#but I still have my doubts and feel...empty-ish regarding it?

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

fireworks (and their ashes)

CHAPTER 2

(AO3)

A woman stumbles loudly down the stairs to the Archives.

Jon involuntarily knew that she was coming long before she entered the building, which is quite a thing to get used to, but at least he can try to meet her at the bottom of the stairs rather than force her to try to communicate to someone that she needs to make a Statement.

The haggard-looking woman has the bar along the stairwell in a white-knuckled grip as she limps her way down. There's no elevator to the Archives, unfortunately, and Jon's not in much of a position to help her, either. He leans heavily on his cane and holds out his less-scarred hand for support once she gets close enough to reach it. She smiles at him in thanks, and nearly tries to talk before seemingly remembering the clean white bandages that are wrapped around her throat.

When they do, eventually, get to Jon's office, the woman tries to communicate using a few haphazard signs, and then finally resorting to pulling out her phone and beginning to type. Jon holds up a single hand, unobtrusively enough that it takes her a moment to notice it, and she stops typing and looks up at him.

"Are you here to make a Statement?" Jon asks, and the woman nods slightly before wincing. The wound must be quite recent, then, considering that even that small movement causes that much pain.

Jon digs through his desk drawers for a moment, having nearly forgotten which drawer the empty Statement forms were stored in, but he eventually finds them and puts one in front of her, along with a pen. Then, he pulls out another file that he's supposed to be doing follow-up on- though he's only doing work at all so the woman can make her Statement in peace without him staring creepily at her the entire time- and sets about doing a bit of background research on his computer. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her begin to fill out the form.

Statement of Eleanor Greene, regarding the man who tried to kill her. Statement given and recorded 6th March, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

I thank God every day for my daughter.

She's a miracle baby, because she somehow managed to be conceived despite multiple forms of birth control, but I don't love her any less for it. I won't pretend it wasn't difficult to raise her alone, but we've managed, and she is quite possibly the best thing that's happened to me. I've thanked God for her for years, because I'd never known just how fulfilling it would be to become a parent.

Recently, I also began to thank Him for leading me to name her Sasha. I don't think I would still be alive if I'd named her anything else.

It was only a week ago that I nearly died, and just two days since I was released from the hospital. It seems so strange to me now, to be in my own house with this injury, almost like I'd been imagining that going back home would magically reverse this and fix me entirely. That's not how this works, though, I know that, but it still feels so odd, odder still to live in my own house and know, truly, that there are demons that walk this Earth with the rest of us.

How else would I describe them? The scarred man and the devil woman whispering in his ear, both of them demons, or else vengeful angels here for the rapture- but I highly doubt there was anything holy about them.

The scariest thing, despite everything else that they did, despite everything else that I'm going to be telling you, is that neither of them looked anything out of the ordinary. The man had long-ish hair, just past his shoulders, I'd say, while the woman had hers buzzed short. They wore casual street clothes. The only truly distinctive parts of either of their appearances was the intricate-looking tattoo that could just barely be seen on the man's wrist, poking out of the sleeve of his coat, but I wouldn't have looked at either of them twice under normal circumstances.

The man was smoking a cigarette while leaning against a wall, somewhat ahead of where I was walking. The woman was leaning against the same wall, either already having finished her cigarette or not having smoked one at all, and neither of them were talking. The woman was watching me as I approached to pass, and the man was only looking at his cigarette. I didn't blame him; he looked tired. He looked like he needed it.

This whole thing only started because I decided to be bothered by something he did. He flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement just in front of me, though it did not hit me. I could have just kept walking, and the whole thing wouldn't have happened. Instead, I stopped short, and glared at him while he was fishing in his pockets and paying me no mind at all.

"Excuse me," I'd said, in a rather nasty tone of voice, I admit, "I would rather not step on your filthy litter, thank you."

He looked up at me, and then gave me a strangely evaluating look before glancing over at the woman. She'd been watching with a mean little smirk on her face, like she knew that something was going to happen and she couldn't wait to get involved. Finally, he said to the woman, seeming entirely as though he was ignoring me completely, "No strings, right?"

The woman smiled, and echoed, "No strings."

Everything escalated very quickly after that. One moment, I was standing on the pavement, glaring at a rude man in an interaction I was under the vague impression I'd forget by time I made it home that evening, and the next I was flat on my back on that same pavement, his hands curled around my throat while the woman kneeled down next to me and just watched.

"Oh, look at her, she's terrified already and you haven't even done anything! You're doing wonderfully." She said in a saccharine voice, like that of a primary school teacher encouraging a slower pupil in basic arithmetic. As she spoke, the hands around my throat seemed to burn, like it wasn't enough that he was choking me to death, he just had to start burning me too.

"Shut up and be useful, will you?" The man growled in response, and the woman simply laughed, in a way that was only reminiscent of the crackle of a particularly large bonfire. It could have been welcoming, in the right circumstances, but now was only dangerous. It suited her in a way that warmth and invitation did not.

This is when my memory starts to get a bit blurry. He wasn't quite cutting off my air flow, but it was hard enough to breathe that I could feel myself beginning to black out. I knew I was going to die, then and there, on a populated street- there should have been people around, why didn't there seem to be any in the moment?- tinged with the slightly sweet smell of burning flesh.

"Oh, but I am, don't you see it? Rage is so easy, you don't need control yet so long as you can get yourself in a fury at the drop of a hat. You're too slow now, not angry enough. Think of... hmm. I don't know, think of whatever the hell reason you had for getting up again." She encouraged, though her tone slowly grew more dismissive as she went on, like whatever they were united in, whatever she was educating him in, they'd had very different reasons for joining. Whatever the hell reason he had seemed to be good enough for him, though, because I could swear I felt my skin start to crack from the heat.

I couldn't die, not then. I still had my daughter, she still needed me! She needed me!

I still don't know how I managed to do it. The doctors all said my voice box is damaged beyond repair, that whatever fire I had around my throat would've burned away my speech capabilities after less than thirty seconds, but I swear it had been minutes since he'd started this torture. No matter what the truth is, though, I still barely breathed out her name, a desperate plea for my Sasha.

The name must have meant something to him, because his grip suddenly became slack, just enough for me to get a good lungful of air. I had to think quickly, because his momentary mercy wouldn't have been forever, I could tell that right away, so I kicked at him as much as I could while he was still distracted.

I don't know how I managed to escape. The woman looked like she was going to give chase, but then she looked back at the man and started laughing at him, calling him "sentimental" and "weak," and I took that as my chance to run.

Nobody seemed to be around, even though I knew there had been people nearby when I was walking. Perhaps they'd all run when they saw the man attacking me? Not unlikely, especially since there's no way I wasn't burned. There's no way the man was human, anyway; it would've been smarter to keep out of the way of those demons.

I don't know how long it was before I found someone who could help. Long enough that I had to put my hands around my throat to staunch the bleeding, long enough to notice the sole of my shoe- the one I'd used to kick at my assailant- had melted and begun to burn my foot. Someone did help in the end, though- the first passersby I saw, in fact, he called an ambulance and helped make sure I got to the hospital safely.

Like I told you earlier, my voice box is damaged to such a degree that most doctors said I'd never speak again. Even the more optimistic of them told me I'd never sound the same. I'll have scars the rest of my life.

I've been learning sign language, but it's slow going. I only know about three signs so far, but Sasha's been learning along with me. I think... I think things will get better, at least. I won't be stuck like this.

I just thought that you'd be interested in hearing- well, reading- about it. An encounter with a real demon.

Statement ends.

Jon records the Statement long after Ms. Greene leaves, meaning that he's alone with his thoughts on what this Statement means.

It has to be Tim, right? Tim and Jude, still terrorizing random Londoners, though to what end? What does "no strings" mean? Do they have a deal, an arrangement of some kind? Jude teaches Tim how to properly be an Avatar of the Desolation, for... what? Out of the goodness of her own heart? The chance to slowly try to indoctrinate him into the Cult of the Lightless Flame? Some other ulterior motive? He highly doubts that there would really be no strings attached to that sort of arrangement, especially with Jude Perry involved.

Tim's escalating. He's grown more personal in his attempted murders, going from blowing up a building to choking out somebody's mother. What happened in the time between December and last week that would've escalated things this much?

Jon sighs, and leans back in his chair. He rubs at his eyes, hoping that some kind of revelation will make itself clear to him, but nothing does.

[crownedflora]

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Halibut

In which Jaskier invents fishnet stockings. 1.8k, contains hasty escapes, fishing nets, Jaskier showing off and more UST than you can shake a leg stick at. Rated M(ish).

~

This was not the first hasty, naked exit Jaskier had made from a window.

This wouldn’t be a problem if he was somewhere southern and warm, where he could leap through gardens snatching drying garments from unguarded clotheslines, but he was not somewhere southern. He was in a tiny fishing village on the far northern point of An Skellig, the wind was stiff, the sky was grey, and sleet poured from the sky in freezing flurries.

“Don’t get in trouble”, Geralt had warned him before he set off that morning, swords on his back. “Alright?”

Jaskier had agreed breezily, barely listening, thinking more about the song he’d been composing.

Fuck.

He scrambled over a low stone wall, carefully swinging his leg over the slightly jagged top and landing on the damp grass on the other side with a wet thud. At least he wasn’t being chased any more. Small mercies, he supposed, as he trudged across the field, the mud squelching between his toes.

He headed towards the water’s edge and the harbour, hoping that even if he couldn’t find clothes to snag, he could find a bit of fabric - a torn sail, an old scrap of canvas sheeting - anything to cover his nakedness so he could return to the inn on the other side of the island where they’d left their things.

He made an exaggerated leap over another wall, vaguely cursing the Skelligan’s insistence on using extremely pointy rocks in so much of their exterior architecture, then skidded down the steep hill to the water below.

The tiny harbour was quiet, and Jaskier crept through the dry-docked boats, keeping low. Just because it looked empty didn’t mean it was, and he didn’t fancy being caught out by a gang of giant, angry Skelligans.

There. There was a pile of dark material in the bottom of an open boat, just waiting to be stolen. He quickly glanced around, snagged the bundle, and inelegantly legged it back up the hill.

~

Geralt dumped the siren’s head at the feet of the Jarl with a grimace. The Jarl didn’t even wince.

“Done,” he said. “My pay?”

The Jarl regarded the head for a moment before giving it a swift kick, sending it bouncing towards the other side of the room and drawing a cheer from the watching men.

“Is fair and generous,” he said, his accent as thick as his beard. “Thanks, witcher.”

He passed the heavy pouch of coins over, and Geralt stowed them the bag strapped to his hip. He nodded, once, then left the tiny tavern, the air rank with the smell of stale ale and wet dog.

The sea breeze bit at his skin as he strode up the hill, intending to return to the inn where Jaskier would no doubt have a bath ready for him. He was looking forward to it, especially after spending so long in the frigid ocean, and his hair was tangled with salt and seaweed and siren blood. With any luck, Jaskier would—

“Geralt!”

He paused. That wasn’t the wind, he was sure of it. He spun around, feeling a little foolish.

“Geralt! Over here!”

He turned just in time to see Jaskier’s head pop up from behind a large boulder. His hair was a mess, standing at angles around his head.

“Now before you get cross with me…”

For fuck’s sake. “I told you to stay out of trouble.”

“I did! Ah… Sort of.”

Geralt shook his head. “What the fuck have you done no—”

The words died in his mouth as Jaskier stood, moving around the boulder and into the road.

“Look,” he said, “I can explain. I was—”

Geralt wasn’t really listening as Jaskier’s words washed over him, as impermanent as the waves on the shore or the sleet still hanging in the air. He was wearing… well, ‘not a lot’ was one way to describe it, and perhaps more accurately: ‘whatever he could get his hands on’, which appeared to be mostly fishing nets. He even had netting tangled around his legs, almost like stockings, the criss-crossing lines marking him from his ankles all the way up to his—

“What the fuck.” Geralt managed, voice suddenly hoarse.

Jaskier blinked at him, then sat heavily on the boulder. “Well I was naked, Geralt, you can’t expect me to run around An Skellig with my entire arse and cock out can you?”

“It’s… still out.” Geralt coughed, trying not to look. “Uh...”

Jaskier peered down, as if only just becoming aware of his own nakedness.

“Huh,” he mused. “So it is. Which is why, Geralt, you’ll lend me your cloak, right?”

Geralt blinked at him, aware that he’d missed some crucial part of the one-sided conversation.

“...Right.”

He walked towards the boulder, dumped his bag onto the ground, then unclipped his cloak before sitting down beside the bard, the warm fabric bundled in his arms.

“You know,” Jaskier continued, not taking the cloak from him, “I’m not entirely opposed to this.”

Geralt looked towards him. He was leaning back, pointing his legs out in front of him, admiring them.

And, Geralt was forced to admit, as heat sparked in his stomach, there was quite a lot to admire. All Jaskier’s walking meant that his once wiry legs had grown strong and sturdy and… shapely.

