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at the request/encouragement/threats of @willgrahamscock lol (I’m joking ofc thank you for giving me courage to post :)), here’s my art of hannibal and will!
plus here’s the original will sketch below the cut because he is cute and I want to share him!:
just look at him!!! I want only the best for him
#nbc hannibal#will graham#hannibal lecter#hannibal fanart#my art#look at them sparkling!!#they are smitten#I got inspired and ended up doing more work on the original sketches I did to try to expel the hannibal feelings from my body#and this is the final result!!!#I’m pretty happy with them :D but like also#honestly no matter how hard I tried I could not get the final will to not look like that guy from grey’s anatomy#I feel like his name is derek. probably.#do you see what I mean??#also please excuse the awful cropping and image quality of will#I tried I promise I tried!#but he did not want to cooperate#you can blame him#I just. cannot draw him. it is the bane of my life I have been trying for nearly a year now#he’s too pretty I simply cannot fully capture his beauty#I don’t get how people do it???? teach me your ways oh amazing artists I am but you humble student grovelling at your feet for scraps#but my sketch will is babygirl and I adore him <3#printing him out and sticking him on my wall#sorry I know I tag like I’m writing the opening story for an online recipe#I will be quiet now
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Bane and the Child of the Bat
Summary: This is a mix between TDKR Bane and Comic Book Bane. I'm fascinated with the idea of Bane 'baby sitting' Talia al Ghul's and Batman's son, Damian. This isn't a fluff piece, FYI. It's about a mentorship between Bane and Damian. Bane is passing on his wisdom and skill to The Son of Batman. And Damian is about to be baptized in the fires of Santa Prisca.
Chapter 4: Blood Ruins
Thirteen years ago, The Shadow Temple, Ra’s al Ghul’s Headquarters
Somewhere deep in the Himalayas, Talia al Ghul stood by her father, Ra’s al Ghul, as he spoke to a man known as Eduardo. She found this man utterly fascinating and as the months went by, she became infatuated by him. However, she had been too young at the time to draw his eye, and it would be five years before he’d even give her a second glance.
But now she was a full grown woman, and she had become a distraction. Ra’s al Ghul had made it clear to all his followers that Talia was not to be touched. Therefore, it had been a challenge to seduce Eduardo. However, one night, she was able to trick him in coming to visit her in her bed chambers.
Once he arrived, she wasted no time in removing the red silk robe that concealed her womanly figure. Eduardo, at that time, did not wear the mask. His injuries would come later. She had the pleasure of kissing his plump lips and tasting his wet tongue as he buried it into her hungry mouth.
She was a virgin, and she specifically chose Eduardo to deflower her. He would visit her almost every night, but each time spilling his seed onto her sheets instead of her womb.
One night, close to his climax, Talia grabbed hold of Eduardo’s muscular buttocks and locked her legs around him. He was forced to cum inside her as he was at his peak. Afterwards, he was furious.
“What are you doing?!” he demanded.
“I want a child, a warrior’s child,” Talia said, confused by Eduardo’s anger.
“No, absolutely not! I will not be responsible for a child,” Eduardo said, climbing out from her bed and starting to get dressed. “We risk both of our lives with this love affair. And you want to become pregnant?”
“I can handle my father…” Talia began, but Eduardo interrupted her.
“No, Talia. Not even you can handle Ra’s al Ghul’s wrath. He is beginning to suspect something. I’ll be finished if he knows that I’ve been fucking his daughter.”
“Is that what we’ve been doing? Just fucking?” she seethed.
Eduardo sighed heavily and sat by her side. “No, you mean more to me than that, you know this.”
“I wish for a child,” she said, edging closer to him.
“Then we cannot go further, you and I,” Eduardo said.
“No, you don’t mean this!” Talia said, her green eyes growing wide with surprise.
“I do. Good bye, my wildflower,” Eduardo said, standing and leaving her alone in bed to weep silently.
Talia was devastated by his rejection, but soon her sadness turned to rage. She would have what she wanted, and Eduardo would be punished for humiliating her.
She went to Ra’s al Ghul and told him everything. Not long after, Eduardo was banished from the League of Shadows. He left the compound with emotional and physical wounds. And that is when he donned the infamous mask and started a new life as Bane.
Present day, Santa Prisca
Damian had awoken at five in the morning and was waiting for Bane on the beach outside of the compound. It was closer to five thirty when Bane came lumbering out, his giant combat boots kicking up sand as he walked.
“Good Morning, it is time to see what you’re really made of,” Bane said, as he sauntered over.
“I’m ready for anything,” Damian said.
“Indeed, then follow me little Bat,” Bane said, turning to walk the distance to the edge of the jungle.
Damian followed Bane curiously and once they arrived at the line of green that led into the jungle Bane turned to him. Raising a muscular arm, Bane pointed into the jungle.
“In there, boy, I’ve placed a flash drive in a box. It is filled with files concerning your Dark father,” Bane said.
“That’s easy, I’ll find it in no time,” Damian said, grinning.
“Will you? Do you know the rigorous terrain of the Santa Prisca jungle? The wild animals, the poisonous plants?”
“Uh, well, maybe I should do some research first…” Damian said, hesitating.
“Good, finally you are using your head. If you go in now, you’ll die. I assure you. Now is the time for preparing. The box is located in an ancient ruin called Ruina de sangre,” Bane said, moving away from the jungle.
“Blood Ruins?” Damian said, jumping over a large, mossy covered rock.
“Yes, you’ll do well to understand why it is called that. You have one week to find the flash drive,” Bane said, turning briefly. “If you don’t find it, I’ll destroy it and then you’ll have to wait for your darling mother to tell you about the Batman.”
@buttercup32sstuff
#tom hardy fanfic#tom hardy#tom hardy fanfiction#bane#dc bane#tdkr bane#dc universe#comics#damian wayne#damian al ghul
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Atomic Wasteland, Sentient Forest, Alien Ocean
‘Fuck You’ Graffitied Across the Wall
My first M-rated game was Fallout 3. I cried when I finished that game. Not because the game was particularly sad, but because I knew I could never go back and play that game again.
After years of begging for a PS4, my parents got me a PS3. I wanted Fallout 4 but it wasn’t compatible with the PS3, so I settled for Fallout 3. The graphics sucked, even for 2016.
And my mom. She wasn’t sure how graphic this game was, so she watched me play it. Of course, she watched the worst part. My player character entered a building I knew was filled with raiders- post-apocalyptic baddies. But I didn’t know they had littered the floor with mines.
My character exploded into a million little pieces. The camera focused on one piece in particular as the chunk rolled down the stairs. There, at the bottom of the stars, written in blood: FUCK YOU.
My mother was shocked. Never had she been so repulsed in her entire life. And just as she’d given me the game, she took it away.
I begged. And begged. And pleaded. After a few days of my nonstop pleading, and my verbal promise that I would never actually kill anyone in real life (I’m the type of person to spare the scariest of spiders), my mom returned the game to me, albeit begrudgingly.
I recently played Fallout: New Vegas, and I never learn. Never look at the floor. I never even think that mines might be on my path. Now, though, my mom watches me play with glee. She is horrified, yes, but only because I’m so goddamn bad.
2. The Sun Sets; I’m Completely Fucked
The setting sun casts its orange light on the forest. Soon this crooked forest will consume everything. Already, it’s taken highways and villages for its own. In these villages, infected humans lay dying. Some infected humans keep their sanity, but not their human image. And some still lose both mind and body to the forest. The player character, a human who has managed to keep his sanity and his self despite the forest’s universal plague, sprints home. There, he pulls a dresser in front of one of the doors, starts the generator, and hides in a corner gripping tightly his rifle.
When the sun sets, the infected come. First, they knock on doors. They peep through windows. Then they grow more violent. They tear down barricades and search the homes for the man inside.
Darkwood is a hit-or-miss game for most. I love it through and through. The infected forest is beautiful. The infected people, not so much, but I enjoy screaming and running from them as fast as my poor player character can.
I fell in love with this game during the first night I played. A knocking at my door startled me, but I continued hiding in my corner, and, eventually, whoever was knocking roamed away. The lore of the game is wonderful, as I discovered when I met the Wolf Man. The plague touched him so that he transformed into a bipedal wolf, with the appetite to boot.
The monsters are horrifying. Knowing that they are- or were- people is worse. Chompers were the bane of my existence while I played this game, and I ran every time I saw one. They are infected people who split down the middle to their chests. This made room for a large mouth of teeth.
I have days worth of time invested into this game.
But I cannot finish it.
I don’t want a repeat of Fallout 3 ever again, so I never finish games I really love. When I feel Darkwood’s end drawing near, I delete my save file and start anew.
3. Discovering I Have Thallassophobia
I love games, but I am not good at them. I have to play most shooters on easy because I have the aim of a drunk Stormtrooper. Subnautica is no different.
I love the ocean. Before Batman came along, it and mythology had been my hyper-fixations. I still know way too much about yeti crabs and other deep-sea life. While no longer a hyper fixation, the deep oceans are still fixations.
I want to live at the bottom of the ocean. I dream not of whale song, but of bone worms swaying in the current. Before I get started on the real oceans, though, let me introduce Subnatuica.
Subnautica is a first-person adventure game set on an alien planet made completely of water. Your goal is to get off the planet while avoiding being eaten by an apex predator along the way, or being picked off by those annoying little crabs. It focuses on adventure and base building, but I didn’t care about either of those.
I wanted to see the creatures. Specifically, the creatures in the deep dark. So, as soon as I had the necessary resources, I vowed, I would travel to the abyss and gather information on every lifeform there.
That never happened. Again, I’m awful at games.
Worse, it wasn’t even an apex predator that kept killing me- or even those crabs. It was dehydration. Water was all around me, but not the drinkable kind. And I had no idea how to get water so I kept dying.
I gave up sooner rather than later and watched every Youtuber play Subnautica I could. Despite having never been to the abyss myself, I have seen through others the creatures that live there, and they are just as strange and fascinating as the deep-sea animals in real life.
Biolumenisent predators. Long-legged crabs. And sapient creatures that, unlike dolphins (who I fully believe to be as intelligent as humans, unfortunately) aren’t completely fucked up in the head.
And, again, watching the ending of this game, I cried.
#video games#gaming#blog#blogger#blog post#videogame#subnatica below zero#subnautica#darkwood game#fallout new vegas#bethesda
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random hcs for parker’s ocs
HAPPY BIRTHDAY @knizmokat, i hope you have the most amazing day, ilysm!!
i really hope you like these because trust me when i say random i mean random, but i tried my best for you! <3
(also it’s almost 3am here so if my brain isn’t fully fried it’s your birthday already, I AM POSTING THIS NOW)
.....
SASHA
unable to draw anything aside from stick figures and even those are ugly af
his art teacher insisted that everyone can draw until she saw sasha’s work
when the rest of the class gets a new assignment, she allows him to write an analysis over a painting of his choice instead and sasha is more than fine with that
almost always has his hair in a pony tail but unable to do a bun
asahi tried to teach him for 30 minutes and almost cried because it just kept felling apart for no apparent reason
picks the most terrifying stuff you could think of for movie night
managed to scare suga with one of his horror movie picks and has been banned from choosing anything other than u-rated movies ever since
physically unable to sleep without his kirby plushie
a gymnastically talented little mf, can do cartwheels and splits and walk on his hands like it’s nbd
once made a front flip over his hands during practice, scoring a point for his team by hitting the ball over the net with his feet
the absolute proudest moment of his life and he’s still mad that no one has it on video
RYUZAKI
unfazed by tragic movies but fucking bawled his eyes out over encanto (you know why parker)
has all of his fineliners sorted by color and will never ever let noya borrow them in class after doing it once and almost getting a stroke from the sheer chaos that ensued
a little control freak in general
all of his stuff has a designated place and if it’s not where it’s supposed to be he’ll die
open to all kinds of music but an absolute elitist when it comes to “the big ones”
do not talk to him about the history of rock and metal unless you’ve memorized every dio song in existence
also has zero tolerance for any so called disrespect towards his greatest musical inspirations
blocked tanaka for saying “poison? the rita ora song?” and only unblocked him after daichi scolded him for being an idiot
cannot handle horror at all
can and will sucker punch noya for giving him a scare in a devil mask out of reflex
halloween is the bane of his existence
KOGANEI
an absolute athletic multi talent
there’s no sport in existence this man can’t do
show him how to swing a baseball bat and he says “oh like this?” and scores a homerun
he’s also a theatre kid but only the dancey stuff so newsies is right up his alley
can do the entire choreography for king of new york and also hit the high note in santa fe
sails through all his classes as we’ve already established and once sang the build up from before the breakdown from we are the tigers under his breath, making akaashi cry
“‘cause you’re the score you got on sats...” - “YOU GOT A FUCKING 110 I’M BEGGING YOU TO SHUT THE HELL UP”
can do a perfect impression of kermit the frog and it’s a hit at parties
an adrenaline junkie at amusement parks (same tho he has good taste)
it cannot be high, fast or dangerous enough
“there’s no such thing as too many loopings!”
laughs at dad jokes
KUROSAKI
quotes old movies like it’s nobody’s business
once muttered “see how love flies out the door” at the sight of yamamoto and lev fighting for the last piece of roast beef and got absolutely ecstatic when kuroo turned around and went “did you just make a cabaret reference”
literally don’t ask him if he’s seen any movie made after the 90s. he hasn’t.
knows a shit ton of stuff about astrology
knew everyone’s sun and moon sign by their personalities alone
“wow so you believe in that?!” “nah”
can nap everywhere and it’s a gift until one day he falls asleep during a practice match and gets one of bokuto’s spikes in the face
he’s in the hospital for two days but he claims it was worth it
also a theatre kid but only for the classics
thinks west side story is an unmatched masterpiece and will not listen to anyone who has a different opinion
lactose intolerant but cheese is too good
KEITA
really into scrapbooking
has tons of scrapbooks for all kinds of stuff he likes
made one for each third year about their time on the team together and gives it to them at the end of the year (they all cry)
has the most beautiful handwriting known to man
he once gave goshiki his notes for studying and goshiki thought he had used some super fancy font on microsoft word
will not leave the house without nail polish on and always has a spare bottle with him
would rather die than admit it but he loves ghibli movies
the tale of the princess kaguya is his favorite (BECAUSE HE HAS TASTE) and he has very strong opinions about ponyo
like. way too strong opinions, considering that it’s ponyo.
it makes him cry
refuses to participate in tendou’s whistling contests and claims it’s stupid but actually just can’t whistle and is too ashamed to admit it
snorts when he laughs too hard which absolutely infuriates him
DAISUKE
this man can fucking BAKE
brings a bunch of cupcakes to practice to surprise iwaizumi on his birthday and everyone is floored
they look like pinterest photos fr
creates his own recipes and sometimes posts them online, they all have at least 4.8 stars
people always assume he’s all bark no bite but he’ll try to fuck you up if you’re mean to his friends (only he’s allowed to be!!)
got into a fight over some jackasses making fun of watari and lost because it was five against one so kyoutani saved him and soaked all of them
no regrets
participates in a poetry slam when he loses a bet against matsuhana and reads one of his raps as if it was a simple poem
comes in first place, rubs their noses into it for weeks
oikawa tried to get him into musicals but he only likes hamilton because of the rap in it and oikawa is not amused
scribbles little comics all over his notes and it kills his teachers (which is part of the reason why he does it)
#HAPPY BIRTHDAY WOHOO#i hope you dont mind me borrowing your babies for this lol#i had fun making this!!#rey's moots#haikyuu!! ocs#kitty 🐈
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i did the thing <3 and i'm back with a fail date that i'll leave open ended ;) was dating a chef and we went to a restaurant he wanted to try in the next town over. we order lunch, we're chatting, we're laughing, its going great. food comes out and he took one bite, he stopped smiling and whispered 'oh no...' XD
You did a thing!!! Hello!!! Welcome to the fold, fabulous to have you in the ranks. Hope you meet some nice beans :) Opened endings? Oh, we kicking up a notch haha.
