from her chair, her worry apparent in her voice.  
“There are a lot of accusations being thrown at you and I have no idea why. You need to tell them it isn’t true. Please tell them that this is all a huge mistake”
“It’s alright mamma.” Lila assures her mother. “I will take care of everything.”
Mrs. Rossi felt herself calm at her daughter’s assurance. She should have known not to get so worked up. She sat back down and watched as her daughter sauntered to the desk of the principal
“Everything that you have read and heard from those documents is accurate. I did do all of those terrible things. I am 100% at fault.”
Principal Damocles blinked at the statement.
“I’m sorry Lila, are you… confirming everything in here?”
“That’s right.”
“Mia stellina, please tell me this is a bad joke. A silly prank of sorts?”
“Nope, it’s all factual. I did do those things, I did threaten Marinette, I did fake those illnesses, I did skip school for a few weeks because I didn’t want to go. But you know what else is true, Mr.Damocles?”
The bracelet on Lila began to glow.
“What else is there?”
“You have been lying to yourself. Trying to act like an arbiter of right. You act like you are this no-nonsense principal that cares for the school and its students. But that isn’t true at all.”
“I beg your pardon! I do care about this school. That is why I have no choice but to…”
“I wasn’t done speaking.” Lila’s comment sent a shiver down the principal’s spine. Something was very wrong with Lila, and he couldn’t tell what.
“Now, where was I? Oh yes. The truth. The truth is that you dream of being a hero like the ones in your precious comic book. But you know you’re too old and pathetic to do any real hero work. You loved the idea of Ladybug and Chat noir, bringing those fantasies you had to reality only to slowly loathe them because they are young and can make the difference that you never could.”
Her words cut sharply into the bald principal. It was as if she knew the exact words to cut him down.
“But now that I broke through your pathetic façade, I have a new mask for you.”
Out of nowhere a mask seems to appear on Lila’s hand and she sent it flying onto the older man’s face, causing him to fall over. He struggles to try and get the mask off but the mask only seems to fighting harder to stay on.
The diplomat found herself paralyzed with shock at the situation. She was trying to process what was happening, but she couldn’t. Did her daughter just attack the principal?
Lila turned her attention to her mother. The mirage that was keeping her looking like her civilian self, faded away revealing her akumatized form.
“Now Mamma, you don’t need to worry. I have everything under control.”
“You… you aren’t my daughter.”
Masquerade took a moment before laughing darkly.
Suddenly from behind the desk stood the fallen Principal but his outfit had changed. His portly stature was now toned and muscular. His clothes were replaced with that of hero spandex. He had transformed into his former akumatized persona, Dark Owl.
“You act like you actually knew me. You know how much I love masks, yet you failed to realize I was always wearing one around you.”
Dark Owl went into his Utility belt and handed Masquerade a spray.
“Don’t worry Mamma, I won’t hurt you.”
Mrs.Rossi wanted to protest but her akumatized daughter used the spray she was given on her and felt everything fade to black.
“Put her somewhere safe. We move to the next phase.”
Dark Owl Nodded as he picked up the unconscious woman.
Masquerade’s expression softened as she looked at her mother.
“Trust me Mamma, once this is over, you will see how amazing your daughter truly is.”
The akumatized Villain cupped her earring.
“Simulare. Keep the mirage on Bustier, and have her move to the classroom once our two guests arrive.”
She smiled again as she noticed Dark Owl had finished putting her mother somewhere.
“Alright Dark Owl, I need you to make an announcement.”
__________________________________________________________________________
“Do you think Lila might get akumatized from this?” Marinette spoke aloud.
The three-other teens understood why Marinette was suddenly stiff.
“I am just going to put on the Ladyblog to be wary of a potential Akuma attack. Just to be safe. Maybe Ladybug and Chat noir will see it and take out the akuma before it gets to Lila”  Alya started frantically typing.
Marinette stood up from her desk.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom. I need to…”
“Attention students!”
The voice from the loudspeaker caught everyone’s attention.
“Alya Cesaire and Marinette Dupain Cheng. Both of you will need to come to my office immediately.”
Alya and Marinette look at each other, something seemed very off about this announcement. Normally the loud speaker wasn’t used for such direct announcements. Normally just to announce the school lunches or events. Most of the time Principal Damocles would just go classroom to classroom to do it. It seemed odd that he would use it now.
Alya stood up.
“This probably has to do with Lila. I did use your recording. I guess they want to get both sides of the story.” Alya commented.
“Do you need me to tag along? I did help you with some of the evidence gathering.” Nino inquired, sort of worried for his girlfriend.
“No worries. I think I can handle it. Besides, he only called Mari and I down.”
Alya started moving to the classroom door.
“Come on girl, we have one last thing to take care of.”
Marinette got up from her desk nervously.
“Don’t worry Marinette, whatever happens, I have your back.” Adrien assured.
Marinette gives the boy a soft smile.
She gives him a super quick peck on the cheek before running to Alya at the door.
Adrien cups his cheek and smiles.
“Dude, you are so love sick.” Nino commented.
“You are even worse than me, so don’t even.” Adrien fired back.
“I ain't dissing, I am just saying welcome to the club.” Nino laughed.
Adrien chuckled a bit. He did like this feeling. But he still couldn’t help but worry, Lila was crafty. What if she was up to something?
“Hey, I am just gonna go check my locker, I think I left my science homework in there.” Adrien explained as he got up from the desk. He moved slightly and noticed his shoe hit something.
“What are these screws doing here?”
Adrien checked to make sure Marinette’s seat wasn’t loose and was relieved when it was sturdy.
“Oh that probably has to do with Chlo��’s seat breaking. I’ll take em” Nino commented.
Adrien decided he would deal with that later. He figured it would likely be best to confirm that gut feeling he had.
______________________________________________________________________________
“Things are going better than I anticipated.” The silver masked villain exclaimed with glee.
“Masquerade has infiltrated that school which houses several of my previously made akuma. Ladybug and Chat noir will have to face an army by the time they realize what is happening.”
“Sir, you do remember your son is in that building. Is it wise for us to leave him in there?” The blue clad villainess commented.
“My son has never been akumatized, besides. Lila has no interest in hurting Adrien. Unlike the last akuma, there will be no personal stakes.” Hawkmoth assured.
“You do remember that she mentioned wanting revenge against Marinette and that Ladyblogger.”
“That is of little concern.”
“The first one being the girl that your son is in love with.”
Hawkmoth paused for a moment.
“That shouldn’t matter. Adrien will get over it once we have the miraculous and bring back …”
“So, you believe Adrien wont risk fighting the akuma to protect her.”
Hawkmoth’s assurance began to melt at the realization that his son did share a rather glaring flaw. The will to jump into danger without a single thought of self-preservation in order to save the one they love. That could be trouble.
“Nathalie, we may need to get involved.”
Nathalie had dropped her transformation.
“I will head to the school and get Adrien out of there.”
“Take his bodyguard and be quick about it. Masquerade will have that building overrun with akumatized servants shortly.”
Nathalie nodded, she did feel faint for a moment but fought through it. Now was not the time to get weak. Adrien needed to be taken to safety.
______________________________________________________________________
Marinette and Alya made it to the office where Miss Bustier was outside.
“Hey Miss Bustier, is everything alright?” Alya questioned, noticing the expressionless face of their usually peppier teacher.
The red headed teacher said nothing as she gestured to the door.
“Umm… okay.” Alya took the door knob in her hand and opened the door.
Marinette took a moment to study the teacher. Something was very wrong here. She watched as the teacher began to walk towards the classroom they had just come from. She could swear she saw something flicker.
“Come on Marinette.” Alya insisted. The French-Chinese teen decided it must have been her eyes playing tricks on her and went into the office.
They entered the office and noticed that Mr.Damocles’s chair was turned away from them.
“You wanted to see us Principal Damocles?” Alya spoke up.
“No, he didn’t.” A familiar voice from behind the chair spoke.
“Lila!” Marinette exclaimed.
“Well aren’t you a detective, though you are sadly incorrect. I was Lila.”
“Was? Wait… don’t tell me…” Alya began to figure it out.
The office chair turned to reveal the akumatized Lila smiling.
“It’s Masquerade now. I really must say Alya I am quite amazed by all the work you did.”
The two teens glared at the villainess as she stood from the chair.
“This was the first time in my life that I had been so thoroughly backed into a corner. I had no way of dismissing the evidence, I was at your mercy. Truly, I am impressed.”
Alya did not know how to react to Masquerade’s rather out of nowhere praise for busting her.
“You’re praising me?”
“The old me would have had a breakdown, probably end up on the ground crying in frustration, unable to get my way. I was without a doubt destroyed.”
Marinette and Alya looked at each other in confusion.
“Why are you telling us this?” Alya questioned.
“Because anywhere else, I would have just given in. I would have resigned myself to my despair. But we are in Paris, a place with an emotion manipulating super terrorist with the power to weaponize my negative emotions.”
Marinette’s eyes went wide. She understood what Lila was saying.
“You weaponized your emotions.”
The akumatized villain started to laugh.
“I am glad you understand the situation.” Masquerade snapped her fingers.
From the shadows emerged a familiar owl themed akuma, Dark Owl. The only new addition to his ensemble was the white mask that covered his face, making his emotions unreadable.
“Dark Owl, Restrain Marinette!”
Dark Owl went to grab Marinette, but the teen quickly jumped to avoid the akuma’s grasp.
“Don’t worry girl I got you!”
Alya went to grab the nearby chair to throw it at the akuma, but Masquerade quickly moved across the desk and grabbed Alya’s shoulders as the charm bracelet began to glow.
“Oh Alya, you value truth among everything else, yet you are so dishonest with yourself. You always love to throw yourself into your passions, not giving a damn on who gets involved or who gets hurt. You put your theories and ideas above everyone else’s because you are so sure that you are right even when you aren’t. You hate how vulnerable you are when you are wrong.”
“Let go! You don’t know me!” Alya shouted as she tried to escape Masquerade’s grip on her shoulder.
Marinette had avoided a tackle made by the owl themed akuma and left him head first into an office plant.
“Don’t listen to her Alya! She is trying to turn you into an akuma like what she did to Mr.Damocles!”
“You know I am speaking the truth, your little mask of confidence is meant to hide the insecurity of a middle child that wants validation and acceptance because they never truly felt like they had their own identity. You fight so hard for everything and fear that it will be for nothing. You hate being left out of the loop and have trouble accepting when things happen that you aren’t a part of.”
“Stop it!” Alya pleaded. She could feel this akuma Lila’s words cutting her deep. This couldn’t be the truth, right?
“I can see the secrets you try and hide. I am bringing it all to the surface. You also secretly feel that Nino going after you when he was originally after your best friend makes you feel like a rebound and you hate that you feel this way.”
That was the last cut Masquerade needed, the look of hurt in Alya’s eyes was the proof.
Masquerade took a mask from her dress and placed it on Alya. The Ladyblogger dropped to the floor and tried to fight the mask that covered her face.
“Alya!” Marinette cried out in horror.
Masquerade turned to Marinette with a devilish grin.
“I warned you Marinette. I would turn everyone against you if you messed with me. And I intend to keep that promise.”
_______________________________________________________________________
So Ends part 31.
Will Masquerade’s revenge go unabated?
Will Nathalie make it in time to get to Adrien?
Will Marinette be able to escape and bring an end to Lila’s Masquerade ball?
Will I stop asking questions?
Find out all of these things and more next part.
Please comment your thoughts on the chapter and reblog.
Its tough writing on Tumblr and seeing the support really does motivate me to keep going.
Also, as for the mass amounts of tagging. I honestly won't be doing it anymore due to the f*** ton of effort it takes only for some to not work. 
811 notes · View notes
lettrespromises · 4 years
Text
PLAN À TROIS.— TODOROKI, BAKUGOU.
A.N:
❝ dear reader,
why hello it is i, nikki, back at it again. this post was specifically written thanks to @sasukelore’s big brain, meaning that this one is for the boys with the booming system, top down, AC with the cooler system😔✊🏻. it’s my first attempt at writing smut (which means it’s a direct ticket to hell) so please bare with me, i hope you’ll like it! if you have any feedback, please feel free to send it to me! also, my requests are open for business hehe.
sincerely yours,
nikki.
P.S: “plan à trois” has a double meaning— it means “threesome” in french but it also literally means “a plan involving three people” which is the core of the story, both literally and figuratively. ❞
Genre: Smut. (All three of the characters have been aged up.)
Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drugs (but no actual use of drugs), unprotected sex (please use a condom), nudity, spanking, choking, cunnilingus, blow-job, temperature play, threesome, dirty things.
Word count: 6.5k (she’s a big girl, don’t be shy.)
Letter object: One hotel. One gala. One mission. One person to take down. Three heroes. You and Shoto have to play the perfect fake couple to gain your enemy’s trust, the only thing is, Shoto has no clue how to behave as a couple. The unexpected help comes from Ground Zero who seems a bit too impatient and eager to show Shoto how to really treat a lady.
Tumblr media
Metaphorically speaking, the heroes are seen as the predators and the villains as the preys, it’s always been that way— an eternal game of hide and seek, which only ends in binary results, either victory or loss. The latest news concerning the hero world had put this little game to a halt: the hushed rise of the anti-quirks drugs were concerning. The enemy was everywhere and nowhere, it was all whispers, a thread of ‘who said what’, mere illusions replaced authentic clues. The rules of the game had been changed into a paradox where the villains became the predators and the heroes were deemed as the preys.
The rule of silence, which could have easily been personified as the ringleader of this dystopic scenario, was cruel— anyone could be suspected of being a link of the drug chain. But fret not, if you were suspected and voices started to echo around louder and louder, a little bit of hush money was the price to pay to reinstate the rule of silence. Anyone could be a culprit, even (or mostly) into the highest spheres of society. Those who are worshipped in an agnostic way, they were on top of the social food chain and, perhaps even, on top of the drug chain. These elites have been very vocal about their will to suppress the almighty authority pro-heroes possess— feeling threatened for their own sake and their own inferiority complex, they were willing to play dirty to be able to rule the country with an iron fist.
The corrupted elites still remained as elites and enjoyed their mondane occupations— galas being one of them. It was a dream opportunity for you as a pro-hero, a room crowded with highly potential culprits served on a silver plate with a cup of champagne to serve as the cherry on the cake.
Stealth missions were highly dangerous if you didn’t have a cover good enough, and treading on the playground of influential people could possibly cost you your career as a pro-hero, but if you managed to succeed, you were bound to bask in glory. Keeping a realistic cover is the number one check on the list entitled “how not to blow up your whole mission and be hated by the rest of the country.” Luckily enough, your agence had already done all the dirty work for you and sent you everything you needed— a flawlessly cut evening attire, a shockingly well-done fake ID and a full file regarding the background of your character, all down to the tiniest details. And I cannot emphasize enough “all” the details...
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Amongst the myriad of details (and some of them were completely unnecessary, I mean, was your favorite fruit really important?), one of them was impossible to ignore. “Shoto Todoroki, really?” His name rolled off your tongue for a reason, you were supposed to play his pseudo fiancée for the night. Your thumb brushed the surface inked with his name, unconsciously wishing that if you were brushing hard enough, his name would disappear and so would your almost wilted high school crush on him.
Your silent complains were cut short, the sound of someone knocking on your door stirred you from the invasion of your thoughts. Then the knocking sound echoed once more. “Just a second!” Has anyone heard of the concept of patience? Waiting a few seconds for someone to open the door isn’t a inhuman task. Eventually (although it could’ve have been funny to let this mysterious person fume because you purposefully took too long), you opened the door to your hotel room and it just felt like you had welcomed a storm in. Much to your surprise, there were two surprise guests, two U.A alumnis just like you— Shoto and Ground Zero.
“Well, shit, were you planning on letting us fucking die in the hallways, woman?! What the fuck took you so goddamn long, ha?” When I mentioned a storm earlier on today, I meant Bakugou Katuski— his annoyance was transcripted upon his face through the frowning of his eyebrows and the wrinkle sitting between them. “It’s good to see you too Bakugou, glad to see you missed me after all this time.” His hands were shoved in his pockets, clearly not keen on listening to your sarcastic remarks nor wearing a tuxedo for the night. “Tch. Keep your smart ass talk to yourself, dumbass.”
You had indeed let a storm invade your hotel room. But unbeknownst to you, you had also welcomed a hypotizing breeze, the polar opposite of Bakugou, and apparently future fiancé for the night: Shoto Todoroki. His facial expression reflected nothing but pure serinity, a signature stoic face which radically clashed with Bakugo’s scowl. Todoroki was so discreet, almost blending his presence with the newfound silence. He was wearing an evening suit of his own, aquamarine was his color after all, it was a known fact since your high school years.
“Y/N, as you may be aware, I am here for the stealth mission. Bakugou is going to accompany us just in case something goes wrong. It was a last minute change, but considering the household names who are going to attend this gala, too much precaution is better than not enough.” Ohh, so that was the reason why the angry gremlin was here. Although, you wondered how Shoto felt about the two of you acting as a fake engaged couple, was he still serene about that? “Yeah, while you two fake lovebirds will be busy eating each other’s faces off, I’m gonna be around to check if there is any intell on these anti-quirk selling bastards.” Each of his word was accompanied by a hand gesture pivoting between you and Shoto and, of course, the same old look of annoyance plastered upon his face. You and Shoto, on the other one hand, appeared a bit surprised at the use of “fake lovebirds”, it just hasn’t sunk in yet... Denial, perhaps?
“Speaking of kissing and shit— you, half and half bastard, do you still have a fucking stick up your ass or do you know how to act in a relationship?!” His interrogation was accompanied with a daring glance thrown in Todoroki’s direction and an eyebrow lifted just to emphasize the characteristic of his question a bit more. A bold question which immediately found its answer from the mouth of Todoroki, needless to say, you felt this remark coming. “Bakugou, you’re the last person here who could pretend having the knowledge necessary to provide relationship advices.” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape at Todoroki’s remark highlighted by its bluntness, although you quickly changed your mind once you felt Bakugou’s stare landing on you with such rage causing you to hush your laugh by biting your thumb.
“Ha?! What the fuck did you just say, half and half bastard? Use that fucking mouth for yours for good measure and let’s see if you can kiss Y/N correctly. I won’t let this mission be blown up by your stupid ass.” This time, there was a hint of amusement in Bakugou’s voice, it was hard to distinct if he asked that because he truly cared about the mission or if he just wanted to push Todoroki out of his comfort zone. But the ghost of a smirk drawn upon his face seemed to support the second hypothesis.
“Guys, just a second here. I understand why we have to take care of our cover but it’s not like Todoroki and I are going to kiss all night long.” Your gaze alterned between Todoroki and Bakugou, it became impossible to hold your gaze on a fix structure due to how flustered you felt, and soon enough, your cheeks were quick to adopt a rosy tone. “Y/N, are you scared of kissing me by any chance?” You secretly hated the obvious tone of concern in Todoroki’s voice, he was willing to do anything to make this mission a success but also make sure you were comfortable around him. “N-No! It’s just… I don’t mind it.” What a miracle, you finally managed to look at him in the eyes but the blush on your cheeks was as lively as ever. “Then damn, if you don’t mind it just fucking kiss already we don’t have all night, dumbass.” You could tell by Bakugou’s body language that he was growing more and more impatient by the second, his arms were crossed over his chest— he was getting pissed.
Todoroki captured your attention once more when his index brushed the surface of your skin right below your chin while his thumb was carefully set upon your jawline. His orbs shone by their gleam of reassureance, his eyes met yours, as a silent way to ask your for permission and you fluttered your lids shut as an answer. As if it was some kind of second nature to him, his other arm compassed your waist in order to bring you close to him. His lips finally touched yours. Each one of his actions was so soft, you could barely feel them yet, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips were melting ever so perfectly with yours, as if your lips were the sole one which could fit is, you couldn’t help but to hum as the carefulness of his lips overwhelmed you. The kiss was shy, experimental, and yet so agonizing. He was temptingly and agonizingly slow, which only made you crave for more. However, given the lack of oxygen, you had no choice but to (relanctutly) break the kiss. You opened your eyes and basked in Todoroki’s beauty, still in awe at what just happ—… “Oi! Have you ever kissed anyone before, Icyhot? Fucking hell, what was that?!”
Of course this was bound to be expected— the angry gremlin in his natural behavior. You and Todoroki exchanged a look which held a thousand questions before you felt your wrist being caught by a much warmer palm, and eventually, you were yanked straight into Bakugou’s chest (not that you were complaining.) “Open your damn eyes and look, this how you fucking kiss a woman, dipshit.” The sound of his voice roaring against your eardrum made you flinch in the nicest way possible. Bakugou naturally made himself at ease all while maintaining his gaze upon Todoroki who was looking at him in return with a noticeable disdain in his eyes.
Bakugou was challenging him in a way, he perfectly knew that Todoroki was observing his every move, hence why he took the liberty to let his palm roam over the curve of your derrière as a way to taunt him. However, the taunt didn’t last too long not to make you feel uncomfortable. He quickly settled one of his hand on the small of your back (to maintain you as close to him as humanly possible) whilst his other hand was set upon your neck. He didn’t waste any more time and went straight to business.
Bakugou’s kiss was, as expected, a vivid contrast compared to Todoroki’s kiss. While Todoroki’s felt hesitant, caring, sweet… Bakugou’s kiss was rough around the edges and his sole purpose was to make your knees weak. Once he crashed his lips upon yours, he immediately swiped his tongue over the surface of your bottom lip, demanding immediate access to your mouth. You knew better than to upset Bakugou so you pleased and allowed his tongue to explore your mouth— your tongue was at his mercy for a few instants before finding a steady rhythm for you two. His presence was overwhelming— his smell, how close you were to him with nowhere to escape, his mouth, his tongue, everything caused you to rightfully let a moan escape into the kiss. At the sound of it, Todoroki’s eyes widened while Bakugou smirked into the kiss, he knew he made a point. You, in return, started to tug at his blonde hair— the rough atmosphere of the kiss affected your actions as well. Just prior to breaking the kiss, Bakugou’s teeth dug into your bottom lip and applied a few pressures while you were looking at him with pleading eyes to continue. Once he got what we wanted, he ended the kiss with a surprisingly soft peck upon your lips.