He shook his head, forcing himself to look out towards the harbour in the distance. Shapely legs. This wasn’t the 1100s, for Melitele’s sake. He wasn’t about to drive himself into a fit of apoplexy over a nice pair of legs when significantly more salacious parts of Jaskier’s body were also fully on show, aside from the meagre coverage of a few layers of fishing net.

Oh, gods.

Geralt was about to shove the cloak at Jaskier and demand he cover up - or perhaps wrap it around Jaskier’s shoulders himself - when he suddenly found a leg thrust under his nose. He froze, the cloak dropping from his hands to the ground.

“See, Geralt!” Jaskier said, twisting around on the rock, “Look how good my legs look!”

Geralt looked. Geralt couldn’t do anything but look. Jaskier had managed to tangle the nets tight around his calves, showing off every arch and angle from the contour of his ankles to the softly delicious curve of the back of his knee. The netting wrapped around his thighs indecently, and Geralt could see where the cheap strings strained against them, pressing into the hairy skin beneath.

When he removed the nets, his skin would be littered with tiny diamonds.

Moving almost by its own accord, Geralt’s hand rose. In the bitter Skellige cold, he could feel the heat radiating from Jaskier’s skin even an inch or so away, begging to be touched. He wondered how it would feel - heat and skin and hair and net, pressed together.

His hand hovered over Jaskier’s proffered leg. Perhaps, just this once—

And then it was gone as quickly as it had been presented to him, Geralt’s hand flexing around nothing but sea air. In a swift movement, Jaskier jumped to his feet and grabbed Geralt’s cloak, tugging it around his shoulders.

“There,” he said. “Better?”

The bulk of Geralt’s cloak completely covered him. Geralt could just see the bottom of the nets where they wrapped around his ankles, his bare feet pressed into the mud. He did a brief twirl, clearly showing off, and then - fuck. He spotted Geralt staring.

Geralt couldn’t tell if Jaskier was blushing, or if it was the icy wind making his cheeks redden like that.

“Well?” Jaskier gave him a cheeky grin, then extended one of his legs through the opening of the cloak, tugging the wool all the way up to his hip. “Thoughts?”

Geralt took a few moments to regain control of his tongue, making a show of standing and strapping his bag back on his hip, attempting to conceal his suddenly eager prick.

“You look like a halibut caught in a net,” he said, finally. “But hairier.”

He was expecting spluttering outrage, but Jaskier just smiled even wider. “Utterly ridiculous, then?”

“Hmm.”

Geralt began to walk back down the road, trying to wish away his erection by willpower and stubbornness alone. Jaskier caught up quickly, his feet slapping in the mud and Geralt’s cloak flapping around him.

“So you won’t mind cutting me out of the nets, then,” he said, falling into step at Geralt’s side. “If it looks ridiculous?”

Geralt’s feet seized, his legs stiffening as he came to a sudden and unbidden stop in the very middle of the road. Jaskier bumped into him with a soft little oof. He spun around.

“Only if you think it does look good,” Jaskier continued, utterly unphased by Geralt’s glaring, “I’d rather not destroy it.”

Geralt realised his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut, quickly. “Fine,” He said, pulling himself back together, willing his legs to start working again. “I’ll… help.”

“You’ll help with…?”

“Getting the nets off.”

“Oh, marve—”

“But…”

“But?”

“Only if you sort out this,” he gestured to his tangled hair. “We’ll see what we can do about the nets after.”

“Alright,” Jaskier smirked, “Sounds fair.” He stuck out his hand, treating Geralt to a view of the netting wrapped around his torso. “Deal?”

Geralt took his hand. His palm was warm, and his heartbeat tapped a frantic, too-fast rhythm against Geralt’s skin despite his confident, easy smile. For a moment, the harsh breeze died away, and the air tingled with the smell of spice and honey. The sparks in Geralt’s stomach ignited, setting his skin ablaze.

And Jaskier stared at him - almost daringly. He licked his lips. Geralt found himself unconsciously mirroring the movement, and tasted salt.

Geralt resisted the urge to pull him closer, to better hear his pulse, to better take in that scent. To drown in it.

He squeezed Jaskier’s hand. “Deal.” Then, before Jaskier could pull away - “And we’ll find you new nets in Kaer Trolde.”

“O...oh?” Jaskier stuttered.

“Hmm,” Geralt leant in, just a fraction closer. “Clean ones. You smell like a halibut, too.”

Now Jaskier spluttered at him, but Geralt could ignore the complaining, feeling a little smug - like he’d won something.

“Are you coming?” He said, nodding down the drizzly path, “Or are you going to stand there and flap about like a fish for the rest of the afternoon?”

Jaskier huffed once more for good measure, then conceded. They walked side by side in near silence, Jaskier bumping his shoulder against Geralt’s arm every few steps. Neither of them spoke; perhaps, for once, neither of them needed to. The inn wasn’t far - only twenty minutes, if they were slow - and with it came the promise of clean water, and warm bodies.

Geralt’s chest tightened, his fingertips tingling, and he imagined how Jaskier’s skin would look, marked in diamonds.

[magalidragon]

n°7 - “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

In the “Heat Wave” universe, pretty please!😊

YES! Love these beans! 🔥🔥🔥 And  because I also got another ask for this same universe, I’ve combined it into one Drabblish-ish (2700 words, not 2500, lol).  And THANK YOU FOR THE MOODBOARD DARLING!  Enjoy!

Smutty One Liner Prompts

7. “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

10. “Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

Bliss, that's what this was, Dany thought, her eyes still closed, her breathing even, and her skin tingly and warm.  She sighed, exhaling out any worry she might continue to have—there was no more worry now that she was out of the Hell House and living in Heaven's Hall—her body nestled in a soft, fluffy mattress with thick quilt and soft flannel sheets covering her.  She smiled, serene, and opened her eyes slowly, peering up at a set of red eyes, watching her.  

She smiled wider, quirking an eyebrow up.  "That's really creepy Ghost."

Ghost said nothing, licked his chops, and then her face, and hopped away from his nighttime stalking.  She chuckled, sitting up on her elbows, glancing at three faces underneath one of the throw blankets over the bed, all of her little dragons purring contentedly, no doubt thankful she had relocated them completely.  She wiggled her toes, returning feeling to them, and scanned the room, which was empty.  

The snow had eventually stopped, the wind fading away, and now the sun was out, but to her surprise, she must have slept through most of the day.  Bloody cold, she cursed inwardly, for she never got sick.  She had slept most of the last couple of days, interspersed with coughing fits, cranky moments of letting Jon take her temperature and pour soup and tea down her throat, and the occasional "I am not sick, so you can totally fuck me, I promise I won't pass out" debates.  He had refused, tucking her into the big bed in his room, saying that she was his patient now, and one did not take advantage that way.

"You're too honorable for your own good," she bitched, the last time she'd tried to suggest a little nookie.

"Sue me."

"Hmm, I might."  

He simply kissed her nose, told her she was adorable with her pouting, and she fell asleep before she could reply, cursing her body for succumbing to this strange Southern cold during this strange Southern storm.  

It was almost sundown; the light fading overtop the trees cocooning the house on the mountainside.  She blinked at the reflection of the snowy treetops in the huge windows and felt good.  Good enough to get out of bed, she figured, sliding free of the sheets, the huge Night's Watch hoodie falling over her hips to her knees and sleeves over her fingertips.  She shuffled in her thick wool socks—also stolen from Jon—to the bathroom, flicking on the light and taking stock of her reflection.  

Her nose was chapped from blowing into Kleenex, her eyes slightly blood-shot, and her hair was a nest of epic proportions, she wondered if there was a dragon living in it.  She scrubbed her cheek with her palm, shaking her head, and glanced at Ghost, who looked up at her curiously.  "Do you think I'm sexy Ghost?"  She put on a fake pose, thrusting her hip to the side, pretending to look cute in the oversized sweatshirt and nothing else.  

Ghost did not indicate one way or the other.  He just wandered off towards the sunken tub, hoping into it and then put his paws on the other side, tail wagging and gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows.  She wandered over, sitting on the edge, and followed his gaze, smiling down at Jon, who was moving firewood from the deck into the house.  She scratched Ghost's head.  "Thank you for keeping me company, I'm sure you'd rather be with him."

She ran her fingers as best through her hair as she could, wincing at tangles.  "Ugh."  A shower was necessary.  She shivered; it was still chilly, even with the heat returning, the pipes back to working order.  

Somewhere in the bedroom, her phone dinged.  She left Ghost to his watch, getting off the bathtub edge and went to pick it up from the nightstand, staring at the email notification from Tyrion Lannister.  

Thank you for your message, Lannister Properties is currently closed due to significant weather activity, we will respond in due time. She scoffed, opened up one of the emails that had been sent immediately after and saw that indeed, Tyrion had replied.

Ms. Targaryen, I was sorry to see your negative review of our property.  As you know, significant weather activity is possible, and while we cannot compensate you for any destruction caused by Acts of the Gods, we would like to offer you a 20 percent discount on your next Lannister Property rental.  A Lannister always pays their debts, and we would like to no longer be in debt to you!  Thank you, Tyrion  P.S.  Our insurance investigator will survey the property damage and be in touch regarding your payment options.

Her mouth dropped.  "Fuck you!" she shouted at the email.  She would definitely be handling this stupid little lion herself.  After drafting a very strongly worded email with tons of legal jargon she hoped would have the Lannister quaking in his boots, she dropped her phone, a muscle twitching somewhere in her shoulder.  She rubbed at it, scowling at the dragons, who were watching her from where they now were seated on her pillow.  She shook her head.  "Fucking Lannisters."

At least she had Jon, she figured, and picked up her phone again, sending a quick message to Missandei.  Despite the weather, the plague, and the shitty rental, I'm feeling much better now.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.  She smirked at her BFF's reply:  Yes, I've heard endless banging can do that to a person.

After saying that she was not endless banging Jon-- they'd had to take a break because of the plague after all-- she put the phone on silent, charged it up, and then padded back into the bathroom, because now she well and truly needed a hot, long, relaxing shower....or...maybe...

Her eyes landed on the tub.  It had been used just to store water those first couple days without power, but a week later....she swished her lips around and decided.  She deserved a soak.  Just like she wanted when she first saw it.  She leaned over and tugged on the taps, letting the hot water pour in, steam instantly rising.  It was rather deep, like a small pond, and she puttered about looking for some candles, finding a few in another bedroom and even some bath salts.  They smelled divine, lavender and eucalyptus, perfect for relaxing and also shaking loose any remaining crap in her nose from the cold.  

She watched the bubbles foam, fluffy and cloudlike, almost resembling the snow that pillowed along the windowsills outside.  The sun had fully disappeared behind the trees, the stars peeking out.  It was rather breathtaking, maybe even something she might have seen if she'd been up at the Wall with Missandei and Grey instead of down in Dorne, when she had planned to just watch sunsets over red sand dunes and mountains.  Go figure, she was getting the North and she didn't even pay for it.

Stripping out of her hoodie and her granny panties— Jon had thankfully not continued to make fun of her for their use while she was sick—she slipped into the tub, hissing at the first touch of the hot water on her skin, and then moaning in delight, her dragonblood positively singing.  Her brothers jokingly referred to her as "the Unburnt" because for whatever reason she did not feel pain with heat.  Barely even flinched when fire flicked her fingertips as she loaded the fireplace with wood, to Jon's shock.  

It was straight out of the Heavens of Valyria, she thought, sinking fully under the foamy bubbles, the lavender soothing her dry skin, the eucalyptus filling her lungs, crisp and healing.  She reached to adjust her knotty hair, piled on her head, and closed her eyes, groaning happily the deeper she sunk into the tub.  The lights off, the candles all around her, it was how she wouldn't mind spending another power outage.

Ghost was not one to leave her out, his head on the edge of the tub, accepting wet scratches now and then on his head.  She chuckled, opening an eye to peer at him.  "If you want in here, you're welcome to it, but I'm not dealing with that wet dog smell later."

He huffed, annoyed.  

The only thing truly missing, she realized, after an undetermined amount of time later, was some music, a glass of wine, and a very attractive, very sexy, very naked Jon Snow.

"Well look at you."

Eyes springing open, she turned her head sideways, spotting Jon leaning against the door frame.  His sweaty curls slicked at his neck and temples, his t-shirt and sweats damp from the snow and exertion of moving all the firewood around.  In his hands, he had a bottle of beer and a glass of wine.  She smirked.  "Which one is for me?"

"Which one do you prefer?"

"Gimme."

He already knew her, handing her the Dornish red, while he sipped at the Northern ale.  He glanced at Ghost, who was scowling up at him.  "What?  I'm not giving you a bath."

"Am I in his tub?"

"Yes, he likes baths."

"Your dog is very weird Jon Snow."

"Don't I know it."  His eyes darkened, the candlelight shooting off the gray irises in sparks, his lip curling over his teeth in a wry smile.  "In fact, I have to say, I'm a little upset with you."

She smirked, flicking some bubbles at him.  "Oh yeah?"

