#I’m embracing cringe I’m truly free | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lennjamin-o7 · 1 year

Text

To Be Truly Free

Chapter 8

Previous | Next

“Technoblade, I’m bored ,” Tommy whined into his ear. Technoblade winced as he tried to lean away from the loud noise, but the child tightened the already iron grip around Technoblade’s arm.

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Do something not boring.”

Technoblade sighed deeply before pointedly looking around the room. It was just as empty of entertainment as it usually was. Nothing had changed in the weeks he had been trapped in the room. And it’s not like the Church cared about keeping the Blessed entertained.

“If you’re so bored, you can always, I don’t know, leave and find something to do. I won’t stop you.”

Tommy scowled at him.

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself, bitch.”

“Worth a shot,” Technoblade muttered, blocking the pillow trying to smack him in the face.

Ever since their declaration that they wouldn’t leave him alone, they had become overbearing, clinging to him every waking moment. Prodding him to talk to them when he tried to give them the silent treatment. Refusing to give him more than a few moments of privacy. Sleeping was the only moment that Technoblade was by himself, and not even always then. He had been woken plenty of times by the brothers bickering over his head. It wasn’t the most restful sleep he had ever gotten, between the strange dreams and the brothers’ odd vigilance.

But then again, rest wasn’t exactly familiar to him anyway.

“I demand entertainment, Blade. Let’s do something.”

“Like?”

“There is this really cool pond with all these ducks that we could go-”

“I can’t leave this room, Tommy,” He replied testily. He had told him this multiple times . From what he could discern, Wil had even told Tommy why it was a bad idea.

“They won’t notice! They’re all busy with their war stuff and shit. They won’t notice if we just slip out the window-”

“And if they do?” Technoblade cut off with a shake of his head. “They always notice. It’s not worth the risk.”

Tommy grumbled, pulling himself impossibly closer into Technoblade’s side. Technoblade grimaced, fighting against the desire to tear his arm from the kid’s grasp by whatever means necessary.

The amount of physical contact both Wil and Tommy lavished on him was uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and mostly unwelcome. Each touch, light as it was, sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through his body. And sure, part of him recognized that it felt…nice. It wasn’t hurting him. But a larger, greater part of him wanted to rip his arm away. Like the constant contact was intrinsically wrong. It felt like the moment when a limb falls asleep for too long. A jittering tingle that spread through his veins, leaving behind a dull ache and a miasma of panic clouding his thoughts. It was just too much. Way too much. But neither Tommy nor Wil ever let him jerk out of their grasp, always embracing him tightly with a glib complaint as Technoblade sat tense and uneasy.

At moments, the constant touch was so overwhelming he was sorely tempted to lash out and actually try to fight against the brothers, cruel words on the tip of his tongue as an ineffable sense of resentment roiled about in his thoughts. But an even greater part of him was concerned he would hurt them. And even if the constant contact and lack of privacy rankled him to his very core, he didn’t want that. So he struggled to douse the spark of anger that threatened to consume him. Tommy was just a kid and Wil was so lanky Technoblade was sure a random breeze would knock him flat on his back. They were nice, mostly. They didn't deserve him snapping at them. He tried to convince himself of that, anyway.

Some part of him seemed to find it incredibly amusing even as he cringed away from their touch, a constant feeling of delight seemed to tickle at the back of his thoughts, a whisper of something he forced himself to ignore. Yet Technoblade didn’t grow used to the brothers reaching toward him, flinching away at the movement and pretending to not notice the displeased frown when he didn’t relax at their touch. The emotional dissonance was disorienting, the feelings of pleasure and engrained fear at odds with each other. Yet Tommy seemed to come up with a solution that prevented Technoblade from instinctively pulling away.

The solution being they just never let go . Technoblade didn’t need them to explain their logic. He knew that they were trying to acclimate him to their affection. He hadn’t been able to move freely since the last time he was called by the High Priest to a panicked meeting after another battle lost.

But he knew it wasn’t working.

He’d never been this sedentary or this social and it was starting to wear on him.

Starting? No. He was way past his limit. But what could he do?

It’s not like he had any power to stop him, and wow, was that a bitter pill to swallow.

“Techno, stop moving!” Tommy complained as Technoblade shifted to be more comfortable.

“Bruh,” Technoblade huffed. He clenched his non trapped arm methodically, trying to shed some of the pent-up energy.

“I know what we can do! I bet I can pester Wil into finding a disc player. They’ve got to have one somewhere,” Tommy brightened, somehow finding a way to lean even more on Technoblade. “How do you feel about music?”

“I’m not a fan,” Technoblade gritted his teeth and leaned away. Tommy gasped.

“What the fuck? I bet you just haven’t listened to anything good! Like Mellohi or anything by the Able Sisters.”

“Entirely possible,” Technoblade knew church hymns didn’t constitute the entire possible range of music. He’d even found a book of music once, completely incomprehensible with lines and dots that looked like ants crawling across the pages.

“Oh, I am going to make you listen to those at the first opportunity. You need to listen to some good music-”

“-not that Tommy knows anything about good music,” Technoblade flinched and looked at the door. The man was ridiculously quiet. Technoblade was determined to see him enter the room at some point. Yet even after all this time, the man was as silent as a ghost, even the iron door seeming to not so much as creak in the man's presence.

“Oh, fuck all the way off, bitchboy. No one needs your pretentious music lectures. You wouldn’t-”

“How did you get here so quickly?” Technoblade interrupted with a frown. He was pretty sure that the meeting should have lasted longer, usually occupying Wil's attention for most of the morning. It should have taken Wil longer to return. Wil shrugged.

“Long legs, I suppose,” Wil waved off, leaving Technoblade uneasy with an unexplained dread. A faint whisper of thought seemed to think that something seemed…off.“But what is this about music?”

“I’m bored. This is boring. Technoblade is determined to be boring. You should see if they have a music player somewhere.”

“Again, you could just leave-” Technoblade ducked the hand reaching for his face.

“It’s not going to do you much good. You left your discs at home.”

“I did not! I packed them all nice in snug and had Ian-”

“Yeaaaah, I unpacked them and put them back in your room before I left.”

“What??”

“I am not listening to those discs again, Tommy. Besides, you’re going to wear them out and I don’t want to hear about them being broken, either. You didn’t even notice they were gone, so it's not like you needed them anyway.”

Tommy gaped at his brother, for once silent, at a loss for words. Technoblade saw his chance to slowly pry the kid’s hand off his arm. Little victories.

“...you bastard!” Tommy launched himself off the bed and at his brother. Wil quickly stepped to the side with a bemused expression as the whirling ball of rage lunged for his fluffy brown hair.

Technoblade rolled his shoulder in relief, slipping off the side of the bed. Stretching his back with a loud pop, he watched as Tommy was finally able to get his little grippy raccoon hands on Wil. Technoblade couldn’t decide if he was trying to climb Wil or drag him to the ground. Either way, the man looked nonplussed as his glasses were knocked slightly askew, coat clutched in the kid’s hands as Wil struggled to get Tommy to let go .

Technoblade couldn’t help but smirk at the irony, massaging his arm where Tommy had cut off blood flow. Honestly, the brother’s were a lot more endearing when they weren’t constantly tethered to him.

The brothers continued to struggle to get the upper hand over the other as Technoblade leaned against a wall as far away from them as possible. He felt no desire to get pulled into their antics, instead focused on trying to guess which of the brother’s would come out on top.

Definitely Tommy.

No way! Wil’s smarter than that.

Technoblade blinked before shaking his head to clear it, frowning slightly. Is he arguing with himself now?

In the end, Wil’s height won him the victory. Technoblade was entertained by the man somehow tangling his long legs around his brother’s feet. It wasn’t elegant, but the blond went down with a screech, pinned by his brother on the floor.

“Tommy, stop. You’re going to tear my sweater.”

“Fuck your sweater!” Technoblade could just see the snap of teeth millimeters away from the sweater fabric. Wil looked aghast at his brother, unable to push himself away without the kid being freed.

Technoblade snorted, immediately covering his mouth with the back of his hand to hide his smile. The two brothers instantly froze, staring up at Technoblade from their prone positions.

“Are you laughing at us?” Wil asked, just as his glasses fell off completely, whacking Tommy in the face as they fell to the carpet.

“Hmmm, nah,” Technoblade answered, forcing his face into a stoic expression.

“Liar. You absolutely laughed,” Tommy accused.

“That doesn’t sound like something I would do,” Technoblade crossed his arms. He noticed a mischievous glint in Wil’s eye. Wil smirked.

“Damn, Tommy, how could you accuse Technoblade of lying? That’s pretty fucked up,” Wil grinned down at his glaring brother. Tommy struggled to kick his brother from where he was pinned.

“I’m gonna kill you, you fucking-”

“Shush. Anyways,” Sir Wil pushed himself up to his feet in one fluid movement, straightening his coat before bending to grab his glasses from the floor. Technoblade was impressed at the grace. Tommy followed suit, aiming one more kick at his brother as he grumbled to his feet. “You guys were getting bored, right? They haven’t really been calling any of the Blessed into the meetings since, well, so many priests have disappeared, and I know you’ve been cooped up in here. How about you choose something to do? And don’t let Tommy guilt you into anything.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but-” Technoblade gestured around the empty room.

“I can go and get supplies. Like, I don’t know, cards? Darts? Board games? Does Scywar do board games? I feel like Candyland would be a foreign concept here. Maybe they have some off brand version called Slaughterland or something…”

Technoblade had no clue what Candyland was, but he wasn’t sure his experience was universal for Scywar.

“You could let me braid your hair,” Tommy offered, hopefully.

“No,” Technoblade shot down immediately. He did not care that Tommy seemed to deflate.

“That’s fine, Techno,” Wil brightened. “Just tell me what you’d like to do. I know we have been a bit… more than you're used to. And you’ve been a great sport about that. So how about we do something just for you.”

Technoblade tilted his head, thinking. This was new. An obvious ploy to gain his trust, but not necessarily unwelcome. He had expected more prodding and poking from the brothers. More time forced to sit squished between the two brothers as he listened to them lecture about their own interests, remaining tight-lipped about everything except his most superficial opinions.

They had said multiple times that they wanted him to trust them. Still, how far would that trust buy him? Would it be too much to mess with them a bit? Would that turn them against him? He studied Wil thoughtfully, the beginnings of a cautious yet sly plan forming. Just a touch of payback for their clingy behavior couldn't hurt, could it?

“Books,” Technoblade said gruffly, watching Wil’s reaction closely.

“Books?” Wil repeated inquisitively. However, Tommy groaned loudly.

“Nooo,” The boy complained, dramatically flopping onto the bed. “That’s worse than boring. You should get something cool like-”

“Hush, gremlin. I can get books. That’s easy enough,” Wil waved off, expression eager. “If that’s what you want, Techno. I can get them. Any requests?”

“Yeah,” Technoblade knew exactly which books to ask for. “A Treatise of Worship of Dieties and Demons by Pasune Reférence, Of Kings and Their Courts by Fauxnom Pour-eret, The Odyssey by the Poet, Tales of Essempi, A Complete History: Volume Sixty-Nine by K. Jacobs, and Scraps of the Theogany: Words from Religion Unnamed by, well, I’m pretty sure they don’t know who wrote that one.”

“...did you seriously just have that list memorized?” Wil laughed in shock. Technoblade shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t mark you as a scholar.”

“Were it up to the Church, I wouldn’t be,” Technoblade raised an eyebrow, challenging.

“I see,” Wil grinned. “Well, then I will go and get them immediately. I’ve seen the library here, I’m sure they have them.”

“Wiillll,” Tommy complained loudly, but Wil merely rolled his eyes.

“Just give it up, Gremlin. A little reading won’t kill you. I’ll grab you a picture book or something,” Wil grabbed Technoblade’s wrist and towed him toward the bed. Not again . “Why don’t you sit with Tommy while I go and grab them? Honestly, you need to relax more. You’re constantly on edge. Seriously, I don’t think I have seen a more stressed individual.”

“I wonder why?” Technoblade snarked, as Wil giggled.