With his hand still settled on the small of your back, Bakugou turned to Todoroki’s direction and offered him his biggest smirk to show his secret victory. You were left breathless by the kiss, a series of uneven hot breaths crashed down onto Bakugou’s skin. 
If anyone were to walk in your hotel room, they would be able to feel and even touch the graduating tension in the air which almost felt agonizing. The tension was mostly radiating off of the two men, a silent battle for dominance had been declared through glances, holders of pure will to outbest the other. 
Todoroki observed the scene on his chair, and unbeknownst to him, Bakugou had indirectly offered him the best seat in the room to watch the manifestation of his talents. An almost inaudible sigh left Todoroki’s lips which translated into a sign of discontentment. “Y/N, come here.” The tone was strict, cold even, and you felt obligated to do as told. 
Detaching yourself from Bakugou’s embrace (you could tell he didn’t want to let you go judging from how his palm lingered on your back), you stepped away and made your way to Todoroki, a quizzical look noticeable in the reflect of your eyes. “What now?” You asked. Todoroki gestured to his lap and you knew what it meant, it was a speech without any word necessary. 
Paradoxically enough, Bakugou stared at the scenery in front of him in pure silence, and although it was very unlike him, he was mimicking Todoroki’s actions earlier on- he wanted to witness how Shoto was going to respond to his own deeds. 
You placed your hands over Todoroki’s shoulders to gain stability before sitting on his lap, it was a foreign feeling, but goodness, it was already addicting as hell and you were not interested in finding a cure. Both of Shoto’s hands crawled on the same spot where Bakugou’s hands used to linger just a few moments ago, you understood rather quickly that he was using his own methods against him. You were the center of Todoroki’s attention, his gaze graced your frame and he was loving the sound of your uneven breath, he wondered if he could make your respiration even more irregular.
He paid no mind to mind to the silent Bakugou who was already fuming in his corner as Shoto delivered a succession of pecks on the delicate flesh of your neck, and you tilted your head just enough to let him play on a wider surface. He traded the pecks for a few daring bites on certain areas, he needed to find your weak spot. “A-Ah... Shoto!” the sound of his name rolling off your tongue coated in such bliss was enough for him to curve his lips into a smirk. 
It was a brief moment of peace before he dug his teeth on the same spot and you failed to prevent any whimpers from coming out by biting your lower lip. He knew you were restricting yourself, prisoning these beautiful sounds of ecstasy, and he didn’t like any of it. He focused on your lower lip and rubbed the oh so soft surface with the pad of his thumb to prevent your from biting it, and thus, keeping your sounds of pleasure to yourself. 
“Don’t be shy, love. I’m pretty sure both Bakugou and I can agree on the fact that the little sounds you’re making are too divine to be hushed. Will you be a good girl and let us hear the sounds you’re making?” It was as if his voice was coated with honey, just his voice alone was enough to make you feel weak, and if you paid enough attention, you were pretty sure he purposefully blew a fit of cold air onto the skin of your neck. “Yes, please... I’ll be good, so good.” From that moment you knew you were at his mercy and he enjoyed every second of it. “You’re such a good girl for us.”
And so he continued, but it was rougher this time, a harsh contrast compared to his hesitant kiss from just a few moments ago. His teeth dug into the flesh of your skin harder this time, the sole purpose of leaving a mark on your crimson colored flesh was haunting his mind. To accomplish said purpose, Todoroki alternated between biting motions and a few swipes of his tongue on the newly bruised skin. The whimpers coming out of your mouth shamelessly only added fuel to his fire. He knew what he was doing, and you knew just how sensitive this particular area could get. 
Once he judged it was enough, he delivered a few pecks on the love bites, a way to kiss his art into your skin. “You’re so perfect, love, so perfect with my name written over your skin.” He whispered between kisses. Your head was thrown back, fingers grasping at the roots of his hair, your mouth agape- your whole body language testified of the addictive effect he had on you.
Such bliss couldn’t last for long, and quickly enough, another voice was being heard, a roar even. “Oi, oi, oi! Don’t even think for a single fucking second that you can have her all to yourself, half and half bastard.” It was almost a miracle that Bakugou had observed you in silence, but as expected, patience was nowhere near his forte. He had already crossed his limit long before you sat on Todoroki’s laps. Bakugou’s eyes were strictly focused on your frame, he was completely under your spell after observing how your chest would rise and fall unevenly to grasp any ounce of oxygen. 
Your knees felt weak already, you could only stare at Bakugou and silently ask him to continue, to make you feel even weaker, to make you experience pure bliss. You wanted to say his name, it was right on the tip of your tongue, but as you observed his figure reducing more and more the space between the two of you, you just admired him in silence. 
“Hah? What’re you looking at, brat? You want more? Is that it? You want fucking more? Say no more.” You should’ve known that the wicked smirk plastered upon his face was a pre-indicator of what was bound to happen. He lifted you off of Todoroki’s lap, the latter frowned a bit at the lack of your presence on him, and carried you to the bed before dropping you on the mattress. Todoroki was quick to follow from behind and stood right next to Bakugou, his hands already busy taking off his jacket and unbuttoning the first button of his evening shirt. “I’m sure that Bakugou and I can find a little agreement. After all, we can share, correct?” Todoroki’s rhetorical question found its answer once Bakugou let a discreet chuckle escape from his mouth after throwing his jacket God knows where and messily undoing his tie. “We’re gonna take real fucking good take care of you, baby girl.”
You were refraining yourself from already touching you, it took all the strength in the world not to give in to the most passionate temptations. But deep down, you already knew you were bound to be overwhelmed by pure bliss judging by how they were looking at you. You could only hum in response, unsure of how your voice would have sounded under the heavy influence of desire. 
Bakugou made the first move, after all, his poor soul felt left alone when Todoroki overwhelmed you with pecks and bites. He crawled over you, his knees were on each side of your waist, his hands however, assured total domination- his right hand clutched your wrists now pinned above your hand while his left palm settled by force on your throat, needless to say, the pressure was already applied on your windpipe. “You wanna’ play that game with me, hah?! Let Icyhot have all of you to himself and I got fucking nothing in return? Babygirl, I don’t watch, I fucking play.” It was too ferocious to be qualified as a whisper, and yet, when Bakugou pronounced the last bits of his sentence right in the shell of your ear, you felt like you were floating in pure bliss. “Answer me.” His grip on your throat felt a bit tighter. “P-Please... Ju-Just do whatever you want... With my body.” The lack of oxygen felt agonizing, you were deprived of fresh air and you were laying on the bed while Bakugou exuded pure confidence and domination, an aura so thick, you wished you could’ve touched it. “That’s my babygirl.” 
As Bakugou’s lips crashed onto yours, forcing its tongue into your mouth while maintaining the right amount of pressure on your throat to offer you a panorama of new sensations, Todoroki had already gotten rid of his shirt. If you paid close attention, you could see shy flames on his shoulders, he was absolutely adoring the scenery unfolding before him. Everything about you filled his senses, the sight of you giving in to Bakugou was nothing short of divine, the whimpers leaving your mouth in cascade whether the reason was the lack of air or the fierceness of Bakugou’s intentions was the sweetest melody he had ever heard. Everything was perfect. 
You felt the oxygen become one with your body again once Bakugou broke the kiss and allowed his hand to travel from your neck down to your chest, but his eyes were never leaving yours. He wanted to watch you come undone under his touch, he swore it to himself.
“I’ll take the bottom half. Icyhot, I don’t give a damn about what you do, just don’t fucking interrupt me.” His eyes were already set on the prize, your heat in all its glory. Shoto said nothing in response, you were the holder of all his undivided attention. As Bakugou took a firm grasp of your thighs, opening the way to his newfound purpose, Todoroki took over the top half of your body- he started by planting a succession of pecks from your lips down to your collarbone, passing by your neck, and each kiss was amplified by the cold air he was blowing on the surface of your skin. The contrast in temperature cause you to allow a few whimpers to escape, you already knew you craved for more, it was a way of manifesting it.
 “You won’t need that, will you, love?”  He said while pointing at your shirt, as his index was already hooking the fabric. It was a rhetorical question of course, you simply answered by humming. Your silent response was the only thing necessary for Shoto to send your shirt flying somewhere in the room. He continued his trail of kisses down to the valley of your breasts, the same cold air following him as he went.
Bakugou, on the other one hand, had already gotten rid off your skirt, but not before letting his palms explore the generous cheeks hidden underneath it, and eventually, leaving a slap right on this area which caused you to yelp in surprise. The pad of his thumb was already brushing against the surface of the fabric, oh what a pleasure it was when he felt the sensation of humidity coming through your underwear. A sensation so good, so addicting, so divine that it brought a sly grin to his face. “Already so wet for us, babygirl? You’re not wasting your damn time, hah?” Your skin was burning under his touch, you could already feel the chills running down your spine and he hadn’t even taken off your underwear yet. 
Todoroki took the strap of your bra between his thumb and index, and much to your suprise, he used the right amount of his quirk to burn the fabric and applied the same treatment to the other strap. Before you could even protest about the poor outcome of your bra, he planted his lips on your own to keep you quiet. Now, he focused his attention to your breasts and the bits of clothing left which prevented the upper half of your body from being fully exposed. He took the opportunity given by Bakugou who had gotten rid of your underwear which made you arch your back to unclip your bra. There was nothing stopping him now. He let his gaze fell on you, so full of adoration, while he leaned down and caught the last piece of fabric remaining of your bra between his teeth. His eyes held so much envy, so much desires which reciprocated in the reflect of your own orbs. 
Shoto threw your bra out of his mouth, and there you were- your body bare in all its glory. “Fuck, you’re so perfect...” He whispered right against your chest, causing you to let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding. He used his mother’s inherited side to trace the contour of your breasts, he knew he was going to earn a moan in return and he was so please to hear such a sinful melody at the clash of his cold fingers against your burning skin. His thumb and his index worked in harmony to twist the bud of your nipple and overwhelm it by Shoto’s cold touch while his tongue delivering hot saliva on your skin was already doing wonders on your other breast, a perfect balance between cold and hot which made your arousal erupt even more and someone was quick to notice...
“Oi, doll face, focus on me, not on this goddamn fucker. Don’t you feel so fucking good when I touch you like that, hah?” His burning jealousy amplified the voracity of his deeds. Every single one of his touch served the purpose of pleasuring you, but also outdo Todoroki’s touches. He needed to be the best at everything, including making you melt under his touch. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the desire to close your eyes and let your body attract all the attention while basking in pure bliss was too strong and yet, Bakugou’s voice roared into your mind, you couldn’t help but lay your eyes on him through half-closed lids. 
Once he knew he was the bearer of all your attention, he put his body and mind to work. Both of his hands planted your thighs on each side of his body, you felt too weak to move under his touch and did not dare resist the pressure. You whined in advance because you knew what was coming- and boy, did he look good with his face buried between your thighs. 
One long, sharp, vertical lick was all it took to let yet another moan escape your lips once more, and to Bakugou, it was the best reward. The heat of his tongue responded to the heat of your core, it was pure harmony. He licked the your core over and over again, tasting you, loving you, worshipping you even. One time he left lingering kisses to the side of your core, another time he was left licking motions all over your folds because your taste was the best thing he had ever felt. His motions echoed to your whines and moans, he was sure of hearing a sinful melody each time his tongue entered in contact with your skin.
“Keep making these noises for me, don’t be fucking shy.” His hot breath on the center of your heat embraced perfectly the succession of his actions, “Y-Yes... P-Please, I want... I need more.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let a low chuckle leave his lips, in response to your needy attitude, he left a harsh slap on the surface of your butt, to which you whined loudly in response. “Such a fucking filthy mouth you have there, hah?” He smiled to himself, knowing perfectly that what he was about to do was bound to leave you as a whimpering mess. Without any warning, he slid two of his fingers inside your core, and fuck, you were tight. His thumb was brushing against your sweet bundle of nerves which had already been cherished by Bakugou’s tongue earlier. 
You clutched the sheets of the bed to release some of the buildup pressure inside, it was as if a tornado, a volcano and a firework were exploding at the same time in your stomach, each of them resulting in a series of whimpers and moans at the overstimulation. Your lids were shut close already, yet, they kept fluttering over the invisible crimson touches left by both Todoroki and Bakugou.
Speaking over Todoroki, he was tasting you in such a different way as he started to get the grip of Bakugou’s mechanic. His mind kept roaming and roaming, he knew that just one mark on your neck was not quite enough and he needed to beat Bakugou at his own game- he positioned himself right over your right breast and blew a fit of fresh air, causing him to smile at himself for being the reason of such a reaction, and dug his teeth into your flesh. Motivated by the the way you kept tugging at his hair, he kept biting the same area over and over again until sucking your flesh just enough to create yet another love bite over your breast, such an intimate area, isn’t it? And now his whole name was written on it. 
“B-Bakugou... I can’t take it... Ahh! Anymore, please, please...” His fingers weren’t enough anymore, you were pleading his name, begging him to become one with you because you were unsure as to how you were going to keep the unleashed pressure within you ruin you. “So eager for my fucking cock, aren’t you?! You’re gonna count with me each inch entering your fucking cunt, got it?” You were willing to do anything at this point- Todoroki’s bites and his cold touch, Bakugou’s fingers and tongue, it made you fill dizzy but you knew, deep down, you were slowly approaching a pure state of bliss. “Yes... Yes I will.”
For his own purpose, Bakugou took his fingers off your core and flipped you on your stomach so you could be on all fours. You were giving him the view of worthy of a masterpiece: the crimson colored marks on your butt cheeks, the vivid rosy tone of your dripping core, oh he wanted all of you. “Love, don’t you forget that I’m here too, right? Open your pretty mouth for me.” You did as Todoroki preached, opening your mouth for him to stick his index in there. “Suck.” he commanded, to which you obliged by creating hollows in your cheeks and embrace his finger around your tongue, this feeling was beyond perfect, beyond the wildest fantasies his imagination had to offer. He could only let his subconsciousness roam about how his cock would feel around your perfectly pouted lips.
Bakugou’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers turning white in the process while your flesh adopted a reddish tone in response. With the use of the pad of his thumb, he spread the pre-cum leaking all over his length, and so it began: the first inch. “One.”, it sounded more like an order than a statement, “...One.” you echoed, your response didn’t come quick enough to Bakugou’s liking, making you earn a harsh slap on your cheeks in return. Then another inch “Two.” , another faint sound coming from your lips “T-Two...”, yet another slap on your abused flesh. And so it went on, the process remained the same- another inch, another whisper escaping your mouth between sobs, another spank. 
On the other side of the bed, Todoroki was stroking his own length at the sight before him. You were on the brim of tears, and Bakugou didn’t show any mercy regarding your current state. “I’m sorry, her mouth is going to be full soon, she won’t have room to count out for you.” Bakugou grunted in response to Todoroki’s taunt. His strokes became gradually faster, like a crescendo if you will. His other hand, however, was placed right underneath your jaw to give you some support and your mouth was already open in anticipation for what was bound to happen. 
With his hand to keep your jaw steady, you welcomed Todoroki’s lenght into your mouth and he automatically let a groan as the tip of your tongue caressed his sensitive tip. You imagined how rewarding it must have felt for them to hear your own moans and whimpers because hearing Todoroki’s moan felt like a blessing to your eardrums.
Your tongue circled around his cock, your hand was pumping his length, and Todoroki wondered if this is what heaven looked and felt like. Your whimpers were hushed by the presence of his member in your mouth, but somehow, even these half silenced sounds of pleasure sounded even better to his ears. He felt his lids shut close under the miracle work of your tongue while his hand lingered in your hair to motivate you to keep going.
Bakugou, frustrated by this change of plans due to Todoroki’s own personal pleasure, slid the entirety of his phallus into you abruptly. The shock caused you to remove Shoto’s member from your mouth momentarily to catch your breath and release yet another whine before pleasuring Todoroki again. That came as a surprise to no one, not even Shoto himself, but Bakugou’s pace was rough and almost animalistic. 
The sound of his testicles clapping against your flesh testified of the pace and yet, it felt so enticing. Bakugou was not so vocal, but he did leave his fair share of grunts as he buried himself into you more and more until reaching your cervix. It was too much, your core was burning, hell your whole body was on fire. The tears that threatened to fall had put their threat to execution, you knew you were close, the overstimulation was getting the best of you leaving you in a whimpering, trembling mess. 
You continued to stroke Shoto’s length with your tongue, but his need to take control took over him. The same hand that rested in your hair suddenly took a firm grasp of your hair and he thrusted himself into your mouth and from there, his grunts became more repetitive. Truthfully, it was the only push he needed to bring him over the edge, the previous work of your tongue had put him under a spell. A spell he never wanted to wake up from. He knew what was coming, you felt it too but how the tip of his phallus was tickling your throat deeper and deeper. 
Shoto didn’t even notice the small flames making their apparition on the blades of his collarbone, meaning that it was finally time for him to cum. He set your mouth free and hinted his length towards your chest, letting the drips of cum color your skin, and allowed the most magical moan to leave his already parted lips in satisfaction. “Love, look what you fucking did to me. You’re so beautiful, so beautiful with my cum all over you.” Your first instinct was to fill your lungs with oxygen, something so common yet it was cruelly needed. You looked through your lashes at Shoto with pleading eyes while he looked at you with a glimpse of adoration in his. His digit was carefully wiping the excess of cum leaking down your chin to place it right into your mouth. He could only stare in awe at the sight of you tasting him. He felt so full, and fulfilled. He was finally at peace, soaking in pure bliss.  
The grasp Bakugou was holding over your hips became even harsher, which you though was impossible just a few seconds before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grunted, trying to keep his volume at bay by digging his teeth into his lower lip but it was all too much to be contained. He knew his climax was close, so close that he could picture it if he closed his eyes just for a second. Bakugou’s name fell on your lips like a forbidden prayer, his name had turned into the only thing you were able to say. “I-...Ah! Inside, inside, fuck, please...”, you felt a wave of pleasure taking over your body, a pleasure so intense, no word could have done it justice. Oh well, that was the sole indication he needed to hear before digging his nails into your sides, causing you to arch your back and bite the sheets, already preventing the cascade of whimpers from echoing in the room. “Fucking hell... Cum with me, now.”
 With one last thrust, Bakugou came within you, his face was facing the ceiling as he came undone with you. His cum slid within you and in return, your body thanked him by letting your own juice flow all over his length. 
Silence invaded the room. No more grunts, no more moans, no more cries. Pure silence inhabited by the uneven breaths of three protagonists who had just touched heaven by the tip of their fingers. Three victims of passion.
Bakugou pulled out of you, earning a whimper in return at the sudden feeling of vacuity. Your legs were shaking, and you secretly thanked every God for allowing you to stay relatively steady on all fours for this long and be able to endure the bestial-like pace of Bakugou. Needless to say, you were panting, you mouth was agape and you were crying for air. Your body immediately crashed onto the mattress, the soft feeling of the sheets enveloping your skin after reaching heaven made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud.
Bakugou and Todoroki shared a look, a small grin even, before crashing down onto the mattress next to you. You were unable to move, your mind was comparable to a wild blur as a result of your orgasm. A rush of words flew through your air but absolutely none of them was powerful and meaningful enough to qualify how you were feeling. At peace? No, not strong enough. Full? Nope, did not carry enough meaning. It was a unique feeling, worthy of all the praises in the world. 
Todoroki draped an arm over your waist and left a trail of kisses upon the flesh of your shoulder, a silent way to thank you for allowing him to experience heaven in a rush. Bakugou, on the other one hand, was facing your back and allowed his index to draw invisible patterns on the skin of your back. Paradoxically enough, the silence carried more words and emotions than an actual speech. Until...
“So... Um, about the mission?”
570 notes · View notes
wisteria-lodge · 3 years
Text
bird secondary transitioning from badger secondary model to lion secondary model
so i’m stumped.
at this point my secondary is so burned that bookkeeper badger is the only thing i know how to fall back on, and sometimes it can be nice, but most of the time it’s exhausting. normally i just procrastinate on whatever i have to do because i’m exhausted & burnt out, and i have to force myself to just sit down and work through it because at that point i have no other options.
at the very least it’s a model i got from my dad. he’s always emphasized putting in the work on projects and things, and whenever i would push through a hard day of homework (or just any work i guess) he would tell me that i was “a real trooper” and that he was proud of me. (he’s for sure a badger secondary haha!)
Using your Badger doesn’t sound at all fun. I’ll agree with you here. Model.
i think i’m pretty good at seeing things from other people’s point of view? and i can look at situations and relate to other people, and i do like doing that to some extent.
Good lord, I hope we can all do that, otherwise what am I doing writing about people with different primaries/secondaries than me?
i also have a friend who’s a total courtier badger, and i’m simultaneously envious of how charming is and sometimes a lil creeped out by it? bc i can usually tell when she’s putting on a voice but she also makes it so convincing it sometimes leaves me feeling a little tricked and manipulated… i know she doesn’t mean it that way? but still.
So we have a focus on *authenticity* here. Could be Lion. Could also be Bird, since those are the two Solid secondaries. I don’t talk about the solid/fluid distinction much, but the idea is that Badger and Snake secondaries bounce off their environments, they are literally fluid in the sense that they become the shape of whatever glass they’re in. Solid secondaries are stable, static. You are who you are. You work on your environment, your environment doesn’t work on you. 
i think a large part of it boils down to the question of whether or not i always act the same around everyone, and whether or not this bothers me/how i wish i could act.
That is definitely the question. If you act the same around everyone (or feel weird and sticky when you don’t) that’s Lion. If it’s more ‘this is the face I have designed for these people/this situation,’ that’s Bird. 
i don’t act the same around everyone. there is a certain set of behaviors that i adopt around my close friends, but i have a different set of behaviors for things like class, interacting with professors, or my parents, etc etc. (like for instance, with my friends i act very bubbly/sweet/cutesy. i’m energetic and cheery, at least on a good day. 
So far this sounds like Actor Bird. You’re able to list the behaviors that go with each one of these faces, and that each of these faces have a specific utility & and purpose. (Friends! Parents! Professors!) 
the way i act with my close friends is probably the most “me” i get. but any one of those behavior sets is really only a facet of my personality - some of them are larger facets, or come closer to representing the whole, but i’m not sure that any one of them on its own is truly “me.” i’m not sure i am a set of behaviors. 