"Aye, you're sharing bathtime with my dog and not me."

Ghost stuck his nose into the bubbles, blowing them up into the air and snatching them with his teeth, until some went up his nose and he sneezed, rubbing his nose into the rug.  She sat up, peering over the edge of the tub, laughing.  "Oh Ghostie!  You alright prumia?"

The Valyrian for 'my heart' had begun slipping easily when it came to the fluffy dog, who whined, rubbed his nose with his paw, and accepted her kisses, even if some of the water dripped from her arms and shoulders when she leaned over to reach him.  She fell back into the tub, once Ghost had finished with her, and wandered off, the door banging shut after him.  She frowned, about to ask, but Jon answered the unspoken question.

"Aye, he closed the door.  He also likes giving people privacy."

As he had kept to himself, hiding off away from them during those couple nights on the floor in front of the fireplace, she had to thank the dog for that.  She smirked up at Jon, who looked a bit annoyed, and was toeing off his socks, the beer now on the edge of the tub.  She sipped he wine, surveying him appreciatively, the black t-shirt falling to the floor.  She purred, recognizing the gleaming lust in his eyes.  "Who knew jealousy was such a powerful motivator for you?"

"Jealous?" he scoffed.  "No way."

"Hmm."  She disagreed.  

“Is there some space left in that bathtub?”  

When she opened her eyes, she found that he was naked, the sweatpants joining the t-shirt and his socks.  She licked her lips, shifting and gestured; there was more than enough room.  She smirked at him, as he stepped in and yelped.  “Careful, it’s hot,” she cooed.  Gathering some bubbles, she piled them in front of her, annoyed that they shielded her favorite part of him from her gaze.  She had an ulterior motive of course, for hiding her body from him, smirking as he scowled back at her, no doubt mad he couldn’t see beyond the lavender scented shield.

He sank back into the tub, his head popping over the side, leaning on the other edge and his feet sliding along her legs, before they stopped on either side of her arse.  She slipped her leg along his, the salts and soaps giving her skin an added slickness.  He narrowed his eyes on hers and she smiled, innocent, as her foot moved over his calf, his thigh, and then pressed between them, her brows arching.  “Hmm,” she murmured.  “Such…hard work out there.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was alone in bed when I woke up,” she continued.  She sniffed, hoping her voice didn’t have the added thickness to it from her cold.  She was trying to be sexy, scooping up a handful of bubbles and blowing them towards him.  

A little pillow of bubbles landed on his head and he smiled, eyebrow lifting.  “Cute.”

“You do look cute.”  

“I don’t usually like baths.”  He flicked some bubbles away from her chest, scowling again at them.  “They’re blocking the view.”

“Well that’s too bad.”

“It really is.  Makes things…inaccessible too.”

“And what are those?”  Her foot was still sliding along his cock, her toes tickling along the hard, thick length, and suddenly it fell to the side, as he lunged towards her, a wolf with its prey.  Water splashed around them, bubbles everywhere, and before she knew it, his arms were around her thighs, hoisting her up to the edge of the tub, and splaying her legs out.  A wicked grin shot up at her, his sinful lips twisted, and eyes black.  She cried out, before she even knew what was happening, and he tugged her forward, arms wrapped around her legs, which fell over his shoulders, and he dove down.

The first thing she felt was his tongue, spearing straight into her.  “Fuck!” she screamed, clenching around his head and grabbing at his wet curls.  She moaned, long and low, her head falling backwards, smacking against the foggy windowpane.  She kept a hand on his hair and her other fell back as well, grappling for something to hold, and eventually found the edge of the window itself, holding tight to the wooden frame.  

He feasted like a man starved, his tongue slipping in and around her folds, which had already been damp at the sight of him and had grown increasingly slick with her need for him as he teased her and stripped in front of her. She panted, Valyrian babbling with “Jon” and “fuck” and “yes”, everything he did in response to her body’s craving.  His tongue was pure magic, lips suckling here and there, and his hand breaking free of her leg to slip between them, a single thick finger sliding inside, crooking at just the right angle to find the spot inside of her that had her whining, high-pitched, desperate to come.  

Flicking his tongue around her entrance, he gathered up her wetness with it and carried it to her clit, nibbling and sucking the little bud, alternating between giving it the attention she wanted and sliding it back into her, a second finger now joining the first.  He let go of her other thigh, since she was holding herself up and his other hand pressed above her pubic bone, at the exact moment his fingers pressed to that magic spot, the pressure too much for her to bear.  

She was coming, the flame already flickering, and stoked higher and higher.  She gripped his hair so tight; she almost tore it clean from his skull, and when her eyes pried open long enough to meet his, that devious, devilish look that told her he knew exactly what he was doing, she couldn’t take it.  It shattered her, the flame exploding into thousands of tiny ones, engulfing her.  

Hand falling off the window, smearing finger tracks down the condensation, she thrust her hips aimlessly into his mouth, her body clenching, spasming around him.  He carried on, careful of her sensitivity, and kept moving, fingers slipping along, this thumb tapping and circling, and tongue angling through, drinking up her sweetness.  She came again, her body quivering, exhausted.  

It all felt so good, so fuzzy, and she slipped back into the tub, water splashing out over the edges, her head almost falling straight under the top of the still steaming water.  He caught her, turning so she was draped over his chest, the bubbles fading away around them.  His cock was still hard, pressed between his abdomen and hers, and she lifted her hips enough to trap him there, teasing her and him both.  “Soon,” she sighed, eyes closed.  “Give me a minute.”

He brushed his lips over top her hairline, damp now with sweat.  “Feeling better?”

Rising over him as best she could, at the awkward angle, bathwater and bubbles still coating her skin, she reached her hand around his head to pull his mouth to hers, groaning at the taste of herself she still felt on his tongue.  “Oh Jon, you have no idea how good I feel now.”

“Glad to hear it.” ��

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar. 

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone. 

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work. 

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers. 

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea. 

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues. 

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon. 

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional. 

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises. 

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far. 

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him. 

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.” 

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?” 

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.” 

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.” 

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.” 

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?” 

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor. 

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good. 

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.” 

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.” 

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon. 

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself. 

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.” 

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked. 

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you. 

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch. 

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” 

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done. 

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by. 

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job… 

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing. 

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done. 

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made  your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess. 

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available. 

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus. 

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had. 

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow. 

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch. 

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly. 

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride. 

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard.. 

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months. 

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now. 

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air. 

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them. 

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him. 

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing. 

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name. 

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light. 

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.” 

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.” 

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes… 

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.” 

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him. 

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was. 

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal. 

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago. 

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching. 

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all. 

[tmngoose]

Cause for Concern: an OC one-shot

Alternate Title: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Rikki, Red Fox, Jupiter Jim, Clem, Rikki's mom (mentioned) Tags: ANGST, Anxiety, Distress, Poor familial relationships, Abuse, Minor Injuries/bruising/scabs, Hurt/Comfort, Blanket forts, Lots of comforting, Additional Tags to be added... Summary: Rikki gets a letter in the mail and Red has a right to worry. Word Count: ~1,799 -x- A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Goosey! This isn't any of the updates you promised us >:C what's up with this OC baloney?" -- Ok, yes, but listen; I wrote this mainly to practice writing Red Fox and Jupiter Jim since I'll be (ahem) writing them very soon for a certain somethin'-somethin' (Also? I need to update Let's Make a Deal and this was good practice to get back into writing for Rikki). I won't be uploading this to my Ao3. Read Cause for Concern under the read more:

It started with a letter—a small black envelope that came in with the rest of the mail: the bills, the take-out menus, and the weekly Stock and Shop circulars.

It was addressed to Rikki, which was odd to Red since Rikki never received mail; at least nothing intimate.

"Hey, Rikki! You got mail today!" Red said as soon as the mongoose returned from her shift at Clem's. She presented Rikki with the black envelope, her tail swishing excitedly.

"That's for me?" Rikki raised a brow.

They settled down at the kitchen table. Red sat across from Rikki, who examined the mysterious piece of mail. There was no return address, and the envelope was perfumed with something that made Rikki's nose wrinkle. She turned the envelope over, and that was when she saw it; the ivory wax seal depicting the image of fang—her family's crest.

Red's grin shrank as Rikki tensed, the color draining from her face, "Well? Who's it from, Rik?"

"It's… ah…," Rather than answering Red, Rikki reached for their salt shaker and unscrewed the metal cap. She poured a perfect circle onto the wooden surface, then dropped the envelope into its center.

Suddenly, it burst into a column of purple flames.

"Oh, my stars!" Red gasped. Her red banded-tail morphed into a giant hand and reached into the cabinet under the sink for the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry, it'll put itself out," stated Rikki, unbothered by the phenomena. "It's a hex message."

"A 'hex message?'" Red furrowed her brow as the flames flickered before them, contained within the circle of salt. "I've heard of chain letters cursing folks, but this is just plain rude! Who would do such a thing?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Red's tail twitched. It was a touchy subject they never discussed, mainly because Rikki avoided any conversation regarding family relations—especially if they were about her mother.

When the purple flames disappeared—embers and all—a scorch mark was left behind; Rikki buffed it out with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that the letter was 'cleansed,' she sliced open the side of the envelope with her claw and emptied a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

The apartment fell silent as Rikki read the letter. Red knew better than to pry, even if the suspense kept her at the edge of her seat.

"Mom wants me to come home—for a visit, not to stay," Rikki grimaced, "She wants to 'talk.'"

"When?" Red asked while Rikki calmly tore the letter into tiny squares.

"A-sap," Rikki brushed the bits of paper into her palm and stuffed them inside the pouch on her hoodie. She went over to the tiny coat closet by the front door and retrieved an old backpack that would suffice as an overnight bag.

"W-wait, you're leaving now?" Red pushed back her chair. Her stomach twisted, and a feeling of dread penetrated her bones. She had no idea where the influx of anxiety came from, but it was enough to get her fur to stand on end.

Rikki shrugged, "I can't keep the lady waiting."

"What about work?"

"I'll tell Clem somethin' came up. Besides, that's what PTOs are for..."

"Is everything alright?" Red's ears flattened, perturbed. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Why would she think Rikki was in trouble? Maybe Rikki's mother always communicated via hex messages. Perhaps that was just how yūrei's spoke to one another; a cultural thing.

Rikki didn't answer. She quietly stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggie, then went into her bedroom to gather a change of clothes. The silence between them only told Red that she was right to fret about her roomie's well-being.

"… It's nothing, Red," Rikki answered, slipping her headphones around the back of her neck. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Red's unconvinced by the string of reassurance; they sound a lot like empty promises, "Rikki…."

"Red, I'll be fine," Rikki crammed her chargers and electronics into the small pocket of her backpack. "I should be back sometime soon-ish. We'll order sushi and throw ourselves a little party, ok?"

"… okay," Red stepped out of Rikki's way, reluctantly letting the mongoose pass by. She escorted Rikki to the elevator down the hall and playfully elbowed her in the arm, "Call me if you need back-up, yeah?"

"Whatever floats your goat, space ace," Rikki snorted as she waited for the elevator's arrival. She slung her bulky backpack over her shoulder, "And speaking of goats, I better call Clem…."

Rikki forced a smile as the elevator doors slowly closed. Red saw past the mongoose's attempt at feigning confidence; the distant, fearful look in her eyes gave her away. Red suppressed the urge to summon the elevator and prevent Rikki from leaving.

Red told herself that it was all in her head, the idea that nothing good would come from Rikki's trip to her mother's. She knew Rikki could take care of herself.

Rikki will be back before you know it, Red thought to herself. It'll be alright. I'm sure her mother's a lovely person...

__________

Rikki didn't come home the next day. Or the following day. Or the day after that. When Red tried reaching Rikki on her cell phone, her attempts led her directly to the mongoose's inbox.

Not even Clem heard from Rikki, although he was instructed to 'use her sick days if she ran out of PTO.'

Red kept herself busy with menial chores to steel her nerves and stop her imagination from crafting worst-case scenarios. When she wasn't cleaning the apartment, the yōkai volunteered at the community theater, ran errands, and hunted for Scor-Pion with Jupiter Jim.

"Why so blue, Red?" Jupiter Jim asked during one of their stakeouts atop the eccentric actor's apartment building. "You mustn't let Scor-Pion get you down. The elusive fiend will show himself soon enough!"

"It's not that," Red sighed. "It's my roomie/friend! She's been gone for almost a week, and I've lost all forms of direct communication with her! And even if I wanted to go searching for her, I have no idea where she could be!"

"Hm, that is quite the predicament. I wouldn't be surprised if Scor-Pion is behind your friend's mysterious disappearance!"

"I doubt it…," Red peered through her binoculars and scanned the city's skyline, hoping to spy Rikki. She perked up when she felt Jupiter Jim's hand clasp onto her shoulder, "Sir?"

"Have faith in your friend," Jupiter Jim consoled. "The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later. We must welcome the weary when they return, but to do so, it's crucial to keep our spirits high."