--
Setting the scene - Derek is definitely the chef. No one should trust Stiles with sharp objects like knives. Derek is a werewolf and knows it's time to tell Stiles. They've been seeing each other for a few weeks and he's never felt this way about anyone. He wants to officially ask Stiles to be his boyfriend (why does he get butterflies everytime he thinks of that word?).
His family and pack (Laura and Erica in particular) have been dying to meet the human who has swept Derek off his feet. Not that he can blame them, Stiles is everything he has ever wanted and more. They just, click. But it was getting to the point that the women of the pack were threatening to stalk Stiles if they weren't formally introduced asap.
So Derek decided today was the day to ask Stiles to be official and start explanations of the supernatural kind. They'd travelled a town over to avoid the Hale pack's pesky eavesdropping. And to try out a new restaurant that's been getting rave reviews. The lunch was going well, they ordered and chatted and it was perfect.
The waiter places their food on the table and leaves. Derek swallows and is about to start explaining (how do you even start to tell someone that you have a desire to howl at the full moon?) when Stiles jumps in first.
"So are you finally going to tell me your secret?" Stiles asks, all big eyes and soft smiles.
Derek's heard of gay panic but is there such thing as wolf panic?
Derek is too caught up with the question to even register the mild but unusual scent of his meal. He takes a bite to try and calm himself...and internally curses.
"Oh no..." he whispers.
Stiles frowns and watches as Derek swallows his mouthful slowly and grimaces in the direction of the kitchen. He follows the movement as sees two stunning - like model stunning - women wave from the kitchen peak hole. One with dark straight hair and the other with blonde ringlets, both with predatory smiles.
"Do you know them?" Stiles cocks his head in confusion.
Derek looks like he ate a lemon, "This cannot be happening."
"What’s going on?" Stiles reaches out for Derek's hand which the other man takes and interlocks their fingers.
The women have left the confines of the kitchen and are walking over to their table now.
Derek gives a tight smile, "If we survive this, I'll buy you all the curly fries in the world."
"Oh Der-Bear, brother of mine!" The brunette is calling out in a sing-song tone.
It all clicks in Stiles' brain. He grins and gives Derek's hand a squeeze, "If we survive this, promise to marry me one day."
Derek doesn’t get a chance to answer that particular request when the women have reached the table. When first meeting someone, the usual custom was to introduce yourself and ask to join the meal. These women did not get that memo.
The brunette, Derek’s sister slides into the booth blocking Derek’s escape routes, the blonde does the same to Stiles, snuggling in close.
Derek sighs the way only a brother could, “Stiles, meet my older sister, Laura and my friend - although at this moment I’m not too sure why - Erica.”
Derek should have known something was up when he found the latest restaurant reviews magazine left open on the dining room table. He had assumed it was left out by his mum, the two of them often discussing the latest food trends. He hadn’t thought it was left as a trap by his manipulative pack mates. But the moment the ever-so-light sprinkle of wolf’s bane had touched his lips, Derek knew he was in trouble.
How the two biggest trouble makers in his life had managed to find out the exact details of his date and get themselves access to the kitchen was beyond him but he imagined it had something to do with their feminine prowess (or their intimidation tactics) both equally as strong.
He was still trying to process how Stiles could know about his wolf and now he had to manage these two?
“What are you two doing here?” Derek reluctantly asks.
Erica grins, a dangerous twist of crimson red lips, “You’ve been keeping Stiles a secret for too long, Derek. We had to take proactive measures.”
“And ambushing my date was the best way to do that?”
“We’ve gotta make sure Stiles can handle the unexpected.” Laura ‘helpfully’ supplies.
“I don’t mind thinking on my feet.” Stiles interjects.
Derek is in awe of this man. How did he find someone so perfect?
“So are you all werewolves or just the Hales?” Stiles asks. The three wolves all stop and blink at him.
“What, is that not the right terminology? Is lycanthrope more appropriate?”
Erica is the first to break the silence, almost doubling over from the force of her laugh. Laura is joining in too.
Derek on the other hand is just in plain shock. “You knew?”
Stiles shrugs, “I’m a curious creature. I research. And things didn’t always add up with you. Like you are way too good looking to be just human. And there’s the whole tendency to growl when things get - ah - heated.”
“We are so keeping you! Come over for dinner tonight so you can meet the whole pack.” Laura announces, not waiting for an answer. She kisses Derek on the cheek and rises up from the booth. Erica follows suit and throws Stiles a wink before the two of them walk out of the restaurant with linked arms.
Derek breaths a sigh of relief.
“So did I pass the test?” Stiles asks, moving over to sit beside Derek in the booth. Derek lifts his arm and draws Stiles in.
“You were perfect.” He kisses the human’s forehead. “You are perfect.”
“You going all soft on me now, Hale?”
Derek smirks, “Do you like my last name?”
Stiles crinkles his eyebrows in confusion, “Yeah?’
“Do you wanna keep it?" Derek is full-on smiling now, little bunny teeth and all. “That was the rule, right? We survive this and I marry you?”
Stiles blushes at the memory, “Only if you buy me all the curly fries in the world. And we are hypernating, Mr Old-School. I’m always going to be a Stilinski in one way or another.”
“Done.” Derek whispers as he leans in and kisses Stiles.
Derek wasn’t sure why he was ever nervous to make things official. Somehow he had gone from worrying about the title ‘boyfriend’ to this. They still needed to have a proper conversation and he knew the human would have excel spreadsheets of questions about the supernatural. But as Stiles’ hands cupped his jaw and pulled him in for another kiss, Derek thought those discussions could wait.
Now they just had to meet the rest of the pack - oh no...
--
Ta da! Hope you liked it my friend. This one was fun to write. Can you tell I like big happy Hale alive families? Because I certainly do. Also, my version of Laura will forever and always be played by Meghan Ory (just as a fun fact). Thanks for popping in!
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His promise
"I will never offer you more than this. I can't offer more than pleasure in ungodly hours. I will never love you, so if this is something you expect, tell me now."
Pressing her lips together, Y/N held her breath. Her eyes would look for Nick in most situations, drawn to him like a moth to the flame, but what can one do when the fire burns?
"I will never love you."
Nick had never lied to her, he never mislead her. If anything, he was painfully honest and it never once occurred to her that he will eventually make good on his word. It never occurred to her that he will leave and she would be left alone.
"I will never love you."
Her eyes linger on the doorway, knowing he'd come through it any moment now. She had been expecting him, after all, when Sabrina calls he would come running. And call she did. And run he did. Straight out of her embrace.
"Are you alright?" Prudence questions, her eyes holding concern for her friend. "You seem pale and weary."
Swallowing thickly, Y/N gives her a tight lipped smile. "I'm okay." But she's not. She's heartbroken and if she could speak for more than two words without crying, she would tell Prudence all about it but she's all choked up and Nick is not.
She can see his smile is brighter as he enters with Sabrina by his side. His voice is louder, lighter and his hand lingers on Sabrina's back. Nick's eyes are focused solely on the blonde girl, mesmerized as if she were the sole purpose of his existence.
"I will never love you."
It's the bitter truth, Nick would keep his promise to Y/N. He will never love her.
"I'm not okay", she whispers to Prudence, her eyes filled with tears. Prudence embraces her, hiding her momentary weakness. Walking her off to the door, Prudence helped the young witch escape, unaware of Nick's lingering gaze.
He couldn't bare to see her cry, yet he looked at her in hopes of seeing her tears. If she cries, the woman who said she'd never cry, it would mean she cares and for some reason, he needed to know she cares.
"I'll be back shortly", he makes an excuse as he follows behind the girls.
"You deserve better", he hears Prudence say, his heart aching as she wipes tears off Y/N's cheeks.
"Can we talk?" Nick speaks up, his hands folded in front of him, "Alone", he raises an eyebrow as Prudence glares at him.
Prudence glances at Y/N, silently questioning of this is what she wants and with a curt nod from the girl, she leaves the two to speak.
"I'm sorry", Nick starts but Y/N quickly raises her hand to stop him.
"For what? For being honest?" Licking her lips, Y/N shrugs and for the first time ever, Nick can see the tears in her eyes. "You promised you'd never love me and you clearly love Sabrina, but I'd like to ask you something."
Stepping closer to Nick, she folds her arms across her chest. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears that brim her lashes and this time he hopes they don't spill over as those tears would weigh heavily on his conscience.
Perhaps knowing she cares is the bane of his existence. Perhaps admitting he cares, even if it’s just to himself, is his eternal punishment.
"Anything", he breathes out, wishing he could reach out and hold her closer, make her feel happy again. Truth is, he loves her smile. It brought him a great deal of happiness. He missed it now, more than ever.
"You love her so much, but have you ever wondered why she decided to split herself into two? Didn't Sabrina Morningstar love you as much as Spellman does? If it were so easy for her to walk away and marry Caliban, what makes you so sure that Spellman wouldn't do the same?" And with that, Y/N stepped back.
"She chose me. She chose to come back." Nick retorts, his lips pursed as he shakes his head. He’s made his choice as well. While he stands by it, Nick can’t pretend he doesn’t wonder if it was the right one. Y/N knows him well enough to see he’s struggling with his choice.
"She chose to come back to her family. Question is, why did she decide to take you back at all?” Pausing, Y/N narrows her eyes ever so slightly, “Because she loves you or because she was so lonely she needed someone to warm her in cold nights to come?" Tucking her hair behind her ears, she fixed her gaze on his clenched jaw. Her words have found their mark.
"That's not true. She loves me." Nick defends, standing as still as a statue. His hands turn to fists, his breaths are quick and shallow and he’s using every last bit of strength not to crumble as Y/N’s eyes pierce through him.
"I truly hope she does. But I think there's more to it and I think you know that too." Wetting her lips, Y/N takes another step back. "I loved you."
Opening his mouth, Nick draws in a deep breath but no words pass his lips. There are few times in his life Nick was left speechless. Both were with Y/N. The first time was when they first met and she said she could see his soul is made of the same cloth hers is. Truth be told, that never left his mind. Her admitting she loves him is a clear second.
"Don't worry. I'm well aware you do not return my affections." Forcing a half smile, she shrugs once again. She will not cry, not in front of him. Not ever. The time for crying has passed and with an apocalypse on the horizon, it would be far too selfish to focus on her broken heart instead of the impending doom.
With a heavy heart, she gives him one final look, maybe not forever, but for now. She’d be forced to see him, but this is the final look of love she will dare send his way. This is her way of letting him go. Even if a part of him wished she’d stay. Even if a part of him wished he could take her hand and run far away. He wished he could split himself in half as Sabrina had, to give his half a chance of a life he had lost with Y/N. But fate doesn’t work that way and his choice was made a long time ago. Maybe his soul shares the same material as Y/N’s, but he cannot dwell on it any longer as he has to let her go as well.
"Goodbye Nick."
#nick scratch x reader#nick scratch#nicholas scratch#nicholas scratch x reader#nick scratch angst#chilling adventures of sabrina
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🖊😈🌝✨ !!!!
asjdgajgdsjhdgash Hi, friend! 🤣 Thanks for not letting me drown in a flop. ❤️ You're most kind! 🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. I'll put a snippet of Hoe Fic under the cut! 😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate? I'm not sure. Cliffhangers? Maybe? Never updating after posting? 🤣 🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to? At this point I think I've written for all the characters I genuinely care for. I have even written for the ones I don't like (*cough*Kol*cough* 😠). ✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing. Uhh... 😬😬 Damn, this one's hard. Dialogue-y. IC (it's a word now, don't argue). Eclectic? 🤣 I don't know, I think my fics are varied in theme, style, etc. ANYWAY. lol Thanks for sending me asks, friend! ❤️ And if anyone else would like to play, send me an emoji from this list. Here's for the snippet! It's just a draft, so forive my French and also everything else.
"How are you enjoying the party?" Elijah asks conversationally, like he's a mere amicable acquaintance and not the bane of Klaus' tormented existence.
"Rather boring but not too daunting up until the point I was accosted by you," he replies with tersely. "What do you want?"
"Merely to make sure that you'll save a dance to Lady Aurora."
The scoff that escapes Klaus' lips is so loud people turn to look, which earns him a simmering glare from Elijah. "You cannot be serious," he says. "For Christ's sake, Elijah -"
"Brother," Elijah interrupts his complaint, raising his tone above Klaus'. "Need I remind you of our conversation just the other day?"
"I recall our conversation every hour of every day, brother. It rings inside my skull like the bells of hell chiming to announce the end of times. Gives me one hellish headache that never eases away, no matter how many spirits I try to quench it with. Do you sincerely see me attending a garden party on a Sunday morning if not for your abominable threat?"
Failing to notice the bite in Klaus' voice, or perhaps feeling all the prouder for it, Elijah grins. "Well, then. Make good use of your time by investing it wisely."
"In Aurora De Martel," Klaus snides.
"She's a perfectly -"
"Insufferable little pest," he finishes for Elijah. "Are you not satisfied with having me subjecting myself to the ton's ridiculous rites, must you also choose who I will or will not set my eyes upon?"
"The issue, Niklaus, is that I do not see you setting your eyes upon anyone."
He draws in a deep sigh, heavy with weariness. He places a hand on his brother's shoulder, looking him in the eyes with all the condescension he can muster. "Just because you married the first desperate woman who feigned a swoon in front of you, Elijah, it does not mean I must abide by the same idiocy. I'd rather take my time with my observations."
Elijah peels his hand away like one who touches something foul, lips twisting with irritation. Perhaps meekness would be advisable in such circumstances; Elijah does have the means to make Klaus' life hell in ways that will make a garden party hoarded with debutantes and their fearsome mamas feel like a delightful morning. But Klaus cannot help the satisfaction upon seeing he's touched a nerve on his ever-unflappable brother. Two can play this game.
"If you're observing, Niklaus," Elijah continues, "then there should be no problem with keeping tabs on lady Aurora. I hear she's a lovely dancer."
Klaus huffs out with annoyance. "Elijah -"
"Allow me to make myself clear, Niklaus, in case I stuttered before. Believe me when I say that my threats were not empty ones, unlike your bravado and that ridiculous brazen attitude you sport like that makes you anything other than insufferable. I have been far too lenient with your whims, Niklaus, and I take responsibility for how unruly you've grown, but I wouldn't test me if I were you. Or do, and see where that takes you." He plasters a charming smile on his face, fixing Klaus' cravat. "Do enjoy your day, brother. And do be sure to keep an eye out for Rebekah, will you? She's a trifle too over-excited with the attention she's been receiving. I'm afraid her vanity will get the best of her." He shrugs one shoulder with an air of helplessness. "She's taken an awful lot after you."
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i like your face - a morning au
“I’ll get the drinks,” Neil says as soon as they walk into Eden’s.
Andrew raises an eyebrow.
“No one needs to get stabbed tonight,” Neil says. “It’s Hapless Sam on the bar.”
“Spoilsport,” Andrew mutters, but doesn’t move with Neil when he heads to the bar.
Hapless Sam is the new barman helping Roland, stepping in for a few months whilst Ebony, the usual yin to Roland’s yang, is off to have surgery.
Hapless Sam is also the bane of Andrew’s life. He never gets a drinks order right. He constantly peppers them with bad one liners. He also once tried to pick up both Neil and Nicky and Aaron in one night - only stopping when Aaron suddenly duplicated and Andrew stuck a blade under his chin. After that, Roland stepped in.
But the bar was overrun tonight and if Andrew had to so much as look at Hapless Sam - well, someone is going to prison and someone is leaving in a body bag. And you don't need to be a genius to figure out which.