The fact that you think of your different “behavior sets” as “facets” instead of outright lies… like you’re not talking about them in any sort of heavy or negative sort of way… is also making me think Actor Bird. 
but sometimes it feels like some of my friends talk about me in a way that makes it seem like that’s the only part of me they see? and that is not all that i am, and it bothers me & makes me feel like they’re stereotyping me a little haha. maybe that’s my fault for acting that way around them so much, but i’m not sure. how i wouldn’t? changing my behavior to show the more business-y side of me i guess would feel like pushing them away.)
It sounds like your social persona needs a little calibrating… but it also sounds like you’re consciously in the process of calibrating it. That still  seems very Bird to me. A Snake or Badger couldn’t go off in the corner and calibrate behavior like that, they’re too influenced by whatever happens to be in front of them. And a Lion secondary… I think a Lion secondary would say that potentially pushing away a friend is an acceptable loss. 
the idea that i could always be myself is very very appealing. would i like to be able to act the same no matter what? to some extent, yeah. i would *love* to always be that comfortable and unafraid. 
Okay. You like Lion secondaries. And yes, they do look cool from the outside. But you’re romanticizing them. Lion secondaries are not always comfortable and unafraid, not even close. The more scared a Lion gets, the more pressure they’re under, the more direct and more “themselves” they become
but it’s not safe or reasonable to always show the more honest/closer/internal facet that my friends get. and i’m not sure i’d want everyone to see all of it? i don’t think i owe everyone i meet every part of me. 
This is not the answer of a Lion. This could be any of the other secondaries, but not a Lion.
(i guess i’d like to be able to integrate certain aspects of my friend persona into my default public persona? like maybe some of the more talkative/outgoing/bubbly parts. i’m generally more quiet in public, usually because i can’t think of things to say. i think i might be getting better at that, but i’m also not wholly there yet.)
more people have seen the way i act with my friends because of how often i’m with my friends in public now. i’m not sure whether that bothers me or not. (i think it might. a little. but not enough to change the way i act around my friends. they matter more than how other people see me.)
This entire ask is about conscious, social calibration. You’d like your friends to take you a little more seriously, and you’d like the people in the rest of your life to see as more talkative and bubby. And making that change is just… a thing that’s on the table, apparently. 
(and that is is not something every secondary can do, it’s super Actor Bird. You’re literally workshopping different parts you play. Also “persona” is a word a lot of Actor birds use.) 
(“I’m quiet because I can’t think of things to say” feels really Bird to me somehow.)
i used to lie a lot, but i’m working on being a more honest person, which means i’m back to being bad at lying. i think it’s stupid to try and waste your time acting in a way to please others. i used to do that when i was younger, and it got me less than no where. i basically learned that someone is going to dislike you no matter what you try, so you might as well say whatever you think. maybe you want them to like you, but they won’t. why bother?
Interesting. We’ve got more conscious social calibration going on, but what you’re describing is a shift from a more people-pleasing Badger-flavored performance (we know you model Badger, you’ve got at least two strong Badger secondaries in your orbit) into a more Lion-flavored one. 
I think I could sum up what you’re written so far as “I’m an Actor Bird who used to model Badger, but I worry that the sweet cutesy side of Badger is making my friends not take my seriously, and the quiet, fade-into-the-background side of Badger is making me boring and not fun in front of authority figures. So, I’ve decided to start building a Lion model, because Lion secondaries are awesome, but it’s still a model-in-progress.) 
i guess i adopted a lion persona/model as a defense mechanism. there’s still something that draws me about the sheer honesty of a lion.
Yep. Here we are.
but i might be pulling that model more from anger/bitterness/hurt than anything else.
I’m truly not getting much anger/bitterness/hurt from your ask. If anything, you seem pretty empowered.  The tone is“I don’t like the way I’m being perceived, but I’m working on changing it.” That doesn’t sound Burnt at all.
If i try to think about telling a lie or intentionally choosing to lie it just doesn’t work. people can always see right through it. 
You don’t lie, you “show different facets.” You’re not an improviser. It’s hard and stressful to come up with a story, or a way to be, on the fly.
i can usually make lies work if i do it instinctively and not think about it
My guess it that when you’re “acting” it fundamentally doesn’t feel like a lie. You’re comfortable in that space, you’re used to it, so of course you’re convincing.
and i’m better at lying to people who aren’t my close friends. 
Everyone is.
but if it has to be instinctive then that means i end up working lies into how i act, and start to lie more than i mean to or for no reason, and i don’t like that :(
Huh. I’m exactly not sure what to make of this, but I think it probably has something to do your Badger secondary model. I mean, you describe Badger secondary as “manipulative” and “tricky.” 
so yeah. those are my thoughts. sorry for the length i guess? i’m not going to call it rambly bc i do think everything i said was important but uh. i wrote it out and then inserted more thoughts into different places so it maybe doesn’t flow as well or coherently as it did in the beginning. sorry about that ^^; hope you’re able to find something useful in all this!
((am i a bird. are you going to come out of this saying “oh haha you’re totally a bird!” bc if you do i might scream *i don’t even know what tools ARE-*))
Tools come in all kinds of shapes, my friend. What makes them tools is the way you prepare them ahead of time. 
Tumblr media
29 notes · View notes
glenncoco4 · 3 years
Text
You Can Count On Me
A/N: Chapter 8
••••
Marty Deeks has been patient his entire life, whether that be waiting until Christmas morning to open presents or until a new Donnie & Marie album was released, but when it comes to one Kensi Marie Blye becoming his fiancé, he’s anything but. So he’s not at all deterred when he steps into the small antique shop in search of a ring. Her ring, without getting a yes first.
No, she hasn’t said yes to his proposal yet, but she did confess that she wanted everything with him. So even if it’s not a yes right now, it will be eventually and he wants to be ready. 
Now here he is at the fourth store today, considering how large Los Angeles is and the amount of people, he thought it’d be easier than this. As he examines the display of unique and elegant jewelry, he begins to lose hope once again, nothing catching his eye. 
The shaggy blonde’s attention is suddenly pulled away from his perusal when he looks over to the man behind the counter and the older lady that’s holding out something to him. He’s only a few feet away but the delicate features of the solitaire diamond ring scream out to him. 
The older black woman feels the shaggy blonde’s stare, she turns, studying his face as his focus continues to stay on the ring in her hand. There’s one thing she’s learned in her 70 years of life and that’s the look of a man in love, but not just any love, a love that’s all consuming. 
He’s pulled out of his trance, realizing that the two have stopped their conversation completely and the woman’s gaze is now on him. “I don’t mean to stare its just...”
“No need to apologize, I recognize that look on your face. Reminds me of my Henry.”
He flashes her sad smile, knowing just by the reverence in her voice that she’s talking about him in the past tense. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was my first love...my only love. Some people don’t get that in life, we were lucky.”
“I know what you mean.”
Something in the way he drifts off for a minute with a dreamy gaze makes her consider her ring and the love she hopes it will be a part of again. “Tell me your story.”
Never missing the chance to talk about his girl, Deeks feels his lips pull into an automatic smile. “I met Kensi when I was 11 years old. My mom and I were in a bad situation at home and her family took us in. That first night we were there I had a flashback of sorts, as I was sitting there paralyzed in fear, she wrapped her arms around me and some part of me knew that I was finally home.” Shaking his head, he thinks about how easy it is for him to tell this woman with deep brown eyes full of understanding how much his best friend means to him. “I know its crazy, she was 8 years old, I was 11, but it made sense in my mind. Growing up we were inseparable, still are. We experienced so many life changing moments together and apart, but no matter what we were there for the other. She’s my person...the person I go to for everything, no matter how big or small it may be. I’ve always felt like I’m my most true and authentic self around her and she around me. We’re just synced. A few weeks ago we finally realized what everyone else around us saw from the start, we’re in love. It’s been 20 years and she still makes me feel like that safe little 11 year old boy. I didn’t see any point in waiting any longer, so I proposed to her a few days ago.”
The older woman takes a look around the store, expecting to see the young woman since he’s already proposed, she’d imagine they’d want to pick out the ring together. “Where is she?”
He feels the heat rise to his cheeks, a little embarrassed. “Well, she hasn’t said yes yet. My Kensi’s a thinker, she likes to look at a situation from all views.”
“But you’re still looking for a ring?”
“Yeah, because I know that she’ll be ready one day and when that day comes I want to give her something special with meaning behind it. I’ve been looking everywhere for the perfect ring and I was losing all hope until-“
“You saw mine.”
He smiles hopefully as she finishes his sentence. “Yes, ma’am.”
Without hesitation, she extends the delicate piece of jewelry towards him.
He hesitantly reaches for it, looking to her for confirmation. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. This ring deserves to continue being a representation of our kind of love. It represented mine and Henry’s for 50 years and now its for you and Kensi.”
“It’s so beautiful, I’m sure you could get so much more for it than what I have.”
“How much do you have, son?”
“Four thousand.”
It’s not about the money for her really and that’s when the idea strikes her. “I think we can make that work, but on one condition.”
It takes everything in him not to wrap the woman up in a bear hug. “Anything.”
“You let me meet this woman of yours.”
Nodding his head, he can’t agree fast enough. He thinks about his love and how sentimental she is, especially when it comes to their relationship. She’ll definitely want to meet that’s given them something so special. “I’d like that...we both would.”
••••
The next day at work its as if the universe is helping him out when the death of a marine who had suddenly come into a lot of money lands on their front door step. Of course its tragic but the shaggy blonde can’t help smile at the opportunity this case is bringing him. 
Once the two pair of partners return from their respective assignments they gather in the bullpen, trying to figure out the different angels that could’ve resulted in the marine’s untimely demise. 
“Maybe he was here to spend it.” Kensi speaks up, snowballing off of Callen’s statement about leaving behind a paper trail. 
Sam’s eyebrows raise, nodding his head at the strong possibility that she may be right. “Corporal Peterson said he was thinking about getting married.”
“An engagement ring from Tiffany’s?” Deeks questions, knowing Corporal Porter had a serious girlfriend and it would be logical he’d be hunting for a spectacular ring now that money wasn’t really an issue. 
The brunette locks eyes with her partner, flashing him a small grin. “You have no idea what that little blue box means to a girl.”
He smirks, thinking about the small delicate ring that’s in the black satin bag tucked in his wallet between a photo of them and Marg’s information. One of the main reasons he went in search at an antique shop is because he remembers the gaudy diamond ring Jack had proposed to her with and how it screamed the opposite of what his best friend was. That should’ve set off warning bells from the get go, because if there’s one thing Kensi Blye is not, its flashy. His girl isn’t one for bling and he knows the story behind the ring he bought will mean more to her than any content of a little blue box could. “Oh, but I do.”
••••
She’s been feeling him stare at her on and off all day...well more than usual. It’s when they’re walking towards the home goods store to question Porter’s girlfriend that she’s finally it. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
His brow furrows at her accusatory tone, shrugging his shoulders. “What, a guy can’t look at his fiancée?”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“Didn’t you?” He smirks, knowing good and well that they’re as good as engaged. 
She shakes her head. He’s right, but there’s no reason for her to voice that, not that there’s really time to before they’re already at the front of the store.
As her partner goes off to distract Diane’s manager, Kensi’s able to question the blonde without interruption. It’s when the young woman talks about she and Porter picking out rings that she suddenly feels a strange kinship with her. 
When Jack had proposed to her all those years ago she hadn’t really thought about how gaudy and so unlike her that the ring truly was. It wasn’t until he was off in Afghanistan that she would catch herself staring at the large diamond thinking that it didn’t belong there. Everything was different with him, she realizes that now that her rose colored glasses are off. 
She’s been having these moments ever since Marty proposed, finding herself imagining what kind of ring he’d give her. He loves her like no other, he knows she’s not into blingy things. It makes her smile when she remembers all the times he’s seen women with large diamond rings and spouting off something about someone overcompensating. She’d laugh and that would make him laugh, and in turn they’d get stares from strangers making them laugh even harder. Never in her life has someone made her laugh the way Marty Deeks has. 
Kensi’s focus goes back to the woman standing in front of her, against her own will the image of their roles reversed comes to the forefront of her mind. What if it was Marty that had been killed? The answer brings a gut wrenching ache over her. 
••••
The jewelry store op had been a bust. As soon as the man behind the counter got a glimpse of Kensi’s bracelet the air shifted and they were immediately asked to leave. It may have not turned out like they planned but Deeks can’t help but love the fact he and his partner got to deceive their coworkers once again by “posing” as a couple. Kensi didn’t seem too keen on showing affection however, especially when Sam and Callen were just outside. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when the sharp point of her heel lands directly into the top of his foot.
So now here they sit in the bullpen, in silence, trying to figure out the team’s next move. He took over Callen’s chair so they could work more closely but neither have come up with any links to their victim in the myriad of old case files piled on each desk. 
The shaggy blonde takes a look next to him, smiling at the pout that’s displayed on his girlfriend’s face. She hasn’t spoken a word in the past 30 minutes which is kind of worrisome. Afraid that he pushed to far by calling her his fiancée, he speaks up in hopes that she’ll respond. “Are you mad at me?”
“Dogs go mad. People...people get angry.”
The spark in her mismatched orbs makes him want to forget this nonsense and kiss her right then and there, but he quickly remembers the terms of their bet and knowing Callen isn’t anywhere around, he continues this little charade...for now. “Is this about the jewelry store? Listen, I was just trying to sell the fact that we were a couple.”
“Yeah, whatever. Like anybody would believe that we’re a couple.”
He has to hold back a laugh at her words because ever since middle school that’s all people thought they were. “You’re right. You are so not my type.”
••••
It takes longer than any of them anticipated but eventually Porter’s killer is caught. As Hetty congratulates them on a job well done, she hands Kensi a small ring box. The contents of said box are a delicate simple ring much like Diane had described. 
She thinks back to the woman and her heart aches for the loss that she’ll never get over. The life that she’ll never get to experience with the man who she loved. She’s drawn out of her thoughts at the distinct laughter of her love filling the room. Looking across to Hetty’s office she watches as he exchanges some verbiage with Sam making Callen laugh and she could swear there’s a hint of a smile on the Operation Manager’s face. It’s then she realizes that she wants to accept Marty’s proposal. Who the hell cares that they’ve only been dating for a few weeks. They’ve known each other their whole lives and she doesn’t ever want to live without him. There’s just one thing she has to do first.
Taking out her phone, she presses call on the newly added number “Diane, hey, Special Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS. I was wondering if I could drop by. I have something that Tom left for you.”
••••
Deeks watched from the passenger seat of the SRX as his partner handed over the small box to Diane. As she pried it open, tears immediately sprang to the woman’s eyes and before either knew it her arms were wrapped around the junior agent in a giant bear hug. It suddenly made him think about what if he were the one that died, leaving Kensi all alone. The thought alone breaks his heart in two.
A few minutes later the pair bid their farewells and part ways. He’s surprised a little at the look in her eyes, its not one of sadness but there’s something else, something he’s not sure how to describe. 
The shaggy blonde is so focused on his girlfriend that he doesn’t realize she misses the turn towards his apartment, instead she keeps going for a few minutes until she hits the Santa Monica exit. A few minutes later they’re back in the same spot at the overlook where they were just a week ago. 
“What are we doing here?”
She turns towards him, that unrecognizable look still swirling in her mismatched eyes. “Well, I’ve been thinking.”
18 notes · View notes
Text
QTVW Chapter 16
Showbiz* Sexy Queen (III)
----
Aunt Wen saw Mei Mu Lan's instantly happy and smiling look and silently looked down and poked the cake in her hand.
She said in a slow tone,
“Mu Lan, do you really like that movie star called Ling Yi Yao that much? Auntie Wen used to think that you were still young and is just a momentary obsession, but now that you have graduated from university and are going into society, you should know that she and you are not from the same world.
Aunt Wen has privately investigated, this Ling Yi Yao is actually the daughter of the boss of the giant Ling family in the entertainment industry, and is also the only proper heir of the Ling family, the background of the Ling family is not clean, such a woman is too far away from you.”
When Mei Mu Lan heard this, the smile on her face dimmed and she whispered,
“I know all this, but I don't want to regret later that I didn't pursue it hard enough and just give up, at least let me give it a try, no matter if it's a good result or a bad one, at least I have no regrets.
Auntie Wen, thank you, you have been looking after me all these years, I promise you that if there is really no hope, I will let go completely.”
Mei Mu Lan said, curled her lips into a smile and murmured,
“Let me at least give it a try, I want to visit her and give showbiz a try.”
Aunt Wen slowed down the pace of poking the cake in her hand, she placed it on the coffee table, then drew out a tissue and looked down to wipe her white fingers, a few dark glints flashed in her eyes.
After she had done this slowly and methodically, she said to Mei Mu Lan in a gentle tone,
“Now that you've made your decision, Auntie Wen will definitely give you a hand. I'll call director Wang Ye later and check the time to meet him, so you can have a good talk when you meet. You can find out about the film called 《The Burial Man》online first so you can give the director a good impression.”
Mei Mu Lan smiled brightly in spring as she nodded vigorously and said,
“I'll go check out the plot and characters of the film, thank you Auntie Wen.”
She stood up and gave Aunt Wen a hug before immediately striding off towards the bedroom.
Aunt Wen stiffened in place and said helplessly,
“Why can't they behave better, both of them?”
With that, she pulled out a cigarette and slowly stammered the smoke ring, dialing the director's number.
After turning on her computer, Mei Mu Lan remembered that she had to do something, she logged on to Weibo and Twitter, and a username called "Zero One Fan" appeared.
"Zero One Fan" is an alias for Ling Yi Yao's fans, and the origin of this alias is also related to the original owner.
The original owner created the first posting forum and micro-blog for Ling Yi Yao's fans. Before Ling Yi Yao's movie was a hit and before Ling Yi Yao became a movie queen, Mei Mu Lan had already become her backbone fan, making the posting forum and micro-blog a success, attracting a large number of people who initially fell in love with Ling Yi Yao, and by the time Ling Yi Yao became famous, the posting forum and micro-blog had been officially certified and became the only authentic fan communication platform.
The original owner was the founder and senior administrator of Zero One Fans.
The original owner's daily task, apart from singing and practicing a Peking Opera passage, was to log on to the two platforms every day and post the latest information she had gathered about Ling Yi Yao on the website, or to put out a large piece of factual evidence to those who came to scold her, so that they would leave without any success.
The original owner was a calm and sensible fan most of the time. When confronted with a black fan, she will be generous enough to listen to the suggestions; but when in secret, she will put on a small vest to track down the black fan and call the black fan names that she doesn't even know.
Her username "Zero One Fan" has also become the most famous of Ling Yi Yao's fans.
Mei Mu Lan looked at the record of the original owner's speech with a black line on her face, the big username "Zero One Fan" spoke more ably. Like:
Confronting black fans – “The new era advocates people's freedom of speech, you have the right to choose to speak, we also have the right to choose to block you, I hope you will be a calm fan and become a strong backer of Ling Yi Yao.”
Confronting a scandal – “About Ling Yi Yao having dinner with other male celebrities, I think this matter is very common in daily life, don't you guys have dinner with the opposite sex? I hope everyone understands and doesn't catch wind of it.”
Confronting plastic surgery – “For those who say Ling Yi Yao is a face-lifter, you can look at photos of Ling Yi Yao when she started out and photos of her life as a child, and then go to a plastic surgery clinic to see if Ling Yi Yao's face has shown any signs of change.”
The countless small vests, similar to "Ling Yi Yao I love you", "Kneel down to Ling Yi Yao", "Lord Ling Yi Yao I want to have babies with you", etc., with more direct usernames, will have an impact on the The above questions, so back to:
Confronting black fans – “Your head is half water, half rice, and together, it's called paste; your IQ is not online, please come back after networking; it feels like talking to you is pulling down my evolutionary time history.”
Confronting a scandal – “凸(艹皿艹) , Who is this man? He's a white boy who wants to take advantage of his position. Don't stop me, I'll take a bottle of acid and destroy his face.”
Confronting plastic surgery – “When you were born, you accidentally landed face first, go blame the midwife, don't come out to get back at society!”
The original owner took the split personality and elevated it to the level of life.
The corners of Mei Mu Lan's mouth twitched as she copied and pasted all of the statements that had been made on those ponies into the relevant part of the message, and after doing so, two hours had passed.
She couldn't wait to turn off Twitter and posting and instead opened the novel 《The Burial Man》and read it word for word.
《The Burial Man》, a novel set in 1916, a time of warlords in the country.
At that time, there were intense conflicts between warlords in various regions and frequent wars in the country, and at a time when everyone was actively fighting, an aged and well-known scholar deciphered a historical tablet that had been handed down for more than 4,000 years. And a shocking message was told to the present generation by this stone tablet.
That is, 4,000 to 5,000 years ago, in the time of the gods and goddesses of the West, an elixir called "immortality" was introduced, in fact, historical mythology also tells this point, that is, the well-known story of Chang'e, who stole the elixir to run to the moon in order to preserve her beauty.
On this stone tablet, however, this event is used as a lead-in to the fact that there are still burial mourners around the Kunlun Mountains in China who have been guarding this elixir of immortality for generations, waiting for the right person to come and obtain it.
The story has a slightly mythical setting, but the word "tomb raiding" is already closely associated with various myths and ghosts, and just as the scholar is about to make the news public he is murdered, in an "impossible" type of homicide for no apparent reason in front of a public audience, with his body intact and his blood tested for poisoning. But when the forensic pathologist performed an autopsy, his brain and heart were missing.
The incident caused an uproar, but it did not get out and was kept secret by the local warlord.
They sent relevant tomb raiders to Kunlun Mountain to raid the tomb, their actions were carried out in secret but there is no impervious wall in the world, the news was soon known by many other forces and sent people to investigate this matter one after another.
And so the story unfolds.
Ling Yiyao plays the female lead, the only undertaker in the film, and the other undertaker is her brother, the two of them are considered immortal and have been guarding the place for almost a thousand years.
The decrypted monolith brought in other forces which they fought against in a fight for life and death to guard the place.
Countless people died here, but this did not stop people's quest for immortality, and the blood-stained Kunlun Mountain Road finally opened this mysterious tomb.
Those who have entered the tomb are true experts, including tomb raiders from families with a heritage of more than 3,000 years, international mercenaries with the best skills, warlords and female agents who have entered undercover….
The traps inside the tombs killed countless people, but there were also many who remained at the end, and only a dozen people arrived at the end of the tombs after the great wave.