Red smiled weakly at the profound piece of wisdom, "Thank you, Sir."

The mood was ruined when Jupiter Jim mistook an old lady with a green skin complexion as Scor-Pion. Fortunately, Red's prehensile tail was strong enough to hold the space adventure back from ambushing the strange senior citizen.

If only Red used her tail to keep Rikki from leaving...

_____________

It was Wednesday night. Red had finished washing the dishes and was now standing at the kitchen counter, prepping vegetables for dinner. She was so preoccupied with peeling potatoes that she failed to notice someone unlocking the front door.

And that someone was Rikki.

"Hey, I'm back," Rikki announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Rikki!" Red exclaimed, dropping the potato peeler and spud into the sink. She ran over to Rikki and hugged her tightly, "Leaping light-years, you have no idea how worried I was! You didn't call or text, and Clem said—"

Red froze. Her eyes darted from Rikki's black eye to the bruise on her cheek. Several small knicks speckled the side of her brow. They were scabs now, but the implication that Rikki had bled was still there.

So this was the kind of relationship Rikki had with her mother: a bad one.

Rikki isn't put off by the horrified look on Red's face, "Honestly? It's not as bad as it looks. In fact, I think things went better than I expected." She tried maintaining a modest tone, but it faltered.

I knew I shouldn't have let you go, Red frowned. Hesitantly, she tried reaching up to touch the bruise on Rikki's cheek.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Rikki said as she casually ducked away from Red's hand. "I had to take the long way back, and I'm kinda gross. Do you need the bathroom?"

"N-No, you go ahead. I'm making stew for dinner. Would you like some?"

"Naaah. I'm not that hungry…."

Red nodded, "Copy that." She watched Rikki's bushy tail drag across the floorboards on her way towards the bathroom.

The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later…

"Hey, Rikki?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home…"

It's such a warm, simple greeting, yet it meant so much to Rikki. She got as far as the hallway before she grabbed onto the wall for support. She sank to the floor and curled in on herself, trembling.

In a split-second, Red's beside her. She held Rikki close, protecting her by wrapping her striped tail around her body. She never heard Rikki cry before; the mongoose is quiet with the occasional whimper that breaks Red's heart.

Red held her tighter, "… We can still order sushi if you want…."

Rikki sniffled, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Heh heh, good! Honestly, I was getting tired of peeling all those potatoes!"

_____________________

Stacks of aluminum take-out containers are left on the kitchen table with empty plastic cups of soy sauce. They make good on their promise to throw themselves a party. So Red and Rikki dragged their mattresses out from their bedrooms and constructed a blanket fort around them.

Once their nightly bathroom rituals are completed, they pile into their fort. Red noticed a few more bruises on Rikki's forearms that were previously hidden by the mongoose's hoodie.

"Clem said he'd give me the day off tomorrow," Rikki said as she slid her phone underneath her pillow. "I told him I had a rough trip. He understands."

"Aw, that's nice of him," Red yawned as she rolled onto her side, facing Rikki. Goodness gracious, who would've thought all this worrying could be so exhausting...

"Hey, Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," apologized Rikki, her voice hoarse. She stared up at the canopy of mismatched blankets and bedsheets, "I'm sorry I didn't keep you in the loop..."

"Don't worry about it, Rik," Red scooched over towards Rikki, "I understand."

They nestled against each other, their tails entwined--another layer of comfort. Red felt obligated to ensure Rikki fell asleep and didn't stay awake to think about whatever cruelties she endured at her mother's. Only when Red was sure Rikki was fast asleep did she finally allow her eyelids to shutter.

[littlesliceofmarvel]

Manipulating a God | chpt. five

Synopsis: Trying to break the information out of Loki during the attack of 2012 wasn’t exactly the easiest task, but it was a challenge you were willing to take head on. So, what happened when a master manipulator tried to get information from the God of Mischief?

Series warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence, blood, and gore

Pairings: Stark!Reader x Loki

A/N: I am so happy to be back writing on here. I apologize for the unannounced hiatus, I was dealing with personal issues and couldn’t find the motivation to write, but I am back and stronger than ever! I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays and may all of your 2020 wishes come true! Much love. xoxox

PS. There is a major storyline/timeline change here but don’t worry, it’ll match up with the movie timeline soon enough!

I know this chapter is shorter, but the next one will be a lot of fun!

-

For the millionth time that morning, Fury repeated the same question, “What did Loki say again? Give me the quote.”

Groaning and throwing your head back (also for the millionth time) you replied the same way you had all morning, “He said ‘the power I could find here on Earth is beyond anything your human brain can comprehend.’ Word for word - ish.” 

Fury placed the pencil under his chin as if he were contemplating the meaning of life and all existence, looking down at the notepad in front of him which only had that one exact quote written, no other details or clues or even doodles scribbled anywhere else on the small lined paper. For about half an hour, the two of you had been sitting here discussing what the God of Mischief had said, but nowhere nearer to deciphering anything. Thor, who was currently your best hope in this grand old mystery, was off paying his dear brother a visit in the meantime but hadn’t actually spoken to you all day so he was of no help thus far. 

In the half an hour you had been meeting with Fury, you had downed about eight coffees and your mind was having trouble staying focused on just the one quote, the meaning of it practically lost to you with the amount of caffeine flowing through your bloodstream. Your hands slightly shaking, eyes feeling fuzzy, you tried your best to keep focused and find any ideas flowing around your imaginative mind that could help out. But, in all honesty, you were blank.

Of course, you barely had any knowledge of ‘Outer Space’ in the first place, having only recently come in contact with your first-ever ‘aliens’ this week - and they were both nothing like you had expected from reading sci-fi and watching Star Trek. And that right there was the extent of your knowledge. 

“What if he’s looking for someone powerful? Instead of something,” Fury thought out loud, mumbling to himself as he started tapping the pencil to his chin. Mumbling a silent agreement, you let out a dramatic sigh as you continued sinking into your chair, bored of the endless circle of conversation that continued feeling pointless to you. No point had been proven and nothing could be confirmed or denied since Fury’s space knowledge didn’t seem to exceed your own.

“God, pick yourself up a little bit, Stark,” Fury spoke in disappointment at your slouched figure, “You’re worse than a seven-year old child after you’ve had your coffee.”

Chuckling at his comment, you sat properly in your chair, straightening your back like a stiff board and intertwining your fingers on the glass table like a posture-perfect model, “Is this better, Corporal Fury?”

“Y/N, I’m not messing around here, the fate of our planet is kind of resting in your hands.” 

Joking around was kind of your thing — you were a Stark after all. You knew that sometimes it got in the way when trying to hold a serious conversation (like right now), but there was nothing that could stop you from blurting out sarcastic or witty comments when people were relying on you for important answers.

You leaned towards him, a gentle smile on your lips, “I know, Fury, I’m just trying to bring some light to this dark situation.”

Fury nodded slowly, pointing down to the empty notepad in front of him, “Then try to shed some light on this.”

Dropping your smile, you pulled the notepad in front of you, staring blankly at the meaningless quote in front of you, “Have we ever considered that maybe Loki’s just messing with our minds? After all, that’s what he’s known for. This could just be an empty threat.”

“It’s not.”

Thor decided to make his entrance at the right time, arms crossed and a frown etched upon his bearded face — clearly, he had just come back from meeting Loki. He sauntered slowly over to the table and my eyes didn’t leave his figure. Something about the way he was standing gave me a feeling he was about to give us some information regarding what we’d been sitting in here discussing.

“Care to spill the beans, Thor?” 

“Sorry? Spill beans? I do not under—” 

“You don’t understand, yeah, I know. Just tell us what you think Loki means,” your patience was starting to wear thin with the Gods and their mysterious way of speaking. Still leaning over the table to direct your full attention to the blond hunk, you tensed your shoulders as you prepared for any kind of answer. 

“There’s this belief on Asgard, and most of the universe, really, that there are these things called the Infinity Stones,” Thor spoke, treading carefully as if detonating a bomb. The words meant nothing to you, and he seemed to notice this as he began to elaborate.

“There are six Infinity Stones, and they’re the most powerful things in existence. One is in Loki’s sceptre, and as you see, it’s been able to turn a few of your best men into what you have called ‘flying monkeys.’ They are dangerous and if in the wrong hands, can create catastrophic events throughout our knowable universe.”

Letting the knowledge sink in as if you were listening to science fiction theories, you pressed Thor to go on, “What’s that got to do with us?”

Thor grimaced, as if the answer tasted bitter rolling off his tongue, “He believes that they are here on Earth. If these stones got into Loki’s hands, it would be the end of your life here on this planet.”

You processed this sudden turn of events, sitting silently as you plotted a way to prevent Loki from getting these so-called Infinity Stones, even though you strongly doubted something so powerful would be casually sitting on your planet without your knowledge, “On Earth? Seriously? Out of all the planets and solar systems and shit, why would they be here? Don’t you think we’d know about them?”

“You only just found out about them, and you’re not a regular person. So, no, you wouldn’t know about them. Especially if they’re safe.” Although you had just met the rock-solid God, you could sniff the honesty coming off of him as if you’d known him for years.

Sitting back in your chair as if hit by a literal brick wall of information, you turned to Fury, “What the fuckin’ hell do we do now?”

Fury raised his eyebrow, thinking over the scenarios in his head, “We plan a meeting and discuss. I’m going to gather the team. We meet in fifteen minutes.”

And without another word, Fury left you in deafening silence with Thor.

- - -

Within fifteen minutes, Fury stuck true to his word, and the rest of the Avengers had groggily piled into the room. Thor explained the Infinity Stone situation and how they worked, even talking once more about Loki’s sceptre — which apparently homed the ‘Mind Stone.’ That explains the mind control.

“Has he mentioned the Infinity Stones to you, Y/N?” Tony asked, sarcasm laced in his voice almost in disbelief of the turn of events.

“Nope,” I replied casually, popping the P, “I haven’t really spoken to him much, so maybe next time I’ll try to bring it up, I dunno.”

“No — no, we can’t let Loki know that we know,” Thor’s eyes widened as if a lightbulb went off in his head, “If he finds out we’re onto him, he can very easily cause irreversible damage. I mean, I’ve never seen Loki willingly sit in a cage like this, it’s probably a part of his plan. So, we keep our mouths closed and let events unfold, I’d say.”

“Let events unfold?” Fury spoke up, “We are not letting that psychopath sit back and live his little life in that cage as if it were freakin’ Disneyland. Y/N, you’re going back in there for conversation. Find out the location of the Infinity Stones and his plan with them.”

I ran a hand through my hair, sitting upright with a tight smile, “Fury, I hate to disagree with you, but... I disagree with you. Look, Thor’s right, we can’t let him know we’re onto him about this because he can easily just... get out of here, or call his little backup boys or something. I’ll go talk to him and try my best to get everything that I can from him, but I doubt he’ll give in that easily,” I let out a sigh, trying my best to ignore the looks that everyone was giving me, “Just, give me a few days.”

And that’s exactly what Fury did.

-

Sitting face to face with Loki got less intimidating every time I did it. Probably because he looked sicker every time I saw him. Not that he was any less captivating — his blue eyes held numerous mysterious emotions and the smirk on his lips proved that he had secrets I wanted to know, but the fact that he looked as if his entire life was crumbling before his eyes made me feel like my job might just get a little easier.

“You’re back,” Loki smirked at me as I walked into the room. For the first time in about three days, I wasn’t wearing a tactical suit — meaning I didn’t feel as on edge, my body finally getting to experience comfort. My y/h/c hair flowed loosely down my shoulders and rested on my plain white t-shirt which was tucked into a tight pair of jeans.

“Yeah, hi,” I smiled, my mind replaying what Nat and I discussed this morning. 

Be kind to him. Understand him. Relate to him. 

Relating to Loki might be the toughest challenge out of the three, but my mind was witty enough to come up with something that made sense.

“I’ve persuaded them to let you eat if you want,” I smiled, looking down at the brown paper bag in my hand and held it out, “I’ve got a bagel and a hashbrown. I don’t know if you even eat, but this is good shit in my opinion.”

“I do not want it, but I appreciate the effort, Y/N.”

The way my name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down my spine, and I mentally smacked myself for focusing on it. He sat in the corner of the cell, leaning against the glass wall with his green cloak wrapped around him. His eyes looked more sunken in than last time I saw him and a part of me felt bad knowing he was probably losing his mind in here.

“If ever you do need anything, though, you can ask me — I know how to get my way with these people,” I smiled at him as kindly as I could, sitting down in the small chair in front of the glass.

He chuckled, eyes raking over my body quickly before locking back with mine, “Change of heart from our last conversation, wouldn’t you say?”

Now it was my turn to laugh slightly, remembering the last time I spoke to him and how different the encounter was, “Doesn’t change the fact that you will do as I say, but, I am human and I do have feelings. I’m not too good at the ‘being mean’ part. Even though I act like it.” That was totally a lie — I could slam and call out people in an instant — but I needed to play the role of a sweetheart if I wanted to get him to believe I had good intentions. 