So Neil goes to the bar and Andrew keeps an eye on him - on the red of his hair, the sway of his hips, a new quirk that he had to know drove Andrew crazy. It should be illegal for someone like Neil to have any kind of rhythm - but Neil wasn’t a bad dancer. He was sinuous and unreal, if a little self conscious, and Andrew really really needed a drink before that happened again.
Because it will, promised the voice in his head. Nicky will never rest until Neil dances again. Even if it killed Andrew. He suspected it was partly because Nicky wanted him to dance too.
Neil came back an achingly long time later. There was something odd about the way he looked at Andrew, half a question hovering right beneath his skin.
He set down the tray and Nicky chitters, Aaron glowers, Kevin reaches forward expectantly.
But there’s a yell from the bar and Andrew looks up to see Roland’s furious face, Hapless Sam’s horror.
He catches Roland’s eye and the frantic look there - the way he's turned to stare at Andrew tells him everything.
“Don’t fucking drink anything,” he says to his table.
Aaron puts his glass down. Kevin looks torn but relents under Andrew's stare. Nicky frowns and leans back.
Neil however sways on the spot. His eyes are blown wide, two black pools ringed with the finest circle of ice blue. Andrew reaches for him and Neil reaches back. He looks sad and confused.
"N'drew..." he slurs, "Did I do su'thin bad?" There's a tinge of British in there, a twirl of French.
Andrew tugs Neil down beside him, stomach hollowing because he doesn't know what Neil's taken but it's clear he's taken something. Rage pools in the empty cavern of his chest. He goes to push Neil at Nicky - Roland clearly knows something and he wants answers - but Neil makes a noise in his throat and catches hold of Andrew's sleeve. Even high he's not crossing lines. Andrew aches with that knowledge.
"What did I do?" Neil asks again. "I don' have none secrets."
It takes a moment for Andrew to realise Neil thinks this was his fault. That in some part of this idiot's head, he believes Andrew would drug him again.
"It wasn't me," Andrew says, voice low. "You're okay Neil."
"Stay with Nicky, I'll talk to Roland." And probably gut Hapless Sam, whose fault it inevitably is.
Neil makes that whining noise again and Andrew wishes they didn't have an audience. "Don't wanna kiss Nicky."
"Who said anything about kissing?"
"Not Nicky. Only you."
Nicky's guilty look sets Andrew's teeth on edge.
Andrew needs to talk to Roland but can't leave Neil with the Monsters. Fortunately, Roland comes to them bearing a new tray of drinks and a harried expression.
"Fucking hell guys, I'm sorry. None of you drank those, right?"
"Don't worry Sammy's been banished to the kitchen, he's not doing anything like this again and--"
Andrew is up and in his face within seconds - pinioning Roland against the wall, arm across his throat, knife pricking his side.
"What has he taken?"
Roland notices Neil, gulps.
"It's a new syrup - they call it Goblin Juice and it looks just like lime cordial - Sam thought it was lime for the soda. Fuck Andrew do you need the knife? Ow fuck fuck fuck okay stop, it's made using shrooms. Non addictive. Just meant to make you happy - kinda soft."
But of course Neil was the one who drank it. If it had been any of the others, perhaps no one would have even noticed - maybe even celebrated the free high.
But Neil...
Kevin and Aaron are helping themselves to the new drinks when he lets Roland go. Nicky looks pale and nervous and is holding a shot but not drinking. Neil has flopped back on their sofa and is staring at Andrew, a wide smile on his face that Andrew immediately hates.
"I really like your face," Neil says when his brain catches up and realises Andrew is paying attention again. "You have a good face."
Andrew shoots daggers with his eyes at Roland and the barman flees, promising free drinks for the night and the next, forever, whenever.
Neil smiles and reaches for Andrew again as he comes back.
Andrew is not drunk enough for this shit, especially when Nicky coos. "Oh he's so cute. He should have gotten high sooner."
Andrew wants to warn his cousin to back off but Neil has wriggled around and nuzzled his face against Andrew's shoulder. It's heedlessly distracting. It's dangerously adorable.
"Do yous like my face Nyandrew?" Neil says. "I really really like yours. Look at your face. Hey is my head still attached?"
Andrew sees the way Neil is teetering, wraps his hand across the back of Neil's neck and tugs him close. It's not a hug. It's for the idiot's own safety that's all. However, apparently for sky-high-Neil, silence and gestures isn't an answer.
"You don't like my face?"
The slight tremble in Neil's voice is what makes Andrew swallow his frustration and reply. He can't stand that tremble. "I like your fucking face." "I like yours too." And then Neil's finger boops Andrew's cheek.
"Nose," he says. "Good nose."
For. Fucks. Sake.
But it's kind of hilarious (and ruinously cute) as Neil - gentle as a moth wing - strokes over Andrew's cheek and along his temple, finds the bridge of his nose and the swell of his lips.
"Good face."
Andrew contains himself by a miracle. He's fairly sure Aaron is filming this.
"If that footage goes anywhere but the trash, I'll fucking stab you."
"If you were going to stab me, you would have done it a long time ago brother."
"No stabbing," Neil says. "Too many witnesses. Oh hey, look at the fireflies."
Neil lifts one hand to the empty ceiling. There are no fireflies. This is Eden's. Andrew wants to take Neil home but doesn't think putting him in a car is going to do much good right about now.
"You like my face," Neil sighs and sits back. "Even all of this."
"Yes," Andrew says. "Because of all of this."
It's not the scars, it's because Neil survived. That he should have broken and yet still held himself together by tooth and claw.
"I didn't drug you," Andrew says, close to the shell of Neil's ear. "I promise."
"Okay," Neil says. "Good. I don't wanna kiss Nicky."
And there it is again, the second time Neil has mentioned this. Andrew looks at his cousin, who has escaped with Kevin onto the dancefloor.
They'll have a little chat later, when Neil isn't on another planet.
"You're the best," Neil says. "I'll kiss you."
"Not tonight."
Because even if Neil is warm and flush against him. Even if Neil is soft and pliant and willing. This is a man who has been drugged and cannot give consent. Hell, he's watching fireflies that don't exist and stroking Andrew's chin, like he's forgotten Andrew has teeth. Neil is not okay.
Aaron leans back in his chair. "If it's molly, he could be flying for hours."
"It's some kind of shroom shit."
"So even longer then."
Andrew's fingers tighten on Neil's shoulder. "So we can't wait this out?" He should have asked Roland that.
"Probably not, no. Take him home. I'll bring the others."
And for once Andrew decides to trust his brother. He gathers Neil and his loose limbs and leaves Aaron to manage Kevin and Nicky. It’s a one of the hardest things he’s ever done but Bee’s buzzing voice tells him it's time to let Aaron prove himself, standalone.
Neil is awful as they leave - smiling at everyone and everything, even things that aren’t there. His eyes shine and every time he looks at Andrew, there’s a draw of breathe like he’s never seen him before.
“You are,” Neil says, “the best thing. The abs’lute best thing. Hold me up and keep me sage, no safe. Mean safe. You me safe.”
And Neil cannot sing but his voice is sing song and full of wonder.
Andrew is going to gut Hapless Sam like a fish from chin to pelvis.
They drive home - slowly because Neil keeps getting distracted by things Andrew is doing, like blinking (your eyelashes are so white, like snow flakes Andrew) and breathing (but look how you move, so amazing). But Neil is so soft and happy and obsessed, it’s hard to be angry.
Columbia is dark, their house musty with absence. They’ve not visited for a while and Andrew had been hoping for something slightly different tonight.
Neil apparently had too. “Yes? Andrew? Yes?” He says.
“No,” Andrew says. And he never thought he’d hate seeing Neil obey - not with this - but there’s hurt and confusion and concern and a thousand layers of emotion on Neil’s face when he hears it this time. All the feelings Neil must usually keep tucked away when it isn’t always yes for Andrew.
Andrew relents, “Just this,” he says as he settles onto the sofa, guiding Neil down with him. Neil’s reaction is instant - dopey smile and arms that snake around Andrew in a loose but escapable hold.
“Warm,” he says. “Strong.”
The hours tick by in highs and lows - Neil is happy in phases, then almost crying in others. He tells Andrew things that cross his mind, about Andrew, about the Foxes and exy. He hides in Andrew’s hoody when he sees shadows crawling and is convinced they’re from his father.
Andrew does his best to soothe and protect - it’s all in Neil’s head and Andrew isn’t a soft man, but he keeps Neil close and lets him talk. A few years ago he couldn’t have done this. But a few years ago he and Neil were new and still cutting each other on their sharp edges.
Aaron herds an unhappy Nicky and an almost paralytic Kevin inside. Aaron seems sober but that could just be in comparison.
“Our cousin,” Aaron tells Andrew, “is a fool. But you care about him and shouldn’t kill him for doing what you asked.”
“What did he do?”
Aaron shrugs. “Just a kiss I believe. But might explain a bit more why your nut-job boyfriend knocked himself out that time.”
“That was cos imma liar,” Neil chimes with all the confidence of the truly seshed. “Liar liar liar.”
“Not anymore.”
“Yeah. Not with you.”
There's water and toast and Neil naps at one point but Andrew doesn't because he knows what's next - and he's right. Neil is sick for what feels like hours but isn't. Aaron brings more water. A small part of Andrew wonders if his twin actually likes seeing Neil so ridiculous.
Turns out he's right about that too.
Aaron tells him when Neil is hurling up his guts that seeing Neil like this, seeing Andrew with him like this, makes more sense than anything he's seen prior.
"You're everything to him." Aaron doesn't say that Neil is everything to Andrew but the implication is there.
And when Neil is finally in their bed, safe and asleep, Andrew calls Roland and leaves a warning. Hapless Sam had better be fired or there wouldn't be an Eden's Twilight.
He stays awake and stays awake. He falls asleep around 6am.
Neither of them stir until well into the afternoon and when Neil does, he buries his face in the pillows and groans.
"Oh my god. Andrew I'm so --"
"Shut up." Andrew doesn't want apologies for this. He sees the embarrassed pink of Neil's ears, the flush on his neck. "Stop."
Neil groans again and Andrew knows he must feel like shit right about now. That he's mortified. That he's worried. That Andrew has the power to make it right.
Something wicked flickers in his gut.
"Hey junkie," he says. "I like your face."
-The End-
Notes:
#morning au#andreil#aftg#andrew minyard#neil josten#post canon#all for the game#absolute fluff#even if there's accidently non-consensual drug use#it's not deliberate#no one is an asshole#neil is very soft and sappy#he really likes Andrew's face#eden's twilight#very very fluffy
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What is the best way to tease someone?
A 3,449 word essay broadly covering the methods with which we tease
Twenty-five minute read
"There can be no true despair without hope... I will feed the people of Gotham hope to poison their souls."
Bane: Dark Knight Rises
“Without hope, there is no despair. There is only meaningless suffering.”
D. Morgenstern
For this essay I will define teasing as a playfully enforced delay of indulgence. While the above quotes are dark for sure, and do not directly apply to this topic, I think they highlight aspects of teasing that are foundational to its differences from other forms of play. I believe there can be no true teasing without hope of gaining one's desire. If one feels they cannot reach their goal or desire, I believe that becomes an expression of submission to another, to the situation, but not a teasing of the mind.
Studying the possibilities of this field of play is one that takes special care because it draws on what we know about our counterparts like few other disciplines do. It requires us to first know what our counterpart desires most, and how to then playfully enforce the delay of indulging in that desire. Finding out what another craves, and creating structures with which to playfully impede the immediate gratification of that craving are challenging enough on their own, but combining these working pieces of teasing into a system is incredibly complicated— requiring intimate knowledge of one's counterpart’s boundaries and turn offs. While there can be no best way to tease someone, because of our inherent human complexities, this essay will attempt to put forth the best practices I know to have a mutually rewarding and pleasurable experience.
I think the first step in the process of teasing is to gain understanding; Get to know each other, build understanding, rapport and trust. This knowledge may be gained through focused, play specific conversations. Communicating in this way allows effective play to happen sooner. For example one could have a conversation as brief as please rub my clit until you break my mind, I'll beg you to let me cum, but don't let me. I'll tell you to stop if something goes wrong, and we'll talk about it after. The two drawbacks of this style of conversation is that it will remove some surprise as there isn't enough information yet to synthesize possible play patterns on your own, and one will lack a whole understanding of the person one is going to play with.
If a more holistic experience is desired though, it comes through best, in many cases, through a conversation as broader life and fantasies are discussed over many conversations that take place naturally and organically. The bits of information that may apply to play may be more separated, but they come with so much more information that can all be used to generate a deeper relationship, and broader play. We learn about each other through the listening mentioned above, and in our turn sharing our own desires and hesitancies. We have to open up also so we can be cared for ourselves and build trust through reciprocated, honest, vulnerability. These conversations inform us and build trust as we learn that both sides hear each other, want good things for the pairing and will not shy away even from the more sexually hungry sides of each other.
While this type of understanding centered communication is meaningful on a grand, human scale, even in the comparably limited topic of teasing it is needed in many ways. First, that trust built will be necessary in teasing play as it often leads to walking the edge of what a person can handle in the moment, both mentally and physically. To what degree we can trust, we can relax our fears of being hurt, allowing us to enjoy each sensation with less calculation of how to protect ourselves, allowing us to live in the moment in proportion of our trust, and to have the confidence that our partner cares to hear us when we make objections. Secondly, the information gathered in good communication is essential in order to know: the desire we are waiting to fulfill, the stimuli we will later use to push our counterpart to the point until it consumes every bit of them, warn us of the stimuli that could end play terribly, and how to recover from that event should it happen.
Some examples of what we may learn about play in everyday life- You may learn how meaningful it is to your partner when you hold your partner's face in your hands as you kiss them, or he/she may ask you if the you like being made to chase them down in a kiss. They might mention how they love the pain of their workouts, or that high rep sets are their favorite because they get test how long they can go before their will breaks. Watching a movie, and seeing one of the couples depicted playfully kissing each other, your partner might reveal that pulling away from a kiss doesn’t read as a building of desire to them, instead it feels like one is trivializing their highest expression of love— Making them feel their love is disrespected and devolved into a game. These lessons should be drawn deeply within ourselves. Making note of what makes them feel loved and pleausured, and special note of what makes them feel awful. Violating these turnoffs by accident or design may have terrible trust breaking outcomes. It is important to understand the reasonings and depth of their dislikes. One's dislike may be superficial, like forms of pain that, with a different approach, can be enjoyable, but some, like the kiss, may be fundamental to their world view. (Example of what could be synthesized from the above person’s information may be found at the bottom — Bonus Example 2)
The second thing is to determine how you will delay their indulgence in what they crave, by means of space, time, or even their own will. All of these modes and tools can be used in vast and narrow applications. Space, for example, can be used in inches or miles. Suppose your submissive wanted to touch, but you knew they wanted to be teased even more than to rub. You could grab your trusty ropes and tie their hands, one to the bed post, and the other by way of slinging a rope through the head board. You could release the tension until their hand is an inch away from their most sensitive spot. They can twist and moan and beg as they can almost reach, their finger tips just able to move the sensitive flesh nearest their most sensitive spot. They could reach up and play with less sensitive spots, but they won’t be able to reach any more, at least not without raising their hips to their hand, which can become quite challenging. Space has now been used as a tease. A boundary on their experience that they cannot get out of, nor do they truly wish to escape. A second instance of space as a teasing tool, known as "The Kiss" will be given in my final example at the end of this essay (Bonus example 1)
As examples for time and space — At work, one could be sending sexy texts to their counterpart who decides to be a little bratty. The dominant in this exchange could text back, “Say that again and I’ll have to remind you what happens to brats when their dominant gets home.” Knowing that their submissive will have to wait hours longer for the thrill of the attention of the punishment they asked for. In the same way a domme could send, "You've been such a good boy today, working so hard at work. I’ll keep dinner hot for you." Attached to this text would be little gif of her rubbing herself for him. He too will have to endure the boundaries of time and space. Time has been a tease in that hours will pass before they get their desire. Space has been incorporated in time because even if all parties from the individual couples decided to meet in the middle somewhere, they'd still be teased by time as they cannot magically teleport home to cross the space (if you can, please teach me). An example of time alone being a tease would be giving a submissive a vibrator with only five or ten minutes charge left in it. They can play all they want with it, but they don't know how long it will last.