After a fight to the death, the male lead is killed by an undercover lineage girl from a family of tomb raiders, the blood stains the throne on the tomb and opens up the fantastical inner space of the mountain, fantasy and mythology come into play one after another, ghost soldiers and demons started killing them, and after all these battles, the only ones left are the nine-year-old child from the family of tomb raiders, and the undertaker female lead.
The child, chosen by the tomb mourners as the "best choice in history", swallowed the elixir of immortality and remained in the tomb forever, becoming the latest generation of tomb mourners.
And it is only here that the mystery of the matter is unveiled, and it turns out that the so-called stone tablet and the decryption are all traps set by the female lead.
Thousands of years ago, she was also a tomb raider who, together with her brother, swallowed the elixir of immortality, but at the cost of guarding this place for eternity and never leaving it more than a metre away.
And now, after more than a thousand years, she feels tired and weary, so, as she did a thousand years ago, she recruits a large number of people to raid the tomb and choose a new successor from among them to guard this place in her place for eternity.
The story ends with the female lead, dressed in an ancient outfit, singing a song from a thousand years ago, leaping from the throne of the tomb into the endless abyss inside the mountain.
After reading this story, Mei Mu Lan felt a shock in her heart that this was indeed a well-written novel and worthy of being followed and interpreted by so many people.
The production team has invested unlimited funds to produce an absolutely profitable production that will be passed on to the next generation; Wang Ye, a national and international director; Ling Yiyao, a movie queen, and Gu Junxi, a movie star in the lead roles; an international design team to create the costumes; and even the supporting characters are chosen from stars with millions of fans.
A lavish star cast, top-notch processing and production, a mysterious story background, and a large number of fans of the books could indeed make this film the top production of the year.
Mei Mu Lan closed the novel's webpage, opened the section on roles, and then found two supporting actresses who had "accidental" problems, so she guess it wasn't really an accident.
She looked at the two characters vacated above, one was the undercover agent of the tomb raiding family who killed the male lead, pure and bright looking, simple and innocent. It didn't fit her image at all, so she passed on the role.
The other character, an undercover female agent, is explicitly the mistress of a powerful warlord, a sultry-looking Shanghai beach dancer, but is actually a high-ranking intellectual undercover agent from a family of emerging powers.
She looked at the role and recalled the characteristics of the character and felt that it did resemble her. She could not help but curl her lips and smile, thinking: good, this is the role, she will be chosen.
Aunt Wen told her at dinner about the casting call to the Yokohama outside the suburbs in three days' time. Mei Mu Lan nodded when she heard that and started to arrange the plan.
Three days later, wearing an exquisite cheongsam, Mei Mu Lan slowly stepped down from the top-class sports car.
Her figure is sublime, her features are charming, her hair is curly as was popular at the time, and her make-up has a twenties and thirties flair.
She approached the Yokohama store on her thin, bare-backed heels, swaying like a weak willow.
Just like a real 1930s singer-songwriter, she walked slowly from the cabaret of Shanghai Beach to the eyes and hearts of those present.
At the moment of her appearance, everyone on the set stopped moving, the sound faded away, and everything was fixed on this woman who had stepped out of history.
A bearded man in his early thirties approached, a roll of scripts squeezed tightly in his hands, and then said in surprise and amazement,
“You're Miss Mei Mu Lan, right? I knew you were the one I was looking for when I saw your picture! It's you, no need to look any further,”
With a broad stroke of his pen, he wrote down Mei Mu Lan's name in the character field undercover agent.
Then he blushed and said,
“My name is Wang Ye and I'm the director.”
The corners of Mei Mu Lan's mouth are smiling, her lips are slightly hooked, and her charming phoenix eyes are slightly narrowed, slender and upturned, charming and seductive.
She exhaled softly,
“Hello, Director Wang Ye.”
The voice is so soft and mushy.
After greeting Mei Mu Lan, her eyes involuntarily fell on a woman in an ancient dress with a long green dress.
The woman didn't turn her head to look over like the others did.
She sat quietly in her recliner, her white, slender fingers tracing the pages of the script slowly, with gentle, yet harsh movements. At this moment she had her head slightly hung down, revealing a perfect and delicate side face.
Mei Mu Lan could not restrain the emotions that were violently evoked in her heart, she walked up quickly and reached the woman. Seeing her slowly look up, the perfect face that she had seen countless times before, officially entered her eyes.
Mei Mu Lan's breathing stopped as she desperately tried to control herself, but her body reacted with instinct.
Her cheeks burned red like the dusk sky, her beauty was startling, and her voice trembled slightly as she said,
“Hello Ling Yi Yao, I am Mei Mu Lan.”
She paused, then suddenly said aloud,
“I ...... I want to do prop play with you!”
Mei Mu Lan: "......"
Ling Yi Yao: "......"
Director Wang Ye, who followed her: "......"
The crew silently watching: "......"
10 notes · View notes
Text
Joyride: Prologue
Tumblr media
“Nord!”
The onyx vulpera awoke with a gasp, soft as it could be, as he jerked his head up from the shabby, little table. Oh, had he fallen asleep at his desk again? No doubt he’d be dying the day he actually decided to sleep in his own bed. He glanced down to regard the mess he’d made, only to notice the goopy, black ink that had splattered across both himself and the parchment he was supposedly scrawling on. Fur and ink, what an exciting mixture. Dunes know he’d be having the time of his life washing that out.
He barely had time to make himself presentable before another vulpera emerged from underneath the flap of his tent, the one who had called his name. To neither his nor anyone’s surprise, it was his relative, a cousin whose only mission in life was to bother the former with his “brilliant” ideas. Nord acknowledged his presence as best he could, before swiping a rag off the table and wiping at his sullied pelt. It wasn’t coming out.
“Nord, hey,” The swagger in his step, the giddiness in his features, the passion brimming at his cheeks, warped and stretched to either side by that smile. That damn smile. Nord knew those motions all too well. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you, ‘cause I think,” Here it comes. “And stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” Despite the urge to, Nord smiled encouragingly, as if to say ‘do go on,’ to which his counterpart was happy to oblige. “‘cause I think I got it!”
And there it was. The poor fox had to resist rolling his eyes into the back of his head and groaning, which he did with ease. He had the practice after all. “Yeah?” He replied, lifting his brow. “And what is the ingenious plan you’ve cooked up this time, Jole?” Wry smirk in hand--or on face, technically speaking--he raised a single digit as he continued, “Are we convincing the guards to personally escort us to the oasis by pretending to be, what was it?” He tapped his chin in sarcastic thought, before lighting up his face in a similarly sarcastic realization. “The Dune Duke?”
The other vulpera, Jole, was taken aback by an eyeroll of his own, as well as a derisive series of hardy har har’s. “Before you mock me,” He began. “Just hear me out,” Nord complied, allowing him to continue, “Hot take: we get a wagon, a few alpacas, and we take everyone who wants it on the adventure of their lives.” That showman’s finesse of his really shined through in moments like this. Nord supposed one had to build some sort of charismatic skill set when they came up with bizarre schemes as often as Jole did, which is to say, he was irritably used to this. Nonetheless, he went on, “Day-long trip, from here to there, let the kits see the sights and get a taste of that authentic caravaneer life. Hundred-percent educational experience, no foul play.” He bent forward in a semi-bow, spreading his arms to either side with a final, “Whaddya think?”
“Well, first off, I think you’re insane.” He responded, oddly calm in tone for how witty his remark had been. They shared a chuckle, though Nord was quick to recover. “So, what? Are we bribing some,” He vaguely waved his hand. “Famous caravaneer to be our guide? For celebrity appeal?” Jole shook his head, though he did gesture for Nord to keep guessing. He was, no doubt, delightfully entertained. Nord obeyed. “Will the alpacas be incredibly rare? One has extravagant colors, maybe? Hot pink?”
Jole produced a drawn-out, “Noooooope.” in reply. He was having fun with this, and Nord couldn’t help but roll back his eyes at that. For what felt like the first time, he was actually intrigued by the prospect, even if it was probably extraordinarily dangerous. Of course, he’d had this mentality about Jole’s ingenuity dozens of times before, but there was always one tiny complication or flaw in the grand scheme that ruined it for him. Suffice to say, he wasn’t making any special exceptions nor holding his breath for this one.
The onyx vulpera finally relented, leaning back onto his palms with a shrug--his palms still stained by the ink, obviously. “What is it then?” He said, boggled, despite having never guessed it on the first try before. “What’s the outside help?”
Jole grinned that cocky grin of his and arched forward, “There is none,” He lifted up his hands to dramatically waggle his fingers. “‘cause we do it ourselves. You and me,”
“You and I.” Nord corrected.
“You and I. Not even! Mostly me.” The ash-furred vulpera winked--sweet sand demons, he hated those--before straightening out his posture, because you just know all that bending and curving he did for his showy presentations was taking its toll on his spine. Nord didn’t think it possible for his eyes to go any further into the back of his head, yet here he was, on the verge of an eyeball backflip. Although, Jole’s performances aside, the idea itself was interest-piquing. It’s the kind of thing he would have enjoyed as a kit. It’s the kind of thing he could still enjoy now. But, as with all of Jole’s ploys, they were too selfish to be fully realized. His cousin was never one to scheme if he didn’t think it benefitted him too.
“Let me guess,” Nord’s eyes glinted with familiarity, as he went to meet his counterpart’s gaze with knitted brows. “First people you invite are the vixens you talked up at the story circle,” He lifted a finger just as Jole went to interject. “The same story circle where you regaled the tale of The Dune Duke and his Dusty Damsel.” He, too, grinned a malicious grin, snark and snide practically enchanting his demeanor in that moment. This is what made listening to Jole’s rambling so very worth it. Still, he couldn’t help but feign shame and aim a friendly punch at his shoulder, tacking on a, “I’m kidding.”
“You laugh now, but just you wait until I get things in full gear.” Jole assured, and as per any accusation that involved him and women, he felt pressed to address it. “And for one, those ladies were delighted to have me; for two, that story was great,” And in an attempt to mimic his cousin, he raised a finger to Nord’s face before he could interrupt. “And you can’t deny it, ‘cause everyone else thought it was great too!”
“I dunno.” The curve of Nord’s lip twirled into a sly smirk. “I personally thought the ending could’ve been a little better. Plus, aren’t stories at the story circle supposed to be true?”
“It was true!” He retorted, though he quickly remedied his behavior once faced with a skeptical look from Nord. He folded his arms and paused. “Some of it, anyway- Look, that’s not the point. Point is, we got things to do!”
“Not people, I hope.”
“Doh,” And at last, Nord squeezed an eyeroll out of him, so much so that he couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, inkface,” Wait, was it on his face? He went to uncomfortably feel at it as Jole continued, “--Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice that little detail when I rolled in here. Tell you what, you go wash up and I’ll do all the hard work, ‘cause I’m a generous and hard-working friend.”
Nord’s own laughter knocked the wind out of him. He replied, “You haven’t worked a day in your life.” just as Jole vanished back outside, to which he could hear a guffaw radiate from beyond his tent flap.
“It’s about persistence, not work ethic!”
The onyx vulpera scoffed, obviously, and although he wished to push the topic further, he decided against it. He turned back to that filthy desk of his, glancing at it with disdain, the disdain one got when they told themselves to do a chore. As if washing himself up wouldn’t take long enough! Note to Nord: sleep in your damn bed.
And then it donned on him, and he promptly dove his head past the tent flap in search of his cousin, which, praise be, there he stood, hands shoved in his pouch-pockets and eyes gliding from vixen to vixen. He’d slap himself in the face if he wasn’t preoccupied with another thought. “Jole!” He called out, to which the oblivious ashfur perked up an ear and spun on his heels to look back at Nord. “How do you plan on dealing with the older vulpera? That might be uncomfortable.”
“That’s the best part!” He shouted back.
“No supervision!”
Nord had spent far too many minutes scrubbing away at his paw, far too many hours. Had it even been an hour? He hadn’t cared to check how high the sun rose above the horizon, and who knows when he originally woke up. At this point, he could barely remember the night before at all. Though, knowing him, it might be better to say, “the early morning before.” What was it he was biding all that time with? Funnily enough, that was exactly the problem. It was the very fact he had nothing to bide his time with. With each sunrise came the same routine, the same chores, the same hunts, the same necessities for survival. Had he grown so stale that he was finally giving into Jole’s senseless thrillseeking ways? Was there a part of him that wished that one of his cousin’s ploys would actually come to pass?
He wasn’t sure.
What he was sure of though, was that this damn ink, wasn’t coming out. Even with the addition of lukewarm water, it insisted on sticking to him. What was that ink made out of anyway? Tar? He needed a break, he needed a getaway, he needed something to sweep him off his mundane feet and wrap him in the exoticity of life. He needed an adventure. But, every time they got close, Jole lost motivation, or found something better to do, or abandoned the project all together out of spite.
Maybe this time, it’d be different. Just maybe.
Not that he was getting his hopes up, of course. Last thing he needed was to put effort into something and have it fail miserably, but hey, he was a hopeful guy. His birthright was that of faith he could misplace at his leisure, not that he was in any hurry. If anything, he was in more of a hurry to get this stain off. How much force did he have to apply? There’s only so much pressure a fifteen-year-old kid can exude!
“Nord!”
Fuck it. Just wrap it, wrap it up, no one will know. And that’s just what he did. He tore a strip of leather off of his own trousers and laced it around the still (somehow) ink-soaked hand. You burned yourself. That’s the story we’re going with. At last, he ushered himself outside, seeing none other than Jole standing… about a yard or two away from him. A cough was exchanged between the two as he moved an inch or two closer. His flair for the dramatic was a gamble as to whether or not it would be properly executed.
“So!” The ashfur began, clicking his tongue.
Nord, meanwhile, calculated all the excuses that were about to leave his cousin’s mouth. They were out of wagons. They want to keep the alpacas out of the deep desert for a few months. I had a wagon, but the wheel snapped when I tried moving it. I had an alpaca, but they fell ill just today. Everyone I asked said no. I kinda had a change of heart. I got an even better idea! I thought you hated the idea, so I got discouraged. I was sure you meant-
“We’re back in business, baby!”
2 notes · View notes
lostinfantasies38 · 4 years
Text
Cullistair Roomies
I can’t stop with these idiots. They are filling a much needed fluff void in my life right now. So here - have some more.
@ginnyq @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @jellysharkbat @gowombat83 @fandomn00blr @bigfan-fanfic @kittimau @sharkapologists @schoute
Running his fingers through Alistair’s short hair affectionately, Cullen murmured, “Tell me a secret. Something Eowyn doesn’t know.”
Angling his head to the side, Alistair’s hazel eyes glimmered with mischief. “You want a piece of me all to yourself, do you?”
Cullen smirked. “Is that so bad? I hope that one day I might be able to say I know you better than she does. Of course, that may be impossible, but I’ll at least have a few things that are only known to us.”
An explosion of warmth coursed through Alistair’s body as the other man’s words settled in his chest. They held a promise of forever and it made him giddy at the idea. He knew immediately the secret he wanted to share. Shooting the blonde a lopsided grin, he kept his tone light when he answered.
“Alright then, I have one that I’ve never told anyone.” Cullen’s lips pulled into a genuine smile with the pronouncement. “I’m half-elven.”
The attorney immediately frowned, but there was no condemnation in his gaze, merely confusion. “But I thought your mother -”
Alistair waved his hand airily. “Lies. A sob story spoon fed to me as a child so I wouldn’t go digging. It was bad enough when the truth of my parentage was revealed after Maric’s death. All the gossip mongers who run in noble circles weren’t obligated to keep their silence anymore. The royal family were aware from the beginning it would be a scandal if my existence ever became public, but they knew it would be an absolute circus if the world found out about my mother.”
Sighing heavily, he continued, “I didn’t learn the truth until I was with the Wardens. We had a mission in Orlais and I… met her, actually. Turns out she’s a former Warden and was tasked by the Orlesian government to aid us. We grew close during our time there and shortly before we left…she told me the truth. She had the documents to prove it. Documents I’d scoured records bureaus and hospital databases for years to find. Records conveniently erased by the royal family, but she had originals. I had their authenticity verified when I got back to Ferelden.”
“Why did you never tell Eowyn?” Cullen queried. “Why trust me with it over her?”
“All my life, Eowyn has been my champion,” Alistair’s fingers danced nervously across his thighs as he continued. “She stood up for me against bullies at school and I did the same for her, of course. But while my bullying was spawned by jealousy, hers was borne of hatred. At the time, anti-elven sentiment was still rampant and in some places it still is, just less blatant than it used to be. I know she resented that. That I had it easier even as a known royal bastard because I was human. She never said it, but I knew.”
He choked slightly, his voice thick as he barrelled on. “I didn’t want her to find another reason to secretly begrudge me. I stood in the gap for her as her ‘human’ friend when we were kids, but in reality I’m no more human than she.”
Cullen’s arms tightened reflexively, inhaling sharply at the self-loathing in the other man’s words. “Alistair, you know she wouldn’t actually resent you for something outside of your control. Something you could never have known and only learned as an adult by accident.”
The auburn-haired man chuffed a weak laugh. “And that is why I told you. I knew you wouldn’t care because Eowyn is your friend, too. The fact that you immediately jump to her defense, in an effort to convince me to tell her and give away the secret you requested, makes it better.”
Cullen flushed deeply as the man half draped across his chest studied him. “I, uh, ahem…” he floundered.
Sliding off his torso, Alistair scooted up the couch to reach his face, cupping his cheek and circling his thumb along the smooth skin fondly. “I am a lucky man, indeed, to have such a caring person in my life. Even though I didn’t have years to learn about you through someone else, I still feel as though I’ve known you forever. Odd, isn’t it?”
Recalling the shock that raced along his arm from their first handshake, Cullen tossed him a shy smile. “Not that odd, actually,” he replied softly. 
Alistair’s eyes turned molten. “You felt it, too, didn’t you?” The blonde nodded nervously, his own gaze swirling with heat.
Cullen moved on instinct, closing the small space between them, an unsteady groan rumbling in his chest as their mouths met. He never wanted to stop kissing him. If it were possible to stay suspended in time, to preserve a moment for all eternity, this would be the one he chose. Alistair’s vulnerable confession laid his heart bare and Cullen soothed the ache with lips and tongue, their silent tears mingling as they comforted each other. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever experienced.
13 notes · View notes
aewriting · 4 years
Text
Loathly - Chapter 2
Here is the second chapter to my “Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell” Malex AU!  I have always wanted to post a story with daily updates, and this one is short and contained enough that I think I’m really going to do it, haha!  Enjoy!
Warnings for homophobia, sexism, ageism.
Read all parts here on AO3, if you prefer.
***
Alex and his brothers, by this point, had been on a crusade for almost a year, and had come to no consensus. Naturally, Jesse had been in a vile mood, even worse than usual. With time running out, he’d ridden with Alex and Flint to the far reaches of the Manes territory – close to the Antarian border, with the thought that the responses of the inhabitants of the border zone might be more aligned with an Antarian way of thinking, since it had been King Noah who had posed the riddle, after all.
Some days, Alex wonders why he is trying so hard.  Why not just let Noah kill his father?  Realistically, though, they were all there that day. All in the Antarian woods, all trespassing, all hunting King Noah’s deer.  No telling that he wouldn’t come for all of them if Jesse didn’t deliver the proper answer.  
Focused as he is on contemplating these questions of mortality, he almost doesn’t notice the woman on the trail. “Whoa,” he eases his horse.
The woman is… distinct. Older, much older even than Jesse, and oddly proportioned, with a mess of wiry grey curls. A fine mount, though, and an even finer cloak of richly dyed wool, woven with precious stones. Not… not an attractive woman, but a stately one, nonetheless.  Her eyes, though… her eyes, Alex could say with certainty, are memorable.  Large, amber-colored, expressive. 
She rides up to Jesse.  “Good day, King Manes,” she calls. Jesse’s eyes narrow, and he looks at her disdainfully. Alex knows his father, knows the way he talks about women, treats them. A woman like this, under normal circumstances, would be totally invisible to him. He seems offended, now, that she is forcing an interaction.  Jesse looks like he is about to say as much when she speaks again.
“Like it or not, but your life is in my hands.”
Jesse’s eyes widen.  “Is that a threat?”
The woman chuckles.  “By the gods, no!”
“Then what did you mean by it?” asks Flint, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Word has spread about you. Your quest.  You seek answers. Well,” she revises. “You seek an answer. The answer.”
Jesse stares at her.  “Go on.”
Her lips quirk into a half smile. “None of the answers you’ve received to date can help you,” she says, matter-of-fact.  “But I know the true answer, and I am willing to help you.” She pauses.  “On one condition.”
Jesse rolls his eyes, sighs loudly.  
The woman continues unperturbed. “I seek the protection of the Manes kingdom, and the security that can only come with an alliance with a man of the Manes lineage. Give me one of your sons in marriage, and I shall tell you the correct answer to King Noah’s puzzle.”
Jesse recoils.  “Marriage?”
“Aye,” says the old woman. “Those are my conditions.”
“Sentence one of my sons to a life with you?  Woman, have you seen yourself?”
Her eyes narrow. “I have indeed, and that changes nothing of my offer.”  She pauses, looks Jesse up and down.  “Lord Noah does not know that I have this answer that you have been seeking. He has been proclaiming, far and wide, that he has you beat, that he will soon have your head.  He knows that he has given you an impossible task and is assuming your failure.” She smiles wickedly.  “I can’t imagine that you like to lose, King Manes.”
Jesse regards her carefully. “My youngest.  Alex.  He will do, for you.”
Alex is stock still, shocked.
How dare he.
His father… his father knows about him.  Has known for sure since the Jelnos campaign 4 years ago, has suspected for far longer. He hates, hates Alex’s… preferences.  Perversions.  But he knows about them.  And yet…
Alex had always hoped he would escape marriage.  Jesse has four sons – there are three others for ruling kingdoms, making alliances, continuing the royal bloodline.  Alex had always hoped he could simply do… something else.  While he never dreamed of actually being able to live his life openly, authentically, he at least hoped that his father would not force him into some sham political marriage.
But here he is.