“All the more reason to relax while you can,” and with more strength than Technoblade thought the scrawny man had, the brunette pushed him toward the bed. Technoblade hit the comforter with an oof, immediately clingy hands reached towards him. Again. He had escaped for, what, ten minutes? Yeah, Technoblade is glad he asked for the books that he did.

“Technoblade, come on!” Tommy practically shrieked in his ear. “You could have picked anything and you picked boring fucking books . The hell, man? That’s so fucking lame . You could have gotten Wil to bring swords . We could have played with swords and shit. I could have thrashed Wil and his scrawny arms with a netherite sword or something.”

“Hmm, no. I think I’m good,” Technoblade tried to pry the child off him long enough to sit up properly. Tried being the operative word.

“Please? Fuck, you picked a bunch of boring books, too. Like, history? Who the fuck cares about reading history? Everyone already knows history!” Tommy whined as he wrapped his octopus-like arms around Technoblade shoulders. Technoblade grunted as he tried to pull away.

“How would everyone know history if they hadn’t read it?” Technoblade shot back. Done with being hugged, done with the contact, to hell with the consequences, he pressed his palm into Tommy’s face and pushed him away, ignoring the kid’s protests. Though he did grimace as Tommy ran his tongue across his wrist. “Ew.”

“Your words of reason are meaningless to me, Blade.”

“Okay, then let's change the language,” Technoblade couldn’t help but smirk. The kid had proven himself at least slightly durable in that scuffle with his brother, sooo…. Tommy paused in confusion before he shrieked. Technoblade shoved the kid hard enough that he fell backwards over the side of the bed, landing in the thick carpet with a thud. Technoblade was finally able to sit up properly on the bed, blowing a loose strand of hair from his face. He leaned slightly over the bed to see the child staring up at the ceiling.

“What the fuck?” The kid sounded utterly baffled.

“The only universal language is violence, Tommy,” Technoblade drawled. “If my ‘words of reason are meaningless’, logically I should speak a language even you understand.”

“Even me? Even me ? What the fuck are you implying, Blade?” Tommy suddenly sat up.

“Implying?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow. “Am I implying something?”

The kid glared at him suspiciously. Technoblade could almost see the cogs turning in his head. Technoblade looked away, suppressing the need to smile.

Wil was already gone.

Technoblade was growing more and more curious about how that was even possible.

“...bitch, did you just call me stupid?”

“That doesn’t sound like something I would do,” Technoblade replied offhandedly.

“Because I’m not. I’m the fucking smartest person you’ve ever met.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That sounded like doubt, you prick.”

“Really? Weird.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Am I?”

“I know how to read between the lines, asshole. I know when you are being sarcastic.”

“Really? And here I thought all of your resistance to books was because you couldn’t read.”

“Bitch, I can read,” Tommy climbed on the bed.

Technoblade quirked an eyebrow.

“Of course I can fucking read!”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me!”

Technoblade huffed a laugh before catching himself. Tommy grinned, victorious as he hopped off the floor and back onto the bed.

“Even if you can’t read,” Technoblade drawled, recoiling as the kid once more clung to his arm. “I think you will still find this entertaining.”

Tommy tilted his head, curious, but Technoblade refused to explain.

Technoblade had managed a moment of hard earned privacy and was splashing cold water on his face when he heard Wil return.

“Technoblade, you absolute troll !” The brunette yelled into the room. Technoblade couldn’t help but smirk into the mirror, though he still felt an undercurrent of concern. He hoped his little prank wouldn’t be…punished. He quickly dried his face with a towel before walking back into the other room.

“Have some trouble?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow.

“Two of the books you asked for are illegal . Not hard to find, not unpopular, but actually banned by the Church and the King! And I don’t know what the other three are, but the librarian that gave me the Tales of Essempi or whatever it's called laughed at me. They had the actual audacity to point and laugh at me. What the fuck , Technoblade?”

Tommy looked as if he had been given a gift, staring at his brother with complete awe as the Advisor was red-faced and flustered. Technoblade shrugged.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I just felt like a little light reading. And those books were the first that came to mind,” It was taking every ounce of self-control for Technoblade to not point and laugh at Wil as well.

“Your idea of light reading is a political analysis of monarchy and the symptoms of failing leadership under an unworthy king?”

“Ideally.”

Tommy had no reservations for laughing at his brother.

“You got laughed at by a fucking librarian? By Lady Death, that is fucking hilarious. Even the nerds are laughing at you. As they should, bitch.”

“Oh shut up, Tommy,” Sir Will snapped, dropping a pile of books on the desk. Technoblade frowned at the abuse to the poor books. “You and your sticky hands wouldn’t even be allowed in the library, so I don’t see what you’re so smug about.”

“Oh fuck you, I could go into the library if I wanted. I go into the library at home all the time! And no one has said shit about my sticky hands .”

“I have literally never seen you in the library.”

“Yeah? Well I have literally never seen you in the library!”

“That’s because you don’t go into the library!”

“How would you know?”

Technoblade let the brothers bicker, ignoring the flare of jealousy that the brothers were rich enough to have their own library that they didn’t even use. Instead, he moved to grab whatever books Sir Wil had brought, relieved that the man didn’t seem… genuinely angry at his prank. The top of the stack was a children's book, much to Technoblade's amusement. But below it was an old favorite, one he had “borrowed” many times. He may never know what war Odysseus had fought, whatever book preceded it was lost to time and only allusions to it mentioned in the text, but Odysseus's iron will to defy even the Gods to get home was something Technoblade admired. Even if the names of the Gods were…strange. He flipped through the pages briefly before he decided to see what other books the advisor had grabbed.

He put aside The Odyssey to read the next title. And he nearly dropped it when he saw the title.

Of Kings and Their Courts by Fauxnom Pour-eret.

Technoblade’s jaw dropped as he stared, gently tracing his finger over the title. Yes, his eyes weren’t deceiving him. With gentle hands, he lifted the book. Gently, he rubbed a finger along the spine. It certainly felt real. Slowly, he opened it, skimming at the introduction.

What gives a King power? Is it the crown? Is it just the fact that they’re king? Those who are given a King’s power are born to it, but only through respect maintain it. But whose respect gives a King power? The respect of those they govern, the respect of those who protect them. But if the respect of the people is so weak that it cannot protect you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing-

“You actually got it?” Technoblade’s voice cut through the argument, the two brothers stopping suddenly. He hadn’t been loud, but somehow he was heard over the shouting match. The room was silent for only a moment before Wil responded.

“Yeah, of course I got it, Techno. You asked me for it,” Technoblade didn’t notice the soft footsteps getting closer, so focused on the text in his hands. “I wasn’t sure if you were just trolling me or if you actually wanted it, but I thought it was better safe than sorry.”

“I-” Technoblade started, a lump in his throat. “I was trolling you. This book is…unobtainable. Impossible. I didn’t expect you to actually be able to get it, I just thought it would give you trouble.”

“Oh…”

“But…I also really wanted to read it,” Technoblade said softly, eyes scanning across the pages.

“Oh!” Wil sounded a fair bit happier, a happy hum that Technoblade ignored.

“How did you even- this book is illegal! Incredibly illegal,” Technoblade was almost breathless as he greedily took in every word.

“I have my ways,” Wil’s half-sung. Technoblade stood transfixed, already engrossed in the book in his hands and intent on ignoring the brothers. He didn’t even notice when Wil started laughing. “Are you just going to loom there, reading?”

Technoblade hummed noncommittally, turning the page and completely tuning out of the conversation.

“You broke him,” Tommy accused.

“I didn’t break him! He’s having fun.”

“I don’t think he knows the definition of fun. And I’m starting to doubt that you do, either. Seriously? Couldn’t you convince him to pick something more interesting?”

“You know what Dad said.”

“Yeah, but this is important. I’m going to die from boredom.”

Only half listening, Technoblade reached out to grab the copy of Tales of Essempi. He tossed it lightly, the book landing perfectly in front of Tommy on the bed. The blond squawked in surprise.

“That one will amuse you,” Technoblade said offhandedly as he returned to reading.

“I’m not going to read some encyclopedia-”

“Read it.” Technoblade sat in the desk chair, not looking at the brothers as Tommy groaned.

“Ugh, wait. Is this the one Wil got laughed at because of?” Tommy asked. Technoblade nodded without looking up and the kid looked slightly more interested. Or at least, he looked less like he bit into a lemon. Cautiously, the kid opened the cover and his look of distaste turned into one of confusion. The kid flipped through the pages.

“All of these pages are blank,” Tommy said in confusion. Wil leaned over his brother’s shoulder, curiosity piqued.

“All of them?” Technoblade goaded. Tommy flipped through the pages quicker, until he stopped on a page in the middle.

“...it just says ‘nice’.” Tommy said, bewildered. But Wil broke out into cackling laughter, leaning against the bed to not fall over. “Wait…”

Technoblade tore his eyes away from the book to watch the brothers with amusement. Tommy met his eye, a look of dawning awe.

“K. Jacobs wrote forty-two volumes detailing the history of Essempi. They’re considered one of the most accurate historiographies of the country,” Technoblade explained with a smirk. “His forty-third volume, however, was a bit of a joke that he labeled-”

“Volume Sixty-Nine,” Wil wheezed. Tommy had now joined his brother in breathless amusement. Technoblade rolled his eyes, before returning to his book.

Being squished between the two brothers was much more bearable now that he had a book. Still not his ideal, still more tense than a bowstring, but he definitely thought it was an improvement. He only complained a little bit after they dragged him from the desk chair.

“So, Technoblade, how have you read so many books if you weren’t allowed to?” Wil asked suddenly.

“Oh, uh, I borrowed them,” Technoblade responded, turning the page.

“Borrowed?” Wil asked.

“Snuck them out of the library when I had the chance. Hid them in a safe place. Read them whenever I had a moment,” Wil hummed in thought at the explanation.

“What would have happened if you were caught?”

“Oh, uh, I have been caught.”

“What?” Tommy shouted in surprise, sitting up straighter. “What happened?”

Technoblade squirmed, not having much room between Wil and Tommy. He was more focused on the book than what he was saying anyway

“I was punished?”

“Yes, but how ?” Wil pressed.

“The same way they always punish theft?” Technoblade shrugged off the question, turning a page. Technoblade blocked Tommy’s hand as the kid tried to punch his arm.

“Stop being all invasive and answer the question.”

“Evasive.” Wil corrected.

“You will die in seven days.” Tommy shot back.

Technoblade sighed deeply, reluctantly closing the book. The brothers weren’t going to stop until they got some kind of answer.

“Theft is usually punished by some manner of whipping the offender’s hands. It varies a bit, depending on the severity. For stealing a book, well,” Technoblade gestured to some of the light pink scars on his palm. He really couldn’t pick out individual scars anymore. There were too many. “It took a while to heal.”

Technoblade shrugged and opened his book again, choosing to ignore the tense atmosphere his words created. Hopefully the brother’s would sense the awkwardness and drop the conversation-

“What was the last thing you were punished for?” Wil asked, voice tight.

Or not.

“I believe Tommy was here for that,” Technoblade brushed off, determined to focus on the book.

“No, before you were brought to the palace. We know everything that’s happened since you got here,” Wil waved his hand.

“Concerning. I feel like I shouldn’t tell my stalkers compromising information about myself,” Technoblade snarked.

“Stalkers?” Tommy shrieked indignantly, but Wil shushed his brother.

“You’re trying to distract us. Stop it. Just tell us. What was the last thing you were punished for?” Wil leaned forward to catch Technoblade’s eye, but Techno turned his face away. Unfortunately, that forced him to look at Tommy. Which was worse , because the last thing he had been punished for back at the cloister was for-

He didn’t want the kid to feel guilty. That wasn’t Tommy’s fault. Maybe he should just lie.

“Technoblade,” Wil was prodding at his shoulder. Technoblade closed his eyes and looked at neither of the brothers. “Technoblade, this is important.”

“No, I don’t feel like it is,” Technoblade argued, trying to sit up and pull away from the brothers. "Punishments happen, it's not newsworthy."

“Technoblade, what was the last thing you were punished for ?” Wil asked. Technoblade paused, tense, before relaxing back into the strong grip of the brothers. I mean, what really was the harm?

“...for leading Tommy through the city.”