The previous examples examined using time in minutes or hours, Time, like space, though, is incremental. Time can be used in minutes, hours, or like in the next example, seconds. Suppose you had an exhibitionist submissive walk with you in the woods and told them that they will flash you whenever you want them to. Already they’d be excited to have their desire at hand, knowing you crave to see them exposed, as well as the desire to be under your caring control. As you two walk you command your submissive to flash you for a few seconds here and there. Blushing, but proud, they obey. You praise them appropriately and enjoy your walk. Eventually you two hear the distant, barley audible, murmurs and stompings of a team of hikers. This time you turn to your submissive, order them to stop walking and command them to flash you, they willingly obey, but the knowledge that hikers are approaching you they risk discovery. They can hear the hikers drawing closer and they continue to obey, trusting you. Each tenth of a second registering in their minds and each snap of a twig causing their heart to pound in excitement. Time has become a tool for this second by second tease. As soon as you hear the first full word of the hikers you know they are almost close enough to see, so you order your sub to cover. You then praise your sub highly for their perfect submission and continue on your walk, no hiker the wiser.
Will is unique among the teasing tools. Time and space exist outside of our bodies, but will is our’s alone to interact with. Of all the tools of teasing will is perhaps the most wicked and most variable of all. If your submissive is a lawful-good type and aims to please, then you could use their will as a tease and simply ask them to spread their legs and start to rub or stroke for you. Tell them that they are not to cum without your permission. The pleasure from their body mixes with the pleasure from their mind as they internalize the fact that they are uniquely pleasing you, hopefully bolstered by your praise. These stimuli serve to push against their will to obey. What makes this particular mode so wicked is that their desire to please and obey is fueling their mental pleasure. Their will to obey forces them to stay within the boundaries you set, or lose what they truly crave- the sensation of pleasing you. As they get closer and closer their requests turn to quivering moans and groans- the craved treat of a teasing dominant-. You tell them no, and they continue to obey, rubbing or stroking for you. Their requests are denied until they speak in pleadings and beggings. In a bounded, short term tease of ending play, you simply let them cum, and praise them for their perfect obedience. In a boundless, pushing kind of tease though, you could deny permission until they slip over the edge and spectacularly cum. This form of play, for an obedience minded submissive, will feel like disobedience to them. — You must reinforce the fact they did all they could to obey you. You wanted to find their limit and they showed you beautifully.
For long term teasing you could tell them they are not to cum without your permission, if they do they will be punished for it. This punishment is one they are okay with, but might not know. This leaves them to fight their own will for pleasure, obedience, freedom, and even pain. Lest they slip over the edge, they might force themselves to stop altogether, or you could command them to stop, leaving them quivering in utter denial. Their will has been the tease preventing them from indulging in orgasm. You comfort them and tell them maybe you’ll change your mind tomorrow, but, for know, they're done. Now time and will act as the tease. You cannot supervise them at all times, and especially without chastity- their own self will begins tease them until eventually they must resist their own desires at all hours of the day. Proving to themselves they crave metaphysical pleasure more than the physical release.
You may also balance will with consequence of pain if your submissive is bratty or masochistic in a way. Telling them that if they slip over the edge they will be punished, even tortured. Without knowing exactly what it is they may fight harder to stay on the edge. They edge spectacularly for you, but eventually crumble under the self inflicted stimuli, they cum and you deliver the next stimuli- maybe you simply force their hand to hold the vibrator against them, turning teasing play into overstimulation, or turn them over to spank them.
The third thing that must be done is to manage the environment we are in to best suit the play we will have. The space we are in should be constructed to do as much of the heavy lifting in our communication of the tone of the experience, and the desires of our counterpart, that we can. For example, an environment that is clean and bare suggests that nothing else will be happening in this space but what the two of you create. This type of room seems fitted to a private submissive who cherishes time and quiet exploration, and will become stressed or distracted by a number of other stimuli. A single sash and short rope laying on the couch suggests light bondage will be involved. A kind of quiet in the room implies that no one will be interrupting their play. They can take all the time in the world. On the other hand, a hot kitchen that is just a few steps from a noisy living room full of friends can generate a whole new tone. One of desperate craving for your counterpart, a contrast between the necessitated quietness of your actions and the noise and business of the space, a daring display of desire as you two risk discovery of your intimate acts with even the smallest allowances of expression- such as slipping your hand under their shirt and scratching up then down their back. If they let out a noise, they could be discovered. If someone walks in, they'll have to act like they haven't been delightfully toyed with for who knows how long, or the two of you might have to talk your way out of it. (Bonus points by the way if you pretend to be casually doing something else while your sub enjoys the predicament you're creating) Suddenly a kitchen becomes an environment perfect for sadomasochism and borderline exhibitionism. A room were will, time and space are used to holistically create a tease.
Finally, words and tone should be used to highlight the teasing. Drawing on the hope of the situation, highlighting what prevents them from indulgence, seems like the most fundamental approach to using our words to tease. Even in a relatively SFW tease with a short sub that is into strength kink, and having her height used against her. You could hold a stuffed animal out of her reach, she'd enjoy her feeble attempts at trying to snatch it away from you. Highlighting this exchange with your words would likely be welcomed. "Oh come on, hun. You have to be stronger than that. Maybe get up on your tip toes and reach for it. Haha. You're using both of your arms. Can't you pull harder? To end this form of play you could simply hand it to her, or let her gain some ground and take it from you before you transition to another fun game.
In summary, the best general approach to teasing someone is by fully utilizing the knowledge we have of their desires and drives, selection and use of proper abstract and practical blocks to that desire formatted to what degree they like to be pushed in their comfort levels or have their impulses blocked, that balance hope and the knowledge they will likely not succeed should then be traced with our words. All of which is bounded within trust and care for their overall well-being.
Bonus examples
1. The Kiss
I grasp her face with both my hands, knowing this makes her feel desired. My eyes meet hers and she knows this will be no little kiss. She shuts her eyes. I use her favorite kiss, placing the softest kiss I can on her waiting lips. She lets out a little shiver. She pushes into me gently, and I pull away just enough to keep our kisses feathered. I kiss down her jaw line, moving my face nearer to her ear and whisper a command to stay perfectly still as I let her go. I pace around her once, gently caressing, with one finger, places that catch my eye, her sensitive jaw line and clavicle, along her lower spine. I slip a finger into her waist band and slide across a few inches. Then I tug her by her waist band to me. I catch her by her shoulder and steady her, placing my hand on her jaw I pull her in for another kiss. I praise her for keeping her eyes shut. What a good girl she is. While I caress her cheeks and brush her hair away from her face, kissing her cheeks and forehead as I do this. I ask “are you going to continue to be a good girl for me? She breathes out a hot “yes” , “Look up”, I command. I place my hand on her neck and pull her into a deep kiss- gently moaning into her lips. I push her off and again praise her for being so obedient, so compliant. Praising her plump lips. I bring her back this time for gentle kisses. This proceeds until they become more insistent again, my grip on her neck tightens ever so slightly and she kisses me more intensely. I push her off and tell her soft kisses now. We return. She does so well at first. It’s not but a minute or two before she starts to get more intense though, whining and squirming into me trying to kiss me more deeply. Now I begin to pull slightly away each time the kiss becomes to firm. Leading her in a chase. Backing myself slowly into the corner she has lost track of. I push her off of me and say “You will kiss me gently. Yes, baby?” “Yes. Please” “Good girl. Now kiss me”, she goes to lean into me, but realizes my strong arm will no longer let her. She fights my strength, choking herself in my grip- I’m careful to keep my palm away from her trachea. I see her hunger flicker to desperation- I tell her to open. Her eyes snap open and I see her pupils constrict as they focus in the light and on me. As soon as she opens her eyes I grab her shoulder with other hand and pivot my hips, stepping forward and slinging her to my former spot as I switch places with her- now she is in the corner and I say, leaning in to just outside of her necks reach “oh, come on, baby. I thought you wanted to kiss me?” I feel her hot breath on my lips. “I do, please” I extend my arm again. “Prove it” she pushes again. Hungry eyes on mine. I watch her expression waiting for the slightest break in arousal, a second or two later I allow my arm to bend and let her come to me. It’s her turn now to lead. I grab her rib cage and let her press her lips into mine as she please. My hands caress her sides as she spins, pushing me into the corner. I match her passion and rhythm. She presses her body into mine, squirming against me as she places kisses on my lips, fevered and then soft and then heavy again. When she seems to be fading in decision, I slowly spin her back into the corner. My forearm framing her face on one side, my palm on her cheek, my fingers in her hair, and my extended arm on the other side boxing her in. I place soft kisses on her flushed skin and proceed to praise her and hold her gently.
2. Bonus example two. Referencing paragraph six. — Once we have this information of preferences and possible obstructions of it we can begin to synthesize it into possible modes of, and tools for, play for long or short term. For instance, using the above examples we can put together a possible play session that involves lots of skin to skin contact, unbroken kisses and maybe a pushing of minor, but prolonged pain to be a style this counterpart would enjoy. Such as having your sub straddle you, so your legs are touching theirs, putting your hand under their jaw, you drawing them in by it, using slow, soft kisses, but putting a teasing parameter on the kiss of a moderate painful stimuli, like slowly twisting the sensitive flesh on their ribs as long as they kiss you. They get a small dose of pain that they enjoy, lots of kisses and lots of skin to skin contact- both of which they adore. The pain they enjoy mixes with all of their love languages and make a special thing happen in their mind while it acts as a form of a will tease. After they limit is reached one could return to normal kisses and start a form of aftercare.
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Sad nessian part 2
This is a real tear-jerker. I even started crying while writing it.
Amara was scared that much she could admit. She had been waiting for her uncle Rhys to rescue her for weeks now because there was no rescuing herself. Koschei thought of everything. She had been bound and gagged with fae bane, her eyes were covered at all time, so she would not become familiar with her surroundings, and she had been stripped of her clothes to ensure that all her weapons had been disposed of. Normally, she would be able to break out of chains even with fae bane, but it was obvious that Koschei had prepared for that. She was forced to drink water laced with fae bane. It kept her weak enough that even her brain felt too foggy to think much less come up with an escape plan. She had zero concept of how much time has passed, but she hoped it had been enough time by now that her mother and father had managed to convince her uncle Rhys to tell them where she was supposed to be. She groaned internally. She did not even want to think about the amount of "we told you so's" she would be getting from her parents once she was rescued. Footsteps echoed through the dungeon. At least she had imagined she was in a dungeon. For all she knew she could be in her very own bedroom.
Suddenly, her blindfold was ripped off. It did not make much difference though considering the room was pitch black. A face appeared before her, Koschei. For as long as she lived, and she had a feeling that was not going to be much longer, she would remember those eyes. They were pitch black, depthless pools that appeared to look right into her soul.
Fuck.
She could not remember the details of her capture. How she got here or who brought her here. Perhaps fae bane impeded memory as well as strength and immortality. She did not want to show fear, but she had been so broken down that there was no other emotion to feel. Amara, suddenly,remembered overhearing that her own mother had been as strong as Koschei at one point. Her mother, who fussed over Amara her entire life. Her mother, who cried along with Amara the first time she skinned her knee. Her mother, who had become so flustered while making Amara’s tenth birthday cake because she mixed the sugar up with the salt and the cake tasted disgusting. She pictured Koschei that way too. With a baking apron wrapped around his waist and flour caked on his face. It had her laughing hysterically. Koschei watched her with cautious eyes. He seemed to think she was delusional and perhaps she was. She was not quite as scared now though. Even in the end, her mother was with her.
“Show time.” Koschei smiled mercilessly at the battered female. He detached her chains from the wall only to begin pulling her with them. She had not done any sort of physical exercise in so long that she found she could not walk. She wanted to pick up her feet and follow koschei, but she physically could not. He continued to drag her to wherever he wanted. Once again she was lost to her memories. This time of her father.
“Daddy!” A young Amara pranced toward her father. He had been gone for so long, overseeing the Illyrian camps, that the second he stepped through the door at the house of wind, she threw herself at him.
“Princess.” He responded back, wrapping her in a hug. She was so excited that she began to fly- her wings flapping involuntarily. It caused her father to laugh a big hearty laugh. “Oh how I have missed you. Tell me everything.” He carried his daughter to the living room and sat on the couch.
“Well, mother showed me some new Valkyrie techniques with aunt Gwyn and aunt Emerie, I have read three different books, Nyx keeps hiding my bows, oh and I decided that next time you go, I’m going with you.” Amara rambled on. She was a talkative child. Even though it was just the three of them, the house was never quiet.
“I must say that I completely agree. I cannot continue going on these trips without at least one of my favorite girls tagging along.” He sent her a playful smile as Nesta popped into the room.
“You are home!” She exclaimed, rushing over to plant a kiss on Cassian’s lips.
“Ewwww!” Amara jumped off her father’s lap. Her parents only laughed at her disgust of their affection. Secretly, Amara loved how much her parents loved each other. It made her dream for a love as deep as theirs.
It only occurred to Amara now that she would never experience a love like theirs. She did not want to die. She had so much left to experience, so much left she wanted to do. Finally, Amara realized they had stopped moving. She lifted her head to check her surroundings and she was immediately filled with relief. She was laying on a dais in what appeared to be a throne room. Her parents, the high lord and lady, and the rest of the night court inner circle were standing less than one hundred feet from her. Clearly here to save her. Tears of happiness fell from her eyes as she tried to crawl to them. Only the looks of horror on their faces had Amara remembering who brought her here. Koschei. He was speaking, but she had not been paying attention. She glanced back at her parents faces. Her mother’s was set in the hardest glare Amara had ever witnessed while her father’s was completely devastated.
“-believe I found one of your spies. You may want her returned.” Amara only caught the end of what he was saying. She tried so hard to focus, but the ingested fae bane had been poisoning her for so long that she could not. She felt the tip of a sword at the back of her neck. The threat of her death enough to keep everyone in place.
“What do you want in return?” She heard her uncle Rhysand ask. Amara found her mother’s gaze already completely focused on her. There was such sorrow there, such grief. She wished upon a thousand stars to hear her mother say “I told you so” because she knew that everything would be alright once she heard those words. Her parents would only utter it when they knew her life would not be in any danger. She wished to hear it now.
“I do not believe I was asking you.” Koschei’s voice was lined with such arrogance, Amara knew her Uncle would be seeing red. She watched as Koschei’s gaze fell upon her mother. She started to feel sick. This would not be good. The concerned look faded from Nesta’s face to be replaced by a harsh glare as she turned to stare the death lord down. “I know you can retrieve it. I want the dread trove. The crown, mask, and harp. All three or you can watch your daughter lose her head. And do not even consider using it against me. I am immune to the crown same as you.”
No. It was the only thought resounding through Amara’s head.
“Fine.” Her mother snapped. Koschei was clearly expecting more resistance from her based on his stunned look.
“No.” The tortured female could barely get the small word out of her throat. It grated so harshly that she knew she could not repeat it. Her mother could not give that male so much power. He would be indestructible. Her life was not worth that. Before Nesta could summon the trove, Rhysand’s sword was drawn and the tip was leading directly into Cassian’s throat. The general’s eyes widened with betrayal.
“Nesta. I am sorry. But I cannot allow you to do this. Bring the dead trove and lose your mate.”