He thinks about it, then, really thinks.  Looks at this woman, whose name he does not even know, and in this moment, considers that this… could actually be better.  Better than marrying some child bride from god knows where, being expected to… to bed her, produce children.  God, the thought turns his stomach, leaves him cold and upset.  With this woman… she is too old to bear children, surely. There would not be that pressure. And if he was married to her, to save his father’s life, perhaps his father would ease up in his scrutiny of him, perhaps the rumors about Alex’s proclivities would finally quiet…  
“Show me this ‘Alex’,” says the woman in a commanding tone. Jesse gestures to Alex, and Alex urges his horse forward.
“My lady,” he says, hating how unsteady his voice sounds.
“What say you to this plan, Sir Alex?” the woman asks.  
Alex draws a deep breath. “I am under the command of my lord and king.  It pleases me to carry out his wishes.”
The woman narrows her eyes. Nods. “Very well,” she says.  “He’ll do. Thank you, King Manes.”
Jesse nods.  ‘What is your name, my lady?”
“I am the Lady Guerin.”
“Lady Guerin,” Jesse repeats, his tone cold.  “I do not like being tricked into bargains, so now I ask that you keep up your end of the deal.  Pray tell, what is it that everyone desires most, above all else?”
She holds up a wrinkled hand. “No, no, not until you must present the answer to King Noah.  What’s to stop from killing me, otherwise?” She smiles, slow and cunning.  “A royal son is a limited resource, and I’m sure many a person would love to marry a man handsome as your son.” Jesse scoffs a bit. The woman narrows her eyes.  “A soldier too, no?”
Alex looks down quickly. She has seen his mangled leg, despite his best attempts to conceal it.
“I understand there is one month left,” says the woman.  “I intend to get to know my betrothed.”
***  
They set up camp outside the woman’s house.  They’re guarding her, really, but they try to make it more pleasant than that.  
His brothers are harsh in their judgment of her.  
“I’ve never seen a hag so foul,” Flint mutters late one night as they sit around the campfire.  “Thank the gods father gave her to Alex,” he says to Gregory.  “Can you even imagine the horror of bedding her?”
Gregory grunts a little, pokes at the fire.
Alex sighs, so deeply. “Flint,” he says, voice low.  “She is to be my wife.  I ask that you please keep your thoughts to yourself.” Flint raises an eyebrow at him but stays quiet. “She… she is saving father’s life.  She’s given us food and shelter here.”
It’s been good food, too. Every day, the old woman cooks for them. Even Flint’s been impressed.  The food is rustic, nothing like the delicacies at the palace, but everything is filling and tasty.  Alex helps her, sometimes, supposes he should at least speak to her if they are truly going to be wed. He has been surprised, pleasantly. The woman is wise, with a wicked sense of humor. He’s nearly concerned for her sometimes, with the sharpness of her wit.  She seems savvy though – won’t deploy her cunning too openly around Jesse, and most of it just sails over his brothers’ heads.  She’s modest, too – almost oddly so, Alex thinks.  Every night, at dusk, she bids her leave and retreats to her small cabin, not to be seen until morning.  He has invited her to sit by the fire in the evenings, to share in song and wine, but she has always refused.  Without the evenings to chat, Alex takes advantage of their time together during the day, assisting with the cooking, the laundry.
“Why marriage?” Alex asks one afternoon, as they chop onions on a makeshift table in the clearing.
The woman looks at him with those amber eyes, studies him. Alex feels vulnerable under her scrutiny.
“You could have just asked for protection.  Why did you press for marriage?”
The woman purses her lips, looks down.  “I have had troubles with King Noah of Antar. For my own safety, I needed to be sure your father would honor our bargain.  I wanted him to commit to something that would be difficult to back out of.” She worries her lip slightly with her teeth, and looks at Alex with great uncertainty. The expression seems so out of place.
“I am sorry to have put you in such a position.  I… I know what I am.  What I look like.  You are sacrificing your future, your chances for a real match.  You’re a young, attractive man and – “
Alex places a hand on her bony wrist, interrupts her. “Please, it’s… it’s fine.  Just…” he trails off.  He feels an urge to tell her, about him. To disclose the limitations that a marriage to him would entail. “I cannot give you what other men could.”
She looks at him sharply.  
“I… I assume it is… past your time,” Alex stammers. “For children.” The woman narrows her eyes. “That is… fortunate.  For I fear, I couldn’t…”
The woman nods knowingly. “I do not please you.”  
Alex looks around, drops his voice.  “No woman could please me.  In that way.”
The woman’s head snaps up. She scrutinizes him, as if searching for something.  “Were you… injured, there?  As with your leg?”
Alex’s eyes widen. “No, no… it’s not that.  It’s…” He goes quiet.  What he’s about to say… there are many in Unidos that would see him hung for his desires, or worse. But this woman… in the short time he has known her, she has proven herself open-minded. Clever and worldly in unexpected ways.  And she lives so close to the Antarian lands, lands where, if the rumors are true, desires like Alex’s are accepted, embraced, even…
“I desire men,” he says, plainly.
The woman looks startled. “Oh.”
“As a husband,” he says, clearing his throat, “should you have need of… needs,” he stammers. “I will not stand in your way, as long as you are discreet. We, we will figure something out for you.  If you wish.” He feels embarrassed, speaking of such things.
“I was not under the impression that such… arrangements would be acceptable in Unidos,” the woman says, carefully.  “Is this a test, Sir Alex?”
“No,” Alex says quickly. “No test.” His shoulders slump.  “Just the truth.  A bitter one.” He bites his lip, a little. “I just… I thought you should know.  Before you commit to a marriage with me.  I apologize if I have offended you.” He looks at the ground.  “Disgusted you.”
The woman grips his hand tighter and, without warning, touches his chin, gently.  Tips his head up to meet her gaze.  “Nothing about you disgusts me.”
Alex is silent, just staring at her.
The woman drops her hand from his face, then, looks away quickly.  “The people of Unidos have strange prejudices that I do not share. Your nature, your… desires, your very being… they offend me not.  Not in the slightest,” she says forcefully.  “But I must ask, why did you agree to a match with me?”
Alex looks at her sadly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak so freely to you.  I don’t, don’t truly know you, your background, who you are…” He shakes his head. “But, by the gods, I want to tell you.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, despite Flint’s absence. “I cannot go against my father. For any reason.  You… you have surely seen the type of man he is.  And I thought, well… there are worse matches. Given your, your age,” he says, delicately, “I had hoped that certain marital duties might not need to be part of our contract.”
The woman holds his gaze with those unfathomable eyes. “Not if you don’t want to.  Never, if you don’t want to, Sir Alex.”
She looks so earnest, in that moment, so open and true. Alex feels, deep in his gut, that he can trust her. He raises their still-clasped hands to his mouth, presses a chaste kiss to the ridge of her knuckles.  
“Thank you,” he whispers.
21 notes · View notes
nblenasabrewing · 4 years
Note
Hi. Recently, I decided to start writing my own fan fiction, and since your one of my favorite fan fiction authors, would you mind answering a few questions.How do you keep your attention on your work? How much time do you spend editing? How do you know when a story is finished? How do you write authentic relationships? How do you create the best emotions you can from your viewers? How do you really wrap it all together?
Hoo boy, okay! Let’s see if I can answer these in a good way...
How do you keep your attention on your work?
That is the hardest thing for every writer. Ask anyone when the last time they touched one of their WIPs was and it could be anywhere from last week to six months ago. There isn’t a one-size-fits all answer, unfortunately. You have to find what’s best for you. When I really want to focus on my writing, I try to emulate what I always did in school -- turned on music or some kind of background noise, closed out everything else, and just... tried to focus. I also have multiple stories with different ideas, genres, universes, etc., so if I go to open one thing and I find I’m not interested in it, I try for something else.
Some people aren’t wired that way, though. Some people need to turn off everything and basically shut themselves in a silent room to focus. And that’s okay! It really depends on what kind of environment you work best in.
Being invested in the story is also good. Don’t force yourself to write something you don’t have any interest in. If nothing’s coming, step back and take a break. Also, motivation! Hype yourself for writing. I’ll usually talk to someone about it and my ideas and get excited before I go in to write. That’s helped stir up long-dead ideas as well.
If you listen to music while you work, have a writing playlist! Something soft that you enjoy, won’t distract you with sudden outbursts of singing, but also you won’t be stopping every other song to skip. That kind of thing really takes you out of the flow.
And mostly, don’t be mad at yourself if you don’t write “enough.” I’ve had days where I wrote 50 words and days where I wrote 3,000. Be kind to yourself. Every word is good.
How much time do you spend editing?
This is a tricky one, because I constantly go back and read what I’ve written before I finish (which isn’t something I recommend). So I kind of passively edit while I’m re-reading, which is one time through. Then when I finish I’ll leave it for a day or two, then go back and change up the doc somehow (background color or font type or font color) to make it different, and the change tricks your brain into paying more attention. Anyway, that’s a second pass-through. Then I’ll one more focused reading, and skim it as I’m uploading it to AO3. So I guess that’s 3-4 times, probably a couple hours all together. And I still miss typos, because I’m not exactly a professional editor, and also it’s hard to work with your own stuff. Some people get Betas (volunteer proofreaders) to help, but I’m very much of the opinion that it’s fanfiction, and it’s meant to be fun. Nothing is fun if you’re too worried about “what if someone judges me for missing commas?”
How do you know when a story is finished?
9 times out of 10, I start a story with a certain scene in mind that I want to write toward -- for example, when I started writing Pieces, it was with the goal of getting Lena’s memory back and her facing Magica. So I wrote with that in mind, and I knew once I hit it, I was going to lose momentum on it.
The times when I write with just an idea and no scenes in mind are... interesting. Those are usually the ideas I lose steam on pretty fast, and I’ll try to revisit later to see if I can find more inspiration.
tl;dr, have a loose guideline or certain points you want to hit, etc. Even if you just start with “I want to write to this one scene”, it’ll keep you going.
How do you write authentic relationships?
This is... a little harder. I don’t do anything special, I just write and try to imitate canon. Webby is a fluffy death machine, Lena is a wanna-cool-disaster-gay teenager, the triplets are basically the Three Scrooges, etc. Not... to brag or anything, but I’ve been told I have a pretty good ability to capture characters’ voices. It’s something that comes from a lot of practice and writing a lot of different characters over the years. Writing their relationships just goes from there. 
Understanding the relationships also helps -- HDL and Webby have a very sibling dynamic, for example, so you’ll want to try and write them as siblings (one of the reasons shipping HDL/Webby just doesn’t work IMO, but anyway), or most of Lena’s relationships are lowkey antagonistic in some kind of way by nature of her personality -- she’s very sarcastic and likes to challenge things. One of my fave dynamics to write is her and Beakley because Lena is sarcastic, and Beakley is dead-ass Britishly dry, so writing the two of them seems like they should clash, but they actually fit together really well as long as you don’t make Lena too mean or Beakley too stiff. Understanding the characters and how they connect with each other really helps with writing their relationships with another.
Then, of course, there are the interactions that haven’t happened and most people wouldn’t think of like Lena and Della, and you can just do whatever the hell you want because there’s zero canon base to work off of. And again, it’s a matter of looking at the characters and understanding how they’ll react. Della is impulsive and a disaster, but she’s also extremely motherly and would probably take one look at Lena and go “this one’s mine now.” Lena, of course, has no interest in having someone “parent” her, but Della is a wildcard in that Lena has no history with her, and Della has no preconceived notions. 
Does any of this make any sense?
How do you create the best emotions you can from your viewers? 
Any emotions I invoke are completely accidental XD Word choice is always helpful, though - words and descriptions can really make a difference. I guess the best way to show that is with an example:
1) “I don’t understand you!” Webby yelled, frustrated. “Why can’t you just talk to me?!”
It’s okay, but not particularly IC -- Webby isn’t really the yelling type, and there isn’t much description. Compared to:
2) “I don’t understand you,” Webby said quietly. Her eyes were on the floor, fingers fiddling with her skirt. She almost sounded disappointed -- far worse than anything else Lena could have imagined. “Did I do something wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?”
More IC -- Webby is boisterous and happy, but she also has some deep insecurities, and Lena’s inability to talk about her feelings probably hits her hard because it seems like Lena doesn’t trust her. She wouldn’t be mad at Lena for that, though -- she’d blame herself.
Also, more scene. Show don’t tell and all that. You see Webby’s insecurities through the way she fidgets, and the way she’s looking at the floor. And you get Lena’s silent reaction -- she’s upset Webby, and she’s lowkey mad at herself for it because she never wants to upset Webby.
How do you really wrap it all together?
I definitely get ten million different ideas when I’m writing something -- like seeing ten million different futures and outcomes. One of my original ideas with Pieces, for example, was to hold off on Webby and Lena meeting and have Magica attack several times before they met. But it wasn’t a sustainable idea, and at the end of the day, it wasn’t what I wanted for the story. I was more going for the idea that Lena would always care for Webby no matter who or what she was -- semi-soulmate-ish except it’s more “Lena’s feelings are always there no matter how messed up her mind is.” So having them meet under more natural circumstances was better.
Basically, know the tone you’re going for with your story, and follow that idea path (instead of veering off and going into the waters of “well what if I did this or this or this or this”). And you can totally change ideas halfway through! Lord knows I have. Just find a way to tie your concepts together
I really hope this helps, and good luck with the writing!
6 notes · View notes
beyond-the-mirror · 4 years
Text
Music of the Night (V x Reader)
Hello everyone! Another chapter done and ready. Now that I got some few chapters done, I’ll go back to writing Nocturnal Encounters as well, so stay tuned.
Special thanks to @minteyeddemon and @thedyingmoon for being awesome writers. If you want to be tagged too, you are free to ask me anytime.
…………
Chapter 5: Revelation
Tumblr media
“Bravi! Bravi! Bravissimi!”
A standing ovation was right before you. Tears started forming in your eyes as you curtsied gratefully to the audience. You had just finished performing Elissa’s aria ‘Think of Me’, and judging by the reaction of all the spectators, your performance was an utter success.
The velvet curtains closed in front of you, allowing you to retire back towards the green room where all your colleagues congratulated you warmly for the amazing job you did on the stage.
As an intermission was announced at the end of the act, the Vicomte stood from his seat at one of the boxes and excused himself from his companions. As Raoul walked out and into the hallway, he contemplated what he had just witnessed happening on stage. The way you moved across the stage in smooth and airy strides, the divine emotion conveyed in your voice as you sang the aria, the authenticity and sheer bliss in your smile and your eyes…
Such a wonderful woman you were, skilled, hardworking… When he first laid eyes on you, he felt a unique and tender sensation flowing inside of him. You had bewitched him, and enthralled him to no extend.
As a smile formed on Raoul’s face, he quickly made his way through the hallway.
…………
“What a wonderful night! I am proud to announce that this production has been an outstanding success!” Firmin entered the crowded green room. The opera had just finished and the all the performers and staff members were now reunited there. “Thank you everyone, for we know that tonight’s show couldn’t have been made possible without each and every single one of you. And now, it’s time for a celebration!”
Every time after a successful premiere, one of Fortuna’s most prestigious venues would close off for the day to host a party for all the staff members of the Opera House. Now everybody was looking forward to a nice hangout with food and drinks after all the effort they put in the production finally paid off.
You were currently sitting at your vanity inside your very own private dressing room, given to you since you were now the new lead soprano and actress for ‘Hannibal’. The heavy makeup had finally been removed and your hairdo was already undone, your locks of hair cascading freely down your back. All the accessories and jewelry had now been discarded and carefully put away, your usual earrings now back on your ears, and a lovely white silk robe now over the red and gold costume dress you had been wearing for the musical.
You sat there thoughtfully as you held the portrait of your father in your hands. You had taken it with you and placed it on the vanity of the dressing room for good luck, so that you could feel his spirit right at your side supporting you.
Placing the picture up to your chest, you gently smiled. “Thank you papa.” And with a soft kiss on the image of your father, you placed the picture once again on the vanity before moving a scented candle next to it, carefully lighting it up.
A knock on the door distracted you from your train of thoughts. Moving to open it, you were greeted by Nico as well as…
“Kyrie?! Nero?!” you squealed as the red haired woman ran towards you and pulled you into a warm tight hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here in Fortuna?!”
“Wanted to surprise you.” Nero gently hugged you as soon as Kyrie pulled off and let you breathe again. “Although to be honest, we were the ones surprised when we suddenly saw you as the main character.”
“Indeed. Why didn’t you tell us before?” Kyrie questioned you with curiosity and confusion in her eyes. “You were absolutely divine on stage! And your voice was so beautiful, you completely owned that aria!”
Kyrie’s words made a blush appear on your cheeks, that is until Nero asked a question you definitely didn’t want to answer.
“Where did you learn to sing like that?”
“Umm…” you trailed off, unsure of what to tell them. “I-It’s a very long story actually. Let’s just say a… ‘special’ person for me has been giving me a few lessons.”
“Well, whoever this person is hun-” Nico wrapped an arm around your shoulder “-they definitely taught you well judging by that blessed performance of yours. By the way, you going to the party later?”
“Thank you Nico but I’m still not sure. I’m feeling a little tired, that’s all.”
“In that case you should rest, but if you change your mind you can call us anytime and we’ll take you there.” You continued chatting, catching up with every detail that’s happened in your lives. Kyrie has been doing excellently since ‘Wicked!’ turned out to be a huge success in Broadway, and you promised you would save enough money to go see her perform live. You also mentioned the quite eventful times when famous soprano Carlotta Giudicelli used to work at the Opera House, dealing with her meltdowns were a serious handful for everyone and especially for Madame Trish.
After some time, your friends decided to leave so they could get ready for the party, hugging you goodbye and wishing for you to rest enough so that you could join them later. You were about to change out of your costume when another knock sounded on your door.
“Talk about receiving so many visitors in my dressing room.” You thought as you quickly put on your robe and made your way to open the door. Outside was no other than the Vicomte himself, holding a bouquet of luscious red roses.
“Vicomte de Chagny! What do I owe the honor of your visit?”
“There’s no need to keep the formalities dear, you may call me Raoul if you like.” He offered you a warm and charming smile. “May I come in?”
“Oh sure, please do.” You stepped aside to let him enter.
“I came her to congratulate you personally for the outstanding performance tonight, a gifted voice like yours deserves all the praise this world have to offer.” Raoul handed you the bouquet, which you hesitantly accepted since it was a present you didn’t expect at all from the Vicomte.
“I would also like to request, if it’s not too bold for me to ask, if you wanted to assist to our party as my date for the night.”
Your eyes widened in surprise at his request. “Oh… please excuse me Vi- I mean, Raoul, but I’m afraid I… I do not have a proper dress for the occasion.” You weren’t sure to accept Raoul’s invitation, he was the Opera’s patron after all.
“Oh that’s no problem at all, I’m sure we can find an appropriate dress for you in no time. There are a few local designers I know personally who can gladly lend you a gown. ” Now you didn’t know what to say, your eyes glanced around the room, still unsure wether to go with the Vicomte or not.
You took a seat at the vanity. “I’m deeply sorry Raoul, but to be honest I’m feeling a little exhausted after everything that has transpired.” Pausing for a few seconds, the next words came out your mouth without you realizing. “Besides, i don’t think he would agree…”
Raoul raised an eyebrow in confusion “He wouldn’t agree? Your father or… a boyfriend perhaps?”
You mentally scolded yourself. “Oh! Um no… my voice teacher actually. He is a very strict professor and I’m not sure he would like me going.” It was technically true, the phantom took discipline very seriously just like Trish with every rehearsal. He expected you to be always on time and focus on your lessons, no late partying and such shenanigans since he considered them mere earthly matters that would only get in the way of your career.
Still, Raoul kept insisting, always keeping a charming smile and kind eyes. “Please (Y/N), everyone is waiting for our main star to join us to celebrate the premiere’s success. Maybe your professor wants you to relax and have some fun as a reward for all your efforts this season, I’m sure he’ll understand.”
He had a point. Besides, you could still leave the party at a reasonable hour too and still arrive at your lessons on time.
You nodded your answer. “Alright then, I gladly accept your invitation Raoul. I’m just gonna need some time to change and I’ll see you later.”
He flashed a bright grin before taking your hand in his, kissing the knuckles gently. “I shall leave you then, I’m going to wrap up some business affairs with Firmin and Andre and then I’ll come back to you.” He walked to the door, pausing right before stepping out. “See you later, dear (Y/N).”
As door closed, you turned to your father’s portrait. “I’m not sure papa. I mean, he seems to be a nice man, but…” You let out a sigh. Although at first glance it seemed like Raoul was trying to make an advance on you, there was the possibility that maybe you were simply misunderstanding his actions and that he was just being nice to you. Besides, you didn’t consider too appropriate having a close relationship with the very own patron of the Opera, with you choosing to rather keep things as professional as possible.
“Oh papa… what should I do?”
Suddenly, a chill ran down your spine, feeling as if you were no longer alone in the dressing room.
“Such an insolent boy!” the Phantom’s voice resonated through the entire room, a startled gasp leaving your lungs at the anger in his tone. “How dare this young suitor bask in your glory? Requesting you to ditch your singing lessons for a simple night out.”
“No Phantom, do not speak ill of him.” You searched around the room for the source of his voice, but couldn’t find him. “He’s only being nice. My friends want me to go too, everyone has the right to celebrate after a job well done.”
“I hope you haven’t forgotten what I always tell you about earthly matters.” His voice was now calm but chilling, but you didn’t falter. After all, your family has raised you to always stand up and assert yourself in any situation, and if if your decision was to go and celebrate with your friends then the Phantom has no right to decide over you.
“I haven’t Phantom. ‘Detach yourself from all earthly connections, for they only drive you further from the heavenly music’, those are the words you gave me. I did promise you to never forget them, for you have become my guide, my mentor and my guardian after all this time.”
The Phantom hummed thoughtful before speaking once again.
“Flattering, my child. I am glad to have proven myself worthy of your trust, a precious treasure I shall keep with me always.” He now spoke in a very soft tone, the deepness of his voice almost enrapturing you. “And to show my gratitude for the trust you have confided me these last years, I shall now reveal myself to you, see why in shadow I hide.”
Reveal himself? Were you about to truly meet the Phantom? He kept his identity a total secret ever since he appeared to you that day inside the darkness of the storeroom, and now he was about to reveal his real identity to you!
So many questions filled your mind. Who is he really? Was he an actual ghost? What was his real name?
“Phantom, where are you now?”