“You don’t seem like someone who has trouble being mean,” Loki scoffed, shrugging his shoulders backwards.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I raised an eyebrow at him, glaring him down as best as I could.

“Decipher it however you want,” he leaned his head backwards and gave me a weak smile. Something about him looked incredibly off and as much as it seemed like he was faking it for help, a tiny sliver of my mind told me he was being genuine and he needed help.

“Uh, so, how have you been?” I tried to strike up a casual conversation, still trying to figure out a way to pop the Infinity Stones in. 

He gave me a quizzical look, “Just peachy. What do you think? I’m bored.”

I smiled down at the ground, an idea popping into my head, “Well, what if we played a game? To get to know each other? Like, Never Have I Ever or 20 questions?” 

Loki rolled his eyes, “No, thank you. You seem incredibly boring.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” I scoffed, flicking a strand of my hair over my shoulder, “I’m bored too, this will give me something to do.”

Loki’s eyes flickered with an idea, and as he opened his mouth I knew I’d regret giving him the option to play.

“What do I get out of this?” He smirked coyly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rolling my eyes, I pointed to the brown bag on the floor, “Food, duh.” There was nothing else I could possibly offer Loki — nothing that was good, anyways. I knew he’d ask to set him free, but that was not an option in anyone’s books.

“Not good enough, princess,” he shook his eyes, eyes playfully tracing my figure.

“Well,” I began, “You also get me as a friend!” 

The playful smile disappeared from his face, “Oh, yeah, that’s totally what I want.”

“Stop being a bitch, Loki, and just ask me a question.”

He placed his fingers on his chin as if pondering the situation for a moment before his eyes lit up and he shot me a toothy grin, the dark ideas swirling around his mind ready to break free from their cages. Was I going to regret this? Yeah, probably. Was I going to back down? No.

“Fine, let’s play.”

Taglist

(message me if you want to be added/removed. If you are in bold it is because I am unable to tag you.)

@dapperappleton​ @what-a-fantasy​ @the-girl-of-many-fandoms1414​ @brighteyedmichelle​ @leasly​ @cassiopeia-barrow​ @jay-the-mothafuckin-gay​ @themusingsofmany​ @bambamwolf87​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​ @cyberskeletonhandsbat @ultracarpediemfan​ @vgirl-10123​ @bangvateez​ @leximills666​ @littleredstarfish​ @blue-spider-official​ @benji-booxx​ @gorgeousgodzilla​  @what-a-fantasy​​ @hello-lemons​​ @yandereforyou​​​ @godhateskyleigh​​

[energeez]

Rockstar Punched Tropical Guava

“like opening up a bag of gummies”

9.5/10

hello everyone, and welcome to my first ever review on this account! today, i’ll be reviewing the Rockstar Punched Tropical Guava energy drink!

As an FYI, my reviews will normally be based on 4 things: energy kick, flavour, scent and health. keep this in mind as i go into the review <3

First thing i feel like i have to talk about is the scent of this guy!!! it’s a VERY strong smell, one that I immediately picked up as soon as i opened up the can. The best possible simile i could use when describing this scent is like opening up a bag of gummies. the scent is sickly sweet and even though this turn some people off, i personally loved it! i’ve had this drink three times in the past two days and every time i’ve spent far too long smelling it instead of actually drinking it. This scent is so strong that I can smell it right now, as I’m typing this out. I have just finished a can of this drink, so it’s quite literally empty, and yet I can still smell it. Thank god the smell is nice!! The flavour of this drink tastes just like it’s smell - sickly sweet and gummy-ish. This is honestly the best way I could describe it. If really sweet drinks aren’t your thing, you most definitely won’t like this. I can be a bit iffy on sweet things, but again I personally love this drink! the flavour is also equally as strong as the smell, but it still holds that energizing taste to kick you into gear for a bit.

The caffeine level in Rockstar’s Punched Tropical Guava is at about 160mg, which is 2x more than a can of Red Bull but more than half under the amount in a Redline Energy Drink. This is about the same amount of caffeine seen in other popular energy drinks like Monster. Similar to those other drinks, the caffeine in this drink certainly energized me for a while. As I’m writing this, it’s 8:37pm, and I’ve been energized since I first had it today (at around 3:40pm). So, I’d definitely recommend this drink if you’re looking for a decent amount of energy to keep you goin! however, i should warn that the crash hits pretty hard, or for me at least it did. i practically knocked out as soon as i hit the bed, and there’s no doubt i’ll be doing the exact same tonight.

The calorie count of this drink is practically the same as almost every other energy drink out there, with the exception of those “no sugar” variants. Whilst I know the scent and strength of the sweet flavour may not be for everyone, for me it’s a personal favourite amongst the energy drinks i’ve tried. 

I give this drink a 9.5/10 stars due to just how much I adore this drink! The can is very pretty, it smells incredible and tastes delicious, all whilst still providing that nice energy buzz you’d expect from a normal energy drink! The only reason why I didn’t rate it a 10/10 is due to the calories of it. Whilst it is the same as most other energy drinks, I would’ve rated it a perfect score if it was a bit healthier in that regard.

Thank you for reading this review! :)

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Problem-Solver || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader & Brian May x fem!Reader

summary || you thought that brian and roger would be able to share, but their jealousy starts to get the better of them. maybe having a friends-with-benefits arrangement with two guys who live in the same house was a bad idea.

rating || some heavily implied sexual content, but that’s all. plenty of talking about feelings, though.

word count || 4.7k

author’s notes || and finally, another instalment in the try series! although this can be read on its own. i do a lot of changing and shifting with timeline stuff as i edit, so if there’s so discrepancies in that regard, please let me know! it’s hard to keep track of it. this instalment is more of an exposition-y thing, but i liked writing it, and it needs to be posted for the upcoming instalments to make sense.

masterlist

     “You’re what?”

    You took a sip of wine, nodding. “Yeah.”

    Veronica stared at you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Then she laughed, a high-pitched, disbelieving laugh. “You’re sleeping with both of them.”

    “Yep.”

    “Brian and Roger.”

    “Uh-huh.”

    Veronica laughed again. “I– How? I mean, I know how you and Brian… Well, I know that you and Brian were – doing that, but I found that out from Roger. Who told everyone because he was making fun of you.”

    You hummed in thought, taking another sip of wine. “As if turns out, Roger was making fun of us because he was jealous.”

    “And how on Earth did you find that out?”

    “I slept with him.”

    Veronica made a strangled sound of surprise, and then leant back on the couch, shaking her head. “I am… shocked. Absolutely shocked.”

    “Are you, though?” you said.

    Veronica’s eyes went even wider. “Yes, I’m shocked! You’re casually sleeping with two of your friends. Who live together.”

    “That’s not that weird, is it?”

    “It’s fairly unusual, yeah!” Veronica sighed heavily, and gulped her wine. You waited in silence, letting her process it. 

    She looked to you. “Do they know about it?”

    “Does who know about it?”

    “Does Brian know that you have this thing with Roger, and vice versa?”

    “Oh, yeah, of course,” you said with a shrug. “It’d be ridiculous to try to hide it from them. Schedule clashes, y’know? Couldn’t exactly hide why I’m over at their place from the other person either. And anyway, the way I wound up sleeping with Roger in the first place is because Brian and I decided that I should try to. To find out if he… was jealous or not.”

    “Blimey,” Veronica muttered into her wine, shaking her head. “Honestly, I find one boy is enough to keep me busy. I can’t imagine two.”

    “Yeah, but Deaky’s your boyfriend, that’s different,” you said. “There isn’t that extra emotional stuff. I don’t have to worry about date night or meeting the parents or anything like that. It’s just casual sex.”

    “How do you even have the time?”

    “I figure it out somehow. And Brian and I do some of the same subjects, so he helps me study.” Not that all of those study sessions wind up being that productive, you thought to yourself with a smile.

    “Well, is it going all right, then?” Veronica asked. “They’re not fighting over you?”

    You sighed. “Uh… For the two weeks, it was fine, no problems. A bit of negotiation around who I see and when, but it settled down well enough by the second week. Then after that, things started getting a little… I don’t know.”

    “Wait, how long has this been going on for?” Veronica interjected.

    “Me and Brian?” you said. “About, um, almost six months? And Roger, a month-ish. Just under.”

    “And you’re only just telling me?”

    You pouted. “Yes, I know, I’m sorry.”

    Veronica tutted. “Okay, well, go on.”

    “They’re not… fighting over me,” you said. “It’s not that, like, territorial. Ugh. It’s more like they’re – I dunno – unsure? Like they don’t know how to deal with everything? I don’t know if they talk about any of it in private, but right now, when the three of us are in the same room together, even if other people are there, it feels like there’s this big, huge elephant in the room. I don’t expect them to talk about it or anything, but I’m just hoping it doesn’t become a bigger problem. I’m more than happy to discuss whatever they like, and we do these check-ins where we ask each other how we’re doing, like, emotionally and stuff, which Roger took some getting used to, honestly, but it’s always only in relation to each other and the friends-with-benefits arrangement. Not with anything else, you know? So Brian’s name wouldn’t come up in a check-in with Roger, for instance, because it’s more about what’s between me and Roger in that moment. Yeah?”

    “Yeah,” Veronica said slowly. “But what if Brian’s this sort of unspoken thing between you, and Roger just hasn’t said anything? Or the other way around?”

    You frowned. “Usually we’re all pretty good with check-ins. I’ve never had reason to doubt their honesty before.”

    “It’s not being dishonest, necessarily,” Veronica said. “Just… I don’t know. I’d be wary if the tension between them got any worse. Just be careful, okay?”

    “I am being careful,” you said.

    Veronica chewed on her bottom lip, staring at you with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

    “What?” you said.

    “Roger said that you, um… you and Brian – the whole ‘Daddy’ thing? Is that really true?”

    “Ah,” you said, setting down your glass. “Well, um…”

    “You don’t have to tell me,” Veronica said quickly. “It’s just curiosity.”

    You sighed. “Um, no, it’s true. It’s a little more complicated than that, but, uh, yeah, we do that sometimes.” You hesitated, and then added with a cheeky smile, “Turns out Roger was pretty jealous of that, too.”

    “Oh my fucking…” Veronica said. She laughed. “You astound me.”

    “Oh, why, thank you,” you said, picking up your glass again to gesture to her in thanks. “But this stays between you and me, all right? Don’t tell John about any of this. God forbid the boys find out that I’ve been gossiping about them behind their backs, and then they’ll be asking all these dumb questions like, ‘Did you tell her how big my dick is?’, ‘Did she tell you any whack, freaky shit about Deaky?’”

    Veronica snorted. “No. John and I have tried a few things here and there, but I’m sure we’re as tame as can be in comparison to whatever wild shit you three get up to.”

    “‘You three’,” you scoffed. “You make it sound like we’re all sleeping together at the same time. That is not happening.”

    Veronica quirked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

    It was moments like these that you could see why she and John were such a good match. “It isn’t, thank you, you snide cow,” you said, and Veronica giggled.

    “Oh, we’ll see,” she said.

    “Fuck off!” You shoved at her, and she cackled. “As if Brian and Roger would ever willingly see each other naked.”

    “That’s your only barrier?” Veronica said. “Not the whole try-to-handle-two-guys-at-once thing? The fact that you don’t think they’d be down for it?”

    You scoffed at her, pushing her knee, more lightly than before. “Stop twisting my words.”

    “You still haven’t denied it.”

    “Ronnie!” you exclaimed indignantly.

    “Say no! Look me in the eye and say you’ve never thought about it.”

    “Get fucked.”

    “You can’t. You can’t do it. You’ve so thought about it.”

    You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and then, far too belatedly, said, “I have not.”

    Veronica grinned at you. “And have you mentioned it to either Brian or Roger that this is on your mind?”

    You gave her a look. “No! Of course I haven’t, are you mad?”

    “It’s a fair question.”

    You shook your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

    “Me?” Veronica cried. “You’re the one with this whole… business!”

    You clicked your tongue at her. “Can we drop this now?”

    “You brought it up.”

    “And now I’m ending it.”

    Veronica rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

    You raised your eyebrows at her. “Yeah, well, what are you gonna do about it?”

    She laughed, and curled her legs up against her chest. “Okay, gosh, message received. Can we watch this stupid movie now?”

    “Yes, please,” you said, leaning forward and pressing the space bar on your laptop. The Kissing Booth began to play.

    A few nights later, you had a small get-together at your place, just with Veronica, the boys, and a couple of uni friends. You didn’t want to say you’d jinxed anything in your conversation with Veronica, but it was hard not to think it when you noticed Roger and Brian getting increasingly testy with each other as the night went on. Every time you were alone for more than two seconds with one of them, the other would find an excuse to barge in. You weren’t even looking to hook up tonight, and they both knew it, but apparently, having a one-on-one conversation was too much to bear.

    It was royally pissing you off.

    Your other guests started to notice, too – especially Veronica, who kept giving you smug, knowing looks, which weren’t helping your increasingly sour mood.