Amara could only watch in horror as chaos unfolded. Gwyn held her dagger to Rhysand’s throat which forced Feyre to draw her weapon and point it at the red-head. Azriel, in defense of his mate, placed his dagger at the high lady’s throat. Mor and Emerie only watched in horror as the family turned on each other. Amara watched her parents have a silent conversation. They were weighing the odds. There was no pain like that of the death of a mate. Nesta did not know if she would be able to escape with her daughter given the pain she would experience. Amara could not witness this in her last moments. Could not witness her family betray one another over her life. Inevitably, she knew her mother would deliver the dread trove to the murderous psychopath. She could see it on her father’s face. How he was telling his mate to do it. To save their only daughter. Amara could not let this happen. Would not let the entire world descend into chaos just to save herself. With the last bit of strength she had left, she quickly turned her head and shoved the knife that had been at the back of her neck through her throat. Everything after that was a blur. She remembered her mother holding her to her chest. She remembered seeing her father lift his sword. The last thing she saw was her mother’s blue-grey eyes.
+
A scream so savage ripped through Nesta’s throat as everyone’s weapons dropped. She launched herself towards her daughter’s body. Praying to the Cauldron and the Mother to not let her die. She did not even register Koschei’s eyes widening as if he had never planned to let the female die. Nesta faintly heard her mate rising to his feet and launching himself at the death lord, his siphons burning brightly. Nesta grabbed her daughter and held her to her chest so tightly, she could have broken a bone. She began whimpering.
“I give it back. I give it all back. I give it back.” Like a mantra, Nesta repeated it over and over again. “Please, take it. I do not want it. Save my daughter. I will do anything, give anything.” Nothing was happening and the more time that passed, the angrier the cauldron-Made female became.
“I GIVE IT BACK.” She started screaming while shaking her daughter’s body. “I GIVE IT BACK. Wake up, Amara. Please.” The sobs that ripped through her throat would live in everyone’s memory for eternity, even Koschei’s.
It was only her mate’s cry of pain that could pry her from her dead daughter. Nesta’s eyes began to glow. It appeared everyone was about to find out exactly how much power she had left. Emerie was unconscious, after a hit to the temple from the butt of the male’s sword, being pulled away by Mor. Gwyn was holding her side, clearly injured. Azriel was next to her in two strides before winnowing away. Feyre and Rhysand were just standing there watching as Nesta’s family was being torn to shreds. She would never forgive them. For as long as she lived, she would despise them. She finally looked towards Cassian. Koschei was about to deliver the final blow to his head. Nesta launched herself at him with all her power. Energy burst out of her so strongly that the entire castle started to shake, the surrounding lake even started to shake, but that was as far as it reached. She could no longer move mountains and realms, but she would not need to. She knocked Koschei’s sword out of his hand with Ataraxia. The male flinched at the power exuding from the sword and the female. He had never planned to fight her that much was clear. She swung her Made sword and barely nicked his arm. It was enough though. He fell to his knees as his power began to leak out of him slowly. Nesta used this distraction to her advantage. She gathered her power once more, planning to unMake him in the same way she did Briallyn all those years ago. Unfortunately, he recovered fast enough to dodge her and grab his sword on the way.
Cassian was stumbling to his feet, determined to help his mate while his high lord and lady continued to stand frozen in the same spot. He hoped that a stray swing from a sword found its way into one of their heads. He reminded himself to thank Gwyn and Emerie if he found himself alive at the end of all this. Nesta was a force to be reckon with that was clear. As Cassian finally found himself on stable feet, he saw Nesta on her knees with the death lord hovering above her. Before Cassian could throw himself between them, Azriel had winnowed back. Gwyn’s Made dagger slicing through Koschei’s thigh. Azriel stepped in to fight the male while Nesta caught her breathe. Her anger was insatiable, driving her harder than any other emotion. Her body still needed oxygen though, and a second to catch up. Cassian went to his mate.
“You okay?” He placed a hand under her armpit to help lift her up. They shared a meaningful look before turning to the male that ruined their life, planning on ending this once and for all. They stopped short when they noticed Azriel on his knees with a sword to his throat.
“I will ask only once more. Give me the trove.” He was breathless as he made his command. Nesta’s sudden smile had him feeling nervous. The crown appeared on top of her head. She guessed that a cut from her Made sword would make him more susceptible to the crown.
“Drop the sword.” She commanded. He did as told albeit begrudgingly. Nesta lifted Ataraxia, made eye contact with his soulless eyes, and brought it down so harshly that his head fell from his neck with only one swing. Only a second later and his body turned to ash.
It was quiet as everyone took a breathe. Azriel lay on the ground, Mor just winnowed back from wherever she took Emerie, and Feyre and Rhysand were both still standing in the middle of the floor like idiots. The short reprieve Nesta’s anger gave her from her grief was over. She stumbled back to her daughter and fell on top of her in a sobbing heap. She did not know how she would survive without her daughter. She did not know how her and Cassian would raise their unborn child so soon after losing Amara. She sobbed and sobbed. It was the only sound in the room until Cassian picked up his sword. This sound, his sword grating on the floor, broke whatever stupor the high lord and lady were in. Cassian strode to Rhysand with only one objective in mind- revenge. The males made eye contact. Cassian’s glare was the harshest it had ever been while Rhysand was trying to convey his shame through his stare alone. Rhysand fell to his knees as if to accept his punishment. Before Cassian could get any closer, his mate’s grieving voice called out to him.
“Cas-“ his name broke off in a sob. He stopped only to turn around and rush towards his family. He finally held his daughter in his arms for the first time in three months except she was dead. He felt as though it did not count this way. He hugged his child and his mate to his chest. A howl ripped through his body. The sound was so devastating and so unlike anything anyone had ever heard from him before. Mor was the first to try to break the silence.
“Nesta, Cassia-“ before his name could even fully pass her lips, they were gone. Nesta winnowed them away. No one was quite sure when she learned how to do that. Feyre fell into a heap beside her mate. Azriel and Mor knew that their high lord and lady would never forgive themselves. And they never should.
“Where are the children?” Rhysand abruptly remembered Nesta’s promise to him, panic filling him. Feyre’s silent tears turned into a sob. Mor winnowed away and just as quickly as she disappeared, she reappeared with Nyx, Velaris, and Amren.
“What’s wrong? Why do you all look like someone just died?” Nyx tried to joke.
“You have to stop using that joke.” Velaris responded with an eye roll. “The answer is always ‘because someone did die’, you asshole.” The siblings continued to banter back and forth.
A sigh of relief left his body. He deserved to lose Nyx. He deserved to lose his own life. That did not mean he was ungrateful for the mercy Nesta bestowed upon him. Amren watched the mates with narrowed eyes.
“What the hell happened?”
#nesta acheron#cassian#nessian#nesta stan#acotar#acosf#mates#feyre archeron#azriel#gwyneth berdara#emerie
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Fic Rec Masterlist
*must reads
BTS
*House Of Cards by sugamins
Jungkook is the heir to a mob empire, the most notorious in the whole of Seoul. Taehyung is a rookie sent in to infiltrate by his select team and bring the empire crumbling down. "You knew the game and played it, it kills to know that you have been defeated."
Criminal Minds
Heart Under My Feet by holdur
The team is dead and Elle and Reid are on the run, trying to stop each other from killing.
Art, And Other Misconceptions by dontkissthewriter
You’re a sketch artist for courtrooms. Congratulations, the FBI needs your sketchbook—which is filled with drawings of them. Specifically, Agent Spencer Reid.
Grand Theft Auto V
*When Bad People Kiss by giraffeontherocks
Michael eyes the plane. “You any good at piloting this thing, Trevor?” “I’m the best,” Trevor says, and when Michael starts whooping in the seat next to him as he shows off a little in the air, he feels it, too.
No Rest for the Wicked by manic_intent
Years down the road, Michael will blame their First Time on adrenaline, alcohol and homebrew drugs, and Trevor will smile his cruel and merciless twist of a smile and say nothing. It is, Michael thinks, possibly the only form of tenderness that Trevor will ever pay him.
Harry Potter
Lack of Many a Thing I Sought by sing-oldsongs
Fred Weasley has the sort of smirk she cannot stand: arrogant and almost cruel, depending on the circumstance. He is not charming. He is baiting, laughing, grinning at the wrong moments.
Dead Things by EclipseWing
Death isn't good for the soul and dead things can't die twice. Harry dies too many times to be fine. After the war he goes travelling; he and Tom Riddle always were too much alike for their own good.
Lord Of The Rings
Lapsus Memoriae (Rávamë's Bane: Book 1) by reality warp
Every Tolkien fan has a “Tenth Walker” in them — but Eleanor Dace hasn’t read a word of Tolkien since she was thirteen and was still fantasizing about adventuring in other worlds. Now she’s twenty-two, a third year English Literature student about to graduate from college; when she discovers that her teenage fantasy just got a bit too realistic for her liking. Now she’s trapped in Arda, a world she has little idea how to survive in, trying to recover a missing set of memories that might help get her home. Or they might just make things go from merely life-threateningly bad; to apocalyptically worse. With little more than her hazy recall of the Lord of the Rings trilogy to draw on (and a sarcastic second personality giving cryptic advice in her head) Eleanor begins to realise that there is something sinister going on in Middle Earth, besides the return of the One Ring. Something more than just mere coincidence brought her here, and only remembering what it is will get her home again. Oh, and in case things weren't complicated enough already — her ears just got a whole lot more pointy.
Petekey
Is Your Button Fly A Metaphor by rivers_bend
Pete is always his own worst enemy.
Psych
Say Goodbye To Everything We Could Have Been by rhymae
In this universe two lives end. In another, two begin.
The Hand That Mocked Them by tigriswolf
Ten years after Shawn takes off, two FBI agents visit Gus at his apartment. They ask him questions about Shawn, about Shawn's childhood, his attitude, his capabilities, and his plans for the future.
#fic rec#criminal minds fic#bts fic rec#gta five#criminal minds fic rec#trikey#gta fic rec#gta v fic rec#trikey fic rec#vhope#taeminkook#pete wentz#mikey way#petekey#summer of like#fic rec list#harry potter#harry potter fic rec#lunarry#lunarry fic#lunarry fic rec#psych#shawn spencer#burton guster#shawn and gus#psych fanfic
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Chain of Iron theories: who becomes a Downworlder
Alright so I took a break from posting my theories to enjoy the comedic hijacks of the letter game, but March 2 draws closer and I have more theories to release on to the masses. So I decided to jump back in with a hot one. We will be seeing more of the downworld in books to come, including esteemed members such as Magnus Bane, Camille Belcourt, and Woolsey Scott, and someone in TLH’s future is not with the shadowhunters, but as a downworlder. I am assuming that this person will turn into a vampire or a werewolf, as warlocks are born and turned fey usually have to grow up in fairy. Also because (minus the rare warlock) werewolves and vampires are what make up the predator Lupus and we know we are going to revisit TPL and see it develop more as an organization. As always theories are below.
3.) Thomas Lightwood becomes a downworlder {werewolf (retracted)}
When I first hear that someone was turning into a downworlder I immediately theorized Thomas because I knew the found family tree says he dies at 30 and I was looking for a way for that to be wrong. So my idea was that maybe Thomas got turned into a downworlder at 30, had to leave to learn to control his powers, and that the clave wrote him off in their records as having died because they are just that terrible. I am retracting this theory though on a few grounds. One learning that the silent brother who wrote the found family tree was Brother Zachariah. Jem would not do do such a cruel and bigoted thing, he is and has always been better than that. Secondly 10 years after TLH the world wars happen and I cannot imagine that Shadowhunters are not negatively effected by something so catastrophic and wide spread. I googled when the world wars happened rechecked the Thomas’s wiki page and sure enough he is said to die one year into the first world war, at the same year the air attacks started in London.
My conclusion is that while I would like Thomas to become downworlder, if it would allow him to live past being 30, I find it unlikely. I now believe that Thomas dies trying to help mundanes evacuate London or take shelter during air attacks. (Drying my own tears, handing everyone who needs one a tissue, and moving back to the downworld theories)
2.) Charles Fairchild becomes a downworlder (werewolf)
So I preety much think if it is a Shadowhunter it will be one of the Fairchild brothers. they’re just about the only ones left where it is a tose up whom continues the family line. I know Matthew is more likely, but until I read Matthew’s trandformation written by Cassandra Clare herself it could still be Charles. How it would happen is a little more tricky for me to explain, but I might have something. See Charles is on my list of potential characters Belial may possess and turn into the killer. I also said that if he is the killer than I only see a 50% chance he will be freed from that control by Matthew or one of TLH gang. But what if Belial sends him to attack the Merry Thieves when hey are at The Devils Tavern or Hell’s Ruelle, you know a place that also has werewolves, and before he can vanish he is bit by one? Then he transforms at the next full moon. What if Belial can only control human minds and since a werewolf is half animal changing into a wolf snaps Charles out of Beial’s control? Then him turning into a downworlder wouldn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. He could meet Matthew later and tell him about the change freeing him, then Matthew could go tell Will and Charlotte, and they could make new alliances with the downworld to help take down Belial.
(Is this whole theory me tying to convince myself Matthew woun’t be turned and James and Matthew won’t lose their Parabatai bond?) Who’s asking? Its like 97% that. The other 3% is me really wanting Charles to go talk to Woolsey Scott because I felt really bad for him in TLH when he implys that the reason he hates being gay is because as far as he knows gay men are not allowed to be political leaders. I get it, representation is important.
1.) Matthew Fairchild becomes a downworlder (Vampire)
Matthew is the most likely one. We all know it, there have been hints foreshadowing in every one of Matthew’s appearances dating back to his first appearance in Nothing But Shadows, when he first said he does not like the way shadowhunters live their lives and wishes he were not one. We know he prefers to associate with downworldrs and frequents their establishments as an escape when his life as a shadowhunter gets to be to much for him. While I doubt he would ever ask someone to turn him (he wouldn’t want to leave Henry or the Herondale’s) as we saw in Cast Long Shadows when at downworld establishments Matthew isn’t always careful and can be too trusting. Throw in the alcohol he is always drinking and something is bound to happen. Judging by that line where he tells Cordelia that he would “like a portrait of himself that shows that... while he stays forever young” something will happen with him and a vampire. Matthew might make a better downworlder than a shadowhunter, especially if he eventually joins the Predator Lupis. That is a care taker job and he is loves/ is great at being James and Henry’s care taker.
It would be heart breaking for Matthew to no longer be able to see Henry or to lose his Parabatai bond with James. Lets remember though that James and Cordelia likely become the London Institute Heads after Will steps down, and in COHF Sebastian said that the London Institute and Predator Lupus head quarters had famous ties to each other once upon a time. So if Matthew Changes into a vampire he may not lose James and Cordelia for good. His and James’s their will change yes, but it can withstand. Just like Will and Jem’s bond changed but withstood Jem becoming a silent brother.
Bonus) Bridget Daly (Vampire??? possible fey connection??? )
So Bridget Daly. The London institutes crazy, dark ballad singing, child watching, frying pan brandishing, over all amazing resident is still somehow alive in TDA, and if we keep reading TLH we will eventually know how. (She is just to tough to die. The grim reaper hasn’t come for her soul because she terrifys him). Lately I have seen theory’s crop up that the person who becomes a downworlder won’t actually be a shadowhunter, but it will be Bridget, and that is how she gains immortality. I love this. But I need details and no one is providing me. Is Bridget attacked? Who hurt this women? Is this the result of some dark spell? Or did she have some downworlder do it to her by choice? Did she know that Shadowhunters were just going to get moe stupid and crazy as time went on, and decide that for Londons (if not the worlds sake) she needed to stick around and sing/beat some sense into their heads?
Make me cry. Stephen Herondale grew up at the London institute. Stephen knew Bridget. He had this amazing (possibly downworlder) women in his life for 17 years and he still fell into Valentine’s trap after moving away. Did Bridget grieve over him? In another life Jace could have grown up at the London Institute. He could have grown up helping Bridget cook and learning her dark ballads!!! (hey fanfic writers)
I don’t know what we will get from these books regarding Bridget Daly’s future, but she is an amazing character, and her story better do her justice.