“So they did punish you for that…” Wil sounded sad. “I thought they did, but still-”

“What did they do?” Technoblade didn’t look at Tommy, but the kid sounded pissed.

“Toms-”

“No, Wil. I want to know what they did.”

“I-Tommy, it really doesn’t matter. It’s not a big deal-” Technoblade hedged, not looking at the kid.

“No! Technoblade, how did they punish you for helping me ?”

It was almost like a punch, sudden and unexpected. But instead of feeling pain, every muscle in Technoblade’s body seemed to melt. The book dropped from his hand into his lap as he slumped against Wil, his thoughts floating away.

“Tommy! That was too much,” Technoblade thought he heard Wil admonish, but he couldn’t really understand what was being said. Everything seemed to float. Was he floating? Weird, he didn’t remember learning to swim.

Wait, didn’t someone ask him a question?

How did they punish you for helping me?

“They tied me to a post and one of the guards beat me,” Technoblade slurred. A sense of peace and accomplishment seemed to radiate as every word left his mouth. He wanted to answer, the euphoria of the words overshadowing the bitterness of the memory. “Then they left me tied to the post overnight.”

“Overnight?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy,” Wil admonished again. Technoblade thought he felt a hand caress his cheek and then-oh! He was looking at Wil. The brunette looked concerned.

“He’s already lost in the sauce, Wilbur, it’s gonna take a while for it to wear off,” Tommy said.

“ Names , Tommy,” Wil snapped.

“He won’t remember this,” Tommy brushed off. And Technoblade couldn’t help but nod. Of course he wouldn’t remember this. Why would he? “Wait, Technoblade, do you mean that they tied you to a pole the night it happened?”

“Yes,” Answering felt so nice. Why didn’t he want to answer before? He couldn’t quite remember.

“Wait, but it stormed that night! I was so angry that I didn’t-”

“Words, Tommy! He may not remember this conversation, but some part of him can put the pieces together. We don’t have much longer to wait, don’t ruin it.”

“But is that why he was sick? Wil, you said that he showed up to the meeting soaking wet! Was he sick because I-”

“If he was sick, it was because of those fucking priests, Toms. Don’t give those bastards a single inch.”

“Right,” Tommy sounded doubtful. “Right, okay.”

Technoblade really wished they would ask him a question again. Or ask him to do something. The floating feeling was great on its own, but it would be better if they told him to do something. Oh, Wil was tilting Technoblade’s head back and forth. Was that being helpful? Technoblade couldn’t quite move on his own, but hopefully it was helpful.

“He’s really out of it. Honestly, Tommy, you really should learn how to hold back sometimes. He's one person not a whole fucking army. It’s going to be a while before that wears off,” Wil sighed. “Help me get him comfortable. It’s probably best if he sleeps this off.”

"But he never wants to talk about himself! I want to know what those bastards have been doing."

"Toms-"

"How are we supposed to make him more comfortable around us if we don't know what's making him uncomfortable? How are we supposed to keep him safe if we don't know all the danger he's facing? What if there is something worse than that fucking bracelet. We need to know more. And if he's not gonna tell us on his own, well…"

Technoblade's eyes felt heavy, each blink feeling like a great amount of effort as he enjoyed the peace that settled in his chest. It was truly a novel experience and he clung to the calm greedily.

"...we don't tell Dad about this." Wil said.

"Sure, sure, Dadza never knows. Go make sure one of his fucking birds isn't at the window. We don't need a snitch."

"Got it. Okay. First ask him about.."

Words ceased to mean anything to Technoblade. He heard them, yes, but he didn’t understand them. He spoke them, yes, but he couldn’t comprehend them.

He floated, feeling content.

He couldn’t move.

Well, maybe that wasn't completely true. He'd had some success in twitching his fingers. But even that small movement had caused the thorns to dig deeper into his skin. So, maybe it wasn't completely inaccurate either. He could technically move, but it didn't really matter. It wasn't exactly practical to move.

So he focused on breathing. Too big of a breath and the plants seemed to constrict around his throat and chest. He forced himself to remain calm.

How did he get here?

There was a hazy sort of memory, unclear and dreamlike. Of lying limp as he was dragged across the dirt. It was hard to think about, like the closer he looked at the memory the less clear it was. Fading away like the mist.

It hurt his head to think about it, so he shifted his attention to what was around him. He had to…try to comprehend what he was seeing.

Red flowers with black stems bound him so tightly that he couldn’t even see his skin under the plants. It struck him as familiar, but the thought caused his head to pound. He looked away from the flowers, blinking hard as the strange plants seemed to burn an after image in his sight.

He was sitting with his back against a tree, gnarled roots on his left and right keeping him from tipping over. He had never seen such roots. At least, not on a living tree. It looked like some form of willow, but much bigger. The wood was as black as coal. The bark looked as if it had been charred, like the most gentle breeze would see it crumbling into a pile of ash. It wasn't just the roots, either. Technoblade could see the low hanging branches above his head, each one looking just as fragile and desiccated as the roots. Not a single leaf on the limbs, only fragile twigs giving a hint to where the foliage should be.

Technoblade could see an endless field of red flowers in front of him, but about six feet away from the tree it just stopped. The ground around the tree was completely devoid of life. Not a single sprig of grass or plant life. No bugs or evidence of animals passing through. In fact, Technoblade could see withering flowers just along the edge of the poppy field, some so far gone that their petals were flaking away into gray ash.

Worry was building in Technoblade. He was so incredibly confused. He was in pain. He felt small, so very small. He didn't have a clue what was happening.

A croaking noise to his left made him flinch, a whimper slipping past his lips as the plants squeezed tighter. A slow drip of blood spilling onto the soil. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to shudder at the sensation of the flowers twisting over his skin. A strange fluttering in the air drew his attention.

A crow.

A crow landed on the root to his left.

Or, something that looked like a crow.

It was huge. Bigger than any bird that Technoblade had ever seen. He had seen dogs smaller than this bird. And it moved oddly, a strange slowness to the tilt of its head. A beak that seemed slightly too pointed, claws that seemed too sharp from where it scraped against the root's bark. Feathers so glossy they made wet ink look matte. But what drew Technoblade's attention was the crow's eyes.

Large purple eyes seemed to stare into Technoblade's soul and his breath stuttered to a halt. Breathing seemed antithetical to whatever creature this was. Even when his lungs screamed for relief, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the bird and draw breath. As seconds trickled by, black spots began to dance in his vision.

With a clack of its beak, the bird looked away and Technoblade gasped in a breath before wincing as his bindings cut him even deeper at the movement.

The Crow squawked, ruffling its feathers before it peered closer at the flowers tied around Technoblade. Its eyes narrowed before it suddenly bobbed forward and pecked at one of the stems.

Technoblade shrieked as every thorn seemed to dig in deeper, thick rivulets of blood watering the ground. Tears sprung to his eyes, blurring his vision as he was lost in the pain. He couldn’t help the shudder that made everything worse, the plants cutting off his air and silencing his scream.

The Crow ruffled its feathers, puffing slightly before letting them relax again. Technoblade struggled to get ahold of himself as the flowers slowly stopped moving. Tears dripped down Technoblade's cheek.

The Crow made a croaking noise that Technoblade would tentatively call apologetic. It hopped closer along the root, finding purchase on the knotted bark. Eventually, it peered closely into Technoblade's face. Its sharp beak was merely inches from Technoblade's eye.

The bird turned its head as Technoblade panted, and Technoblade felt its beak rubbing into his hair.

He would rather have his eye pecked out.

As soon as the bird had touched him, a deep emptiness settled in his chest. A void of nothingness. An abyss of endless night that swallowed all and gave back nothing. Inescapable. Incomprehensible. Pain would have been better than the deep nothing in his soul. Once more, he couldn’t breathe. He didn't want to breathe. If he could cease existing at that moment, it would be better. To just stop before the void swallowed him whole.

You're holding quite tightly to this one, The void seemed to say.

Why would I not hold onto something that is mine ? The vines twisted tighter, Technoblade's soul felt like it was being crushed in their grasp.

What was once yours has now become mine , as all inevitably will be, The void seemed almost amused. Even as I am now, did you think I would not claim what’s mine ?

The air shook and The Crow cackled as it stepped away from Technoblade. Technoblade slumped, as much as the vines would allow.

I am not your enemy, old friend. In fact, I think our enemy has the same face , the void spoke again.

…what do you propose?

I will return to you what is rightfully in my grasp, with the chance to gain something more . In exchange…

Technoblade was fading. Everything about himself seemed to fall away into insignificance.

Maybe there was a response, maybe not. But he did not hear it.

Only the strange certainty of a bargain being struck, a gamble being made, a promise being sworn.

—

Technoblade blinked and everything was dark. Something soft was pressed against his cheek as he struggled to make sense of where he was. He was warm, comfortably warm. The comfort seemed jarring considering he was certain he had just been very uncomfortable, for some reason. But he couldn't place why he thought that. He continued to blink sluggishly as his brain struggled to catch up to where he was.

Right, he was laying in a bed. His bed, inside the palace. He had been…reading? Talking? Something like that? He couldn’t quite remember.

Slowly, he started to make sense of what he was looking at. It was dark. Night? When did that happen? Something told him it shouldn't be night yet. But it was definitely night. The room was painted in the distinctive blue light that only came from the brilliance of the moon and stars peaking through the shadows.

Technoblade could see the moonlight streaming through the window, but his lagging mind remained confused at what he was looking at.

Because there was someone standing there.

Wil , his mind provided. That's who it was. The man was staring out the window, a faraway expression on his face. Technoblade studied him, something off about the man.

He stood completely still. That was certainly odd. Wil always seemed to be moving, even when sitting. Whether he was wildly gesticulating, throwing his hands around as he spoke, or leaning dramatically against the furniture. But no. No, the man's stillness wasn't what was confusing Technoblade, as out of place as it was.

Was it Wil's expression? Truly, it was unusual to see the man so serious. Even when speaking on war and death, the man seemed smug. Amused. Unbothered. So seeing him so serious was off putting, for sure. He almost didn't look like the same man, with his brow furrowed so deeply. Technoblade frowned, comparing his memory of Wil with the Wil before him. One seemed merely a shadow of the other-

Technoblade's mind stuttered in confusion.

Shadow.

Wil had no shadow.

Technoblade could see the moonlight streaming through the window, something that the constant cloudy nights had kept hidden.

Wil stood directly in the moonlight.

Yet it seemed to go right through him, not leaving a shadow.

Actually, the more Technoblade looked, the man seemed almost transparent in the moonlight, the faint outline of the wall behind him visible. His form seemed to shimmer like water in a pool, a reflection slightly disturbed by the ripples of the very world.

"Wil?" Technoblade's voice cracked on the word. Wil's head snapped to look at him, expression still so serious that a pit of worry settled in Technoblade's stomach. Technoblade groaned as he shifted to try and push himself upright, his body feeling unreasonably heavy.

"Hey," a hand pressed Technoblade back into the mattress. He couldn’t help but grumble a complaint. "Take it easy, there. It's the middle of the night, Techno. You should be asleep."

"So should you," Technoblade slurred, letting his head sink into the pillow. He fought to keep his eyes open. "Why are you here? Everything okay?"

Wil laughed, but it was a harsh humorless thing.

"No. No, not really," Wil's voice was tight with an emotion Technoblade was too tired to interpret. Technoblade's eyelids drooped. "But it will be soon. I promise."

Technoblade hummed in agreement, losing the battle against keeping his eyes open. He heard Wil chuckle before a gentle hand touched his cheek.

"Only a week more, Techno. Just one week. And then we'll go home."

Technoblade was already asleep, not seeing how Wil seemed to fade away into the moonlight.

Previous | Next

#Lenn Writes #To Be Truly Free #Chapter 8

5 notes · View notes

credenzafart · 2 years

Text

Lololololol I do whatever I want lmao. If someone is cringing at me for my joy and vulnerability and appreciation then that’s when I remember that at the end of the day I’m not attempting to earn their approval with my appreciation of them. I never was. It was for ME. I’m just having fun, expressing myself, being creative and loud and being myself. Truly if people think I’m cringy I simply DO NOT care because they’re never gonna know how fun and free it is to be me, maybe I’m weird but I’m happy.