“My lovely nightingale, look at your face in the mirror behind you. I am there inside.”
You turned back. Hanging on the wall in front of you was a full body mirror that was normally used during fitting tests for the costumes and when putting on big and complex gowns for the play. You slowly approached it while staring at your own reflection, wondering what the Phantom meant with him being ‘inside the mirror’.
You were now standing right in front of it, the only reflection on its surface being yours. It was then that strange a silhouette appeared right next to your own reflection, it was barely visible and you tried your best to identify what it was.
As the image became clearer, you almost fell to the ground in fear. The faint image of a tall man had appeared next to your own reflection, he appeared to be wearing an all-black outfit consisting in a tailored suit, a long cape on his back and an elegant wide brim hat that obscured the upper half of his face.
There was no doubt about it. It was him.
“Phantom… Is that really you?”
“Yes, my child. I am your angel of music, the one watching over you all this time.” A clicking sound rang in your ears, and right before you, the mirror began sliding to the side, revealing what appeared to be an old set of stairs that descended deeply into the dark.
And right at the entrance, was the Phantom itself. The exquisite black suit fitted perfectly over his lithe body, the collar sporting a twin pair of intricate silver brooches at the lapels of his shirt joined together by two silver chains and each piece decorated with tiny green jewels. Right over the knot of his black silk tie, another similar brooch was pinned, this one bigger and crowned with a beautiful emerald. Under the brim of his hat, you noticed a white mask covering the left side of his face, making you wonder about a possible reason for the man to obscure his face.
“My angel of music, hide no longer from me.” Soft plump lips parted as the words left his mouth, his voice deep, full of mirth and power.
He raised a hand dressed in a black glove, offering it to you.
“Come to me, my angel of music.”
Something inside you started pulling you towards him, this man that towered over you and held such power and magnificence in his presence. It was like your mind somehow disconnected itself from reality, and unconsciously, you were already taking steps towards the Phantom.
“Come to me, my angel of music.”
He repeated. Your eyes darkened and half-lidded, your lips slightly parted as steady puffs of air left your lungs. His elegant and mighty figure towered over you, tall and proud, an oddly familiar cane held firmly on his other hand. Why was it so familiar? Why?
“Come to me, my angel of music.”
Entering the passage inside the mirror, you stood right before him. And with a sway of his cape, the Phantom closed the mirror back to its former place right behind you.
youtube
…………
“What a performance I say! I even dare to assure we have made the greatest discovery of the year with Miss (Y/N)!” Andre exclaimed loudly as they all made their way towards the main foyer of the theatre, now that the business side had been sorted, the only thing left to do was to celebrate.
“I completely agree, I can see a bright and successful career ahead of her.” Raoul added to the new owners’ compliments about you. “Now if you excuse me, gentlemen, I shall fetch Miss (Y/N) from her dressing room. I assume she must be ready by now to go to the party.”
“Very well then Vicomte, we’ll see you both there.” Andre bowed before leaving alongside Firmin.
Once outside your dressing room Raoul politely knocked at the door, but to his surprise, no answer came. He knocked again, twice, still not answer.
“(Y/N)? Is everything alright there?” No answer.
Fearing something might have happened to you, he quickly opened the door… only to find the dressing room completely empty.
“(Y/N)?” His eyes searched everywhere, but couldn’t find you. Looking down, a single rose from the bouquet he had gifted you earlier had fallen to the floor and now laid forgotten in the middle of the room.
32 notes · View notes
anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years
Text
Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)
(previous chapter)
Chapter 2 -  The Story Behind the Scenes
Seriously, you should see the look on your face.
Frankenstein amusedly murmured to himself as he peeked at the werewolf scanning her surroundings with astonishment.
Her rich pink eyes were busily buzzing around every single natural shape and composition within the vicinity, including emerald-hued leaves and bushes, petals of thousand colors waltzing in the wind, and streams set ablaze with orange gradient reflections of the sky.
Frankenstein could not help speaking up, rather fascinated at how much the normally composed and cool-headed werewolf warrior resembled a little girl who found herself in the Disney World for the first time ever.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve never been to a no man’s land.”
“I wouldn’t call this island a no man’s land. Not with you and the 3rd Elder occupying it.”
“I wasn’t asking for a literal interpretation.”
“I was told this island is a perfectly remote piece of land without any man-made structure, except for a biotechnological lab that also serves as a safehouse. So what I had in mind was a sandless desert with a gigantic cement appendage jutting out of ground, prisoned by water at all sides. But lo and behold, I’m seeing beautiful scenery in every corner.”
Lunark did not even glance at her host as she spoke, captivated by a horde of butterflies flashing their mesmerizing natural dyes.
“What a shame you have to play blind to all this feast for the eyes. Uh, no offense. I’m not saying that your duty fades in importance against this landscape. It’s just that...”
“This place is so beautiful it should be illegal to stay indoors. I get it. In fact, the owner of this island was in for a surprise upon move-in. And yes, that was an autobiographical description. However, neither of us is here for sightseeing, remember?”
Frankenstein’s jocular yet solemn reminder was all it took for Lunark to balance her attention and attitude in a strikingly professional manner.
“Allow me to pick up from where my lord left off.”
Noticing how her terminology for Muzaka changed, Frankenstein urged her to begin with a nod.
“He told you that his body saved him, didn’t he?”
“Yes. And then he just had to put a cliffhanger on his story.”
“Actually, that’s all there is to it. When the missile was inches away from my lord’s face, he was drawing out his power to maximum, as did the Noblesse right next to him. But ‘at the moment when there was no doubt his next inhale and exhale will be the last of his respiratory action,’ according to him...”
Lunark slightly creased the corner of her eyes, as if she were steeling herself to spill the most embarrassing memory from her childhood.
“...At that moment, my lord’s body moved on its own and fled from the scene.”
Frankenstein immediately retorted with an intensely questioning gaze.
“In case you’re wondering, it’s not a metaphor. At the very last moment, his body fled from the scene. But he failed to run from the aftermath of the protective impact against the missile, so he lost conscious as he watched the Noblesse being scattered to blood-red mass of sparkles.”
“...Are you sure you heard him right?”
“I’ve no reason to lie to you or distract myself when my lord is speaking. I’m relaying to you every word he unleashed to me in the most authentic form.”
Frankenstein has thought Muzaka died at the scene but somehow reenacted the resurrection of Christ, along with his master. But Lunark shed a new light upon the story behind the scenes – contrary to his belief, Muzaka has never died.
The blonde human was glued to his spot, stunned by the not-at-all-expected turnout of the event.
“Did it happen even before Lord Muzaka could attempt something, if anything?”
“Yes. He added that it felt like his body suddenly developed a mind of its own.”
“...So what he wants me to do isn’t to simply check if there is anything wrong with him. He wants me to diagnose the underlying cause of his behavior and perform whatever treatment that is deemed appropriate.”   
“...Precisely.”
Hit by the reality that this project will be much more complicated than he had thought, Frankenstein pressed his forehead with the palm of his hand. Lunark started to speak once again, her facial profile littered with hurried concern.
“I’m so sorry about this. I know this is no easy task. I know how neither the situation nor resources are cooperative for either of us. I know you’re terribly busy. However, I give you my word – I will do anything in my power to provide you with everything you need. So...”
“Relax. I’ve no intention to call the deal off. The mystery with Lord Muzaka could have risen the moment he and my master were about to come in direct contact with the missile. Which means I can’t rule out the theory that the phenomenon you just informed me about is related to my master’s return. Which is why there’s nothing I can’t or won’t do in order to unveil the truth.”
Straight away, the curves along Lunark’s cloaked shoulders sluggishly waxed and waned in the air, perhaps from a sigh of relief.
“But how come Lord Muzaka didn’t share with me his secret so far? He had plenty of time to talk to me before returning to the throne.”
Lunark softly snorted in understanding as she watched puzzlement settling on Frankenstein’s eyes. She remembered how five days after the missile launch orchestrated by Crombell, her current audience contacted the mourning werewolves to let them know the squad of five souls who were supposed to be lost rang his doorbell. She remembered how mischievous and pleased Muzaka looked as he told her Tao and Frankenstein were tremendously close to punching themselves in their faces the second they recognized him, Raizel, Lascrea, Kei, and Rosaria.
Most importantly, she remembered how for three days following their return, the five saviors went through recovery rehab packed with Frankenstein’s examinations and therapies as well as separate sessions for them to share and piece together their last memories and latest knowledges, which revealed that none of them had the faintest idea of how they got second chances in life.
“Was he scared the rest would call him a scaredy-cat or something?”
“As far as I know, he didn’t want to stir up a new trouble when they were just freed from the weight of the battle for all lives on Earth.”
“Which tells me he has been planning this ever since then. By the way, are you sure he was knocked out on the spot?”
“You know, there’s something he suggested me to tell you if you keep refusing to buy it.”
Lunark halted briefly with quivering lips, as if she could not believe she was brewing the subsequent comment with a sober mind.
“‘I’d rather cuddle you than lie to you about this.’”
To Lunark’s bewilderment and disbelief, Frankenstein instantaneously let assurance sink into his blue eyes.
“Fine. You can tell him that his sale was a success, albeit a disappointment. I was hoping he could provide me even the smallest of a hint, when my master can’t recollect what kind of miracle was there for him... But then again, maybe I should’ve expected it. After all, he lured me with ‘potential clue to my master’s return,’ not ‘the secret behind my master’s return.’”
Frankenstein remarked in a highly displeased tone, but Lunark did not complain about his attitude, for she could detect strong bitterness in his voice.
“Anyways, thank you for the details on the past. Now I’d like some details on the present,” said Frankenstein, clearly not wishing to waste any minute for this secret project.
Lunark reciprocated by silently dispensing a considerably bulky folder from her white cape, causing a slant in Frankenstein’s eyebrows.
“What’s this?”
“It’s part of the data and files I’ll start bringing to you from now on. You could say it’s the legacy left behind by the one who probably had been studying my lord for the greatest amount of time and depth.”
Frankenstein momentarily pondered whom Lunark could be talking about, before his mind was drawn to the fact that she referred to the folder as “the legacy left behind.” He then remembered who used to be Muzaka’s possessor for the past centuries.
It took less than a second for him to react by wearing the face of an enraged lion.
Perhaps Lunark foresaw such reaction. Or perhaps she was afraid that Frankenstein will turn his anger towards her, for forcing on him a totally unappreciated and unwelcome reminder. Whatever her reason was, she lost no time in explaining.
“As you’d know, when my lord was in slumber as the Union’s specimen, Ignes was practically in charge of all experiments and studies that featured him, with the 9thElder’s help. I’m sure you could obtain the latest data on my lord when he stayed at your personal lab, but I figured it’d be best to give you the files that will tell you what exactly the Union had done with his body.”
Lunark did not notice that she unconsciously quieted her own voice for the duration of her comment, due to the level of hostility on Frankenstein’s face, heavy enough to turn the natural glamor of their settings into the visual calm before the storm.
To Lunark’s relief, Frankenstein eventually loosened his facial muscles and sighed.
“You’ve got a point, though it’s a hideous idea for me to even lay my hands on that psychopath’s productions. But let me ask you – how come you have Ignes’s data?”
“She used to stay in my kind’s territory and run her studies, remember? The lab that was temporarily assigned to her to use was destroyed during the battle that took place not long after her appearance, and it’s still going through maintenance and reconstruction. And recently when we were rebuilding the database for our labs, Dr. Adne landed upon Ignes’s data. It turned out she hid her own data in our database, though it’s obvious that she hid only a tip of the iceberg of data she had collected for her lifetime.”
“How very generous of her to demonstrate two golden quotes at once: never put your eggs in one basket, and vultures never scavenge at their own nests.”
“The thing is, she did take care in hiding her data. There are security locks placed on all her files and data, separately designed for each piece. So it’s gonna take a while for us to unlock them one by one. And I plan on fetching each of them as soon as Dr. Adne breaks down the locks.”
Frankenstein nodded and scanned the pack of papers through the half-open folder, before he asked, “Okay, but did you have to bring them in printed copies? It’d be much more convenient for both of us if you simply borrow a USB drive from one of your researchers.”
“It’s the best way to prevent possible hack or leak of information, given that you take good care of it. And I plan to keep it in hard-copy format.”
Frankenstein was not expecting her to be so serious, for he posed his question halfheartedly. That was when he realized they never moved from the spot where he first stopped short. Lunark did not appear to be eager to move either, based on which Frankenstein could register what was going on.
“You don’t trust the 3rd Elder. And you chose to stick to this place to chat because you are wary that he might eavesdrop once we get ourselves to the safehouse.”
As if she were waiting for him to bring up the former enemy, Lunark furiously rolled her eyes. Frankenstein marveled at the fact that she managed to accomplish the feat without generating any squeak or screech in her eye muscles.
“Well, duh. There’s no telling what he’s keeping in that head of his. When Maduke was still breathing, in a way he was considered much more dangerous than the 1st Elder for various reasons. I know you’re smart enough to handle any threat that may arise, but you’d better watch it. Crombell is gone, and without a common enemy I wouldn’t be surprised to see him picking a fight with you again.”
“Noted. Which reminds me, why would Lord Muzaka want to keep all of this a secret?”
His question quenched the flurry of not-so-friendly emotions on Lunark’s face. Perhaps a little dispirited, she dropped her head as she unzipped her lips.
“I assume my lord already mentioned this, but my kind has just barely graduated from the training wheels in terms of renewal and restoration. Even with our centuries-old material and technological resources put aside, we had the Union technology and resources to support us. Both of them were made irrelevant to us, however, ever since I left the Union. So we have to start again from ashes and dust, especially since 1st Elder had demolished our territory. But I doubt things would have been better for us even if we had not cut ties from the Union, considering its current condition.”
Frankenstein needed no more from Lunark. After all, he was the David that severed the head of the Goliath named the Union. And he was positive not even the remaining body of the Union would be of better use than an unorganized stack of rocks, now with its topmost seats in the pyramid completely empty. Moreover, Frankenstein could swear the name of the Union will not be able to induce as much fear as it used to – not without the devilishly gifted scientist who was in command of Union technologies and researches.
‘And since the only living elders have either permanently renounced the elder’s chair or checked in under my hospitality for the time being, Union is virtually devoid of its best artisans of combat,’ thought Frankenstein, as he patiently kept his voice box frozen.
“The latest mission I have been assigned with was vigilance and espionage against the Union. Well, actually, it’s something I’ve been working on even before Lord Muzaka returned to reign. And not too long ago, in the course of my duties, I picked up valid evidence from more than a handful of countries over the world that the Union’s power is growing weaker. Some countries even informally stated they will maintain no more connection to the Union. But...”
“Taking out the alpha dogs doesn’t necessarily bring the eradication of a pack. Especially in this case, since we’re dealing with cancer cells that have grown over centuries, rooted in every corner and face of the planet, we shouldn’t expect to open the champagne so fast.”
“You hit the nail on the head. The Union’s delta and lesser dogs still live, and Union’s facilities and institutions still stand. Which means our enemy has yet to enter its coffin for good. So it wouldn’t be strange at all if the Union’s underlings commence a mass raid into our territory for vengeance, don’t you think? And need I remind you, my kind is going through the darkest era in history in terms of power.”
“I thought the precise location of the werewolf clan is a classified information, available only to agents and personnel with privileges as good as those of the elders.”
“The Union’s system is presumably meaningless now, with the elders gone. We’re suspecting anybody can reach any information regardless of rank.”
“I see. So did the Union ever...”
“No. Not yet. And it’s all thanks to my lord – or the fact that my lord has risen again – that we can stay untouched.”
“I thought the guy didn’t even die in the first place.”
“But that’s not the case for anyone not included in this secret project of ours. And you have no idea how sturdy is the protection that this news alone provides for all of us. The reason why what remains of the Union can’t even dare to approach our land is because of this rumor that my lord triumphed even death in order to protect the wolfkind. Only a lunatic would ever dream of trespassing our ground, when it is protected by the one and only werewolf that conquered a Union elder AND the death itself. Plus, the pure fact that my lord has returned serves as a huge assurance for my people.”
Frankenstein caught how Lunark’s eyes were sparked with not-so-faint pride and excitement as she continued.
“So imagine what would happen when the word spreads that something is wrong with my lord at a time like this. Dread and alarm would be least of our worries. We didn’t even get to complete the maintenance and redesign of our security system. And imagine what would happen if the Union learns that my lord might have to return to the hospital. Or worse, to a lab tank.”
“Still, I doubt the Union will do anything reckless. Not with its top dogs gone. Furthermore, there’s no way you and the rest of your warriors would let the Union pick up any latest information on your kind.”
“It is always better safe than sorry. Particularly at a time like this, says my lord.”
In response to her utterance, Frankenstein could only express understanding in his face.
He then recalled what Muzaka told him about Lunark the day before – that she “gladly” accepted his request when she has been “running here and there, doing this and that all at once.”
With his brain fully updated with details from Lunark, Frankenstein could guess what she has been up to until she walked into his island only moments ago.
“Part of your duties immediately before this one must have been deliberately spreading the words that Lord Muzaka has returned victorious from his so-called death match against death.”
“Not bad. That was fast.”
“Espionage is not limited to elusive collection of intelligence. And as of now, the best personnel for werewolves to make use of would be you, because you happened to be one of the hearts of the Union.”
“Indeed. As a matter of fact, that’s part of the reason why my lord appointed me as the secret agent for this job. In case you need intelligence on things that happened within the Union boundaries, I’ll be able to fill you in.”
Frankenstein nodded, with Lunark wordlessly staring at him, as if protesting she has run out of things to say.
“Is that all?”
“I guess so.”
“Then how about a walk? You’d want to know what you can find on this island. After all, you’d be our constant visitor from now on.”
Taking it as a cue that she can move, Lunark finally unbolted the joints of her lower body and paced along Frankenstein.
“Looks like I’ll owe you huge for a while.”
“No, we are in your debt. What you will do from now on will benefit all of us to an unimaginable degree.”
“God, thanks a lot for the pressure.”
Lunark held back a snicker as Frankenstein half-jokingly grumbled.
“Pressure? You? Do you realize you just made yourself sound like the 8th Elder when he had his rear end handed to you?”
“Thanks again for refreshing my memories on that idiot. And aside from that, I think you trust me too much.”
“Of course I do. I know what you’re capable of.” Said Lunark without a moment of hesitation.
Frankenstein sighed, his expression not clear enough to show whether it was from pleasure or pressure.
“Thank you SO MUCH for the pressure.”
As he finished his sentence, Frankenstein rummaged the inner side of his jacket.
He soon produced a metallic ponk with something he retracted, and Lunark watched him taking a silver hip flask to his lips.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I think this is the first time I ever got to see you taking something to your mouth to digest. And my nose tells me it’s not water or alcohol.”
“Let’s just say it’s like coffee to me.”
Frankenstein, to Lunark’s wonder, kept his answer terse and with an expertise tucked his flask back where it was hidden.
‘I can’t help noticing how he looks kind of tired. Is he getting any sleep these days?’
‘It’s about time to refill this stuff. I should set an alarm or something.’
Their minds housing different concerns, the werewolf and the human brushed through grassy trail now embedded with glow of the evening.
*****
The misty gleam of the dawn ghosting over his bedside table caught his attention when he opened his eyes, which taught him he woke up much too early. The only ones awake at this hour would be servants tasked with breakfast in his mansion. 
Nevertheless, Rael Kertia decided to rise and keep his mind as sharp as the blade of the warlord about to march off to war.
For today, for the first time ever he would get to stand in the Lord’s Hall as the head of the Kertia clan.
(next chapter)
Aaaaand next up we’ll be stopping by Lukedonia! Yes, of course I’ll be talking about what happens in Lukedonia, too, as this fanfic is a post-ending story.
And yes, the Lukedonia part will mainly center on Rael. Though Rael is a native Lukedonian, he has seen how the human world has changed as it entered 21st century and reached inner growth, so I figured he’d be the best character to show what happens to Lukedonia and its people, both within and outside its boundaries (and also partially because he is my third favorite character from the series lol).
Hope you stay tuned for more!
2 notes · View notes
lokispettigerr · 5 years
Text
Devil In Disguise Pt 2: Loki x Female Reader!She-Devil (NSFW)
Part 1
Summary: Loki has a mysterious new partner to work with. He is told to meet her at a small bar outside of town and is surprised in what he discovers and finds himself torn with the deal that he may have to make and the manner in which it is made *wink*.
Word Count: 3225
Warnings: Non-Con mention, handjob, dirty talk, some Angst
A/N: Though I use Hel which is part of the norse myths of the realms, I am not writing about Hela from the Norse myths. I have changed things around to fit both this fiction and Marvel’s story.
Taglist: In the reblog
Tumblr media
Loki strode into the bright, golden throne room of Asgard’s royal castle. Luckily, this time he wasn’t in chains-- a nice surprise. However, he was still accompanied by two of the house guards who had ushered him to the throne room without even a semblance of tact.
They walked about with their spears drawn. Loki couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he walked next to the armored brutes. They stomped about as if they laid claim to the castle, as if they were unchallenged and no one would be a match against them. Of course, Loki could easily overpower them. He was a prowling tiger in comparison to their elephant-like ostentatiousness. Out of kindness or pity he allowed them to carry on with their facade-- playing the fool. Loki always played the fool, he wore his mask-- a chosen mask that made people underestimate him. They were all but putty in his hands, unbeknownst to them.
It could of course, be lonesome wearing a mask yet, Loki found himself becoming ever so less lonely with his She-Devil mate; the one that saw him for who he truly was. He was in truth, her fool, a fool in love with her. Loki had answered the dramatic knock at the door wearing his favorite black and green robe, still fumbling with the waist tie. He had rubbed his eyes sleepily pretending that the guards had woken him and that he hadn’t indeed been reading an aged and discolored book by the light of a single candle flame. It was a book that he had read many times before and under his current love interest he had decided to read it again.
Loki wanted to study Helheim, demons, undead, and the like as much as he could. He desired to have a better understanding of the realm in which his mate grew up-- where she was destined to rule.
As a child, the book had been one of his favorites. He had vowed to Frigga when he was around fifteen years old that he would one day take a vast trek throughout the nine realms-- this was something he had yet to do. Perhaps, it was all closer than he thought.   “G’eve my Prince, the King requires your presence,” one of the guards said matter of factly with a dopey face.