    But you let it slide for tonight. It wasn’t unusual for Brian and Roger to bicker, and, although you did seem to be the root cause of their fighting, you decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, just this once.

    The next week, it was your night with Roger. Wednesday nights were Veronica and John’s date night, Freddie had a class that went late and he always went to the pub with his classmates afterwards, and Brian had a study session. So you and Roger made use of the empty house, making out on the couch. Neither of you were in a hurry to escalate things at this point – Roger seemed far more invested in trying to find your most ticklish spot with his tongue, making you laugh.

    “Oh, wait,” he gasped. “Can you lie down?”

    “Flat?” you said, shifting into position, Roger standing up to give you room.

    “Yeah. Like that.”

    You gave him a look. “Okay. And?”

    “I knew a girl once who had a really weird thing…” He held your hip, and began curiously prodding the flesh around your hipbone with his thumb.

    “What weird thing?”

    “She was really ticklish, like, here?” He pressed his thumb hard into you, and you yelped far too loudly, batting his arm away.

    Roger laughed. “You’re ticklish there too!”

    “I – I never knew,” you said, laughing, but deeply confused. “Wait, do it again.”

    He did, and, sure enough, your nerves went wild, and you squeaked. “Oh, whoa,” you said, looking down at your hip with wide eyes. “That’s so weird.”

    “I know, right?” Roger said. He grinned, waggling his eyebrows, and knelt on the couch, slotting his knee between your thighs. “Can crack that one open later.”

    “Sure, if you want to take me completely out of the mood,” you said dryly.

    “Tickling can be sexy, can’t it?”

    “Not to me. Why, do you find it sexy?”

    “If I can watch you and another equally hot woman to tickle each other while in your underwear, sure.”

    You slapped his thigh. “Arsehole.”

    “I’m joking, I’m joking,” Roger said. “I don’t mind it sometimes, but I can’t say it really gets me going, personally.”

    “So we agree.”

    Roger hummed, and lent forward, hovering above you, the conversation clearly already forgotten. “Do you ever get tied to the bed?”

    “Yeah, all the time.”

    “And we haven’t tried it yet?” Roger shook his head. “Despicable.”

    “Have you ever been tied to the bed?”

    Roger’s eyes went dark, and he sucked in a breath. “No.”

    You bit your lip, slipping your hands under his shirt. “Well.”

    Roger hummed again, a thoughtful noise, and leant down to kiss you softly.

    You were just getting lost in the kiss when there was the sound of keys in the door. You and Roger barely had time to react, scrambling away from each other, when the door slammed open, and Brian strode in.

    “Oh,” he said, far too casually for how aggressively he’d opened the door. “Hey, guys.”

    You sighed in relief. You didn’t really ever want to get caught in a situation where you’d have to explain your arrangements to Freddie or John. That being said, you weren’t all too pleased about interrupted, either.

    Brian gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Forgot you two, uh… Forgot it was your night.” He closed the door firmly behind him, and tossed his keys onto the kitchen table. They clattered against the wood.

    Roger cleared his throat. “Well, yeah, it’s our night, so.”

    “Yep.”

    “So you’re heading out again soon, I assume.”

    “Uh.” Brian cocked his head, thinking. “Mm, nope, don’t think so.” He seemed a little out of breath, like he’d hurried home.

    “Well, that’s fine with me,” Roger said sharply, reaching for you. “We’ll just continue where we left off. You don’t mind, Brian, do you?”

    “Rog,” you said lowly. “Let’s go to your room, yeah?”

    Roger seemed all too happy to give you his attention, although it seemed a little too attentive to be entirely natural. “Sure, sweetheart, whatever you like.”

    You both got to your feet, and Roger took your hand and started leading you to his room.

    You could feel Brian’s heavy gaze on the both of you, but, luckily, he stayed silent.

    On Friday, it was your night with Brian. You should have guessed that a similar event would have happened as on Wednesday, but it didn’t occur to you until Roger kicked the door open, his arms loaded with a twenty-four pack of beer. “Hey guys,” he said amicably. “Sorry, I assumed you’d be in Brian’s room by now. Taking your time tonight, are we, Brian?”

    As it was, you and Brian were sitting on the couch, just chatting. You liked to play with Brian’s hands on nights like these, liked to see Brian’s eyes drink in your face. Liked to let the tension build.

    But the tension was gone now, like a burst balloon.

    A dark cloud swept over Brian’s face. “Fuck off, will you?” he said to Roger.

    “Just making conversation, mate.” Roger set the case down on the table. “Either of you want a beer?”

    Brian sighed, and turned to Roger. “Can you just bloody leave us alone?”

    Roger raised his eyebrows. “Oh, sorry, it’s all right when you do it…”

    “I’ll have a beer,” you cut in sharply.

    Brian gave you a quizzical look, and it gave you an idea.

    Maybe it was time to nip this whole stupid thing in the bud. “Actually, Roger, why don’t you join us?” you said.

    Roger paused, taken aback. “Huh?”

    “What are you doing?” Brian whispered.

    “Yeah, come on,” you said, waving Roger over. “Grab us a couple beers.”

    Roger’s gaze flicked between you and Brian, and then he said, “Um. Ye– All right, yeah.” He tore open the case and grabbed three cans.

    He sat down on the single couch, and handed out the beers.

    You cracked yours open and took a big gulp. “Cheers,” you said, licking your lips. Your heart was hammering away with nerves – you didn’t quite know why you were so nervous, but perhaps it was the prospect of a big argument breaking out – and you took another drink to calm yourself.

    Neither Brian nor Roger had opened their drinks, staring at you unsurely.

    “Well, go on, then,” you urged them, and, mechanically, they both opened their beers and started drinking.

    “So,” you said with a contented sigh, “how was your day, Rog?”

    The boys slowly warmed up to the idea of just sitting and having a drink and a chat. You could still feel Brian’s frowns on your face – he probably felt a little cheated out of the evening that he’d pictured – but you were able to ignore it well enough.

    The beer helped lubricate the conversation.

    After an hour, you wondered if you could genuinely get away with avoiding a big talk about everything. Maybe Roger and Brian were fine. They seemed to be getting along perfectly well now. Maybe they’d just been having a rough time, or maybe they’d been in disagreement about something else and that was leaking into their arrangements with you, maybe–

    “So what kind of stuff have you two done?” Roger said, gesturing between you and Brian with his beer. “Y’know, the weird freaky shit?”

    You swallowed an exasperated groan.

    “I don’t think that’s any of your business, actually,” Brian said tersely.

    “Nah, come on. We’ve done so much already, haven’t we? And it’s only been a month.”

    “Roger,” Brian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “we have clearly done far more than you two would have done. By far. It’s not even a competition.”

    “You’ve just been fucking for longer,” Roger said. “Doesn’t count. You have to go from the first month. No, the three weeks, even. Just the first three weeks.”

    “I can’t remember all the stuff we did in the first three weeks,” Brian said. “It was so long ago. Because we’ve been fucking for so long.”

    “I bet, in the three weeks we’ve been fucking, we’ve done just as much as you have in your five months of fucking.”

    “God,” you muttered into your drink.

    “Six, actually,” Brian said. “And I bet you haven’t.”

    “I bet we have.”

    “Bet she hasn’t fucked you up the arse yet.”

    Roger’s mouth fell open. “She what?”

    You gave Brian a bewildered look. “Brian!”

    “With a strap-on,” Brian said proudly.

    Roger turned to you, a look of betrayal on his face. “Why haven’t you fucked me up the arse yet?” he protested. “I’d be so good at it, I promise.”

    Jesus Christ. “I di– I haven’t fucked anyone up the arse, thank you,” you said, shooting a pointed look to Brian. “Brian’s just lying.”

    “I’m not lying,” Brian said.

    “She just said she hasn’t fucked you up the arse when you said she did,” Roger said.

    “We’ve talked about it,” Brian said. “Right? We’ve talked about it.”

    “We… Well, yes, we have,” you muttered. “But that’s very different to actually doing it.”

    “Have to talked about it with Roger?”

    “Maybe,” Roger jumped in. “We– We might’ve. Maybe? Have we? I think we have.”

    “Can we stop?” you said. “Please? This is already weird and uncomfortable.”

    “I can’t believe you,” Roger shot at Brian. “You’ve made her uncomfortable.”

    “She wasn’t talking about me, clearly,” Brian said.

    “And can you both stop talking about me as if I’m not here?” you snapped. “‘She’ the cat’s fucking mother.”

    The boys fell silent.

    You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Of course there are going to be – differences. Between my… relationship with you, Brian, and my relationship with you, Roger. It wouldn’t make any sense if they were the same, because you two are not the same, and how I – how I interact with you and… what makes me feel – makes us feel happy and comfortable and all that good stuff is different for each of you. With each of you. You’re not in contest with each other, all right?”

    Brian and Roger glanced at each other.

    “I can’t believe I even have to spell this out for you,” you added, and, oh dear, here comes the big talk. “I thought it would be – manageable, at least, to have this sort of relationship with the two of you, because I thought you both would be mature enough to handle it. Honestly, my only thoughts were how you both – how we all would deal with the risk of getting in too deep, emotionally, rather than you two squaring off like– like some kind of animal. Like…” You shook your head. “Whatever… Whatever male animals fight each other in the wild. Moose. Do male moose fight each other?”

    You looked to them, and they stared blankly at you.

    It took them a second to realise they expected an answer, and they both spoke at the same time.

    “I– I dunno,” Roger said.

    “Yes, they do,” Brian said.

    “You’re like a pair of… mooses. Mooses?”

    “Moose,” Brian supplied. “You just said it before.”

    “Whatever.” You sat back on the couch, and raised your eyebrows at the boys. “Honestly, right now, I’m struggling to understand why I could be bothered to deal with any of this. We’ve had a good run, right? Maybe it’s time we all let this go.”

    Brian and Roger spoke at the same time again.

    “Whoa, hey, let’s not…”

    “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

    You shrugged. “Friends-with-benefits are temporary, anyway. We all knew that going into this. Maybe I want to start looking for an actual partner, y’know? Actually date someone.”

    “But do you?” Brian said. “Or are you just tired to us fighting?”

    You chewed on your bottom lip.

    If nothing else, he could read you like a book.

    “If that’s really what you want,” Roger said carefully, “then we’ll respect that–”

    “Of course,” Brian said, nodding emphatically.

    “–but, I don’t know, we haven’t even tried talking it out.”

    “This is starting to sound awfully like an actual relationship,” you muttered.

    “But it’s not,” Roger said. “Because I… We don’t…” He looked to Brian, lost.

    Brian watched you with soft eyes. “Check-in,” he murmured.

    You matched his gaze, and sighed. “Honestly? No, I don’t have feelings for you, and I never have. Same with you, Rog. But I don’t know if I’m entirely happy with how things are right now. It’s been more stress than I want, or need.”

    Brian nodded once. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t have feelings for you, either. But I care about you deeply. You’re one of my closest friends, and I really enjoy the time we spend together. No matter what we’re doing. And…” He took a breath. “And I admit that I have been feeling jealous of Roger lately. Irrationally so. I think part of me thought that you started your arrangement with Roger because you were growing bored of me, or I wasn’t good enough in some way, and instead of talking to me about it, you’d decided to start sleeping with my flatmate. To…” He swallowed, dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap. “To annoy me, maybe. Even though I know – I know that’s something you wouldn’t do, because you care about me, and you’ve been extremely open with your feelings since day one, which is something I respect. A lot.”

    Veronica had hit the nail on the head, it seemed. “How long have you been feeling like that?” you asked.

    Brian hesitated. “A while. Not at first, but maybe after a week or so.”

    “So during our check-ins, you were, what, lying? About how you were feeling?”

    “I wasn’t… lying,” Brian said. “I just wasn’t saying the whole truth. And I’m sorry. That wasn’t right, or fair, and it wasn’t respecting our rules, I understand that.”

    You sighed, thinking this over. Your eyes flicked to Roger. “Rog?” you said. “What about you?”

    Roger drummed a frantic beat on his knees. “Uh…” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s– I’ve been jealous of Brian. I know how much history you two have, and I – I think I wanted that, maybe? Or felt like I had to live up to it somehow? I… I guess I just felt that I’d never be able to compete with that, so you’d ditch me soon enough. Guess I wasn’t really thinking about the fact that what we have is so different from what you and him have.” He rubbed the back his neck. “I’m sorry.”

    You nodded to yourself, then took a drink. You swallowed, felt it slide down your throat, a faint coolness brushing down the centre of your chest. You could feel two pairs of eyes watching you, like skittish horses eyeing up a snake.

    You set the can down on the coffee table, and then said, “Okay. Well. At least we’re all being honest now. About fucking time.”

    “So… what’s next?” Roger said.

    You thought for a moment. “I’m not sure,” you admitted. “But I think you two should apologise to each other, for starters.”

    Roger and Brian looked to each other, and then away, both muttering apologies.

    “Properly,” you said. “Haven’t you two ever apologised to each other before?”