#Chain of Iron#COI#Chain of IRon theoires#Shadowhunters#The downworld#Thomas Lightwood#Matthew Fairchild#Charles fairchild#Bridget Daly#James Herondale#Will herondale#Jem Carstairs#Heronsatairs#Woolsey Scott#NBS#CLS#The MErry theives#Cordelia Carstairs#The Last hours#TLH#The Shadowhunter chronicles#TSC#The predator Lupis#Parabatai#Jesse Blackthorn#Lucie Herondale#Alastair Carstairs
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bane of the devil. | iii
genre: vampire!jaehyun [angst | fluff | smut ]
pairings: jaehyun x female reader
note: bane of the devil deals with themes of physical, mental, and sexual abuse as well as toxic relationships. which may be upsetting for some readers. you are advised not to continue if you feel uncomfortable to these types of plots.
“father,
in the row of angels
do i have a place?
when the devil offered me
a hand
i took her whole arm
conquering death
she took my soul
and whispered,
“holy water cannot help
you now”
father,
why did you open the heavens,
just for the angels to arrive too late?”
— bane of the devil // iii
Ten Years Ago
Giggles erupted from the girl in front of Jaehyun as he blew out smoke to her face. Her glossy lips glinting against the moonlight as she looked up to him. To be honest, Jaehyun does not remember her name. It could be Rebecca, or Veronica, he wasn’t so sure. All he knew was that her tits bounced gracefully whenever he fucked her in missionary.
“Hot,” she giggled before standing slightly to meet his lips.
The exhaust of motorcycles encircling them was deafening. But the noise was blood in Jaehyun’s veins. Boys from his university started to clap each other’s hands and backs as they departed their motorcycles, cigarettes pressed between their lips. Girls in their usual tight mini-skirts and low v-necks made the cold night warm, swaying their hips and flipping their hairs with bubblegums in their mouths.
Jaehyun, himself, popped one to his mouth as he met with his gang. They nodded before clapping his back, muttering good lucks which made him laugh.
“Six-hundred fifty thousand tonight, Jung.” Jeno, Jaehyun’s right hand grinned, his feet propped on the speakers.
Jaehyun relaxed his muscles, his ears perking up by how large the take-home money for tonight’s racing is. Street racing does not make you rich, Jaehyun never wanted to become one either. Some of his friends calls him deranged, for joining something that could end his life with a single mistake on the brakes. Yet, since when did words of warnings take away the kingdom from its king?
Jaehyun loved the race, more than anything. The savage whipping of the wind on his face as he takes off with his motorcycle was like a fuel into his heart. The adrenaline whenever he had to twist his hand to get past the red light was what makes him jubilant. The road was his kingdom, and in it he was god.
“Is the bad boy ready?” Jeno asked, patting the seat of Jaehyun’s motorcycle.
“Since last week,” he grinned. He’d done this so many times already that it does not make him nervous anymore. But he could not forget the first time he held the brakes and road on into the night— his chest thudding— every time he sits on his motorcycle.
In his first try, he almost died. His hands continued to shook then, his stomach hurling in every shout of the taxi drivers and every turn of the stop signs. However, after fanning his face with the money he had won, all had been better.
“Babe.” Rebecca or Veronica called out from behind him. He raised a brow, then the girl motioned something on the hood of someone’s car.
The white lines glinted against the moon, its crystals pulling Jaehyun with an unfathomable sense of thrill. He waved a hand to Jeno before sauntering up to the car.
“Go on, big boy. The show’s about to start.” The woman winked, pulling Jaehyun’s denim jacket closer to her and met his lips with hers. It was a violent kiss, with teeth clashing and saliva almost dripping from their mouths. Jaehyun held her leg, causing her back to bump on the hood. One swift move and his crotch was pressed on hers already.
One thing he does not like about Rebecca, or Veronica, she moans so loud as to overreact. So before she could elicit a sound, Jaehyun pulled away, has gone straight to the white lines and snorted it all in a blink of an eye. The shot of dopamine was enough to make Jaehyun get through tonight with intense energy and alertness.
He shook his head. The remaining white lines he rubbed onto his gums, the bitterness of it waxing his tongue. Then he clenched and unclenched his fist as to relax his livid nerves.
With one last momentary kiss from the woman, Jaehyun climbed on his motorbike. In a spur of a moment, the abandoned parking lot was filled with the noise of tires screeching against the asphalt, the loud cheers of the spectators, and the dancing of neon lights against the cloak of midnight.
Jaehyun started the engine. A cloud of smoke from the exhaust coalescing into the air. As he road towards the starting line, his competitor, Jaemin, bowed his head slightly towards him; a sign of reverence. Jaehyun was notorious for motor racing, to challenge him was a chance many would die to take.
Jaehyun gave him a curt nod, taking in his stance and the expression of his face. Jaemin was nervous by the way he clutched the hand-grip. Before Jaehyun could spit a few encouraging words, the starter has sauntered up in front of them, waving a flag into the air to gather the attention of everyone. Jeno was on his side in an instant, patting his back slightly.
Then the starter shouted the cue, Jaehyun revved his engine, thick clouds of smoke puffed out the exhaust. He continued to twist the hand-grip, every second adding to his adrenaline.
“Go!”
Wasting no time to glance at Jaemin, Jaehyun rode into the chaos of the night, the familiar exhilaration flaming his system. He merely blinked when he had reached the highway, his motorbike dancing with cars, buses, and trucks alike.
Illegal motor racing such as this one requires no helmet. If you die, you die. But he won’t, he could not, not when the money was that high. The policemen were miles away from their venue, but they’d no doubt would flock to the abandoned parking lot if something unusual comes up.
The first traffic light went red, Jaehyun twisted the hand-grip to pick up his pace. Shouts from drivers passed on as muffled noises, a sound Jaehyun was already acquainted to since he started racing.
Jaemin was only a bumper away. Jaehyun smirked, not anticipating the guts of the boy behind him. He revved the engine, creating distance between them. His motorbike made sharp turns as to avoid the cars ahead. Jaehyun chanced a look behind him, when his eyes failed to see Jaemin’s motorbike, a smug smile finally spread on his lips.
Every race isn’t perfect. That, Jaehyun knew the first time he experienced how it felt like to almost die. The asphalt was a road made by the devil himself, easy way to acquire a human life. For him, dying in the road was the most jejune way to be six feet under. Jaehyun had escaped the devil a many times already, yet the play doesn’t seem to stop every time he starts the engine.
The first thing he heard was the shout of a woman. Then the chaos of the road died down as Jaehyun saw a ball rolled down the middle of the asphalt, followed by a little girl— unmindful of the racing motorbike towards her. Jaehyun scrambled for the brakes, but this time, it had not bowed down to his will.
And all he had felt was his impact against bones and flesh.
He had never felt so light until his body rolled off the road— too many turns to even count. He felt his bones cracked, his head and his flesh grazing the rough asphalt. The ringing of his ear was like an unending chorus of death singing for him, at last. It was agonizing to open his eyes, but he did, for the sake of the little girl.
The lights from different cars drawing to a halt blinded him, yet he did not falter. He needs to see the girl. And then there she was, lying on the cold asphalt. Blood painted her pretty little face red. He hadn’t known if it was a sob, or a scream that had reverberated from his throat. But all he knew— before he closed his eyes— that the little girl’s irises were lifeless as they stared right to his unmoving body. Then Jaehyun was met with oblivion.
Or so he thought.
He hadn’t known what it was. But his eyes slowly opened. His vision red, a proof that the blood from his head has cascaded down his eyelids already. It was tormenting to breath, he felt like drowning in his own blood. His nostrils were clogged, his mouth dry, his ribs broken. As he took a painful glance at the little girl, she was not in the asphalt no more. A stretcher had brought her into the ambulance, yet Jaehyun knew that it was for naught. She died the moment the motorbike hit her.
For the first time in his life, Jaehyun wanted to die. He wanted and prayed for the stupor of death to envelope him at last. However, death had not listened.
The ringing of his ear halted, followed by a thud of heels against the road. Death has turned its back on him, replace by a leaning girl carrying a black umbrella with her. She was eerily pretty, Jaehyun was sure of that, despite of his red vision. The coldness of her palm bit at Jaehyun’s cheek, but as the pain dominated his whole body, he barely felt it.
“Let… me die.” Then he coughed, blood once again spurted out of his mouth to the asphalt road.
“Not so soon, pretty boy,” was the woman’s alluring reply. For a moment, it made Jaehyun believe that maybe— even after all the hideous things he’s done in his life— he would go to heaven.
“Let me…”
Then the darkness wrapped him up once more.
When Jaehyun finally woke, he was met with a pitch black darkness. The cold earth covering his whole body, making it hard for him to breathe. It took him seconds to realize that he was buried in the ground. His mind was a mayhem of the memories from the racing— of the little girl he killed.
He died. But why isn’t there any casket to protect his body? Did his mother even care? Even wept? Why is he even alive? Then a feral moan resonated from his mouth.
He was thirsty. Not for water. But for blood.
The thirst was extremely intense, it had almost driven him mad. Followed by the clawing of worms on his skin. Jaehyun started to claw his way out of his grave, the strength he possesses shocking him. His muscles should strain from all the clawing and thrashing that he’s doing, but he did not feel anything other than the ferocious hunger for blood.
As the frigid weather bite onto his hand, Jaehyun knew he was near to climb his way out from the grave and into the world beyond. Mud splattered everywhere as he finally succeeded in burrowing himself out of the earth.
An animalistic snarl echoed from him. His eyes was frantic as he looked everywhere— searching for something, searching for a prey. He saw the same woman who’s caressed his cheek as he lay dying on the asphalt road. She was clad in a black dress, silk gloves on both her hands. A similar vicious smile was painted on her lips as she took in Jaehyun’s façade.
“Hungry, are you?” was her question before leading Jaehyun to his first prey.
The confusion in Jaehyun’s mind averted him to identify the unmoving thing in front of him. It was an animal, or a person, he does not care. Pain lances through him as two unfamiliar fangs elongated from his teeth. And then in a dash of the moment, those fangs were embedded into the creature’s skin.
—
“Y/N, Alena is my fiancée.”
The first emotion to hit you was shame. Shame for the impulsive decisions you have made minutes ago with the witch Juana without consulting Jaehyun. And then confusion. Jaehyun has a fiancée. But he’d kissed you as if he doesn’t have one.
You felt worse just by thinking of the girl’s feelings if she ever finds out about it. For a moment, as you remember that Alena was a vampire, you feared for your life. Your mortal life span and feebleness could not simply take in the wrath of a vampire.
“I— I’m sorry Jaehyun. I didn’t know.” You placed your hand on the base of your neck, a mannerism you have acquired as a way to calm yourself. “Don’t worry. I will call off the deal with Madame Juana. I’m sure there’s another way we could—”
Jaehyun cut you off by looking at your eyes with such fierceness. “It’s okay, Y/N. I want her dead too, anyways.”
“You what?” was your baffled question. Alena is his fiancée. How could he want her to die? “Jaehyun, what?” you repeated.
Jaehyun sat on the wooden bench beside the fountain. The merriments of the party inside continued as you sat beside him. Darkness enveloped you both, with the spare lights coming from the mansion illuminating your faces.
“I want her dead, Y/N. More than anyone who wishes to kill her.” He pursed his lips. “But I simply cannot do it.”
The urge to place your hand on his shoulder was too strong, but you gulped and clenched your hand into fist instead. “If you really want her to die, don’t you think this deal I’ve made with Juana could help you? Like what she’d said, it’s a win-win situation.” An uncomfortable feeling settled in your bones as you uttered the words. Alena is Jaehyun’s fiancée, still. Perhaps he’d love her before. Or perhaps he loves her until now.
“You don’t understand.” His shoulders slumped. “She is my creator, Y/N. It was a rule written in the book of Nosferatu to not kill the one who gave you your second life.”
You breathed, unable to produce words. The coldness of the night bit on your skin. It took you a moment to realize that Alena was the one who turned Jaehyun into a vampire. “She… turned you,” was your breathless utterance. Jaehyun didn’t confirm it, he didn’t nod. But you know you were right. Alena was his creator. “Why would you want her dead?”
Jaehyun ran a hand through his face, before leaning as to prop his arms on his knees, the wind ruffling his hair. “Because she turned me. She should’ve had left me when I died, Y/N. But she turned me into the monster that I am today.”
With that, you settled your hand onto his shoulders. Jaehyun flinched in the slightest. But you pressed your hand, gripping his shoulder with a comfortable weight. “You are not a monster—”
Then he stood up, eyes blazing when he looked at you. “Don’t romanticize my nature, Y/N.” He spoke with rancor.
“I am not,” you stated before standing up. Jaehyun grimaced, affronted by your unyielding expression. Perhaps he was a vampire. But you could feel the mortality resting in his bones whenever he laughs and smiles at you. “Perhaps I do not understand everything. But the mere fact that you don’t suck human blood—”
He cut you off again. “How did you know that I don’t?” Then he faced you, his canines elongating. A small part of you wanted to run, but you held on to the hope that he won’t harm you. When you hadn’t answered, Jaehyun leaned closer to your face. It took all your willpower not to step back and stumble on your feet.
“Here’s the thing, Y/N.” He bared his fangs, “I’ve agreed to our deal because I need something from you. Now you have what you want. All you have to do is kill Alena, that way you’d know who killed your parents. But count me out of it.”
“You want her dead too!” You fisted your palms on both your sides.
“Yes. But I’m not the one who would, could, kill her. Haven’t you heard? Juana cursed her to die in the hands of a mortal.”
“You could at least help me.” You sounded hopelessly pathetic that you wanted to slap yourself and snap out of your desperation.
A spiteful grin was plastered on Jaehyun’s lips after you said the words. “I’m not coming with you into this suicide mission, babydoll.” Then he leaned closer to your ear, his lips grazing your skin. “We’re not friends.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you breathless.
—
Per usual, you haven’t had an ounce of sleep last night, resulting in you drowning your veins with coffee yet again. After the party, you’d gone straight home. Alone. Jaehyun was nowhere to be found when you’ve arrived, you supposed it was fitting by the way your conversation ended up in Madame Juana’s garden.
We’re not friends.
Jaehyun’s statement was laced with enough astringency to make your stomach recoil up until today. You could not even sip your coffee because of the memory. Haechan and Mark were exchanging ideas about your plate, only stopping when your professor arrived.
After all that had happened, you feel stupid and pathetic. Stupid to expect something as a simple friendship from Jaehyun. Pathetic to even look past his blood-sucking nature and pretend that he was still a human. By that alone, you wanted to slap yourself.
The deal you’ve discussed with Madame Juana ate up on you, you feel it bubbling like a boiling water in your chest, ready to burst at any given moment. Yet when you looked at your two friends, bickering in front of you, you could not imagine telling them the deal you’ve made with a vampire and a five-hundred-year old witch.
It’s simply impossible. Vampires and witches were just myths made by people from the past to explain every sinister thing such as a plague that had happened to them. They weren’t real. They shouldn’t be real.
But how come you’ve met them in a span of a month?
“Y/N, are you okay?”
You blinked. Mark was looking at you as if he wanted to take you to the hospital already.
“Of course,” was your reply with a forced smile.
“You’ve been spacing out since you arrived,” Haechan chided in.
“I… I was just thinking about our plates. Yes. Plates.” You gave them a smile, showing all your teeth. They both looked at you with concern etched to their faces but said nothing.
The moment the classes were dismissed, you scrambled to fetch all your A3’s and dashed for the door. Haechan and Mark shouted your name, for you to only answer them with a rushed wave before you continued to run.