“At this late hour? Now?” Loki feigned surprise and confusion. What could the King - he formed the word in his head with as much disdain as he possibly could - want from him? Had he figured out one of his tricks he had played the other day and would he want to bring justice more swift than normal? Not waiting for the court to be there for a trial? It had only been a little trick, nothing nefarious.
“Hmph,” the other guard grunted in response, his battle-scarred face held no expression.
Loki didn’t take his avoidance of verbosity personally. He had played more tricks than he could count on the house guards as a child. Over time they had grown wary and resentful of his clever mind and ability to find humor and entertainment in anything. “So be it then, take me to him. I would feel such disdain if he was to punish you for an inability to secure me,” Loki said with a smirk.
The guard gave him a sour look, the words unmistakably a jab at his competence, but Loki had to give credit to the man as he took it with grace and didn’t speak.
Now his bare feet tread along the cool marble floor and he shuddered inside. The cold didn’t bother him, it never had, but it was the anticipation about what was to come that made him shiver.
Loki had been right.
No matter how cold he was wearing only his satin robe, the stare he received from the All-father was much more than any of that. Odin was colder than anything that thrived in even a place as harsh as Jotunheim.
He wondered why Odin had summoned him and why they couldn’t have ordinary talks. Instead, Odin treated him like a prisoner or some pawn to be used when he was needed in his thirst for power.
“Good evening, my King,” Loki spat bitterly, “You sent for me? How might the Trickster be of service to you this time?” Loki bowed. “There has been talk that you have mated with the daughter of the King of Helheim. Tell me true, are these rumours authentic?” Odin asked, looking down his nose at Loki-- his one good eye ablaze.
So, this was what this was all about. Not his tricks, but the fact that he was coupling with a creature from Hel. Why was Odin even interested in this? Should it matter what trysts he had and with whom? He had never played by the rules anyway, taking pleasure in any form he liked, and he thought Odin had given up on that little ‘problem’ long ago.
Loki did not fail to notice that Odin was wearing his complete armor, headpiece and all. Loki felt nude in comparison and had to resist to summon his own attire. “Never the one for pleasantries. Let’s cut right to it then, shall we?” Loki was unable to stop the smile from emerging on his lips. “Enough!” Odin hissed through his teeth in a venomous tone. Loki shrugged; nothing but a simple rise and drop of one shoulder, but he knew it would aggravate the man. “So be it, my King. Yes, I fucked the King of Helheim’s daughter and her cunt was dripping wet for me.” Loki’s eyes twinkled as he reminisced the many sexual shared experiences he had with his mate. “She was tighter than any man could ever imagine and her claws left marks on my back. I can show them to you, my King, if you would like.” He began to turn, his hand reaching for the cloth that rested on his shoulder in hopes to pull it down to expose his claimed, marked back.
Loki continued, “She sang such beautiful praises for your Trickster when I brought her to a glorious, body-convulsing orgasm. When she squirted her wet juices on me, I knew then--” “Silence!” Odin boomed.
Loki smirked mischievously as he turned back to face Odin, proud of how much he could get under the King’s skin.
“I forbid it!” Odin pushed himself to a stand, he was faster than he looked. With a whip at his cloak from behind he strode down the dais to Loki at the base of the throne steps. “If you continue to mate with this beast,” Odin said, droplets of spit pelting Loki in the face, “I will have no choice but to imprison her, mutilate her, and disfigure her until she is nothing more than the animal she truly is!” Loki’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed with rage. He wanted to lunge forward in hopes to murder Odin then and there, but instead, he filled his tone with the shockingly cold malice that radiated in waves from him. “Careful father, your son does not take kindly to threats. You place one of your crooked, vile fingers on that woman you name a ‘beast’ and you will witness true monstrosity.” Loki’s voice rose with anger. “You harm a hair on her head and I will gladly, and personally rip your tongue from your throat. Your screams will be like a great ballad to my ears. One that I will remember each night as I fall to sleep with a smile on my face.” Loki’s eyes bored through Odin with a malicious gleam. “We are finished here, my King,” he said and turned on his heels to walk away. The guards thought to stop him, but the madness that flowed forth from Loki was like a horn-blared warning. As Loki strode defiantly away he thought he heard the old man mutter to himself, “We shall see, Loki. We shall see.” As Loki swept out of the royal throne room his blasted S.H.I.E.L.D. appointed cell phone rang out, this time with an unusual ringtone. All my life I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower
I pray my dick get big as the Eiffel Tower
So I can fuck the world for seventy two hours Loki’s eyes grew wide and his hand darted frantically into his pocket to yank out the cursed object before the song could replay. His devilish Demon Woman would pay for this! She had his phone last night and while she had been fiddling with it she had been cackling away. She truly was the spawn of Surtur.
Though the ringtone would have been rather embarrassing if someone would have been close enough to hear it, he was happy to answer the phone. He wanted someone to scream at him to return to Midgard and finish the job he had set out to do.
Damn I got bitches, damn I got bitches
Damn I got bitches, wifey, girlfriend and mistress
All my life I want money and power
Loki cleared his throat, “Hel-”. Before the word left his lips, he woke up.
Loki opened his eyes to find the white ceiling above him, the ceiling fan spinning lazily, sending a cool breeze to fuse with his skin. His heart was racing and in his hands the dark green sheets were clenched tightly. Only a dream, only a dream, he thought reassuringly.
He released the sheets and one hand snaked down to the erection laying solid against his alabaster hip.
He contemplated to help himself, though he’d rather had his Princess do it for him, but alas, she wasn’t here and his erection was painfully throbbing. Gripping around the soft, moveable skin he began to slowly move his fist back and forth to stroke himself. His mind kept wandering back to his mate, how she had looked before him in all her brilliance, how her skin had shone golden orange in the firelight, how her fangs had sunk deep into his neck and all the while he had felt completely enraptured in her glory.
Thinking about it caused the welcomed tingling sensation that began to arise within the head of his cock. He tilted his head back ready to be overcome with the sensation. He thumbed the weeping head of his dick, rubbing the slit. How could something as harmonious as his she-devil mate be monstrous? She was the most beautiful creature he had encountered in a long while and Odin had slandered her like she was Surtur himself. She wasn’t monstrous, and if she was then she would be perfect for the monster he was. Monstrous… His dream came back into his mind and he stopped, unable to finish what he had started. Damned Odin; even in his waking hours when he sought pleasure for himself the man was there to thumb him down. He sunk further into the mattress, the tightness from his core evaporating. Loki covered his eyes with his arm in an attempt to drift back to sleep. Instead, visions and scenes from the dream floated into view behind his eyelids and he could hear the echo of Odin saying, “We shall see, Loki. We shall see.” With a groan of frustration Loki sat up and kicked his feet over the side of the bed. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see gruesome scenes of his she-devil mate mutilated, disfigured and crying out for help as she was chained up. Had Odin really gotten that deep under his skin or was he going insane?
He shuffled down the hallway, naked, heading towards the bathroom in hopes to get rid of an erection, and as he passed the hallway clock ticking meticulously away, he glanced at it; 2:53.
I need to see her, he thought, almost desperately.
***
Luckily, “The Gateway” was open throughout the entire night, only closing for a few early morning hours.   Loki drove into the gravel lot of “The Gateway” with his black, Jaguar’s slick tires spinning, sending gravel up into the air and leaving deep gouges in the lot like the animal of the car’s namesake had just raked its claws down the flank of a gazelle. He jammed the gear shift into the park position and slid out, slamming the door shut with such force that the car shook. He turned to find his She-Devil mate stomping towards him with looks to kill and her pouty lips set in a grimace of rage. Loki could see that she wore no bra as she approached him in her boots, churning up just as much gravel as he had, if not more, and her breasts bounced loosely under the cotton top she wore. Though she only wore her tank-top and jeans something about her made her seem both in her element but also elegant. It was not something anyone could easily pull off, but she did.   There was a sliver of skin showing between the tank top and her jeans. Loki wanted to run to her, his fingers stroking the sensitive bit of skin as he held her in his embrace. Something flashed as she walked towards Loki and he noticed that in her hand she held a large kitchen knife - she must have just finished cutting up some lemons - and now she was pointing it directly at him, accusingly-- a woman after his own heart. “How dare you come into my parking lot spinning rubber like that, Trickster! Look at this mess you’ve made! Who the Hel do you think you are, Laufeyson?” Her face was flushed maddeningly and Loki couldn’t help but feel a little bit better.
She was cute when she was angry and coming at him with a knife shining. That spun his head into a million questions. Was she going to stab him? Kill him for something as simple as showing up and kicking around a bit of dirt? Or did she have other plans with the knife? More… pleasurable things. Though he wanted to laugh at her, he couldn’t. He was too upset from his nightmare. When she noticed Loki wasn’t barking back some clever, quick-witted retort she stopped in her tracks. The anger dissipated from her features and concern replaced it.
Her eyes flashed with recognition, “You had the dream again.”
She knew, she always knew.
Loki sighed, “Yes.” He didn’t want to be an emotional wreck around her, but he had been having the same dream for months, not nightly, but enough to become a real problem.
“Well, come on, let’s chat a bit,” she said, twisting one of her booted toes in the gravel. “What about your lemons?” Loki asked. “I’m looking at the only lemon I care about.” “I beg your pardon?” Loki tilted his head to the side, squinting at the She-Devil. “I am certain I misheard you and you did not just call me, Loki, the God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard and rightful King of Jotunheim your ‘lemon’.” She smirked darkly.
Loki knew what she was doing. She was great at distracting him with or without clothing. It sent a pang of delight through him as it equally horrified him. It was almost frightening how easy she could play him. “What if I did, Trickster? What are you gonna do about it, Sir?” The sparkle that settled in her bright eyes made him long for her in the worst way. He tilted his head down peering up at her from beneath her dark lashes. “Careful Demon Woman,” he warned. Loki began to slowly stalk towards her, looking ever the predator he was. Most mortals would begin to turn, to back away, to cry for help, but she wasn’t a mere human and thus she stood there, holding her ground and looking at him as if he was the most amusing thing on the realm. Maybe he was. He wanted to be. Her bravery was something that was both infuriating and attractive to him. She wasn’t afraid of what she knew he could do to her. The smirk on her dark, cherry red lips even seemed to dare him to do something awful to her-- something unspeakable and naughty. “Or you’ll what?” She purred at him. “Bend me over to grab onto my ankles right here in this parking lot and take me?” It was such an odd thing to hear coming from the mouth of the woman in front of him who appeared on the surface ever so innocent. Though he had a hard time denying that the idea was appealing and he could feel himself twitch. A mortal wouldn’t have been able to hear her and part of Loki wished he hadn’t because he suddenly found himself having trouble walking. His animal carnality was surging in his loins and he was overcome with the urge to take her in the way she had dared. He wanted to be rough with her-- this tiny, defiant, stubborn creature standing proudly before him with her legs parted and her hands on her hips. He wanted to grip those hips tightly. He wanted to be between those legs.
The image of her bent over, grabbing her ankles, her round bottom up in the air while he pumped in and out of her was intoxicating. He would have given her ass a loud smack with his hand and her breasts would have bounced from the force of his thrusts. He would show her what it meant to be in charge-- that he wasn’t some mortal boy for her to command and toy with. He coveted her and desired to rip her clothes off, exposing her beautiful form while she pleaded and begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t even though he was mad with longing for her. The smell of her wet cunt would drive him wild. “Don’t tempt me, Demon Woman,” he hissed. “I’ll tempt you as I please, Trickster, you work for me. Or have you forgotten?”
Loki most certainly had not forgotten, even without her constantly finding the need to remind him he could not forget the most memorable sexual experience of his long life. Thinking about their most recent love-making helped quell the savage beast within him.
“I called you. You didn’t answer,” the She-Devil observed. “Well I have done you one better and appeared before you,” Loki said with a smirk.
The She-Devil rolled her eyes, “Well, we have a job to do, one I think you might like.”
“Is it sexual?” Loki asked. “You wish!” and under her breath, “I wish too…” she trailed and briefly he caught a flash of regret in her eyes. “Anyway, our soul has been located,” she continued. “ They like to party. Always have. One of my acolytes has informed me they will be attending a masquerade tonight. We will be there as well, laying in wait for them. Would you like to come in and rest up for our party this evening?”
Loki nodded, he couldn’t deny he was tired. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep on his own, but if he was sleeping wrapped in the arms of his Demon Woman all would be fine. Everything would be alright. Afterall, dreams were just that-- dreams and nothing more.
Thanks for reading friends! I hope you enjoyed. Please think about reblogging and liking as well as leaving me your treasured feedback! I love it!  ***If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic series or the general Loki/Tom taglist PLEASE send me an ask in my askbox. 
Peace always, Loki’s Pet Tiger
200 notes · View notes
daysswithyou · 5 years
Text
Fallen Chapter 6: Showtime
Tumblr media
previous / next
Characters: DAY6 Young K x OC (Rachel)
Genre: angst, fake dating, high school romance, fluff, romance
-----
You and Brian keep to the deal....fairly...well. You let out a deep sigh once you finish typing your comment on his latest Instagram post, one that was filled with sickeningly sweet hearts and terms of endearment. You dropped your phone on the table with a thud, burying your head in your hands as your fingers and toes curled in disgust at the ridiculous thing that you were doing. You hated having to play pretend, but this was the best plan so far.
Things were still awkward between the both of you; after all, you two were still strangers. Hence, the first part of his brilliant plan that did not involve much skinship as you both tried to ease into one another was to take proof shots of your “relationship”. Selfies together, pictures of both of you holding hands. Shots like these soon went up all over both your social media feeds, and the growing number of likes with each successive post gave both of you some reassurance that people were buying into your love story. To further convince them, Brian insisted that both of you left comments on each other’s posts which thus led you to this sorry state.
All of this might be enough for a short while, but you knew that onlookers would be disillusioned by the posts, and that soon, you would have to do more to convince people of the authenticity of your relationship.
---
Heading into the washroom to freshen up, you entered only to have three pairs of eyes focused on you, their eyes never leaving your figure until you’re behind the safety of the stall walls. You wait in bated breath for the unnecessary comments that were sure to come – and as usual, you were not surprised by what you heard.
“Rachel Hwang and Brian Kang… do you think they’re real?”
“Well… the photos on their social media are kind of cute, but I haven’t seen them in public yet so I’m not totally convinced.”
“Come on, the both of you. Their whole relationship is obviously a lie. Anyone can fake a photo; but I’ll give them credit for impressive Photoshop skills. It almost looks real. Besides… this is all happening after both of them got dumped by their exes. All too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
You bunch up the ends of your school skirt in frustration, knowing that the effectiveness of the initial plan has worn off. Everything was happening as you knew it would and Brian and you would have to come up with a new plan to be more convincing to the general public. Keeping up with this act will only make both of you seem silly – you needed something more.
Stepping out of the cubicle, you kept your face straight, showing that you were clearly unfazed by their comments. The conversation went hush in your presence, the three girls leaving silently after sending one last glance in your direction. Wringing your hands dry from the water, you quickly formulated a plan in your head, and you could only hope that Brian would know how to play along with you.
Exiting the washroom, you turned to head back to class, only to come face to face with Brian Kang. Or to be more exact, his chest. You instinctively took a step back due to the close proximity. Despite the time spent with one another, you were still not used to being around him. His eyes were also blown wide at the sudden encounter, a sure sign that he too, was still uncomfortable around you.
“Oh…Rachel…you’re here.”
His voice was small, and the tone was clipped.
Aish Brian Kang… what kind of reaction is this?
Glancing over his shoulder, you could see the three girls from before turning over to look at the both of you as they sniggered under their breath. Their eyes scanned you from top to bottom, seeming to laugh at your “boyfriend’s” lacklustre response towards you.
I can’t let them have the last laugh. I have to be convincing.
“Brian, let’s go have lunch together later ok? What are you craving?”
Stepping forward, you quickly laced your fingers with his. Using your interlocked fingers as leverage, you raised on your tiptoes to reach his cheek, placing a quick peck on his cheek bone. Brian eyes grow two times wider at your sudden action, his eyes looking straight at yours seeming to ask the question: What was that for?
You give his hand a light squeeze, code for: We need to be more convincing in public, play along. You smiled sweetly at the end to prove your point, desperately hoping that he’ll get the hint. You knew that Brian Kang got the hint when he smiles sweetly at you; the one where his lips pull back completely to show his teeth and his eyes turn into crescents. Bringing your intertwined hands to his lips, Brian made sure that the sound of him kissing your hand was extra loud. Another quick glance over his shoulder; and you were certain that that both of you now had the attention of the three girls from before. Their eyes kept shifting over to you, trying to be subtle but not quite working out.
Great. We got them. Let’s keep up the show Brian Kang, don’t mess up.
On cue, Brian spins you around so that the two of you are now facing the girls, hooking an arm around your shoulders around you naturally. Pulling you closer by your shoulder, he presses a long kiss to your cheek before connecting his forehead to your temple.
“Aigoo~ is my baby worrying about my meals? I eat my meals on time, and I eat anything. You know that.”
“Ok, then I’ll decide your lunch menu for you later.”
“Sure~”
As you turn the corner to head to the canteen, you hear the girls scoffing behind you – and you know that you have succeeded.
“I did well, didn’t I?”
“Well done Brian Kang, let’s keep this up. Show isn’t over.”
---
That was how you found yourself sharing a table during lunch breaks with Brian Kang and his friends from that day onwards. It was tough trying to get Esther to agree initially but having Jae there made things much easier. He’s easy to talk to, and they share common interests, which earned Jae bonus points for Jae in Esther’s handbook of friends. Today too, they’re having a heated debate on who’s a better player in League of Legends – you guess that’s just how the both of them make friends.
“Come on, I’m older. I’m definitely the better player with more experience.”
Esther snorts, one that sounds like a pig’s before retorting,
“Yea right. Being older also means you’re weaker Jae. Be careful when you play, the brittle bones in your fingers might break.”
“You did not!”
You shake my head as you turn your attention away from the both of them, you can’t stand watching the two of them argue for the next 20 minutes. Scanning the table, you quietly observe the mix of mismatched people at the table.
Jae and Esther were bickering at a corner – that’s a given. Sungjin has his eyes glued to his phone screen, observing the team’s last friendly match against the neighbouring Yongsan High School. He’s meticulously taking down notes on each member’s performance, having a list of merits, demerits and training methods for them to work on their weaker techniques. Meticulous, hardworking and dedicated Sungjin, there’s a reason why he’s the captain and you can see why. Over on the other side, Wonpil is enthusiastically explaining the rules of the basketball game to Dowoon, his hand gestures wide as his facial expression tell another story on their own. Wonpil is always so bright and ready to lend a helping hand, you’re sure Dowoon will be in good hands under his guidance. Your gaze lingers on Dowoon a little longer, observing the way the young freshmen has his head bowed in concentration, nodding along to every point that Wonpil makes. He looks up for a millisecond and catches your eye. You give him a reassuring smile, encouraging him as he tries to keep up with Wonpil’s pace. He gives you a small smile in return, the corners of his lips lifting up just slightly.
Ah sweet Dowoon – you have a soft spot for him. He’s in your Biology class, which makes him the person you see the most amongst all of them and consequently the one you’re most comfortable with as well. Sometimes you chance upon him feeding the strays that come through the broken fence on the north side of the school and you find yourself touched by his kind gestures towards those furry friends. There’s definitely something special about Dowoon… maybe you two could even become friends one day. (But you’ll have to break through his shy exterior first)
Brian is…
You didn’t have time to contemplate on Brian when you hear the unmistakable raucous laughter reach your ears. It has to be Im Jaebum – no doubt. Brian stiffens beside you, casually placing a hand on the back of your seat. He’s silently staking his claim on you, and that gives you enough affirmation that Ayeon is also in tow. They take a seat at the table right in front of yours, their eyes never leaving the two of you even after they sat down. It was a clear provocation, and Brian immediately began his counterattack.
Shifting the hand behind you to your waist, he pulls you closer to him, your thighs now touching one another’s. He dips his head again to give you a kiss on the cheek, and perhaps Jaebum’s eyes grow a shade darker.
“Play along Rachel, now’s the time to show off.”
“I don’t need to be told twice Brian Kang.”
As his lips leaves your cheek, he smiles at you, signalling the start of your little show.
“Babe, I’m still hungry!”
“You big baby, here, have my kimbap.”
You pinch his nose bridge lightly to make the act more believable, and he responds by giving you a cute nose scrunch.
“Thank you~”
Picking up two rolls at once, he slides them into his mouth easily but as he chews, he frowns.
“This doesn’t taste nice… maybe if you fed me it’ll be better.”
Your insides curl at the thought of feeding a fully-grown man food, but you hide your grimace behind a laugh. Taking the chopsticks from his hand, you took the last roll from the box and held it in front of his mouth, hoping he would quickly eat the roll so this could end. Yet, Brian Kang always seems to have other plans.
Wrapping his hand around yours, he guides your hand to place the roll inside his mouth, staring at you with love the entire while as he chewed. From your peripheral vision, you see Jaebum stabbing his food, his mouth no longer moving. He’s lost his appetite, and you bask in the glory of this small victory. You eventually want to completely crush him, but for now, ruining his day in any small manner would suffice too. Ayeon doesn’t look too good either, the colour has drained from her face.
“Indeed, it’s way better when you feed me Rachel. This tastes the best.”
“Glad you’re eating well Brian.”
You caress the side of his face, and Brian catches on immediately. Leaning forward to give you a quick peck, you meet him halfway, hoping that you taking the initiative might be the first step to ensuring that people accept your relationship to be true and most importantly, piss off Im Jaebum. Sure enough, they stand from their seats almost immediately, storming their way out of the canteen.
You’re still thrown off sometimes by Brian Kang’s bold public display of affections, but if tolerating it means that you get to see Im Jaebum all riled up, it’s worth the risk.
43 notes · View notes
wilhelmjfink · 5 years
Text
The Great Divide - Chapter 14
Tumblr media
A/N: Sometimes I look back at the one smut piece that I’ve written and see that it has 300+ notes and then I remember this series and how there’s like 4 of us? Is it even worth it? But hey if I haven’t mentioned it lately, the like handful of you that are here are the fuckin’ best, man. I never ever in a million years would’ve thought I would ever share my fanfics anywhere at aLL EVER SO like that there’s other people that just read it and liked it?? Shit’s fuckin’ wild. Sorry, I’m drunk. Got me right in the feels. This one is LONG!