    “I don’t think so, no,” Brian said.

    You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jesus, that explains a lot.” You nodded towards them. “Go on, then. Kiss and make up.”

    They met each other’s eyes. “Sorry,” Brian said.

    “Sorry too,” Roger said.

    They looked to you.

    You stared back. “Don’t look at me,” you said bluntly. “What am I, your mother?”

    Roger sighed, and turned to Brian again. “I’m sorry for being a prick,” he said. “I was acting out when I should’ve – talked about how I was feeling. You’re my mate, and you’re all right most of the time, and it wasn’t right of me. So I’m sorry.”

    Brian’s face softened. “I’m sorry too,” he said, and he sounded so sincere that you saw a blush of embarrassment crawl up Roger’s neck.

    Good Lord, they truly hadn’t ever properly apologised to each other.

    “I was being just as much of a prick as you,” Brian continued. “I wasn’t thinking about how you would’ve been feeling in this situation, and that was shitty of me. I should’ve talked about it, too. And I’m sorry that it’s taken someone else’s intervention for us to actually properly apologise to each other for the first time literally the whole time we’ve been friends.”

    “Yeah,” Roger said with a chuckle. “We should… We should work on that.”

    “Yeah, probably,” Brian said.

    You couldn’t help but smile. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

    “Feels gross, actually,” Roger said, screwing up his nose, and you laughed.

    “It does feel… It feels good,” Brian said. He patted Roger on the knee, slightly awkwardly. “I… I care about you, Rog,” he said. “You’re a good mate, and I’m lucky to have you around.”

    “Oh, shut up,” Roger said. “Bloody sentimental old man.”

    Brian laughed.

    It was time to help lighten the mood. “Now kiss and make up.”

    “We just did,” Brian said.

    You waggled your eyebrows. “No,” you said slowly, “kiss and make up.”

    Both boys took a moment to understand your meaning, and then they broke out into spluttering and stuttering, leaning as far away from each other as they could, shaking their heads dramatically, both of their faces turning red.

    “I’m joking!” you exclaimed. “I’m joking, I’m joking. Jeez. Sorry for making such an offensive suggestion.”

    “It’s not offensive,” Brian said. “It’s just–”

    “Weird and disgusting,” Roger said. He looked to Brian. “No offence, mate. You’re just not my type.”

    “Oh, none taken,” Brian said. He shook his head at you. “You’re filthy.”

    Your mouth fell open as Roger laughed. “Brian! I was just making a joke, you pig!”

    “I knew you were into some weird shit, but watching your two male friends kiss each other…”

    “I was joking.” Aw, fuck. You’d really walked right into this one.

    “This is what you were leading up to the whole time, weren’t you?” Roger said. “I knew it. You couldn’t help yourself. Brian and I are just too bloody delicious for you to resist.”

    Brian burst out laughing. “Eugh, don’t call me delicious!”

    “I’m not calling you that, I’m saying that–”

    “You just called me that!”

    “I called us both that, Brian, I didn’t just sit here and call you delicious.”

    “That’s what you did!”

    “I di– We’re on the same side here, you fucking bastard!”

    You were laughing, hard, but the tense ball of anxiety had just relaxed in the pit of your stomach, and the beer was starting to get to your head, so you couldn’t help it if you laughed a bit more than the banter really warranted.

    sorry we didn’t really have the night u were expecting, you texted Brian the next day. did u want to make up for it?

    It’s all right, he replied an hour later. It was a night that needed to happen. And I always like spending time with you, so I count it as a night well spent, regardless.

    You smiled to yourself. i think it needed to happen too. i’m glad it did. can u two legit talk about shit if it starts getting in the way again? please?

    Yes. I’m sorry you had to do that.

     it’s fine, I just don’t want to have to make a habit of it ok?

    I completely understand. But thank you, anyway.

    it’s ok.

    You went to put your phone away, but then it buzzed once more.

    Not to go back on what I just said, but can I show you how grateful I am? Brian had texted. Or perhaps tell you over the phone tonight?

    A thrill bubbled through you. I think I can make time for that.

    I’m glad to hear it. I’ll text you later.

    You grinned, and pocketed your phone.

[pseudofaux]

if you're still taking requests, if you're up for it, if i could request something spicy or spicy-ish with darling Nobuyuki and MC and 'claim'? I feel nervous giving prompts, but maybe during a big celebration of some sort (or later after the celebration) with Shingen and other retainers pushing this tenderest of demon's buttons in regards to HIS wife, though his angel-face certainly doesn't reveal it. Bonus suggestions: MC preferring Nobuyuki to keep her close around samurai and spicy marking?

FINALLY, I FLING MYSELF DOWN IN MY HAPPIEST PLACE (Nobuyuki writing) FACE FIRST. Thank you so much for this! I know you love him and I love talking about him with you. I’m so glad you asked for this as part of my follower celebration and I hope you will enjoy it! [Kae asked if I’d mind writing MC to be thick thighed and. I do not. EVER. Mind doing that.]

So strong, so determined to learn the most proper way to sit and eat and demure. So shy beside him. So much a treasure.

There was something he had discovered as a child: it was pleasurable to blink slowly at the things he liked. He could savor the gentle darkness overtaking his view, appreciate and miss whatever had held his focus, and then enjoy it being revealed to him again by his own body, as though he truly were the master of all before him.

He did it now, looking at her. Her layers were peach and pink and green, somehow spring lovely and autumn stately. The maids had applied some cosmetics and he would think later on how much he liked it even though it hid part of her from him, which he knew he detested in principle. Seeing her elevated in this way, presented as his wife and looking more classically beautiful than he had been prepared for… she made his soul feel smooth as he admired her.

“Ah…” she said softly, the sound she made when she was trying to think of a delicate way to phrase her answer. Sweetest heart. He could not reach for her, the way they were seated in the hall of Tsutsujigasaki, but he could wait for her eyes to ask for help. When they did, like quick, dark birds, he slipped himself into her conversation with a boisterous Takeda retainer.

“Please excuse my wife,” Nobuyuki said. “Her journey here was arduous.”

It had been his– their– joy to make it so. From her family home to Kai, he had pushed her every night, cradling her face as he sank himself, cock and fingers and teeth and soul, into her flesh. Murmuring his affection and committing to memory the increasingly sure declarations and requests she graced him with.

There was the tiniest wariness in her look, and it made his heart sing in the same moment it pricked him like a needle, so he shook his head to reassure her. He knew what she was thinking, but their intimacy was a private thing he would never share with outsiders. Few things existed in the world that he would protect as zealously.

The retainer laughed, raucous but not disrespectful. When he shuffled away, they were a little bit alone while the feast went on around them.

“Never fear,” he said, because she was so new to her place and so dear to his heart. “You are doing well. Your practice shows.” She inclined her head and it set her new bira bira tinkling, which set him grinning. He’d given the kanzashi to her with a promise to make it chime an afternoon’s worth of songs when she wore it, and before they made their way into the hall she had looked at him deliberately, beautifully boldly, and slid it into her hair. She touched the ends of the chimes to make them call to him. He did not think she understood how much he liked that.

He wondered if the swell of her thighs felt constrained by her clothes. There was a firework of kisses and nip marks on her left leg, handiwork he loved to think over and considered never allowing to fade. Last night he had truly thought to content himself with leaving one new mark in the perfect middle between her hip and her knee and then holding her as they slept, but she, with her kitchen-sure fingers, had laced his hair around her knuckles and pressed her leg up against his mouth. He played (too well?) at having an empty head sometimes, but was no fool, really, so he gave her his teeth and his tongue and he took every one of her twitches and all her muffled gasps, and then he had spilled himself inside her after all. And then held her while they slept.

Love, and the match he had found in her— these were curious blessings. Nobuyuki wore doubt like his own skin, but for her he found himself permissive of a bareness something in his heart had clearly hungered for, if the satisfaction was anything to judge by. And as he considered her satisfaction paramount, his own, woven into hers like a golden net, was worth respecting. Before her, he had denied himself so often.

A man did not have to deny himself thoughts of his wife. He certainly hoped she was not denying herself thoughts of him, and the way one of her hands was so stiff over her lap told him she was trying very hard not to think of something… Underneath her hand the fabric was indeed taut, light blessing the peach silk with a luster he wanted to touch. A swirl of leaves was painted on the fabric, each one curved so sensuously he felt like the painter must have shared his appreciation. Nobuyuki selfishly hoped the artisan shared his torment in some form as well.

He thought of his wife without any robes at all, in a bed of autumn glory, fall maple leaves and wind revealing her skin for his worship. Would she enjoy the feel of pliant red leaves slipping along her calves, or prefer the scratch of dry brown points drawing lines from her elbows to her wrists to make her shudder? If she liked it, would she try the same for him?

“Autumn suits you,” he told her without hiding the affection in his voice.

“And you,” she said back smoothly. She reached for his hand but remembered herself and put her own back in her lap. It made his heart swell and he swore to himself he would bring it up when they were alone and praise her as she deserved.

“Soon,” he promised her. “Not soon enough, but soon.”

“Soon will have to be enough for us both,” she murmured. He wanted to kiss her, but she was right. In the meantime, he was more proactive in deflecting every well-meaning retainer Shingen sent to greet them, and meeting every one of the Lord of Kai’s knowing grins with a face he made placid but allowed to be pleased.

[baronessblixen]

It’s me again asking for another prompt, but it’s only because you’re so good at it. Fluff please! Scully drops a container of yogurt on the floor in the Hoover’s cafeteria and it splashes up all over her face. She’s mortified but Mulder steps in to help.

Sorry it too me so long after all! Set in season 6-ish. But it’s just fluff! (hurt/comfort-ish fluff?). I used prompt 12 from the Fic is Medicine @xfficchallenges as well: “Let’s play hooky Scully.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

Cafeteria Mishaps

Scully has sent him to find them a table in the cafeteria and reminded him, with a stern look, to secure them one where they'd be alone. As if anyone wanted to sit with them anyway. Mulder didn't say that and just nodded. In the past, he's caught Scully gazing almost longingly at other tables where a bunch of agents sat, clique-like, deep in conversation, laughing and eating together. Nowadays her eyes are only on him – and her food – with no regards to anyone else.

He's not complaining. 

If she wants to, she can spend as much time with other people as she wants to, including their fellow agents. Here or anywhere. Scully chooses to sit with him, spend time with him. Sitting there at their table for two, he can't help but smile. He knows they're being stared at on a daily basis. He hears what they say in hushed tones with that certain look. How he's ruined Scully and her reputation. In moments of dark self-doubt, he recalls them and believes them. He knows what being associated with him costs. It costs too much. But Scully... she keeps coming back, keeps ignoring the looks, keeps staying by his side. 

Today, she is taking her sweet time. Mulder's stomach rumbles as he eyes the burger in front of him. Scully won't mind if he starts without her, but he's determined to wait for her. How long does it take to get yogurt out of the fridge? He's glad Scully stopped stirring bee pollen into it. These days it's fresh fruit and sometimes, when she feels frisky, some granola. 

When he sees her red hair bob up and down, finally, he smiles. He watches her search for him, lifts his arm, and is amazed at her own small smile once she sees him. Watching her walk towards him is an indulgence he allows himself. Sometimes, anyway. Today is one of these days. Her hips sway, mesmerizing him. 

Scully is balancing the yogurt container in one hand, the bowl of fruit and granola in the other. If this was him, he thinks, as she comes closer and closer, he'd stumble over his own feet and humiliate himself. Not his Scully though. She's beauty, she's grace, she's-

It happens quickly. Too quickly for Mulder to comprehend the scene as it plays out. One moment she's walking towards him, the next there's a loud splosh and Scully on her knees. The atmosphere in the cafeteria changes. The quiet, insistent chattering stops. There are only looks, some pitiful, some amused. Mulder's chair scrapes against the floor as he rushes to her side.

"Scully?" He whispers and yet his voice sounds like a shout. 

"I'm fine." She dabs at her face. The yogurt is everywhere, drip dropping from her nose, her hair. Someone somewhere giggles and disguises it as a cough. 

"This is so embarrassing," she whispers, staring up at him. Her face is white and her blue eyes stand out. For a moment he forgets her discomfort. She looks so damn cute. As she licks her lips, he notices the tremble in her chin. 

"This is not too bad," he says reassuringly, hoping it will help. Seeing her face, though, he knows he's made it worse. The quiver becomes worse, her bottom lip joining in on the action. Any moment now and she'll start crying. "Come on."

"I can't."

"Did you hurt yourself?" How long have they both been kneeling on the floor now? It feels like eons. There are still eyes on them but with every passing moment, the tension eases. The other agents return to their lunches and their conversations. 

Scully shakes her head. "No, but… my face. I can't- I just-" Mulder searches his pockets for a tissue and comes up empty. Quickly, he grabs a napkin from their table and hands it to Scully. "I can't see anything," she says, frustration apparent in her voice.