I do what I want, I make the right decisions for myself, period. Why am I gonna sit here and wonder what someone would think of me or how they would judge my life choices? Like deciding not to go to college when I was 18, and instead finding ways to learn what I need to learn online and at home? Listen I can’t say if I’m smart for that or if it was a mistake. All I know is that I made the decision not to be in debt until death because I see how weighed down my mom is by her student debt. All I’ve ever done is try to do the right thing for myself to stay afloat and be happy. When I make big decisions then my true self will pop out. Like the fact that I focus on pursuits that help me be vulnerable and truly connect with others and be creative, and not necessarily the pursuits which are like the biggest money moves or whatever. I just straightup never cared about that. And it’s not easy being broke on a retail income but by now I have practice, let’s just say that. Maybe sooooooooooome people can pursue creative endeavors at the same time that they’re doing a big stressful important full time job and slay their way to the top, but some people are not so high functioning (me) and need to spare some mental energy - whatever you get my point there’s different ways to get to where you need to get.

I’m gonna do what I fucking want lmaoooo I don’t even care if I come off as weird, if I come off as “too much” like fuck it, truly FUCK IT. This is about no one and for no one more than myself. If I’m trying this hard to be considerate, thoughtful, normal, and I still fail despite all my efforts then like.. dude, like I’m grown now I need to truly embrace not caring how I come off, as long as I’m not doing any harm. I’m like done. There’s like no time to fuck around, I’m gonna be loud about what I love. We all need to be really loud about that, and at some point, one of these times, our efforts will actually stick and we’ll find the people to go through this with.

Anyway how many of those people who judged and hurt me were toxic men LMAO who the fuck cares what they think of me ksjsjdjdjdjdjjd like fuck off. Women and the queer community literally the only ones I’m trying to fuck with LMAO

0 notes

mega-ringsandthings-world · 2 years

Note

In all honesty the way I’m able to cope with the ending of The Hunger Games trilogy is kind of just to see it as a bittersweet tragedy, I have no idea if Collins had intended it that way as she wrote the epilogue to be incredibly somber and lacking in hope, which is honestly what I can expect from a story about the horrors of war. I read a lot of meta (including yours which are amazing <3) and a part of me really resonates with this idea that Katniss didn’t essentially chose who she wanted, but chose who she /needed/ (IE. security) by choosing the boy a class above her. It’s a sad ending, which is why I really want to see it as such. It just feels so intentional to me in the way Collins emphasizes that Katniss is safer, her future for her kids are safer, the world is safer, but she doesn’t feel safe or truly happy. Idk.

I mean, it is a tragedy. Katniss (and so many others, but this is about her) went through war and fire and blood, starved and suffered and killed, but at the end, she has no sister, no mother, no friends, no place in the world, no sense of self. Collins definitely meant for the somber tone of the epilogue. In the context of the story, yes, Katniss chose what she could. She chose the only thing available to her, the only person that she had to cling to. In the context of the story, she truly had nothing besides Peeta, at that point in the story she was deprived of anyone who might have shown her a life/way of living beyond grasping for the remnants of the past. After she comes back to 12, she forces herself to move beyond Prim's death...and then stagnates there. There is no Finnick to show her a different angle into things, no Gale to push her past her comfort zone. The politicians of Panem have no need for her, (or even for Peeta anymore.) No sister to care for, not even a mother to give a pittance of guidance. Haymitch is good for nothing in that regard as well. So what can she do, besides sink into the security Peeta represents, and turn into the affection he gives? Become what he wanted her to become for so long? Katniss had no choice, no autonomy at that point. She went to the person who could give her a modicum of purpose, and her story ended there, despite the world still around her. After fighting so hard to be free, she never was. That's why I hold having her and Peeta remain only friends would have helped solidify the story. It would have made one wonder how Katniss's life would have turned out. What she would do, how she would cope, if she would ever move past things, and find a purpose, embrace the newer, freer world out there, or sink even deeper into the dark and end it. Instead, things were wrapped up all too neatly in romance and children. While Collins wanted the ending to be a tragedy, to show how war breaks and warps, and turns things wholly different, leaves marks that can never be healed, yet she also wanted insert the happy ending, (and ply her ideas of morality) and both aspects clash in a way that makes me cringe. Is Katniss safe? Yes? Is Katniss truly happy? No. Not really. But she doesn't have to be happy to fill a purpose. And that's how Katniss found a way to keep living (to survive) by finding a purpose. She can grit her teeth and work to fill that purpose, like she's done for all her life.

#thg #the hunger games #thg meta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #suzanne collins #thg trilogy #I'm glad you like my meta!!#thnx!! :)

32 notes · View notes

emeren · 3 years

Note

Mmm maybe eren walking in on the reader using a vibrator and offering to help her and over stimulating her..

you got it! here it comes :)

red handed - eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: smut, 18+, masturbation, overstimulation, crying

notes: this one was fun to write, it was my first time writing about a vibrator so idk if it’s that good but i hope you all enjoy nevertheless! <3

you sighed to yourself, anxiously glancing at the clock. your roommate had informed you he wouldn’t be back until around nine; the numbers 7:30 blinking back at you expectantly. there was no way he’d be home early; eren was late to nearly everything he did.

deciding to move into a small, crappy apartment with your childhood best friend had seemed like a good idea at the time. you and eren knew each other forwards and backwards; right side up and upside down.

what you didn’t know was just how needy eren could be. he hated being bored more than anything in the world. he was always lingering, always pestering you to go do something. he would sometimes just walk into your room and stand there, asking you what you were doing and if you wanted to hangout.

most of the time you didn’t mind. most of the time. but there were instances where the lack of a lock on both your bedroom and bathroom doors became an issue.

instances where the pent up hormones became too much to bear and you had to relieve yourself, quickly and quietly.

you thanked your lucky stars that eren had decided to go out with some friends tonight. you’d finally be able to enjoy a moment of bliss for the first time in well over two weeks.

after double checking that the front door was locked and peaking your head into eren’s room to make extra sure he was gone, you skipped to your own space with an air of giddiness. finally some alone time!

you softly closed the door behind you, turning to look at your beside table. pulling the small drawer open and rifling through various pieces of junk, your eyes landed on the small, inconspicuous piece of plastic.

you’d come to realize that your hand wasn’t quick enough to combat eren’s nosey nature, and after a few near misses, you invested in your very first vibrator.

it was a light pink color; just nearly longer than your middle finger. you picked it up carefully before plunking down on your hard mattress. you shifted so your back was pressed against the head board, knees slightly bent.

you could feel yourself aching in anticipation, cold hand slipping past the hem of your pajama pants to press the plastic device against your clit. your thumb moved to click the on button, halting as you heard a floorboard creak from out in the hall.

“ugh,” you muttered to yourself, trying to quell your paranoia. “eren’s not gonna be home for at least an hour.”

you paused for a minute longer, ears straining. when you were met with just the distant sound of sirens, you allowed yourself to continue, clicking the button. the soft vibration buzzed against your nerves, breath hitching involuntarily at the sudden pleasure.

it was a wonderful feeling; your chest heaving as your lower half embraced the foreign object. you leaned your head back against the wall, shifting to a more comfortable position as you bent your knees for better leverage.

your mind began to wander, an image of eren popping into your brain. a few years ago, you would’ve cringed and banished the thought away, but you’d come to acknowledge there was no denying just how attractive your best friend was, no matter how guilty it made you feel.

you pictured his muscular back, leaned over the sink as he washed dishes with a pair of black sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. you could feel your face heat, closing your eyes as the pressure within the pit of your stomach began to build.

it was easy to reach your breaking point with the vibrator; breath growing shallow as the image of eren’s muscular arms and defined v-line started to fog your mind. you exhaled out through your nose, the gentle buzzing making your clit twitch with desired release.

you were so wrapped up, so distracted. it was the single moment of bliss right before your orgasm, face hot and hands clammy.

you’d never let your mind wander so far before, but you were beginning to imagine eren touching you; letting his hands wander down your skin and caressing your curves, squeezing and-

“what’re you doing?” a voice startled you from the moment of peace, replaced by an overwhelming embarrassment as your eyes snapped open, focusing on the tall figure leaning against the open doorframe.

eren’s arms were crossed, face shadowed as he observed you. you quickly sat up, pulling your vibrator from your pants and clicking it off. the pace of your heartbeat was through the roof, eyes wide and chest tight. how fucking embarrassing!

“i’m- i was-,” you were at a loss for words, standing from your bed. your heart pinged with annoyance, the embarrassment quickly dissipating into anger. “can’t you learn to fucking knock?”

eren didn’t say anything, quirking a brow at your snippy tone. it just aggravated you more, your brain trying to combat the dopamine that never truly reached its full potential. he stood in your doorway, staring you down as you seethed in your place.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he spoke softly. his face had some unknown expression on it, one you’d never seen before. his pupils were dilated, brows furrowed and gaze serious. “it’s a normal thing to do.”

you huffed, shifting your legs in an attempt to quell the burning between your thighs. “i know that. what’s not normal is you barging into my room without knocking when you weren’t even supposed to be home for another hour.”

“i got bored, so i decided to come home and hangout with you,” he explained. his lip was curved upwards, as if he were trying to suppress a smirk. “s’more fun here anyway.”

you frowned at his words, your mind flashing that image of his rough hands trailing down your body, squeezing. you swallowed at the thought, the anger quickly being overpowered by your unfinished arousal. “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough to know you didn’t finish,” he commented, holding eye contact as your eyebrows raised in surprise. you opened your mouth to respond, but eren beat you to it. “c’mon, i think i know you pretty well.”

“not like that,” you muttered demurely, the dull ache nearly too much to bear. you felt like you’d be antsy till you got off, shifting uncomfortably as your eyes fell to the floor. “could you- could you give me some privacy?”

eren didn’t respond for a moment, the sound of your bedroom door shutting sending a feeling of relief to your brain. you looked up, frown deepening.

eren was leaning against the closed door, eyes dark and serious. “let me help you.”

his words sent a confused throb to your cunt, face going slack. was this really happening?

“eren, you don’t mean…” you breathed out, the ache in your center multiplying tenfold at the sight of his tall and muscular figure staring down at you. shit, shit, shit!

“i do,” he responded seriously, taking a step towards you. he was normally tall and formidable, but in the darkness of your bedroom, he seemed infinite. you paused for a moment, your resolve already thin due to the incessant throbbing of your clit. eren seemed to take notice, eyeing you carefully. “who better than your best friend?”

you held your breath before responding. you’d been thinking of this, dreaming of this. now here he was, standing before you and looking at you as though you were his for the taking. and it excited you. it excited you to no end. “i- okay.”

eren was quick to smile, stepping up to you. you craned your neck to look at him, heartbeat erratic as his calloused hands ran down your bare arms. he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajamas.

his teal eyes glanced up to you, asking for permission. you were afraid your voice wouldn’t work, instead feverishly nodding your head in acceptance. he pulled your pants down tantalizingly slow; like he was unwrapping some sacred gift.

you bit your lip as your thighs became exposed, the feeling of eren’s hot breath fanning across the newly exposed skin. he leaned forward, eyes still locked with yours as he placed a kiss to the soft flesh, lips slicked with chapstick. it was sinful and he knew it.

your cotton pants dropped to the floor, standing in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. eren’s gaze grew heavy on your panties - the inevitable wet spot showing just how desperate you were for attention.

“trying to finish before i got home?” he cooed, curling his lip. you felt your face heat, glancing away.

“yeah,” you responded bashfully, eren motioning his head towards the bed.

he breathed out a laugh at your answer, giving your thigh that deeply desired squeeze. “that’s so cute. bet you’re so needy for me now, hm?”

you could feel yourself growing wetter at his words, choosing to sit on the end of the bed in front of him rather than respond. he kissed your leg again, eyes catching on something beside you.

“what’s this?” he smirked, reaching to grab your vibrator. you were too slow to react, reaching for it in vain as eren inspected it. “tsk, tsk. sit back down.”

you hadn’t even realized you’d lifted from the mattress, eren’s dark tone making you abide as though you had no free will.

he gave you a sadistic look, lunging forward to press his tongue flat against your clothed clit. you hissed at the feeling, hands fisting your bed sheets. eren chuckled against you, the vibration making your stomach burn.