But forreal. Thanks for reading xoxoxo
“You can’t just waltz through the fuckin’ gates, pick out some random broad and just leave with her...”
Daryl eyed Warner where he sat in the grass, still tied up and unable to move, watching Daryl and his friends begin to load up their vehicles and prepare for the run. At least he was outside and able to get some fresh air. Daryl still had to violently stifle the urge to beat the shit out of him right then and there.
“’n why the hell not?”
Warner developed an attitude as if they were supposed to just know the rules; like it was a waste of his time having to explain it to them. And that was one thing the group noted of him: that he often went from one personality to the other, though there was not necessarily a dramatic difference between the personas inside of him. “Well, for one, they’ll shoot you on sight,” Warner explained flatly. His tone was getting sharper, more snarky -- Daryl was considerably proud of himself for not grabbing him by the neck and strangling the life out of him. It went unmentioned, but the others were as well.
And though Warner had learned well enough now to not poke the bear — Daryl, of course, being the bear — he genuinely offered up all the information he knew without issue, cooperating entirely likely in hopes of being freed from the ropes around his wrists and ankles. “But if you get in there, and you go get to the trade, and you just... instantly pick out the girl, they’re gonna know something’s up — ”
Rick interrupted: “So we’ll play it off -- hang around for a little bit first.”
With a slow shake of his head, Warner disagreed. No... just -- just trust me when I say that she will not last very long there. Ones like her, they -- ”
“Why do they even care?”
Warner narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated at being interrupted yet again. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, if you would let me finish.”
Daryl glared at him and Rick remained silent, a wordless request to continue.
“The big slave trade always comes right after this big event they call The Reaping,” he explained, drawing the attention of the all four that were around within earshot loading the truck. Even before he’d told them what The Reaping was, the name alone sounded bad, and not a single one of them had a good feeling about it. “It’s where they volunteer another slave to fight against one of Asher’s best soldiers.”
Rick and Daryl exchanged glances, having remembered Warner briefly mentioning this earlier, but they’d blown over it at the suggestion of going to the slave trade as it seemed to be the easiest way to get inside The Divide. And Warner seemed to switch personalities, yet again -- this one a bit darker than the others, in the very least. 
“But the thing is,” he continued lowly, as if he was telling a ghost story around a fire, “it’s never as random as they intend it to be. The oldest slave there — some old bag named Hilda or something — she always has to choose someone to fight. And there’s an agreement amongst the slaves: that she always chooses the newest addition.” He looked back and forth between the two men looming over him as they stared down at him with hooded eyes, their expressions vague, waiting impatiently for him to make his point though they undoubtedly knew where he was going.
“Alright,” Rick pushed. “And?”
“And if your girl was the newest capture, then fuckin’... Linda or whatever offered her up to fight.”
“Why are ya just tellin’ us about this now?” Daryl demanded in response, the only reasonable response that made sense inside his head at that moment was anger that he hadn’t been told earlier, as if that would make a difference. 
And he only got angrier when Warner merely shrugged. “Didn’t think about it until just now.”
Fighting the fire inside of his veins, Daryl’s fists clenched at his sides while he  looked over to Rick in search of answers, while also simply refusing to believe that Warner’s words were entirely true. The way that he told it, as if he was narrating a play with the way those other personas rotated who was in charge -- it was almost too practiced. There had to be a way to get into The Divide, especially if they had Warner there with them.
After a moment of silence while they all contemplated his words, Daryl spun back around toward the stranger and took a threatening step closer to him, pulse racing, breath huffing. “Listen: I don’t care if I gotta skin ya and wear ya like a god damn hat to get in. You’re gonna get us where we need to be if it’s the last fuckin’ thing ya ever do. So cut the bullshit and stop dickin’ around!”
“It’s not bullshit,” Warner replied defensively. He would’ve held up his hands in surrender if they weren’t bound together at the wrists.  Every so often, a side of Daryl broke through the composed persona Rick had him putting on for his own good, and it was not very comforting for Warner. “It’s the truth -- it’s all truth.”
“Good. And ya better dig deep inside that head’a yours and figure out every truth ya wanna say to us right here, right now, ‘cause if we get there ‘n ya suddenly remember somethin’ relevant, I’m gonna put ya threw the god damn wringer ‘n y’all are gonna wish you was dead. Are we clear?”
Warner swallowed hard, struggling to remain stoic in response. “I’ve got nothing else for you.”
“For your sake, I hope ya ain’t lyin’.” Daryl clearly didn’t believe him still, but the others weren’t entirely convinced either. But considering it was the only lead they had, they knew they needed to at least take a shot because at that point, something was better than nothing.
Their plan was to go back to the original spot where Riley’d been when she disappeared — in the outskirts of the woods with the dead soldier on display as a checkpoint. They were going to strip him of his clothing and, taking into account the corpses stature and disregarding it’s abnormal, alarming outer appearance, Carol volunteered to dawn herself in the armor and join Warner in returning to the The Divide during the trade with Glenn and Michonne both posted up on adjacent buildings, with their sniper rifles trained on Warner should he decide to pull any subterfuge. Tara, Aaron, Abraham and Michonne would on standby incase things got out of hand. The less obvious it was that Carol was out too of the ordinary, the better.
If Warner was actually correct, and they could make it to witness the fight between the slave and the designated soldier, if it really was Riley, that would be even better. “We’ll leave at sunrise,” Rick said, slamming the doors of the van shut. “We’ll stop at the Hampton, grab the armor, and head north from there.”
“Why so soon?” Warner asked from where he sat on the curb of the road. Not even particularly malicious, either; he sounded genuinely apprehensive. “The trade may not even be that soon. It’s usually a week after the -- ”
“Because, if she really did get chosen for that ‘Reaping’, we wanna be there incase it goes wrong.”
“If it goes wrong, you’re better off staying out of it.” Warner looked between the group above him, finally a look of authentic concern on his features, though Daryl still wouldn’t believe it. It still took every bit of self control he was harboring to not beat him mercilessly right then and  there. “There are one-hundred-and-thirty-six heavily armed Slavemasters at The Divide,” he continued, “and that’s just the main county. And no offense, but the six or seven of you guys won’t win that battle.”
Rick cocked his head in careful consideration before narrowing his eyes, a dark but familiar vengeful expression blanketing his face. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said lowly. “We’ll be just fine. Let us worry about that part.”
The drive was long and uneventful.
Warner’s directions matched the routes on the map and he sat in the back seat of the van, hands tied together still, to which he commented on several times during the trip only to be ignored.
“There’s a long underground tunnel,” he told them, alternating between staring out the window at the blur of trees and derelict buildings and his fallen comrades armor that lay stacked on the leather seat next to him, “like the Lincoln tunnel was went in and out of New York City years ago.”
“Is it clear?” Rick asked.
“Of walkers, yeah. But it’s guarded pretty heavily.”
Him and Daryl exchanged another silent glance. “How heavy is pretty heavy?”
Warner was aloof now, not tuned into the conversation and seemingly uninterested as he shrugged. “That depends on what you think you can handle.”
Rick knew that Daryl was fuming before he even looked over at him, his friend sitting next to him with narrowed eyes and audibly gritting teeth, but wordlessly a look out of the corner of Rick’s eye made him relax. Warner’s game seemed to be just that: offering insight, then shrugging it off and playing dumb. Rick was the one that cracked him in the first place; Daryl knew it was in his best interest to just listen as opposed to act.
Glancing up in the rearview mirror, Rick made sure the second vehicle was still in tow behind him, Rosita, Tara and Abraham keeping up and the third with Michonne, Aaron and Glenn close behind.
When he turned back around, focusing again on the road ahead of them, his foot went robotically to the brak at the sight of a motorcycle gang down the route, throwing a hand outside of his window to signal to the others behind to slow down as well. Ultimately, the gang roared up to them with little consideration to the racket they were making and some even left their bikes idling while they waiting for Rick and his group to exit the vehicles.
The leader was a stocky older man — not the weak and helpless kind of older, either; he had tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin they could see and his silver hair was greased back over his head, the sheen matching the chains that decorated his leather vest. He smiled, showing his yellow-stained teeth, and killed the switch on his bike. Rick had a hunch that they might’ve been related to Warner somehow, but the man spoke up from the backseat without even being prompted to confess.
“Hey!” Warner called out and Daryl stepped out of the van cautiously. “That’s Six — that’s my group — let me outta here, I can talk to them!”
Daryl hesitantly looked to Rick for confirmation and when he gave him a stiff nod in return, Daryl leaned into the back seat and grasped onto Warner’s dirty collar and just about dragged him from the vehicle. He stumbled out onto the pavement below, struggling with his bound limbs, but managed to push himself to his feet clumsily, trying to compose himself infront of his old comrades.
“Well, shit, looky here, boys! It’s fuckin’ Warner!” The man in front howled, eliciting a rumble of laughter and hoots from the gang behind him. “We was so sure that new girl you caught had killed ya, left ya for dead.”
It seemed almost too easy -- they knew instantly he was talking about Riley. It only made sense with how quickly they’d found him after her disappearance, right? Warner’s eyes were wide at the remark, looking like a deer in headlights. Daryl stepped forward, confidence wavering at the sight even though he was sure they were his crowd of people; they were not nice men and if they were anywhere as bad as Warner had been describing them as, he needed to tread lightly.
“That new girl,” he tried to remain stoic as to not show any emotional attachment and weakness though he was sure he’d failed. “She alive?”
“Alive?” Six grinned more to himself as he contemplated an answer and Daryl had to remind himself once again that these were fucked up people and that his answer was more than likely not true, whatever it may be. But he still needed to listen and, for fuck’s sake, be cautious.
Though, he was very happy to hear the answer Six gave. “She’s doin’ just fine. Real nice, actually. Feisty thing. She’s goin’ up in the Reaping tonight in the Pit — man, I can’t wait to see that broad swingin’.”
That confirmed their fears that she was the one selected to fight one of the toughest soldiers in the Divide that night. Daryl’s last few days had seemed like nothing but sadness and the constant struggle to keep a level head. And he’s accepted that they were already outnumbered at that moment, reminding him to remain calm. It was likely the only chance they were going to get. And luckily, Six continued before he could lash out even if he wanted to. “But never mind that — Warner! Where the hell ya been, man? Pit’s been searchin’ everywhere for you!”
His voice was dripping with smarmy sarcasm and he was clearly less than impressed with Warner’s appearance, though the sinister smile still haunted his features. There was nothing behind his face, a shallow mask the only thing that they could see before them.
“Well, uh... I — “
“Oh, ‘n shit, before I forget...” Six reached around his belt, searching for something in particular as he muttered to himself and both Rick and Daryl watched curiously by the sidelines, attentive to his every move in anticipation of what might happen next. “I have a message from Asher for ya...”
Warner’s eyes widened and he through a fleeting glance over his shoulder like he was searching for something or someone, afraid of being watched or tricked. “Asher? For me?” Daryl’s crossbow was tight in his grasp and he was feeling particularly trigger happy.
“Yeah... what was it? Oh, that’s right!” In the blink of an eye he’d unholstered a .357, cocking the hammer back and pulling the trigger in one swift motion that sent a bullet right between Warner’s eyes. He fell like a bag of sand, eyes still opened, blood pouring from the circular wound just above the bridge of his nose.
Silence.
Daryl and Rick both visibly flinched at the sudden action, neither having expected that response out of the strangers and only reinforcing the fear in their bodies and reminding them once more to be abnormally cautious and wary around them. 
Six chuckled. Dary’s blood was boiling beneath his skin. He was furious — he was fucking livid. Even more so because he knew that, for his own safety and the safety of his friends, there wasn’t a mother fucking thing he could do about it but stand there and stare.
The one fucking piece of the puzzle that Daryl had  that held any sort of possibility of leading him to Riley and the one fucking thing that gave him a glimmer of hope that he could reach her again. The one frayed, narrow thread that connected him to his girl that he was grasping onto for dear life... it was laying dead at his fucking feet.
It’s Fallout. Thanks for playing everyone. It’s the Fallout 3 DLC The Pitt. *flips table* 
23 notes · View notes
okimargarvez · 5 years
Text
HURT- open wounds 20
Original title: Hurt.
Prompt: Luke’s dark thought, destiny, contrasted love.
Warnings: sexual content, dark thoughts.
Genre: angst, drama, romantic, smut, dark, mistery, frienship.
Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, BAU team, O.C.
Pairing: Garvez.
Note: multichapter.
Legend: 💏😘😈🔦🐶❗🎈👻.
Song mentioned: La tua vita intera, Tiziano Ferro.
Hurt- Masterlist
Tumblr media
GARVEZ STORIES
Chapter 20
They spend the whole evening embracing, unable to break away from each other.
The few words that are exchanged appear superfluous.
-I was so scared that someone could...- before he could stopped her there were the tears that break the voice. -We protect others, but who protects us?- motions of anger were cyclically followed by delayed panic attacks. The man, on the other hand, had practically remained silent all the time, because the thoughts couldn’t come out. He, too, had felt his own terror, of losing her for a reason like that. Stupid. Just because a woman had decided to inherit her husband's money. And five innocent people had been killed, including Walker's best friend. Anyone could have been killed, the victims were all random, but they worked in the FBI. Like them.
-I have more right than you to be worried.- she had said a few hours before, during a hysterical call. -You are around, a potential victim, while I'm always locked up in this bunker. You go around with a sign on your back that says "Please, insert the needle here.".- and she had burst into tears. But this time he couldn’t reach her to console her. That woman had to be stopped.
-Penelope, nothing will happen to me ... I promise you.- but his sentence had obtained the opposite effect than hoped.
-No, don’t say, don’t say these bullshit.- the word vulgar was sounded very strange out of those lips. -You can’t know how it will go, you can’t know anything! And if I had to lose you... I would never forgive you! Did you understand, Alvez?- he had nodded, but she couldn’t see him.
-We see you at home tonight.- he had merely said, before hang up. A promise, a wish, a hope.
When he had opened the door, she had rejected him in a moment of pride and nervousness, but then she had fallen into the arms of the dark man, without pouring (yet) even a tear, just shaking her head.
And now the tears had run out, the rage consumed, the fear had waned. But she still could not tolerate the idea of having to get away from him. Even before all this mess happened, when they still didn’t know the seriousness of the matter, she hadn’t been able to stay away from him. Who knows if the others had noticed that her computer was on the desk of Luke and that she was less than a meter away, when in theory she had to "hate" or otherwise keep him away. And even during the various meetings they were (almost) always close.
-Hun, are you tired?- now the blonde raises her head from the male chest trying to cross his gaze. She has no answer to give him. Tired is a reductive adjective. Exhausted. Emptied, that thing she never wanted to be in her life. Wouldn’t she have been worried about every member of her team anyway? Sure. But Luke was something different. In the end she decides to shake her head. She doesn’t want to go to sleep. She rather wants to stay with him until her strength will vanish, until she loses consciousness. She doesn’t want to consciously be separate from him. Why all the other times she seemed less anxious? Maybe she just pretended, she made fun of herself.
Too many thoughts whirl in Luke's head. Those ghosts who had abandoned him have returned to visit him at the sight of Stephen's friend's son. It was going better to Phil, but really? Only from the physical point of view, because mentally it was as if he were dead. And he was dead too, until he met Penelope, she, his blond angel, his Scandinavian goddess, who had made him "resuscitate." She had brought him back to life, she had given him the desire to live again. He loved her, with every part of himself; he hadn’t chosen to fall in love with her, but he would never renegade it. It had been beautiful and frightening at the same time, to see on her face the pure terror (the same that he felt) for the risk that he had ran.
After discovering that those who had messed up with Reid were a womans, Emily had advised everyone to take the evening to rest their mind. And they had chosen a creative way to perform the task given by the boss. A fantasy that they both had for a long time. They had to wait long, until everyone had really gone home, including Prentiss and Rossi. And then they had done it. An authentic madness. But this was possible because his girlfriend was a hacker and had turned off all the cameras, as well as temporarily blocked them both inside the BAU floor, so that no one, even if he wanted to, would be able to get in. All for a "quickie" on Luke's desk. Before it was deserted, devoid of any personal sign and now brought a bit 'of books, but above all two puppets, one in the form of "mini Roxy", both naturally gifts of beautiful computer technician.
-What do you think?- she caresses his neck and part of his chest. His hands are instead around her shoulders. He feels her breath on the skin, warm and comforting. How did he live on this earth before he met her?
-Many things. Too many things.- he bends over to kiss her hair. -How lucky I am. To be here, to be with you, to have Roxy, to do a job like that with people wonderful. Although dangerous, it causes you anxieties and worries...- their eyes cross each other. -But don’t believe that I am less anguished than you. After all, the time you risked your life you were not even "on a mission", am I wrong?- Penelope lowers her head with a guilty attitude. -Hey, I'm not saying you've been looking for it!- he hurries to add. -I only want to advance the claim to be worried too, you don’t have the exclusivity. Clear?- she nods and leans out just enough to put her lips on his. -I didn’t tell you quite often, I don’t even know why... maybe I don’t want it to become a sort of habit, but anyway... I love you, and I hope I can prove it day by day.-
-Luke!- the tone sounds like a rebuke. -Of course, you do. It's me that I still have some... resistance. I think I'm afraid... if I'd let myself go, I'd lose you. And I would suffer again. And I don’t know if I could survive. I know it's stupid, that doesn’t make sense... but it's what I feel.- he lifts her chin and for the first time after what seems to be centuries, their bodies are slightly distanced.
-Honey, I'm sure one day you'll be able to tell me the same. And anyway, there are so many ways to do it, without opening your mouth. For example, trying to wait for me awake or tase me on the phone with all your fears. Every time you invent a new one to surprise me- a significant pause -you don’t need to tell me, Penelope. I read love very well in your eyes.- a man like that, she risked letting go of a man like that. Sweet, sexy, beautiful, intelligent... perfect, but she never liked perfection. In fact, he also has his faults.
-We can live in this instant forever?- a naive and overused question. He laughs.
-What does it assure you that the future can’t be even better?- his look is already mischievous. But it's not the time for that.
-Yes, but... can we stay a little 'hugged for a while, however?- there are women who ask for diamonds, the moon, a house by the sea... and then there is his, who is content to have him next. But it is not a little thing, it is a great claim: in her sentence is in fact hidden the precise imposition to back home every evening, after a case. Back home alive and well or that pretty butt could be spanked.
-What you think if we would change location? I start to feel a little too much in symbiosis with the couch.- they giggle together, then he leads her into the bedroom, where Roxy awaits.
-Luke...- the blonde breaks the silence, after both are under the covers. -You never thought of expanding the family ?- what should he imagine about such a question? What is she talking about? Not about that... it's not possible. But why the thought just makes him print a stupid smile in his face? Fortunately, the light is off, and the moon is obscured by clouds that herald a storm, so she can’t see his idiotic expression. The woman's fingers intertwine with his. The hunter catches prey. -Cathie’s cat, one of the participants in the therapy group... do you remember?- she catches the slight movement of the head -...well, her cat has made puppies and there is only one left. He has a crooked tail and for this reason nobody is taking him. So I thought... nothing, leave it alone.- Luke feels every nuance, every emotion in the tone of Penelope. And the last feeling is... sadness. What partly he feels too, when he realizes that in the end she wasn’t referring to what he believed. Maybe it's better this way. Even if…
-Hey, hey, honey, why don't talking about it? I like the prospect of having another reason to come back here.- he smiles, but again, she can’t see him. But perhaps she feels his aura. -And to you, too, girl?- he gives Roxy a pat, who is complaining that she was disturbed in the middle of a beautiful dream. -What name did you give him?- Penelope can’t hold back a surprised exclamation.
-How do you know I've already given him a name?- Luke laughs.
-Even if you don’t like it, I know you all too well, Miss Garcia.- he teases her and then kiss her, pressing her head on the pillow. -So, the name?- she gasps and took a while to recover.
-Twisty. I know it's not very creative, but since it has a crooked tail...- the man nods. The choice has been approved.
-When are we going to get him?-
 The kitten turns out to be big enough to take up the cage that they brought with them. He has a short fur, completely black, of a spectacular shine. The tail bends in the opposite direction, right on the tip, yet what might look like a flaw makes it simply particular, weird in a good way, just like his future wife. As soon as she sees him, Penelope's eyes grow larger and more intense. It is that maternal gaze that causes him strange thoughts, meditations that he has never done in more than forty years of life, and now... he too is not able to remain immune from the charm of the newcomer. Especially when the cat starts purring as soon as he is picked up. There will certainly be scratches and bites, pee where he doesn’t have to... but now he doesn’t want to think about it.
He doesn’t admit it, but he is very worried about the big meeting. His fears prove to be unfounded. Roxy greets the unexpected guest with suspicion but doubts last for a while. In short, even the real diva of the house gives her approval, especially when she understands that he will not eat her food and will not steal the affection of her masters.
-He reminds me very much Sergio, Emily's cat.- sighs the woman, the arms of his man around her hips, while together they contemplate the two little monsters that sleep together on the bed, occupying it almost entirely. -There are still a lot of things that I have to tell you, Alvez.- she turns her head in his direction.
He nods. He loves to listen to her, to hear her tell pieces of life that don’t concern him. But not now, not right now. -Sooner or later. Sooner or later.- he whispers, making her shiver. He cradles her, they sway together. -There's no hurry.- and they both want to believe it, to have their whole life in front of them, whatever that expression means.
__________________________
TAG LIST: @shyladystudentfan  @norge-the-great @avengerquake123 @reidskitty13 @eclipseflower123 @lovebennycolon @pegasus-scifichick @theshamelessmanatee  @beana83 @ilovegarvez @martinab26 @hideourscars @ gracieeelizabeth27 @iliketomakecreampie @hepensadocosaspeores @arses21434 @sillygirlspy @mymidnightnightmare @teyamarra @mydreampenelope @lilises-blog @cosmicmelaninflower @thinitta @extremeobsessions101 @agentbishop @hellodawnwrightfan @kiki-krakatoa @amieatingevidence @ leftlamphumanfestival @ella1239me @flufflehufflepuffle I tagged just who liked at least a chapter of this story. Tell me if you want to be removed from the tag list ^^
4 notes · View notes