THIS APPARITION IS NOT a cruel disguise for an entity that wants to HURT bill ; it is just the presence of one taken too soon, of one who LONGED for this home, for this family, for this brother. indeed, the ghost of georgie does not DESERVE to float within the depths of the neibolt house, strewn amongst other children of that horrible fate, but HERE by bill’s side where he always was & where he was always SUPPOSED TO BE.
the fingertips of his sole hand graze the bedframe, the blankets, as if remembering how to FEEL -- yet his doelike eyes are trained on his brother, his expression GENTLE, soft -- confused. his spirit was supposed to REST, not linger amongst all of this heartache. “billy?” it’s a whisper; his last word forever on his lips. “billy?”
@adfectusdeperditus literally wants to see me dead
HORROR TRANSFORMED HIS FACE AS HE STARED AT HIS BEST FRIEND, unable to see who he knew Sasuke to be. " So this is what you've decided ? " Muttering, his gaze rested on the ground, panic and dread clinging to the back of his throat. " You came here to put on some SHOW? Flaunt your POWER at the Five Kage Summit? " His words were weak -- emotional. Naive. He knew exactly why Sasuke was here. For whom he was he for. Madara made it clear.
Naruto stared at him now, pain rising in his chest. Pain he felt when he'd knelt in front of the Raikage, trying to PLEA for the best friend he'd ever known in his life. The same pain he felt when he first tried stopping Sasuke ... but couldn't. Failure came over him, emotions fueling him now. " Well, aren't you going to TALK ? " They were alone. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew Kakashi and Yamoto were trying to find him. Naruto was being selfish, and he knew it. But he didn't care. Not right now. " Come on..., " his voice drifted, gaze resting on Sasuke now, the unmistakable look of sorrow plastered over his face.
They hadn’t meant to come across the New Eden hunting party, but that old bear they’d been tracking had led them back to its den, only for her small group to figure out Edeners had been hunting it too.
That would have been bad enough, but Jacob had to be among the hunters. And those green barrels had been in the depths of the bear’s cave - the ones she had first found as a teenager. But Carmina knew better that to chase that rabbit down the hole this time, instead the Bliss just dulled her reactions and she hadn’t been able to retreat with her group before the Chosen and other hunters were all around her.
So she had caused as much noise as possible when they brought her back to Eden, enough to earn attention from a group of scavengers and there was an Edener dead. If this had been a simple run-in with Isaac and a few others, it would already be forgotten about and everyone gone their separate ways. But it wasn’t.
Jacob was involved and the mix of adrenaline and Bliss had bolstered her to bite him before Carmina really thought it through. She expected him to hit her, truth be told, the memories of him glaring down at her with utter hate still too fresh; if not for Wheaty that night …
“I’m not an Edener, I won’t do one of your fucked-up trials.” The boldness of the Bliss was fast wearing off, but she refused to be cowed now, no matter how terrified she was of Jacob. She wasn’t one of his brainwashed subjects Wheaty had told her about.
But Carmina must have overstepped a line in glaring up at the herald because his hand shot out and grabbed the collar of her jacket, too fast for her to react properly, but her brain immediately sprang into action - she was back in that forest and his hands were at her throat. There was no Wheaty to save her this time, and Isaac wouldn’t stand up to his father in front of everyone. All she could do was let out a sound somewhere between a yelp of surprise and a cry for help.
' your eyes , they look so empty. ' hands cup the cheeks of the woman currently hovered over him , the two of them stripped of any clothes previously. the only noise audible are the moans && grunts from the two of them. glints of ECSTASY & PURE ADRENALIN visible in their eyes, the longer they stare back at each , the more the hunger grew. perhaps , they'd get each other's name later , for now , they'd allowed themselves to have their moment & become engulfed in desire.
re: SUM FUCC - WILDCARD // from: @merailia
》》 T R A N S M I S S I O N - S T A R T //
HE IS HER FAVORITE KIND, handsome, strong, and best of all -- quiet. A dick without a name, an orgasm without consequence, and expecting nothing more than momentary pleasure. Or at least that’s what he should have been, nothing more than quick fuck in a hotel too nice for her budget .. .which she’d stiff him for after they were done.
Funny how something so simple can unravel such hastily made plans. He catches her when she leans forward after the first, of what she hoped would be many, orgasms - the aftershocks still bursting fireworks behind her green eyes. Faye didn’t expect him to be looking at her ... if anything this was when any other one night stand would have rolled her over, his job done as far as he was concerned and ready to finish out whatever pleasure they had left between them. As eager to get out of here as she was.
Instead there are dark eyes staring up from the disheveled face of a man her age, but not. His warm hands reaching, coasting across her cheeks with a tenderness no one had ever given Faye Valentine.
YOUR EYES, THEY LOOK SO EMPTY.
She laughs with the hollow knowledge that he’s right, that she died years ago with every memory she ever had, and, now, here she is: empty. Fucking a stranger to fill the void between her ribs. She grins, wolfish, escaping from his grasp to slam her body against his, swallowing the silence in the slap of skin on skin as carefully manicured fingers dive into the jet black of her hair.
A SHOW, the oh so familiar temptress act... the manufactured the wedge she shoves between them, hiding from the softness that for just a second, a pitiful, awful second, made her heart skip a beat.
“ What is it they always say ... ” Faye hums, husky and warm, her hips grinding half circles into his flesh, clenching with the static that is staring to build in the back of her skull. One hand traces up her taut stomach, over the valley beneath her ribs to cup her own breast, pinching the flesh hungrily, until a low noise slips free of her lips to dance with the smell of sex and sweat. “ The better to eat you with? ” Her coquettish pout is as fake as the nail polish on the finger hat traces her bottom lip ... but the way her breath heaves isn’t, nor is the way her body rolls with a building pleasure that climbs counter to the single bead of sweat that rolls down her neck toward where their bodies meet.
He isn’t supposed to matter, SHE isn’t supposed to care about his five o’clock shadow, or the way his eyes gaze up at her like she’s the world without even knowing her name. She shouldn’t be mentally tracing the dark circles under his eyes, or the too gaunt cut of his cheekbones. She shouldn’t be staring at the haunting deepness of his dark eyes, that whisper of things she’s never seen, and things she knows all too well.
Faye hisses, the hand that so seductively tried to trace her lips abandoning it’s post to press against his chest, a counterweight as she picks up the pace, desperate to drive away the too familiar eyes that still stare into her own. Like he’s looking through her, like he can see she’s just a FAKE, an act.
Her body wins out in the end, white hot pleasure rips free of the friction between them, riding waves of pleasure that leave her throat dry and raw, as if she were screaming. Ignoring the red half moons she splayed into his skin, and the way his hands coast from her thighs to her hips, driving into her until they both cry out one last time.
She falls to the side, too scared to come within the tender grip of those hands, to press her lips along his like she longs to. But, as she stares at the cheap offwhite ceiling, she can still see those dark eyes that stayed on her until the end.
“ I’m Faye, ” she confesses into the silence, as she traces his face in her mind, wondering if she’ll ever see him again. Hating the fact that she wants to. “ Faye Valentine. ”
making more money now is great and all but i miss so many things about the cafe ... i miss the smell of coffee on my clothes, i miss making weird drinks with my co workers, how soft everything lit up during golden hours, the quiet music in the background, the smell of bread from the patisserie next door ... that job made me crazy and the people made me want to slam my head in a door but the atmosphere was so comforting tbh