“just that already has you squirming?” he mumbled, lips pressing a kiss. as if this couldn’t get anymore embarrassing. “’s’hot.”

you breathed out, the sight of eren between your legs in the lowly lit room entirely too attractive. you weren’t surprised he was so bossy and vocal, hand tapping your leg impatiently.

“off.” he deadpanned, leaning back to watch you as you stood, yanking your underwear down your legs. you tried to quell your excitement; eren’s pupils growing impossibly larger at the sight of your exposed cunt. you sat back down, breath shaky as eren situated himself in front of you. “so wet already.”

eren, just as he always had been, was impatient. you’d just sat down and he was prying your knees apart, tongue hungrily pressing itself against your center. he was sloppy; eating you out with an animalistic hunger that had you nearing your climax much faster than usual.

“eren,” you whimpered, the feeling of his tongue circling your entrance causing a moan to ripple from your mouth. the sound of his name only made him suck harder. he wasn’t letting up; absolutely determined to bring you to your high as fast as possible. “m’gonna cum, eren.”

he groaned at your words, arms hooking around your thighs to hold you in place as he focused intently on your clit. the warm, wet feeling was becoming too much; edges of your vision growing dark as you let your release come crashing down, legs twitching as eren released his suction on you.

he looked at you just long enough for you to notice the sheen on his chin, the sparkle in his eyes, and the grin on his lips. “been waiting so long for this, i’m gonna make the best of it.”

your chest was heaving, brows pulled down in confusion as eren brought his first two fingers to your entrance, circling it twice before stuffing you with his long digits.

you were burning, just having come down from your embarrassingly quick release only to have eren fucking you with his fingers. they easily slid in and out, wet with your sheen as he began to gently suck on your inner thigh. your vision was hazy, eren pushing his digits in to the last knuckle and curling slightly.

the feeling of another release was building in your core; churning and readying you to succumb to eren’s will once more. and you were ready; a breathy moan leaving your lips as he angled his fingers particularly deep. you laid down, hands subconsciously lifting to grope your own chest - searching for an anchor.

“shit,” eren swore at the sight of you palming your breasts, squirming in his hold as his fingers pumped in and out of you, quickening his pace. you whimpered in response, screwing your eyes shut.

you felt the cold object press against your clit before he turned it on; eyes widening in surprise as you shot up. eren was grinning at you, thumb clicking it on as an involuntary cry ripped from your chest.

the vibration was too much as his digits abused your cunt, stuffing into you as far as possible. your clit twitched aggressively, face and neck hot. your brain was growing fuzzy, thoughts clouded as you stared down at eren, mouth hanging open and eyes glossy. he was watching you seriously, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit in order to make you jolt.

you were burning, abdomen flexing as your eyes began to water. the sensations were too much, legs trying to close but you were blocked by eren’s broad shoulders.

you’d never been one to scream, but you couldn’t help the strangled sound that escaped your mouth as eren included his tongue in the overstimulating mix. hot, sticky tears slid down your cheeks, eren’s tongue lapping at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside of you.

his eye contact. oh, his eye contact. it was pervasive and inspective, analyzing every sound and movement you made.

he pulled his tongue back for just a moment, the vibrator buzzing intensely against you. “cum for me.”

and you did. it was too much; your legs jerking and stomach cramping, mind turned to mush at the overflow of dopamine. you collapsed back on the bed, eren leaving the vibrator pressed against your clit for a moment longer, the feeling now more uncomfortable than anything. you waved your hand, too exhausted to beg him to take it off. eren only chuckled, pulling his fingers from you but pressing the object against you harder.

“let me see those tears,” he said sweetly, tapping your thigh. it was a sinister sweetness, the tears pooling down your face as you began to grown numb below your waist. you forced yourself to sit up, eren smiling as he saw your wet face. “good girl.”

he removed the vibrator, tossing it on the bed as he stood. you laid back down, breathing heavy and legs weak. eren hovered above you, leaning down to wipe your cheeks.

“next time, just ask for my help,” he sneered, your eyes rolling weakly. he had a boyish grin on his face, something teasing about his nature. “i’m way better than some stupid vibrator, anyway.”

<3 <3 <3

#emmy writes #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yaeger #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jäger #eren smut

705 notes · View notes

divinolenta · 4 years

Text

comforting childe and diluc after a nightmare

character x gender neutral reader, fluff (angst?)/sfw

trigger warning: brief mention of blood and death

additional notes: this was requested by a lovely anon ♡ i had fun writing these (had the most fun picturing what nightmares they would have but you didn’t hear that from me)! i listened to “the moon song” by karen o while writing childe’s scenario and “butterfly’s repose” by zabawa for diluc’s, which is why i’ve included lyrics in their respective scenarios! feel free to imagine yourself singing another song to them, if you’d like :) there are potential spoilers for their backstories, so read at your own risk.

childe:

he is cold, frigid air nipping at his skin viciously as he flees, blinking away snowflakes that cling to his eyelashes. pursued by ravenous wolves and beasts, he loses his footing, falling into a seemingly innocent fissure in the earth. recognizing the dark realm that haunts his memories, he panics, searching for an escape. no, please, not this again.

too late, he lands, trapped in this hell once again. pain jolts through his bones and a gasp leaves his lips when he places weight on his sprained ankle. struggling to stand, childe grips the sword in his hand, hope dying when he finds that several monsters block his path. slaughtering them quickly, childe wipes off the blood that splattered on his face.

“b-brother?”

he turns around, shock evident on his face when he sees his younger siblings, cowering away from him. the snow surrounding them is stained with crimson, and his hands are slick, viscous blood slowly dripping on the floor. tonia wraps her arms around anthon and teucer, shielding them with her body. childe takes a step forward, and extends a trembling hand toward them, calling their names weakly.

“stay back! you....you monster!” a shriek rips from tonia’s throat, gripping her brothers’ closer to her, her terrified expression mirroring theirs. childe recoils at the lack of recognition in their gazes. no matter how heroic and righteous he believed himself to be, he is merely a tainted soul, a monster who could never redeem himself.

lurching awake, childe’s momentary relief is quickly replaced by bitter contempt. a nightmare? he almost laughs, running a hand through his mussed hair, but his hammering heart and shaking hands tell another story. childe needs a breather, and he eyes the door, longing to escape the past and lose himself in the beauty that nature offers. perhaps he will meander along the ocean and watch the waves kiss the shore and recede, and let it wash away his sins. sitting up, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, but it creaks underneath his weight and childe cringes at the sound that resonates throughout the room.

“where are you going?” you ask groggily, squinting blearily at him.

“i just,” childe begins, but before he could continue, shudders ran through his body, interrupting him. you tug him back into the warmth of the duvet, hands cradling his face while you peer at him in concern.

“i’m sorry...” childe squeezes his eyes shut, hands clenching tightly. he tries to calm down his erratic breaths, apologizing meekly as his hands try to nudge you away.

what if he hurts you too?

but you hush him, pulling him closer so that his head rests against your collarbone, limbs tangled together.

you start to sing, the familiar melody striking a chord in his heart. your voice is hoarse and muddled with sleep, but you gradually fall into a soothing rhythm, like the euphonious and undulating cadences of a piano.

i'm lying on the moon

my dear, i'll be there soon

it's a quiet starry place

time's we're swallowed up in space

we're here a million miles away

childe sheds his brash and arrogant exterior and allows himself to get pulled under by the overwhelming tides of his emotions, just like the waves of the ocean that he adores so much. he feels like he’s fourteen again, but this time, you’re here with him. he grasps your shirt tightly, and anchors himself, tears leaking from his closed eyes, falling on to your skin, seeping into the fabric of your shirt.

there's things i wish i knew

there's no thing I'd keep from you

it's a dark and shiny place

but with you my dear, i'm safe

and we're a million miles away

he is consoled by the fact that you do not view him as a monster, and when he’s with you, he can be whoever he chooses to be. he does not need to be tartaglia, childe or even the ajax he used to be, rather, he is content with simply being your lover and spending every hour of the day with you.

diluc:

the moment diluc sees his surroundings, he knows. he knows what’s going to happen, and how everything will go down. the carriage rocks back and forth as it travels over the uneven path, and everything is calm. too calm. swallowing thickly, he turns to his father, heart twinging at the sight of his familiar figure, with hair of flame, so similar to his own.

horses whinny frantically in the distance, and diluc tries to warn his father, but is cut off by the carriage toppling over as they lose control of the reins. a roar shakes the very earth and diluc is thrown against the side of the carriage, hissing in pain when his hand gingerly presses against the bruise on his head.

“father! wait!” diluc scrambles to his feet when his father begins to rise to his feet to investigate and protect the transport fleet. his father looks at him inquiringly, and diluc advances, clutching the hem of his coat in an effort to make him stay.

“you mustn’t go, father, your life will be in peril.” he implores, and even though he tries his best to keep his voice steady, the anguish he truly feels does not fully dissipate.

“i can’t afford to lose you again” is what diluc wants to say, but can’t muster the courage to form the words.

“my son, is that not what a man like your father should do?” his father rests a heavy hand on diluc’s shoulder, and his heart sinks in response.

“but, father-” diluc presses, but his father simply shoots him a reprimanding look.

“i’ll be back soon, just wait for me here.” he lets out a booming laugh, and ruffles diluc’s hair with an affectionate gaze, before walking off, summoning his weapon.

horrified, diluc calls out, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. he desperately wills his body to move, but it’s like vines have erupted from the dirt and tangled around his legs, trapping him in a prison of thorns.

all he can do is stand there, watching from the sidelines. even as his father gulps his dying breaths, all diluc can do is clutch on to him, and pray to whatever god that still remains, while the very light of his soul eclipses.

and like an incompetent fool, all diluc does is weep and regret.

hands shake his shoulders, and diluc snaps out of his dream, released from the tormenting illusion. his gaze meets yours, and when he reaches up to touch his face, his fingers come away damp from the tears that streak his skin.

you’re seated on the bed, sheets pooling around your waist. your brow furrows, and diluc opens his mouth, about to let false reasurances tumble from his lips to alleviate the look of unease you don. how many times had he dreamed of the incident? how many times would he continue to blame himself?

diluc himself does not know the answer.

you lean forward, hands tenderly brushing away the tears that remain, and diluc loses himself in your eyes. eyes really are the window to the soul, he thinks, everything is so clear, like how he knows that the sun will rise, signalling a new beginning. your eyes betray every emotion that flicker through their depths.

“i’m okay.” he whispers, but both you and him know that he’s lying. diluc lies back down, and he gestures for you to do so as well, but you situate him so he lays with his head in your lap.

you card your fingers through his hair carefully, your delicate touches evoking a chill that runs down his spine. you begin to hum softly, voice lilting in an ethereal melody before words surface and accompany it. diluc feels like he’s simultaneously floating and sinking. he wants to weep, for barbatos was lenient enough to grant him such a caring and understanding lover to someone as undeserving as he is.

for a moment, he wonders if you are perhaps hestia incarnate. the warmth and love with which you behold him with is surreal, and god knows that diluc is not capable of replicating or returning such affection.

the shadows in your head

they've got you down again

got you feelin' low

your voice is an intimate whisper, and diluc welcomes the warmth that it entwines him in. he catches your hand, bringing it to his lips so he can press a chaste kiss against it. moonlight slants against your features, and diluc can only stare in awe as you continue to sing, body slightly swaying along as your hand aimlessly caresses his hair.

but it's time to rest, now

let it all melt now

wipe your tears

“thank you.” he murmurs, eyes falling close as your voice lulls him into a sleep. one that he knows will not be plagued with nightmares. you don’t respond, but diluc can hear the hint of a smile in your voice.

it’s a sight to behold: diluc ragnvindr, a man with a renowned reptuation of having a heart of ice, melting in your embrace. out of everything, perhaps your love is what ignites him, and brings back the fervor that was once lost.

875 notes · View notes

fandom-strumpet · 3 years

Text

I’ll Show You How Much I Mean It

Summary: Reader gets her feelings hurt after something Kai said. She storms home and Kai comes to apologize.