Ominous dark clouds invaded the skies, a threat for a heavy rain that would ravage the grounds sooner or later. You sighed, remembering that you forgot to bring your umbrella. And sigh you did as you looked down at your plates, tucked in your arms. You should’ve left them inside Mark’s drafting tube.
The students littering in the hallways made it harder for you to reach the exit. You had to nudge with your arms to get past the throng of individuals. When you’ve finally reached the gates of the university, thunders erupted from the heavens, making you start in your position underneath the roofs of the waiting shed.
Buses were hard to come by, given that a lot of students and workers alike were dismissed because of the threatening heavy rainfall. For a moment, you thought about going home instead of meeting Madame Juana. However, it’s bad to upset a witch. She could turn you into a frog for all you know. So when one empty bus halted in front of you, you nudged your way towards it again, plates slightly wrinkling in your arms.
As you got on the bus, the rain started to fall, drenching the dry asphalt road and emitting the familiar smell of rain against the ground. Drenched students got inside the bus, little droplets of water from their bags dripping on the seats. You sighed, this is what you loathed about commuting; the chaos of commuters especially when it was raining.
You let your head rest on the window, it was cold against the side of your forehead. As you let your mind drift off to the approaching meeting with a witch, you thought about all the things you would and would not say. Vampires were all the unknown creatures you’ve studied all your life. Witches were another history and lore you did not bother to study.
When the bus halted near Madame Juana’s mansion, you’ve dreaded yourself for not bringing an umbrella. The plates that were tucked in your arms are unfinished ones. It’s far from finished, you’ve only drawn title blocks on it. But still, it took you at least half an hour finalizing them.
Your nose scrunched up before heaving a deep sigh and running towards the mansion. You could not simply keep your plates on your bag. One way or another, the rain would soak them still.
Thankfully, Madame Juana’s mansion has a front porch the size of your own room. You started to dry yourself with a roll of tissue before ringing in her doorbell. Her bodyguard was polite and had not bothered to question you in the gates. As the massive oak door opened, a man who appears to be the butler smiled.
“You must be Ms. Y/N?” He politely asked, you nodded. “This way, Miss.”
You trailed behind him as he ascended the stairs located at the very heart of the hall. It was polished wood. All of the things are polished and shining, you doubt there was even a speck of dust in them. After ascending the stairs, he led you to the left corner. Paintings of different kinds greeted you as you walked through the long corridor.
In the grandiose of everything, you felt utterly small. Especially when you walked passed Madame Juana’s massive portrait before the butler turned the door opened, revealing a parlor-looking room.
The room was circular, with big windows adorned with thick velvet curtains. A fireplace was located at the very center, in front of it was a little coffee table.
Madame Juana stood when she finally saw you, her cup of steaming liquid forgotten at the table.
“My darling, Y/N.” Then she kissed both your cheeks. She turned her head to the butler, “You can leave us now Mr. Jones.” The man politely bowed his head before turning on his heel with a grace only from a butler. You heard the soft thud of the door as it closed.
“Have a seat.” Madame Juana smiled.
You rubbed your palms together before sitting in on one of the velvet chairs, your butt slightly sinking by how soft it was.
“Coffee or tea?” Madame Juana asked, her hands ready to make you a drink.
“It’s okay, Ma’am. I’ve had enough coffee already.” You smiled. If you dare drink another caffeinated drink today, you’d surely end up in a hospital bed tomorrow because of palpitations.
Madame Juana smiled before sitting across from you. “You’re looking rather careworn, my love.” By that, you tried to fixed your wet hair, tucking the strands behind your ears. “Where’s your vampire bodyguard?”
“Oh no, he’s not my bodyguard.” He’s not even my friend.
“Friend, then?”
With that, you shifted on your seat with a downcast smile etched on your lips. “No.”
“Good. We don’t make friends with vampires, pretty girl.” There was acid in her words as she said them, making you more curious as to why she wanted the leader of a certain vampire clan dead.
“If it’s not too much to ask, why do you want a mortal to kill Alena?” You finally started.
“Oh, that bitch. It makes my head ache just hearing her pretentiously pretty name.” Then she faints a headache, touching her head dramatically. In a blink of a moment, Madame Juana’s sensual and dramatic acts vanished, replaced by a stoic expression and blazing eyes. “Alena, she took my son away from me. The only memory I have with my beloved husband; gone. She claimed him as hers, biting his neck and turning him into one of them. She must die.”
The hatred in her made you uncomfortable. Being a mortal, you have no idea how to walk the patience of a witch. So you decided to shut your mouth and let Madame Juana tell her story.
“I loved mortals. Believe me when I say that. And that is what makes me different from that wench, Alena.” She was looking at the fire burning at the fireplace now, completely oblivious of you. “She looks at mortals like they are ragged dolls she would dispatch after using.” Then she looked at you, “But little did she knew that it’s a mortal who would end her life.”
You attempted to speak, but Madame Juana stood up. Her billowing dress moved together with her as she delved a box in her drawers. She stared at it for a while before sauntering up beside you.
The box was adorned with stones. Something was wrapped inside it. It was a dagger, that was for sure. Because its edge was slightly peaking at the end of the satin that covers it.
“This dagger is enchanted by me. It would cut even the bones of any creatures.” She unwrapped the dagger. It appeared like a cross, adorned with sapphire, a moonstone at its pommel. “Do you know how to use a dagger, young lady?” She whispered.
You thought you could. All those days of pretending you could actually kill a vampire was slowly burying to your system like a bottle of shame. You shook your head. “Perhaps it’s not me you’re looking for, Madame.” It was embarrassing to admit, but it was the truth.
“You are mistaken. Y/N, you are exactly what I was searching for this whole time. I’ve cursed Alena for one hundred years already, my love. Yet no mortal has arrived to my doorway, begging me for help, not until you did.”
You looked down at your hands, “I don’t even know how to hold a dagger.” A soundless chuckle then.
“That won’t be a problem,” Madame Juana assuredly stated. She caressed your cheek, her hands warm against your skin. “Beginning tomorrow, you will engage in a proper training to ready yourself for this mission.”
As your breath caught in your throat, you think about your studies, about Johnny, about the life you would surely abandon if you would finally take the step towards this goal. Are you ready?
“But… Ma’am, I am a college student. An architecture one at that. I couldn’t simply—”
Madame Juana placed her finger on your lips, “You have to decide. A robotic life of getting a degree and starting a family, or this life full of magic and mysteries. I know, the former was what you would’ve preferred, darling. But think about your parents.” She smiled, “Once this is all over, once you have the vengeance you have been searching for, you could always go back and live a normal life.”
You stare at her friendly yet grief-stricken eyes. She’s lost her son to Alena. To a vampire. You’ve lost your parents to a vampire, too. Her pain isn’t yours, yours isn’t hers, but you are alike. At last. Someone understands. Someone cares. For the first time in your life, you’ve encountered someone the same as you.
A single tear had escaped your eyes, you harshly brush it off, refusing weakness to succumbed you. “Alright, tomorrow then.”
“You’ve made the right choice, darling,” she whispered. Then she flicked her fingers to the air, her mouth calling a name.
The doors opened, revealing a tall white-haired boy. He has the playful aura in him, and oh, he is handsome.
“This is Lucas, Y/N, a vampire hunter. He would supervise your training.”
Lucas smiled, bowing slightly, then he stretched out his hand to you. You reluctantly took it. Instantly, his mouth was pressed on the back of your hand.
“It is a pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady.” He smiled. “I am Lucas.”
You blinked, unable to process words. You felt like you were a bird captured in a cage. Your muscles refused to move, as well as your mouth. When you attempted to speak, a voice behind Lucas interrupted you.
“What a reunion.”
Jaehyun. He appeared, looking dashing as always, his hands kept in the pockets of his jeans.
All of your eyes were fixed on him straight away. What is he doing here?
“Long time no see, Lucas.” He grinned, before swinging his fist and punching the tall man in front of you.
#jung jaehyun au#jung jaehyun scenarios#jung jaehyun imagines#jung jaehyun smut#jaehyun smut#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun au#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct au#nct 127 au#nct127 imagines#jaehyun nct au
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Loved your Hondo and Aurra one, can you write something with cad bane being enamored by a new bounty Hunter or something of the like?
Okay, so this ended up almost a thousand words longer than I meant it to be! Still, I hope you enjoy!
The Bounty
Bane hated Coruscant. The whole cursed planet was a city and the teeming life made the reptile in him want to get as far away as he could and just curl up in the sun. But bounty hunters - even the best ones in the galaxy - had to work sometimes, and the Triple Zero had more prime targets than any other planet.
He was walking down a side street on one of the mid-levels in search of his current bounty. Despite Todo’s fretting, he and the droid were safer here than anywhere above or below. He had to give his target credit: they knew how to hide. The level was high enough that there was no need to watch your back just so no one would stab it, but disreputable enough that someone hiding from the authorities wouldn’t stand out.
Still, Bane was in a foul mood, and it was only getting worse as he continued to be unable to find his target. After he circled the same filthy block for the fourth time, Bane let out a blistering curse.
“Are you Cad Bane?”
He whirled, hands resting on the butts of his blaster pistols as he cursed himself. How long had it been since someone had managed to sneak up on him? Too long to start making stupid mistakes now.
“Who’s askin’?” he growled, scanning the dark alleyway. His red, slit-pupiled eyes adjusted better to the gloom than those of most other species, but even he had trouble picking out the speaker until they moved.
As the shadowed form stepped closer, Bane noted with some distaste that it was a human female. Duros had invented hyperdrives and had settled all across the galaxy, but it was the humans who were the most prevalent species. Nothing in the universe was fair.
This particular human looked to be nothing special. Her hair hung in limp strands - probably due to the humidity from the steam vents several buildings away - and her clothes looked like they had seen days in levels a lot lower than this one.
“I have some information for you,” she said, her voice pleasantly low and pitched to avoid being overheard.
“I’m sure,” Bane snorted.
“It’s good information,” she assured. “Worth a credit or two?”
“Dat’s not how dis works, girlie,” he said with a menacing chuckle, drawing one of the blasters and aiming in less time than it took to breathe. “Tell me da information an’ I’ll decide what it’s worth.”
She looked frightened, but nodded. “Th- There’s another bounty hunter after your target. I was sent to warn you that the guild gave out t-two biometric fobs.”
“Who sent ya tah warn me?” Bane demanded, absolutely livid. First, he was ousted as the Fett brat's godfather, and now the guild had issued another fob for his target? Ridiculous and insulting. Maybe that's why he was pressing the human female so hard, and why he hadn't put his blaster away yet.
“I don’t know, I swear!” she answered quickly. “He just pointed you out to me, gave me some credits, and told me what to tell you. Please don’t kill me!” She fell to her knees with the plea. Her actual skragging knees.
Bane shot her a disgusted look and holstered his blaster. In a few steps, he was at her side and tugged her roughly to her feet. She was heavier than she looked, but he had no problem getting her to stand - or keeping her close, even when she had started to struggle in an effort to get away from him.
"Are ya lyin' tah me, girl?" She shook her head frantically, but he noted with a spike of deep-buried interest that she had glanced at his mouth. It wasn't uncommon for people to mix up fear and interest, especially on a lower level of Coruscant.
Bane knew he had nothing to fear from this small human. He could read her every thought in her wide eyes and the expressions on her honest face. There was no reason not to have a little fun.
He pulled her closer, so close that the brim of his hat brushed her forehead as he continued, "So ya just thought to trick some extra credits outta me?"
"Uh, Master?" Todo chirped irritatingly.
"Shut up, droid," Bane snapped irritably as her gaze slid over to the techno-service droid instead of being fixed on Bane's own red eyes. He missed their weight, their heat. "D'ya know what I do tah people who try tah trick me?"
And there it was, her gaze flirted to his mouth again and lingered, just for a moment.
"How ‘bout ya earn those credits a different way?"
Offense crossed her face. "I'm not a-"
He lunged in for a kiss before she could tell him what she wasn't.
Duros didn't put much stock in kissing as an expression of anything, but it was the best way Bane knew of getting humans in the right headspace for more… inter-species recreation.
"Master," Todo said urgently and Bane fought a sigh. He hated the droid sometimes, but it was right. He had a target to find and now, there was a deadline.
He nipped at the human's lower lip with his sharp teeth and pulled away. "I've gotta go take care-a dis. See ya around."
She blinked up at him, looking rumpled and more than a bit confused. "But-"
"Master!"
"Shut up, droid," Bane snapped. "Can't ya see I'm goin'?"
When he turned back, the female was leaving. Bane spared a single thought for her, wishing momentarily that he had gotten her name, but he had bigger things to focus on. He had to find his bounty, cause some pain to the guild member who had issued a second fob, and figure out why he couldn't feel the vibroblade in his boot.
Wait…
Bane patted himself down and found that he was missing the pouch with his credits, the vibroblade from his boot, and the tracking fob.
"Master," Todo said again. "I've been trying to tell you: that girl was stealing from you!"
Bane hissed, whipping around to fix his gaze on the female. She was just rounding the corner of a building and saw him looking her way. Rather than the fearful look she had worn through their interaction, she grinned and sent a triumphant wink his way.
"Next time, just tell me!" Bane snapped, running after her. "Now I gotta track an unknown through da planet!"
"I traced the water from her hair while you were… occupied," Todo volunteered. "I believe she came from the steam vents three blocks west."
Bane changed directions and picked up speed, Todo soaring through the air beside him giving directions. At a certain point, he slowed, “I cannot go further. The steam will short out my circuits.”
“Fine, just wait dere,” Bane ordered over his shoulder. “Dis won’t take long.”
When Bane got to the steam vents, he immediately recognized the female's silhouette standing next to a nondescript, illegally parked ship. She was facing the opposite direction, speaking into a comlink hidden under her grimy sleeve.
"Well, keep me updated," she said, clearly disappointed with the person on the other end of the line.
Bane was on her before she could lower her arm, twisting her around. However, her reflexes were better than he had expected, and she turned and kicked him away in the same moment. Still, Bane hadn’t lived this long being taken by surprise. He grabbed her shoulders as he was pushed back, and levered her along with him. In the end, his balance was caught by a wall, and his grip pulled her against him until there was not an inch of space between their bodies.
"Gimme one good reason I shouldn't blast ya to pieces right now," he snarled in her face, one blaster already drawn and pressed to her temple.
Though this was a lot less friendly than the last time they had been so close, she wore a crooked little smile. “Because I can give back everything I took?”
“Yeah? An’ how is dat gonna make up fer da fact dat ya thought it’d be smart tah steal from me?”
The smile widened and took on a saucy look. “I think I more than made up for it back there. And there’s more where that came from. But first! Credits, fob…”
She hesitated before handing over the vibroblade. “I really like the knife. Any chance I could keep it?”
“I could shoot ya right now an’ no one would blink - least of all, me,” Bane hissed.
She pouted a bit, but passed the blade back. “Now, where were we?” she purred, moving as if to slide her hands up Bane’s arms.
Bane knocked her hands away and her comlink went off. She hit the button that allowed it to transmit, and Bane was less than thrilled, “I didn’t tell ya tah answer that.”
“We’re clear,” the comlink said.
“Who’s clear-a what?” he asked suspiciously, the end of the question muffled by the human female’s lips meeting his mouth once more. He obliged her, taking control of the kiss with a hand in her hair, holstering his blaster so he could use the other to angle her jaw.
“Bane,” she moaned at the contact.
Bane broke the kiss and tried not to pant as he said, “Ya got me at a disadvantage, darlin’. Ya know my name, but I never caught yers.”
“Oche,” she told him, giving a mischievous little smirk. “And that’s not the only thing you didn’t catch, bounty hunter.”
He was already furious by the time he tried to reach for her and found his wrists caught in magnetic binders, attached to the wall behind him.
“Well, that was lovely,” Oche said chipperly. “I do wish I could stay longer. I would love to see if all the rumors about you are true.”