Warnings: Asshole Kai (for a moment), Fluff, Angst

“Ding dong!” Kai knocks on your door.

You huff and open the door to reveal Kai Parker standing with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You take the flowers and slam the door shut. Kai’s yells are muffled in the hallway.

“Come on babe- how long are you going to stay mad at me? I apologized. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Say sorry?”

“Well, yeah.” You muttered.

Kai’s vamp hearing listened to your response and continued. “So why are you still mad?”

“I’m not mad, I’m hurt. And because saying sorry doesn’t fix everything. How do I even know you mean it?”

You whip around, staring daggers at the door.

“Let me in, y/n. I’ll show you how much I mean it.”

Walking slowly, you reluctantly open the door again for Kai. Eyes darting to the floor under his gaze.

“You’re free to come in and try to show me.”

Kai gave a wide smile, stepping into your living room.

“Don’t get too cheeky,” you scowled, making Kai stifle his triumphant smile.

“Y/n, I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Kai brought his hands to your arms. You shove him off and step back.

“You embarrassed me today, Kai, in front of all our friends and then you laughed it off like it was no big deal.”

“Y/n, I was just-”

“Joking? About my insecurities, Kai?”

Kai winced and looked down at his dirty converse.

“I didn’t know it would bother you so much.”

“Well it did. Damn it Kai! Even Damon cringed and he makes horrible jokes about women on the daily!”

You raise your voice, arms lifted in sync with your frustration. Kai lunged forward and wrapped you in a hug. You were shocked by the sudden embrace. Kai wasn’t usually a huggy person. Your heart melted and your arms wrapped around his middle. Closing your eyes, you listen to the hum of Kai’s voice when he spoke.

“You know what I think would make you feel better?”

“Hmm?”

“Your very sorry boyfriend giving you a shoulder rub while you eat ice cream and we binge watch Criminal Minds.”

You pulled back, looking up at Kai with watery eyes.

“I’d love that.”

“Then come here baby girl.”

Kai’s hands slid down behind your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around him. You wrap your arms around his neck and lay your head down. Kai would never admit it to the others but he is a total simp for you. He loves when you cling onto him like a koala.

“First stop- the kitchen for ice cream! Choo choo!” Kai pretended to pull a train horn.

You giggled against his chest and whispered, “I love you.”

Planting a kiss on your head he replied, “I love you too, princess.”

@rome5683 @ellaoleck2 @sxturn-stars @tawaii @katherinesbtch

#kai parker fluff #kai parker x reader #kai parker fanfiction #tvd fanfiction

195 notes · View notes

heejojo · 3 years

Text

Love Isn't Beautiful But With You It Was

✰ summary: y/n and niki's journey from being enemies to friends to much more than that.

✰ pairing: Niki x fem!reader (and a Jay apperance)

✰ genre: fluff, angst, enemies to childhood friends to lovers

✰ warning: a few sad scenes but I'm not sure they'll be too bad! death

✰ word count: 1.8k (the most so far tbh)

a/n: this is my first fanfic so please leave comments about what should be improved. if you have any requests feel free to leave them! it's past 12am now and I need to sleep but I hope you have a nice day!

prompt gotten from @moonlight-chi77 thank you!

“Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was”

Life disappears in the blink of an eye, but the memories created and the human connection formed does not. The memories created are embedded in our hearts and follow us through different paths of life. Whether those memories are good or bad, they become something we reflect on in later moments.

Nishimura Riki couldn’t exactly remember the first time he met you but all he knew was that he had never hit off with someone the way he did with you.

September 2012

Although Niki couldn't pinpoint the exact date you guys started talking, he knew it was in September of 2012. He knew at first he disliked you and wanted nothing to do with you because you had stolen his spot on the swings.

“That's my spot, I told Jay I was going to stay here forever,” he said while his friend who was behind him nodded enthusiastically, backing him up.

“Your name is not on it and you didn’t buy it so why should I leave?” you asked him without coming down because you got there fair and square.

“I called dibs on it,” he said while puffing out his chest.

“Dibs are for babies,” you say while continuing to swing. “I’m not a baby,” he retorts.

“If you say so, then why are you wearing a Talking Tom T-Shirt?” you ask and his face begins to turn red. “It's cool, isn't it Jay?” he nudges his friend asking him for support. “Cool man, girls just suck” Jay responds and they both leave. “At least I dress myself!” you yell at their retreating figures

After that day, Niki made it his mission to disturb you every day and never wore his Talking Tom shirt again after that day.

August 2016

“Niki!!” you screamed as you felt another water balloon hit your leg. At this point, your entire body was soaked. The young boy continued to laugh and run as you chased him. You were beginning to regret spending your summer break with him when you could be watching TV instead. Eventually, you give up chasing the blond-haired boy and go into the house to dry off. Thirty minutes later, Niki comes in with a bottle of orange juice as a form of apology. You snatch it without further thought and drink it. Looking up at him after you finish drinking it, you both burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re lucky I love food,” you say. Maybe spending the summer with him wouldn't be so bad.

December 2018

Your crush on Niki was painfully obvious to everyone but him. Your friends teased you, his friends teased you yet when you were together you denied it with so much vigour. Niki had liked you for a few months now. Everyone was enjoying the slow burn that was going on between the two of you; the soft glances across the room, the way you always looked for each other among crowds, the way he knew where your secret birthmark was even though your close friends didn’t.

It was the way you complimented each other that made everyone cringe and aw at the same time. The jacket you got him for his birthday was his most prized piece of clothing and the only person he let touch it was his mum. This year though, you gathered enough courage and told him how he meant to you and how you were content with being just friends even if it hurt a little. But you weren’t expecting Niki to say he felt the same way, even more so. Your friends heaved a sigh of relief and choruses of ‘Finally’ were echoed.

It felt good being with someone.

January 2019

Everyone argued with people they loved right? Your parents did, the old lady that sells fruit and her boyfriend did so you and Niki weren’t an exception. After being childhood friends for so long you’d think you could trust each other enough to talk about the things that bothered you but he refused to, claiming that he didn’t want you to see him in a different light and how it would hurt his pride. You would tell him that no one knew him more and cared about him the way you did. At times, you’d let it go not wanting to push him but that day you couldn’t take it.

“We need to talk. Why have you been avoiding me these past few days?” you asked him.

“I’ve just been busy” he replied.

“No, you’ve been avoiding me. I know you well enough to know when you're hiding something” you said.

He wouldn't budge, he never did especially when you cornered him like this. He started to get irritated and said, “I said I’ve been busy so forgive me if I can’t give you attention all the time. Not all of us are as clingy as you” You winced; it was your fault for pushing him to the edge like that. Nevertheless, you wouldn't give up. “ I just want you to say how you feel and what bothers you. I’d never look at you in a different light and you know that. You might want to be strong but it’s okay to show some sort of emotion, it doesn’t make you weak rather it makes you look like someone that acknowledges what is wrong and doesn’t try to ignore the problem or solve it on their own” you comforted him. As the words entered his ears, you could see the walls surrounding his heart crumbling. “It’s okay to ask for help or just to rant to someone. Even if we won’t be able to provide an immediate solution, it should help” you added taking a few steps forward and grabbing a hold of his hands. You squeezed them tightly.

“I...I’m just scared you’ll leave once you see the not so perfect side of me” he managed to say. “I will stay with you, why don’t we make the best of everything without worrying about the future?” you asked while smiling. He returned it and pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you, truly,” he said and you smiled under his embrace.

After a few minutes you spoke up, “Oh yeah, Niki?” you called his attention and he hummed in response. “Don’t ever shout at me like that again, I can deck you and you know it” you said.

“Got it, boss. Sorry for being a jerk”

June 2020

You usually went on diets and exercised a lot but you were losing weight at an extreme rate and you weren’t even on a diet. Niki was worried but you brushed it off telling him it was stress from school but it got worse. You found it difficult for you to balance yourself, you felt nauseated, getting even more frequent headaches and being tired all the time so Niki decided that enough was enough and took you to the hospital. Neither of you had expected the result of the scans that were run.

“I’m sorry but there is a tumour in your brain,” the doctor said. The air left your lungs. “You can choose to get the surgery and live in the hospital for 8 months or live with the tumour for 3 months” he continued. You thanked him and left the hospital. The elephant in the room was very much alive and neither one of you wanted to address it. Did you want to stay in the hospital for the rest of your life or did you want to say with your loved ones? You thought that they would go through and that won’t be worth it.

“Niki” you called out.

He looked at you with a sad smile and just pulled you in for a hug, careful not to hurt you. “Do you want to tell your parents?” You nodded. You couldn’t just leave without saying anything. Picking your jacket, Niki drove you to your parents house.

“I just wanted you guys to know, I couldn’t just leave without saying anything,” you said with your eyes cast downwards. You couldn’t bear to look at your mom who was already crying or your dad who was blaming himself even when it wasn’t his fault or your sister who was basically your best friend. Niki had given you guys privacy but you knew it was just an excuse for him to be with his own feelings.

“I’m going to stay close to home in the meantime so I can be closer to you guys,” you said. Your eyes were already becoming glossy with tears. You inched towards your mom, taking her hand in yours and said, “You did an amazing job of being my mom and I love you so much”. Moving to your dad, you said “You did a good job of protecting me so don’t think otherwise. Let’s make all the memories we want to now without any regrets”. At that, your sister burst into tears “I… I can’t bear to lose you” Your heart clenched. “I can’t bear to lose you too” She continued crying. Your mom wiped her eyes and said, “From today, live the way you want to. Eat what you want and do what you want.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Niki staring watching the whole scene. After an hour, I stood up and went home with Niki. The car ride was a long and awkward one. When we got home, we just slept hugging each other.

Starting tomorrow I was going to live.

July 2020

The pain is getting worse but the smiles on my family and friends faces are enough to keep me going. I wrote letters and got gifts for them. Niki looks at the calendar every day, I can’t tell him to stop because I can tell he’s hurting so much. Why can’t I just be okay for everyone?

August 2020

The time comes faster, Niki and I went on a getaway for a few days. He deserved a break from everything that has been going on.

September 2020

I never thought I'd die as silly as that sounds. I asked my parents and sister to leave when I got to the hospital. Niki refused to leave and stayed there till I took in my last breath. He kept crying begging me not to go and how he’d do anything.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked between sniffles

“No it doesn’t, it just feels like a needle” it hurt like a truck.

“Liar”

I chuckled and held his hand till I couldn’t anymore. “I love you’’ I say as the lights fade.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Dear Nishimura Riki,

When you see this, it means I’m already gone. First of all, don’t beat yourself up too much. I could write for ages about how much I love you but now that I need to, my mind goes blank. You’ve done so well for putting up with me, hats off to you. You might not want to but move on, even though id like you to remember me; let your heart heal and be happy.

Take care of yourself and don’t skip any meals. Eat well and be happy, make sure you visit the places we never got to visit and enjoy yourself. Live life the way you want it every day. Be nice to people and smile more.

Thank you for all the happy memories, my love, I’ll be forever grateful for you. You made my life colourful and worth living.

Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was.

Yours truly,

Y/N.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #character death #enhypen fluff

120 notes · View notes

the-waters-of-oblivion · 3 years

Text

Innocence

One of the most interesting things to me about Lord Leviathan is the value He places on innocence. Fleeting and fragile, innocence is most often associated with children, free from corruption and ignorant to the filth of the world. It can also mean freedom from guilt, from fault.

I had personally come to to see innocence as something I had lost. My body and soul was stained in my mind, by carnal acts both desired and unwanted. I had not been a child in a long, long time. For as long as I could recall, my youth had been stained by a painful self awareness.

I’m sure there are those among you who have felt the sting of eyes upon you, even when you are alone. Perhaps you cringe at the private little joys you indulge in while you bask in solitude, conditioned to judge yourself by the impossible standards of our culture of purity. Perhaps you long for a time when you were whole, before whatever hurt you stole away the innocence of your soul.

I do. I admit I felt guilty for the sin of being taken advantage of, once. I felt guilty for enjoying things as simple as cartoons, taking time for myself, laughing, and even just being happy. So many of us who have been judged harshly by others seem to internalize those cruel words and thoughts, until it becomes part of your internal monologue.

When I read that Lord Leviathan cherished the innocent, my heart sank. For so long I had pined for my lost innocence, could I ever truly understand something I had lacked for so long?

Here is where my fears were unfounded. To understand the teachings of the demons, one must come to understand the way they think, and what they believe in. Unlike society and the cult of the Usurper, demons are not obsessed with false notions of purity. Consenting relations between adults are not an abomination in their eyes. Where society hates the harmless interests and beloved preoccupations of the neurodivergent, the demons celebrate and rejoice in passion and lightness of the heart. Where the masses declare victims of abuse at personal fault, demons hate tyrants, and reassure the abused that the broken ones are those who would take out their vile machinations on those who cannot defend themselves.

There was a time when it would physically wound me to see unburdened displays of public joy. Friends who would laugh and carry on with no mind to judgmental eyes, friends who could speak about their interests for hours, family who could embrace one another and rejoice in love. I hated it. Displays of innocence made me seethe. It was jealousy, I would later come to realize. I wanted to be able to be so free of guilt, but I had not learned to let go of my own self hatred.

Leviathan does not value the false innocence of virginity, of quiet ignorance and slavish devotion to ‘purity’. Your experience and your healthy boundaries make you wise. Your consenting, healthy relationships and the activities you do in the privacy and safety of a loving partner’s (or partners) arms only serve to fortify your soul. Your interests and what brings you joy are sacred. Your abuse is not some spiritual failing on your part, and you are not spoiled by the acts committed against you by another.

Innocence is freedom from guilt. The freedom to play, to love yourself, to hyperfixate, to love others, to make mistakes, to do anything that purity culture, society, and the Usurper says is filthy without self hatred. Innocence is not something that can be stolen from you. It exists within you, and can be awoken by self love and acceptance.

Innocence is kindness. Innocence is you, pure and perfect, scarred and scalded. If you can’t find it now, with time and effort, you will. Find out what is holding you back, scatter it to the furthest corners of the Abyss, and with a light and guiltless heart, play like no one is watching.

Reclaim your innocence.

#ti speaks #Demonolatry #leviathan #diety work #long post

51 notes · View notes

hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Terms of Endearment

I'm obsessed with Nesryn and Sartaq. And I am not ashamed.

Read on AO3

It had started innocently enough.

When Sartaq had slid his hands around her middle and drew her back into his chest their first night alone after the great victory, planting a kiss to that sensitive bend where her shoulder met her neck. He had seemed to breathe her in.

“My darling,” he’d sighed.

Nesryn had been taken aback, unaccustomed to pet names from him. Perhaps it was because they had fallen in love in the midst of war – not the time or place for terms of endearment.

But as soon as that final battle was over, it was as if Sartaq made it his mission to shower her with affection, praise, and every endearment he could possibly think of.

“My darling,” he had breathed into her neck that first night. It had been surprising, but not unwelcome. Nesryn was not accustomed to intimacy such as this, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth that it sparked in her. Sartaq, so unlike any man she had ever known, made her feel precious and adored. Even when they were both covered in blood and gore.

“Good morning, sweet angel,” he murmured when she awoke in their shared cabin as they sailed back to the southern continent. She huffed out a laugh at him, but he only grinned back and tucked her messy morning hair behind her ear.

“I’m sure there is nothing angelic about me right now.” With a grumble she tucked herself into his chest, allowing her to feel his rich chuckle rumble through her. How fortunate for them that they had this opportunity to just be. That they had survived.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he answered. “Angel.”

Nesryn just shook her head and drifted back to sleep in the arms of her prince.

~~~

As wonderful and loving as Sartaq had been, she had still physically cringed when he called her ‘sweetheart’. So much so that he had pulled back from the embrace he’d so tenderly wrapped her in, instead grabbing her by the shoulders and finding her eyes.

“Nesryn?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nesryn Faliq, it is obviously not nothing.” The prince reached up a hand to cup her cheek, and she closed her eyes with a sigh and leaned into that strong, comforting anchor. “Don’t hide from me, love. Please.”

She pulled his hand away, grasping it in both of hers. She loved his hands, the strength in them. They had seen battles for his homeland, for the world, and were still gentle against her flesh in those in-between moments when he made sure to remind her how loved she was.

“In Rifthold,” she began with a deep breath. “As a woman trying to make her way up the ranks, I found myself at odds with many a condescending man. Men who felt that a woman didn’t belong in the guard. Men who felt that a woman shouldn’t speak her mind. Men who felt entitled to my affections. And nearly all of them, being creatures of minimal creativity and intellect, would call me ‘sweetheart’ when they spoke to me as if I were nothing more than the dirt beneath their feet.”

Sartaq’s free hand fell at the small of her back and pulled her against him, lips falling against her temple.

“True men recognize and respect strength, regardless of whether it is a man or woman who possesses it. They were fools.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I will remember not to call you sweetheart. But know that you are my love, always, Nesryn Faliq.”

“And you are mine.”

~~~

“There you are, my beautiful morning dove.”

Nesryn turned, rolling her eyes, to find Sartaq striding toward her. He always wore that easy grin that toed the line between confident and arrogant. She hated how handsome that arrogant smirk looked on his tanned face.

“Good morning, your highness,” she answered haughtily. The prince only laughed.

“So formal, my lovely spring flower.” He was close enough for her to swat at him.

“You are insufferable,” she scowled, but her eyes had glittered with mirth.

“Insufferably in love with a stunning warrior goddess.” The prince grabbed her by the hips and leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her lips away from him. He didn’t let that stop him, though, and he simply peppered her cheek instead. Nesryn couldn’t contain her laughter.

~~~

Nesryn hadn’t thought that anything could be more exhausting than her time fighting in the war for Terrasen.

And yet, after a day of wedding planning with Duva and Hasar, she ached down to her bones from pacing. Her eyelids drooped dangerously as she stumbled into the suite she shared with Sartaq. She hadn’t made it two steps in when she was scooped into the prince’s arms.

“Empress of my heart, you look exhausted,” he whispered into her hair. Nesryn groaned.

“I’m too tired to even object to your ridiculous pet names tonight,” she grumbled. His chuckle rumbled through her, warming her aching nerves. She was not cut out for planning a royal wedding. How would she ever be empress?

A worry she would have to put off for another day. She did not have the strength.

“I shall have to take advantage, then, of your helplessness.” Sartaq carried her to their enormous bed. “Windseeker, song of my soul.”

“Sartaaaaaaq. If I didn’t love you so much I would hate you,” she muttered as he set her down, laying her shoulders and head on a veritable mountain of pillows. Instead of circling to the other side, the prince lifted a knee and placed it near her thigh on the mattress and climbed so she was caged between his arms and legs.

“You could never hate me, my beautiful cherub,” he chuckled as she grimaced. Sartaq leaned down and pecked the tip of her nose before rolling onto her other side. A strong hand wound around her stomach and pulled her back against a hard chest.

“I’m beginning to think maybe you just don’t remember my name, and you mean to overwhelm me with affectionate trickery.” Her eyes were already closed, the sensation of his lips against the shell of her ear making her shiver with delight. Damn him.

“Nesryn Faliq. Nieth’s arrow. Former captain of the Adarlanian king’s guard. Princess of the rukhin. Queen of my heart. My future empress –“ he grunted as Nesryn elbowed him in the ribs, but he only held her closer, whispering in her ear. “There will never be enough beautiful words to describe you. But I have never backed down from a challenge.”

~~~

They were to be married the next day. As was customary, Nesryn and Sartaq would spend the night apart. They stood in the middle of their sitting room, her head resting on his chest and his arms holding her against him.

“I shall miss you tonight, light of my soul,” he murmured, raising a hand to slide fingers over her hair.

“Could you not just call me by my name, for once?” The words ground together like stone. She didn’t mean to sound so callous.

“Does it truly bother you, Nesryn? All this time, have you truly hated the way I speak to you?” Sartaq’s voice was nearly as quiet as that day he had first told her that he loved her. That day when they both thought they would never have a chance to see what their future could be. Nesryn took an unsteady breath against him.

“Of course not, Sartaq. Every word that you utter is beautiful. It warms me down to my core. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off. The prince gently unwrapped his arms and pulled back so he could see her face. His warm eyes gave her strength, and his strong weathered hands wrapped around her much smaller ones. “Sartaq… I’m no princess. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding praise for my accomplishments or appearances. They were all expectations, and I knew that – as a woman – if those expectations were not exceeded, even if the margins were slim and the odds impossible, I would be cast out. Left with nothing. I have been a warrior. Royal archer, member of the royal guard, and captain of it. I know nothing of flattering, fancy words or poetic declarations of love.”

Nesryn lifted their joined hands and pulled them against her chest, lowering her gaze to them. “Everything you say makes me feel incredible, precious, adored. Never in my life did I think I could find a future like this, a love so astounding. What bothers me is that I do not possess those skills or gifts, and I fear I cannot give the same feelings to you that you give to me.”

The silence between them… she hated it. Sartaq was always so self-assured and knew exactly what to say, but all she could hear was the sound of their breaths softly escaping. Anxiety rippled through her when he pulled his hands away, but they landed on her cheeks.

“Nesryn Faliq. My warrior’s heart,” he murmured, tilting her face up. She lifted her eyes, lips parting at the heat she saw glimmering in his dark gaze. “I fell in love with you just as you are. I fell in love with Nesryn Faliq, Captain of the Royal Guard. I have no expectations of flowery love poems or lengthy declarations of devotion. I have no need of those things. The only thing I have need of is you. Call me by my name. Call me by my title. Call me an arrogant bastard, if you feel so inclined. So long as you do it with that smile upon your face, with that love sparkling in your eyes, then I will be the most blessed man in all the world.”

Nesryn lifted her hands, fingers tracing up the strong line of his jaw. Her lips tilted up as a slow smile spread across her face. “I can do that.”

“And I call you such outlandish things, pour my heart out to you, precisely because of what you just said. You have spent your life conquering challenge after challenge. And while your skills and achievements are considerable, the world around you was not prepared to grant you the adoration you deserve for it. I strive to make you feel incredible, precious, adored, because that is what you have always deserved.” Sartaq dipped his chin, brushing his lips tenderly over hers. Resting his forehead against hers, their hands cupping each other’s cheeks, he murmured, “And I would be lying if I said I didn’t quite revel in making you blush and rendering you frustrated and speechless.”

One of Nesryn’s hands found his braid and tugged on it, a blush painting her face. But she smiled serenely, beaming at the man who would be her husband in a number of hours.

“I love you, my prince,” she whispered.

“And I love you, Windseeker,” he answered. He kissed her again, not nearly as softly but just as brief. “Tonight, I will sleep with empty arms, and then never again. For the rest of our days.” Sartaq finally pulled away, knowing rest was needed. He backed away, his gaze never wavering from hers. When he reached the doorway he leaned on it casually, crossing his arms.

“Imagine the pet names I will come up with once I can call you ‘wife’.”

Nesryn groaned and rolled her eyes, waving him off as she turned toward their bedroom. “Arrogant bastard,” she grumbled.

The prince’s rich, throaty laugh echoed through the sitting room as she slammed the door.

I have not tagged people here, since my tag list requests have come from my ACOTAR fic posts. If you would like to be tagged in any work I post, or if you have preferences as to fandom, please reach out!!

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #nestaq #nesryn x sartaq #nesryn faliq #sartaq #fanfiction #AO3

123 notes · View notes

certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

Fett’s Foundling - Din Djarin

thewhitedannimal said: Hi! Could I request a mando x reader where the reader is also a skilled and famous mandalorian? They decide to work together and after sometime, the reader is impressed by mando and starts developing a noticeable crush on him, but mando thinks it’s cute and expresses his feelings? Tysm if u do, I love ur work!

AN: I kinda changed this up a bit. I hope you like it though! I think it turned out pretty well!

WARNING: SEASON 2 SPOILERS!!! and mentions of terrorism (Star Wars terrorism but still)

“You’re sure about this?”

Boba’s dark eyes were cold and searching as he held your gaze. The lines of his face, including those carved into his skin by the Snarlacc’s digestive acid, were creased as he tried to read you. You imagined you looked about the same as him, but less scarred. Brow furrowed, lips thin, and expression stern. You were, after all, Fett’s foundling.