Her gaze drifted downward and Bane growled at her, knowing full well what she would find if she looked too closely.
“Anyway, looks like we’re both done here.”
As she began to root through his jacket, Bane glowered. “So, ya were tryin’ tah steal my bounty all along.”
“Not really,” Oche said after a thoughtful pause. “It’s more like… a partnership. You found the guy, I got the fob, and Embo got the bounty.”
Embo. Bane should have guessed that the Kyuzo would be one to steal a bounty. He had already tried to steal Bane’s signature wide-hat style. Aloud, he just said, “And when am I gonna get my share-a da payment fer this little partnership?”
“Well, your portion was done on more of a volunteer basis,” she hedged.
Before Bane could tell her how little he cared about volunteering anything, she said, “I’m taking some of your credits, the fob, and the vibroknife. I really did like it.”
As she stepped away, Oche added, “Embo said to tell you thanks for the bounty. He didn’t know if he could find them alone, but you were a big help. And don’t worry, those cuffs will come off as soon as my ship leaves the atmosphere.
With that, she scampered off, climbed into her ship, and blew him a kiss goodbye through the viewport. Bane bared his pointed teeth at her in return.
Oche was right, though: the binders fell off only minutes after her ship had risen through the air. Bane spent only a moment glaring at the sky before he walked back in the direction of his own ship, lost in thought.
Fett had Wesell, Embo had Oche, even Ohnaka had Sing. Was he the only bounty hunter left in the galaxy who still worked solo? Where was his apprentice?
“Master!” Todo cried, hovering beside the Duros’s face. “Did you find her? Did you get the target?”
“Oh, I gotta target, all right,” Bane said darkly. “An’ I’m not gonna stop ‘til I get ‘er.”
He would find Embo and Oche, he would get his money for the target he had found, and then… Bane and Oche would finish what they had started.
Whether it would be finished with blasters or something more primal, he wasn’t certain, but it would be finished either way.
#fic request#anonymous fic request#cad bane#todo 360#bounty hunter#cad bane is easily distracted#for a bounty hunter#original female character#mentioned#embo#jango fett#zam wesell#hondo ohnaka#aurra sing#threats of violence#dubious consent#sfw though#just kissing#and death threats but whatever
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Mood. I miss Esmeralda (my old car) but she was kind of bad luck. ANYWAYS TO DISTRACT YOU, I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ABOUT JAYNA AND MAUL’S FIRST MEETING IN DETAIL
Oh jeez, um...alright, I haven’t written out the full scene yet, but I can give you the basics and maybe some snippets of dialogue?
Okay, to set the stage here’s the basic run down of where everybody is.
Maul has just started to take over the crime syndicates in order to take over Mandalor.
Meanwhile, Jayna has been imprisoned by the Hutts after being betrayed by Cad Bane. Bane usually would hand a Jedi straight to the Dooku, but given that she is not officially a Jedi and feeling a strange sort of obligation to give her a fair shake, he gives her to the Hutts to deal with. They’ve been using her for entertainment in the fighting pits as they decide what to do with her.
Once Maul takes over the Hutts, they offer them some of their best fighters as a peace offering.
Jayna is brought out for a demonstration against another opponent. She quickly wins. So quickly, it’s not a very entertaining fight. The Hutts move to punish her, but Maul stops them, easily recognizing her as not only force sensitive, but trained as a Jedi at some point in her life.
He then insist on fighting her himself, even allowing her back her lightsaber in the process.
They circle each other at first, Jayna recognizing what a red blade and force sensitivity generally means while Maul just wants to get a proper feel for his opponent.
“You’re really are a Sith, aren’t you?” she said, more out of the need to buy herself time than actually know. “I thought there could only be two.”
“There are only two,” Maul replied, his voice low and dangerous. “A master and an apprentice.”
Her eye traveled up to the gawking crowd and the all too obvious Zabrak standing tall and in front. A small smile curled at her lip. She could use that.
“So, you’re the apprentice,” she said, keeping her voice casual. “Dooku finally kick Ventress to the curb?”
Anger flared through the force, hitting her hard as Maul’s eyes blazed.
“Dooku is a pretender,” he growled. “Do not speak of things you cannot understand.”
She shrugged. “Hey, your business is your business. I just wanted to know how embarrassing this is going to be for you.”
His lip curled into a snarl, her only warning before he charged. She blocked the attack easily, buckling slightly under the force of strike.
Well, she got what she wanted. She made him mad...perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea.
They continue fighting for a while. Maul calms enough to properly test her skills while Jayna is trying her best to keep herself alive.
It becomes clear Maul is better with a lightsaber, but Jayna knows how to improvise and think on her feet.
When disarmed, she uses rocks, sand, and even the platting around the pit as weapons. Anything she can get her hands on she uses.
It proves ineffective as Maul eventually disarms her and leaves her pinned beneath him with a lightsaber to her throat. However, before he can declare a true victory, he feels something sharp pressed between where fresh meets metal. He looks down to see Jayna holding a shiv to his stomach; draw.
Maul is satisfied, and tells the Hutts that Jayna is all they need.
Jayna is, of course, still not happy about this, new arrangement and tells him very plainly that she will never do what he asks of her if he expects to keep her as a slave.
Maul recognizes this, and tells her he can give her power. She surprises him by telling him she’s not interested in power.
“All crave power,” Maul insisted.
“I don’t.”
“Then tell me little hunter, what do you want?”
She scoffed. “What I want is a shower, some clean clothes, food if you have it, and enough credits to get me as far away from this rock as I can.”
He shook his head is disappointment. “Such lack of vision.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh really great exalted Lord of the Sith, what vision am I so lacking?”
“The chance to change the galaxy,” Maul offered, in a tone which left no room for argument. “You are powerful, whether you wish to accept that power or not. The Jedi recognized it. The Bounty Hunters recognized it. Even these pathetic wastes can recognize power when they see it. And yet, here you stand, knee deep in the filth. Join me and I can give you a true purpose. You can be instrumental in changing the course of history and shape the galaxy to your own choosing.”
Jayna shook her head. “You really don’t get it do you? I don’t care. I don’t care what the galaxy looks like or who shapes it. I just want to go my own way with nobody ever telling me what to do.”
She turned to leave, but not before Maul played one last card.
“If not power, then what of revenge?”
She stopped, glancing suspiciously over her shoulder.
“The Hutts told me of your capture,” he said, his tone radiating confidence. “You were quite the reliable little hunter for a time, until your own betrayed you.”
“So?”
“What if I were to ensure you found him enabling you to deliver whatever retribution you deem appropriate.”
“And after?”
“I would require you skills for a time.”
“How long?”
“As long as they are needed.”
Jayna’s lips pressed into a fine line. “Credits?”
“More than you can spend in a lifetime, if we are successful.”
“There seems to be a lot of “what ifs” in this deal.”
Maul gave her a patronizing me. “It’s either me or you walking out of this palace with only the clothes on your back.”
She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. What choice did she have?
“I still want that shower,” she said, dryly. “And food.”
Maul’s lips curled into a half smile. “Then I believe we have an agreement, little hunter.”
He held out his hand. She took it carefully, making a point to stare him straight in the eyes as she did.
“One more thing,” she said, almost casually. “That’s the last time you call me “little” anything.”
And that’s all I got.
#star wars#the clone wars#darth maul#maul#darth maul x oc#maul x oc#darth maul x reader#star wars oc#sw oc#jayna dar#my oc stuff
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Part 1 | Part 2.
The bed dips under the weight of Jaskier's body, as he lays down under the covers next to him. Geralt doesn't look at him, he has his eyes closed and the back turned to him, but he clearly hears him sighing dramatically – and maybe a bit bitterly, as is his scent that now reaches his nose. He doesn't smell aroused anymore, the sweet, mouth watering feminine scent doesn't permeate Jaskier's skin anymore. Geralt would think that he's happy about that, but... he's not.
“Are you mad at me, Geralt?”
Geralt doesn't respond, keeping the back at him obstinately. Jaskier's voice is soft, barely a whisper. It's slightly different from the voice he had when he was a boy, but not too much: it lacks of the lightly ruff background, especially – as now – when he tried to talk with a low tone.
Jaskier hums at the stretched silence. Not that's new, it happens a lot with Geralt after all. “I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to do anything. Really. I was just...” he trails off, and for the first time, Geralt hears Jaskier at loss of words.
“Messing with me?” he prompts him, with no particular inclination in his voice. He's really not so mad, not at Jaskier at least. He's annoyed at himself, and at his weakness.
Well, considering that Jaskier is his weakness, maybe he is a bit mad at him.
“No, no.” he hears Jaskier shuffling under the covers of the bed, but he doesn't get closer. Geralt can feel the warmth of his body, but it almost feels ephemeral. He feels no contacts in his skin, and he almost feels cold. “No, I just... I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop a totally normal reaction of my body. I hoped that... well, nevermind. It's unimportant.”
Geralt frowns. He's pretty sure that Jaskier wanted to say something else to him, something important. It's just a feeling, of course, but even that evening, when they ate in the common room of the tavern, Jaskier hidden under his coat and Geralt with a scowl twisting his lips, he had the same sensation. Jaskier's silence was surely a hint, but also, under the hood, Geralt could clearly see his face blank, deep in contemplation of whatever he was looking into the porridge he was eating. Once or twice, Jaskier opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it with a click, looked around at the oblivious patrons around them, and kept eating in silence.
And Geralt doesn't want that Jaskier refrains from talking to him, just because Geralt is too weak. So, he turns with his back against the uncomfortable mattress, and cocks his head so he can look at him right in his blue, shiny eyes, brightening by the embers from the fireplace. “What?” he asks, hoping that Jaskier would just open up to him.
Not that he deserves that, but...
“It's really nothing.” Jaskier's lips are pressed against each others in a light pout, his long lids fanning around the cut of his eyes. Fuck, he wants so much to kiss him, right here, right now. He doesn't even have to look beyond his chin, he doesn't fucking care of the slender line of his neck, of the soft tightness of his chemise around his chest. All he needs it's there, in front of his eyes, with Jaskier looking at him with his usual pleading – pleading of what – stare and pouting lips. But still, he does nothing. “I just thought that, maybe, perhaps, things would have been different, now. With this body, with my more... feminine curves. I guessed I could have been more of your... preference, let's say that. But clearly, I was wrong: the problem, all along, wasn't my body. Was... the problem is just me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he grunts, not understanding.
Jaskier looks at him right in his eyes, then his lids flutter and, finally, he lowers his gaze. He inhales, deeply, and raises a hand to start caressing his cheek, resting it slightly above his cheekbone. His thumb, ever so soft, draws circles under his eyes. “Forget it. I was just blabbing, as always. Aren't you tired? You definitely must be tired, I didn't give you a break these couple of days. You have to go on a contract tomorrow, have you? You should sleep. I don't want you to have any other kind of distraction that isn't me.”
“You distract me a lot.”
Jaskier smiles, his eyes twinkle of his typical mischief. But still, he seems a bit off. “I'm the bane of your existence, Geralt.”
Geralt tries, he really does, to reciprocate his smile. There's still something churning his stomach, still something he might take into consideration but he's not. Something important, something that Jaskier – with his frivolous words and ambiguous sentences – was trying to say to him. “You are.” he just murmurs, and Jaskier chuckles softly, his hand falling off his cheek. Geralt immediately misses the warmth of his touch, but he still doesn't say anything.
“I'll come with you tomorrow.” Jaskier says, blinking. He's starting to feel sleepy, by now Geralt can put a meaning in every grimace of his face. Or maybe, most of them; particularly of his needs. Not so much his emotions: if he cannot understand them by his scent, he mostly feels lost at sea. As he feels right now, after all.
“You shouldn't. It's safer here.”
“Is it? Well, I guess it is. Here there is no monsters trying to rip my ribcage open, that's for sure. I can take care of myself in your absence, at least for half a day. Maybe I can perform! I can still wear your coat on and hid my face, or part of it at least, and present myself as a new bard. I kind of miss performing in front of a willingly crowd.”
“No.”
Jaskier blinks, “What?”
“No, you'll stay here, hidden away.”
Jaskier raises his eyebrows, opening his mouth wide in a dramatic disbelief. “Not even my mother could kept me caged in my own room for more than half an hour, Geralt, and even though I love you, you dumbass, you make no difference.”
Geralt tries to not react at his casual confession. It's not the first time, nor probably the last, and Geralt already knows that Jaskier loves him, as Jaskier obviously knows that Geralt feels the same – even though he never said it out loud like him, it should be so obvious that is almost written on his face. Right? – but Geralt... feels so unworthy. He isn't worth of a thing as pure and as beautiful as Jaskier's love. So, things will always be platonic, no matter how much Geralt wants to kiss his pout away.
“I can stop whatever people might do to you. What if they recognize you and put you at a stake? What if they don't recognize you, but they see you like... like this, see you so... so...” beautiful, he wants to say, but he was beautiful even as a boy, and Geralt didn't have the same worry as he's feeling now. It's just that now, now the world is darker for him, men themselves are worse than monsters – and Geralt can't let that darkness stain the perfect, sunny light around him. “Hm. I, I can't do anything to take you out of trouble, if I'm not there.”
Jaskier cradles his face between the palms of his hands, and with the most serious expression he can muster with the soft lines of his face, he exclaims: “You are as sweet as a cinnamon roll.” Geralt rolls his eyes, and Jaskier chuckles, without stopping touching him. “But I can take care of myself. It must not be so obvious, but I'm very strong! The hard life on the road helped me to gain some muscles, especially my legs'.” Yes. Geralt knows that. He saw his legs, briefly, during his bath, and they are thick, muscled. Not as a witcher, but definitely strong enough. They are perfect. “I can kick whoever would dare saying that my songs are shits, right in their balls. I had balls, I know the pain they would feel in beyond comprehension.”
“Hm.” Geralt smiles, and tries not to think about Jaskier being kicked in his balls when he was a boy. “Still. Kicks could not being enough.”
Jaskier closes his eyes, briefly, and inhales dramatically. “Alas, the things I do for you. Alright, alright, I won't perform, I won't dance, I won't sing, I won't catch their attentions. I take this as a favour you owe me, I hope you are aware.”
As long as Jaskier is safe, it's fine. “Hm, yes.”
“Good. So, I will stay all alone here, in this room that doesn't even have a lock, waiting for my witcher to come back from his hunts. Maybe... oh, did you see the waiter this evening, during dinner? Do you think that he would accept to come up here, to... help me pass the time, tomorrow? I don't like to be alone, and he is cute. Maybe a bit young, he seems to be in his mid–twenty, but I'm not gonna be too picky.”
“What.” Geralt feels his blood boil, “We... we just said that you don't have to catch unwanted attention!” he growls. His nostrils flare, and he's probably baring his teeth. Jaskier doesn't seem perturbed by the scene, on the contrary: Geralt feels like he's fallen right into a trap.
“Well, it's not unwanted. I can handle very well a single boy's attention, Geralt.” Jaskier smiles, innocently. This little shit, he'll be the death of him. “And there's that little, tiny problem of my virginity, remember? Before we find a mage, I have to take care of it!”
Geralt tightens his lips, and looks at Jaskier – who looks back so candidly that Geralt almost feels bad at being so fucking irate at him. Almost – and... and...
And surrenders.
“Fine, fine, you little shit!” he growls, while Jaskier's eyes twinkle victoriously, “You'll come with me tomorrow!”
Geralt falls asleep with Jaskier's hoorays in his ears, and a voice that resembles so much like Vesemir's that keeps telling him that he's so, so, so fucked.
#i give up#this doesn't show in the tags and i don't care anymore#i just post it here and leave it be#fuck this#non binary!jaskier#fem!jaskier#geraskier#geraskier fanfiction#geraskier fic#geralt x jaskier#mine:fyccina#writings
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