“Are you sure about this? After all, we’ve been through a lot together. You might find that you miss me, go all soft on me, old man.”

At your teasing, the coldness in Boba’s tense features melted away. His mouth quirked upwards in one of his rare, closed-lipped smiles. The smile was a welcomed change of pace; the only hint of joy to be found on Moff Gideon’s freshly captured, Imperial light cruiser. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Bo-Katan looking grim, head ducked down in conservation with her subordinate. She had been whispering since the Jedi left, eyes darting around the bridge in search of the Darksaber.

You glanced around too, but found that the ancient relic was nowhere to be found. Neither was Din Djarin.

“And you say I’m going soft,” Boba scoffed, pulling your attention back to him. “You’re tied to him like a Kowakian monkey-lizard to a Hutt. Pathetic joke of a creature.”

“You would be the only one to think that,” you countered, “and the first to know that you’re wrong.” It wasn’t a threat. It was the truth.

Boba had found you as a child who, much like himself, was stranded on Tatooine, doomed to the wastes baked by the twin suns. Both of you had been lost, outsiders to an outside world. Then Boba found his way back to the way of the Mandalore and brought you with him. He taught you to be a warrior and the two of you took odd jobs for odd people.

All the while, Boba searched for his armor and, with his help and scraps of lost battle gear, you had begun to forge your own. Eventually, you forged a name for yourself. So, it surprised him when you had, many cycles past, asked Boba if you could use his: Fett. It had stuck and you had stuck together, through it all. Though now…

“Not pathetic,” Boba finally conceded, “but you’re tied to him. Any being can see it.”

Warmth spread through your body and over your skin like a blaster bolt singe. Tightness gathered in your jaw, forced your teeth together like a vice. To ebb the sting promised by further embarrassment, you tore your eyes from Boba’s, unwilling to let him see deeper in your heart and mind. He knew you too well and you knew him too well. The two of you knew what the other was after and how those paths no longer lined up together.

“You don’t have to ask for my permission to leave.” At his words, you lifted your gaze back to Boba’s. “All I ask is that you give your allegiance to no one-”

You roll your eyes at his words. “I know my value, my ideals. I’d never compromise either.”

Boba shook his head and leaned closer to you. Between you, he extended his hand. Your eyes glanced from his empty, open hand to his face a few times before he finally spoke up.

“-unless they prove to you that your life is more important than their own.”

“I don’t…”

Shock. You remembered the feeling from your first gunfight. All those cycles ago, when you were lost on Tatooine. It had been so long since something had truly rattled you. For it to be Boba’s words, the man who taught you to push shock and fear off to the wayside, you were left all the more shaken.

“From what I’ve seen, that Mandalorian is as honorable as an ex-bounty hunter can be.”

Boba gives you another closed-lipped smile. In your silence, you glance down at his hand again. You see him move it towards you, like an offering. Without another moment's hesitation, you move to rest your hand on his armored forearm. You feel his fingers on your own arm give a gentle squeeze before you meet his eyes again.

“You take care of yourself.”

Before you can return the sentiment, Boba pulls you in from your arm and into a tight embrace. Shock, again, freezes you, turns your limbs to carbonite for longer than you care to acknowledge. Boba’s embrace melts you free from it. You wrap your arms over his shoulders and hold to him as you did during that first gunfight.

“You too,” you whisper, your voice small enough to packed into a pulse rifle. You pull away before you let yourself melt away with the shock. “And tell me when you take Tatooine.”

“Of course,” Boba nods his head at you and glanced to his left. You follow his eyeline and see Fennec. Her lips quirk upwards when you meet her gaze.

“Watch the little duchess. She wants that laser sword.”

“I will.”

Fennec nods before she turns her attention to Boba. As if he never took it off, Boba’s helmet is already on. The dark visor focuses on you for one last moment before he starts off towards the bridge exit, Fennec on his heels. You watch the pair go for a moment, mentally tracking their path to the hangar where the Slave I rests in wait. At the thought of the old beast, your chest aches. The discomfort lingers only slightly as you turn your back on the only life you had known and to the darkness of space shown through the viewport.

“Fett, what a legacy.”

Your body tenses at the sound of Gideon’s low voice. When you turn your eyes over to where he is bound, you see dark eyes locked on you like a TIE target.

“To throw that all away for a dangerous sect of disenfranchised Mandalorians.”

“I am Mandalorian,” you said, starting towards him. Each step you take is with purpose, calculated to reach the total sum of Gideon’s fear. You see how his eyes widen slightly and feel a rush of satisfaction further dulls the ache of Boba leaving; of you staying. “And, the last time I watched the holonews, it seemed that the New Republic labeled your broken Empire as a terrorist sect, disenfranchised from power rather than freedom.”

Gideon shifted, his cape collecting more dust and wrinkles as it rested on the floor with him. He opened his mouth to speak but you quickly turned to Cara. She was smiling, watching Gideon flounder. When she raised her eyes to yours, she grinned.

“That may be the most I’ve ever heard a Mandalorian talk in one go. Mando is always so...quiet.”

“Speaking of,” you glanced back at Bo-Katan and saw her eyes on you. In the hopes she wouldn’t hear, you leaned closer to Cara. “Where is he?”

“He walked off the bridge when the Jedi left with the kid. He went down the hall and to the left.” You nodded at her in thanks and glanced down at a scowling Gideon.

“I think the bindings should be tighter,” you said before walking off in the same direction as Din. With every entrance of new hallway you walked past, you peered into each, searching for him. He had been rocked, set a kilter by the Jedi that had stormed in for a rescue.

He had lost the only family he had known, just as you had decided to let yours go. You could feel your own loneliness creeping up your spine and could only imagine that he felt the same doom sneaking after him. Despite being a hunter, you knew that you could not save him from that feeling, just as you could not entirely save yourself. Though, maybe, you could keep each other’s company and scare off the dark together.

The thought made you cringe. Boba was right: you were tied to Din. Pathetically stuck to him, nearly a stranger; but a stranger with skill. On Tython, you had seen him fight off a few Stormtroopers before running after the Child. He had bested a Darktrooper too, from what Cara had gotten Gideon to admit. He was a stranger with heart too.

A stranger willing to break his Creed, the oath he asked if you and Boba had taken, to say a true goodbye to the Child. In the moment, you didn’t catch a good look at his features. You saw only his head of dark brown hair and the curved tanned skin of his cheek. His looks don't matter to you though. You were already taken by him, from the moment he stood up to Boba on Tython, was ready to lie his life down for his Child.

You were so lost in the memory that you nearly overlooked the shine of his beskar in an abandoned meeting room. Silver casted in his armor, Din was starkly outlined against the blackness of space that shown outside the viewpoint. His helmet was still off, held tight in his left hand. The sight felt sacred, as if it were wrong for you to be looking at even the back of his exposed head.

“You can come in.” While he was only a few paces away from you, Din’s voice sounded far off. Slowly, you took a step inside before taking pause.

“Do you want me to walk in backwards?” Despite the seriousness in your tone, you hear a small, breathy chuckle from Din’s direction. “I’m just trying to be cautious.”

“It’s appreciated,” Din said and, much to your surprised, you watched as he turned his head. In the dark of the Imperial meeting room, it was hard to make out his features but you could feel him looking at you. “But not necessary. Not anymore, not right now.”

Defeat was plain and heavy in his voice. You were familiar with the weight of it, having heard it in your own after your first, and only, failed bounty. Slowly still, you started towards Din again. As you moved, you catch Din’s head turn back to face the stars. Closer now, you sneak a glimpse at the side of his face before settling at his side.

He was handsome, a word you thought you would never use before. Granted, on Tatooine, there weren’t many beings you felt adequately captured the essence of the word. Din, however, with his strong, curved nose and scruff-covered jaw fit the bounty. Not to mention the dark of his eyes that looked like empty space itself. Full of mystery, Din’s eyes were, and you were ready to dive right in.

Then Boba’s words echoed in your head. Any being can see it. At Din’s side, you forced your body still. Movement, nervousness that only Din could spark in you, could make your feelings all the more obvious. Now was not the time for that.

“You miss him already.”

“Yeah.” You snuck a glance at Din. His eyes were fixed on the view port, distant, like his voice. It was like he was trying to chase after the Child but was lost in space. You had no idea what to say to ease his search, his pain. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

A fast whoosh sounded out from the hangar below and distracted both you and Din from others presence. Roaring of a familiar engine reached your ears and, as quickly at you recognized it, the Slave I shot out of the light cruiser hold. Silently, like a swift and stalking hunter, the ship you were raised on rushed away. You watched it go until your lost the shape of it, saw it meld with the stars. It was then you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

You looked over at Din and found that he was facing you now. Features once hidden under layers of beskar were now on full display. Din looked older than you imagined. There were strands of grey in his hair and patches in his scruff. Crows feet crinkles were gathered in the corners of his eyes; though it couldn’t be because he smiled so often, not with a life like his. Not with a life like yours, like all other Mandalorians.

“You didn’t go?” Concern, in his voice and in his brown eyes, warmed your chest. You could only nod in response. “Fett, what are you doing?”

“Making my own way, like all Foundlings must.” Unable to hold yourself back, you nudge softly Din with your elbow. “Like you are. What you did was brave, even if it broke your rules.”

“You inspired me,” Din said, his voice nestled closer now around you. You held his gaze with a quirked brow, entreating him to continue. “Remember what you said on Morak before Mayfield and I went in?”

“‘Don’t get killed’ wasn’t it?”

For the first time, you see Din smile. It’s not like Boba’s smile, the only other Mandalorian you had known. Din’s smile showed his teeth, even if it wasn’t for more than a second. Lines in his face grew more pronounced around his lips. You forced yourself to look away from his mouth and back out of the view port.

“No, I don’t remember.”

“You were talking to Boba. He said I wouldn’t break the Creed, even for the kid, if I had to. You said that I would, that my heart was in the fight.”

Want edged Din’s voice, powerful enough to get you to look up at him once more. His dark eyes were on you still and you don’t think they ever left. They dropped from your eyes to your lips and back again. As small as the shifting glance was, it was enough to tickle your stomach. You had to force yourself to stay still and quiet.

“You were right.”

“I am, most of the time, you’ll find,” you say breathlessly. It’s all you can manage.

“Is that why you’re sticking around?”

“What?” You lick your lips nervously and curse yourself for it.

“Because your heart is in this fight,” Din extends his hand as he speaks. In his open, gloved palm, the hilt of the Darksaber rested. You hadn’t truly even entertained the weapon, what it meant and stood for. Instead, your mind was clouded with Din, with want.

“In a sense.”

Din raised his brows at you. “That’s a Guild answer. A hunter answer. Give me yours.”

You already know it, you want to say but you held your tongue back. Silence, tense and unyielding, fell over the two of you. Din held your gaze, not backing down on his request. It had taken him a few minutes, but he had found his confidence without the helmet. You smiled at the thought; he was a true Mandalorian. A sense of ease overwhelmed you, made you too comfortable and your tongue too loose.

“My heart is in the hands of the fighter.”

You reached your hand over and pushed Din’s fingers closed over the hilt of the Darksaber. For a moment, you fingers lingered over his. You savored the warmth before pulling away. Finding enough courage, you held Din’s gaze again and felt your fear dissipate.

“But I think he knows that already.”

Din swallowed hard before replying, “he does.”

Burnt by embarrassment, you took a step back from him. Just as you were about to take another, dismiss yourself from the conversation and your ultimate rejection, there was a clang. You watched as Din’s helmet hit the floor and as he reached his newly free hand out. His gloved fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back. You took not of his eyes again, how they flicked between yours and your lips. Was he nervous too?

“And he feels the same.”

“You-”

“I feel the same,” Din clarified, eyes focused solely on your face.

Then, it was just the two of you again. Two Foundlings once lost then found again by the other. Wed to the fight but tied to each other. This was the way, wasn’t it? You felt sure it was.

When Din bent down and captured your lips with his, you felt all the more strongly about it. Whatever way, whatever path Din followed, you would be close behind. You were two bounty hunters, fallen from grace and into a world unprepared for what would follow.

283 notes · View notes