"I'll do it." Mulder takes the napkin from her and wipes her face with careful precision. They must be a spectacle; not that he cares. There's too much yogurt in her hair, on her blouse; it's everywhere. At least her face is visible again. "You no longer look like a ghost." He smiles at her softly and she mouth a thank you at him. But she remains kneeling on the floor. 

"Is everyone looking at us?" Mulder stares at her. She's never cared about that before. He looks around; everyone's gone back to their own issues. It's as if nothing has happened. It's just them now and he shakes his head. "No one is looking. Come on."

"Mulder, what about lunch?"

"We'll think of something." He helps her up and puts his hand on her back. Eyes shoot up again and he shields Scully from them as well as he can. Once they're in the hall, away from prying eyes, he lets out a sigh. 

"How do I look?" Scully asks him. 

Cute. Adorable. Perfect as always. 

"That bad, huh?" She smiles at his speechlessness and he smiles back. Then, without warning, she starts crying. 

"Hey, hey," he says, engulfing her in his arms, without a second thought. She smells like yogurt, like apple and berries, sweet and fresh. He doesn't care that she's smearing it all on his jacket. 

"I'm sorry," she mumbles into his clothes.

He strokes her hair, wonders how long they can stand here without causing even more talk. "Why are you sorry?"

"I overreacted. I- this is not the end of the world. It's just… some…," she's crying harder, her whole body shaking in his arms. Mulder whispers nonsense into her hair, perplexed as to why this bothers her so much. "It's the… the…," she sniffs, not getting out words.

"They will have forgotten about it at the end of the day, Scully," he promises with a kiss against her temple. "Would it help if I made a fool out of myself in the cafeteria?" She's shaking again but this time she's laughing. 

"No," she sighs. "I need to… the, uhm, the IVF is making me emotional," she admits. Mulder loosens his grip on her. "Sometimes," she adds, wiping at her eyes. "I'm still… learning to deal with it." He mentally kicks himself. He should have known. 

Mulder licks his lip, swears he tastes yogurt and gives her a reassuring smile. "Let's play hooky, Scully."

"What?" She laughs at him. 

"You need a shower," they both blush, "and new clothes. We also need to have lunch. Let's play hooky, get some real food and then…," he trails off, staring at her. 

"And then?" She presses. 

"Something fun," Mulder croaks out. "We'll do something fun."

"Think we'll find something fun we can agree on?" Scully chuckles and he's relieved to hear the sound. His hand returns to its place on her back as he steers her towards the elevator. 

"You know me," he says as the door opens, "I'm up for anything." As long as it makes you happy, he thinks, smiling at her. As if hearing his thoughts, she smiles back.

[behindheremeraldeyes]

sasusaku month 2019 day 01- far from home

tile: Revenge . summary: AU-ish scenario. Sakura has found out about Danzou’s involvement with the Uchiha massacre and while her master is still in a coma, the Haruno decides to act. She won’t forgive the new Hokage for destroying his life, and she won’t stop until that man is dead. She will kill Danzou, but she won’t do it alone. . . . A hood covered her pink head as she stood still in that dark, frozen night in the middle of a forgotten village in the Iron land, miles away from home. The streets were empty due to the harsh winter and folks were long immersed in their dreams, completely unaware of the ominous plot being developed in a dark alley nearby. Her feet were leaving white footprints on the snow below her, and as she glanced down at her feet, Haruno Sakura could feel his harsh, dusk eyes on her.

Cold, lifeless and filled with hatred, much like the winter striking that forgotten land. Those were the eyes of Uchiha Sasuke.

And even if she would normally feel threatened by them— even if she should feel threatened by them— at that very moment, the pinkette couldn’t care less, for long gone were her innocent, frightened years.

Long gone was the good girl who once cared.

He was standing just a couple feet across from her, with his back pressed against the hard bricks of an old construction. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his glare only intensified with the seconds, as the raven haired boy was clearly not happy with the unexpected reencounter. Of all people he could’ve imagined showing up around that frozen land, Sakura was definitely not on the list. He never thought she would actually travel so far away from home just to come and meet him in such a suspicious way.

He never thought she would actually come after him, especially not with that request.

No, not Sakura.

“ I want him dead.”

Her words were emotionless and he noticed how her expression didn’t change at all when they left her lips. Her body didn’t move, her breathing pattern didn’t change and the Haruno girl showed no hesitation when her emerald eyes finally met his charcoal ones. They were filled with hatred, he could see. They hungered for a blinding revenge in the same way his did, and even if she has grown stronger to save lives as a medical ninja, Sasuke could see that her healing hands were in search of blood.

His blood. “ I want Danzou dead.”

At her declaration, the Uchiha could feel his suspicious stare settling a bit. Due to the current political scenario of Konoha, the pinkette could easily go to jail just for saying such things about the man who was now the Hokage. If they found out she had actually travelled to the Iron land in order to join Sasuke— a nukenin on his way to destroy the village— to make her words real, chances were she would be sentenced to death as a traitor and her name would forever be stained by her shameful actions. She had a lot at stake for her words to be just a stupid lie.

Her past, her present and her future. Sakura could lose it all, hence there was no way her words were just another attempt on taking him back to the village.

No. Sakura is smarter than that. She wouldn’t underestimate his deduction abilities, especially not when it was clear that his eyes could read her like an open book even after all those years. He has always known when she was lying, and at that time, he was certain she was telling the truth.

She wanted a man dead. The man who was the leader of her village, and who she was supposed to protect with her life. As the loyal ninja from the Leaf she has always been, Sakura was supposed to be trying to keep him safe, not the other way around. Of course, more than anyone, Sasuke knew how repugnant Danzou could be, and he had no doubt in his heart that the world deserved to be ridden of his treacherous existence.

Sasuke knew his own reasons for taking away his life.

But what about hers?

At that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder in the world could be motivating Haruno Sakura to shove away her innocent and kind nature to give space to a shady murderer. He didn’t know, but the pinkette clearly had her reasons.

And he needed them in order to solve that puzzle she had become.

“Why?” He spoke, in a tone so low that almost got blown away by the cold wind. “ Why do you want to kill your Hokage?"

" It’s none of your business.” She shot back, not needing to spare a single second to consider answering his question.

“ If I’m going to kill him for you, I —“

“ You’re not killing him for me, Sasuke.” She snapped, her voice just high enough for him to understand her point. " I’m going with you, and I’m not asking for your permission this time. We’re doing this together. Just the two of us.”

“ Hn, and why should I just accept your words?” He crossed his arm, taking small steps towards her as if to seem intimidating. “ Why should I leave my team for you? I could kill you right now and no one would come to help you.”

His cold eyes hadn’t left hers, and she made no effort to avert them. There was a fierce shine in her emerald orbs, and he couldn’t help but find that endearing. Sakura was completely sure of herself and that new, dark confidence was leaving him oddly interested in whatever it was that she was about to say and do.

She had his full attention, for sure. And judging by the way she didn’t seem affected by his approach, it was easy to tell she could still have a lot more than just that.

“ Because you know I’m going to be more useful to you right now than your new, stupid friends.”  She spoke, confidence taking over her petite form. “ You also want him dead, Sasuke. And you need someone who’s willing to do anything to make sure that happens. I’m just trying to make things easier for both of us.”

Even if he hadn’t talked to her for over 3 years, and even if there was barely any physical resemblance to the girl he once knew; the Uchiha couldn’t help but allow her acting to disturb his senses. Sakura was showing herself to be more rational than ever, and it was as if all of her feelings were swallowed by that intense desire for revenge. There was no warmth within her. There was no hope and no kindness inside her, and at that moment, all he could see was the shell of a girl who was not going to stop until her hands were covered in blood.

For the first time in his life, his eyes were seeing the kunoichi’s potential at its fullest, not allowing any room for stupid things such as feelings or principles. She had turned into the ninja he always knew she could become if she had a consuming goal like his. It was odd to see her so lost, but it also made him proud of that new thing she had found for herself. Sakura was not going to stop until Danzou was dead, and he knew that she was going with or without his help.

There was no stopping her at that moment. And even if he hated to admit it, his ex-teammate was right when she mentioned that temporary partnership would also make things easier for him.

He also wanted Danzou dead. For being the Hokage of the village who destroyed his life and for being the direct responsible for his brother’s misery, Sasuke wanted that man to pay for his sins with his own life. He had a few information regarding Danzou’s whereabouts at that moment, and attempting to kill him with basically no background on his abilities would be hard even for the Uchiha.

Perhaps, a ninja so close to the Hokage as Haruno Sakura could be of great use, after all.

Perhaps they could commit that murder together.

“ There’s no turning back if you actually go against your Hokage, Sakura.”

“ I’m aware.”

“ And yet, you’re willing to risk it all?” He glared at her, as if trying to see through her real motivations.

“You knew about this, too, when you first left the village, Sasuke. And yet, it didn’t stop you.”

“ Hn, desertion is not the same as assassination.”

“ I know all the circumstances already. I’m not going back. Not until he’s dead.”

Her words were strong and confident, and suddenly, the Uchiha started to feel excited about this new, dark version of that girl. She was driven by this ominous force that had managed to find its way to her heart, and he suddenly found himself wishing it wouldn’t leave that soon. It was somehow beautiful to see Konoha’s precious, little kunoichi being consumed by hatred, and even if, in the end, they couldn’t really murder Danzou, killing the last fragments of who she used to be already seemed quite appealing.

Killing the purest heart of Konoha already felt like a win.

Either way, he thought, with a smirk on his face, he wanted to see the outcome.

” We’re leaving soon.” He said, then, closing his eyes in consent.

“ Hai.” She turned around, pulling the hood closer to her face. She was ready to leave that alley in order to grab her things so they could finally leave, but one, last sound caught her attention.

“ Oh, and Sakura…?” She stopped as her name rolled out of his tongue, not really bothering to turn to face him. Her hands were protected under the poncho, as she was doing her best to keep herself warm. “ Does that idiot know you’re here with me?”

“… I’ve already told you, Sasuke, it’s none of your business.” Her voice was harsh and sharp, not leaving any room for further doubts. " I don’t have to tell you or Naruto everything just because we used to be a team. Now go get ready. We don’t have much time left until he reaches the Kages’ meeting.”

“Hn… As you wish.”

                        ———————————————————

A shinobi must understand the proper time. When the enemy is tired and ill prepared, when his weapons lay forgotten in the silence of the dawn.

That is the right moment to attack.

That was their moment.

Not far from the Iron village, both the Sasuke and Sakura crawled through the complete darkness provided by a moonless sky. Dressed in their winter attires, they jumped through the tree branches in complete silence as they made their way towards their human target. The sound of their steps got mixed with the wind’s howling, and even with the harsh winter burning their faces, the blood in their veins was pumping fast enough to keep them warm.

Adrenaline was kicking in at the simple thought of what was about to happen, and to say it didn’t scare her the least, well, it would be a lie. Sakura was afraid of many things at that moment, but the one thing she feared the most was the overwhelming sensation the idea of revenge brought to her. It was intoxicating and exciting; and she wondered if that was how he’s been feeling since was just a young boy.

It felt reinvigorating. It consumed her with every step she took, sending strength to every fibre in her legs, and making sure she continued towards her macabre objective. Her eyes were as observant as ever, not missing the slightest movement of the animals that crossed their way, and she could feel all of her senses reverberating inside of her. It felt good. The action, the mystery, the thrill… It felt too fucking good, and for that, even with all the consequences she would eventually have to face, the pinkette didn’t want to stop.

She couldn’t stop, no. Not even if she wanted. Not after everything.

During their way towards Danzou’s location, Sakura caught herself staring at her partner for a little too long and a little too often. She wondered what was crossing his mind at that moment, and she wondered if he would be satisfied after killing that man who did all of those terrible things to his family. There were many things crossing her mind at that moment, and most of them— as sarcastically as it could be— were about his wellbeing.

Would he be okay after that? Would he get caught? Would he leave her behind if things went south? Deep inside, she hoped he did. If anything, Sasuke is a victim in that whole scenario where she was nothing but a mere intruder.

That’s what she has always been in his life. An intruder. In the end, she hadn’t changed at all.

In the same way Sasuke now knew about his brother’s fate, the pinkette was also aware of the sacrifices Itachi had to make in order to maintain the peace in Konoha. After the Pain’s incident and after Danzou assumed her master’s role in the village, Sakura was left to organize all the papers that had been forgotten in the depths of the Hokage’s tower. There, she found out everything regarding Itachi’s secret mission and the reason behind the Uchiha massacre. Thanks to the Sandaime, the truth was preserved in all of those documents, and by the end of that night, she was not the same girl from before.

Sakura was horrified. Tears stained her face while she read those papers, and when she got to the legist’ descriptions of the massacre, it took her a lot of control not to throw up all over the room. She was disgusted and ashamed of the village she has always called home, and after the new Hokage declared that Uchiha Sasuke was now an official criminal that had to be hunt down and killed— well, she knew she had to do something.

It might have been anger or hatred getting the best of her, but she didn’t care.

She wanted him to pay for what he did to those brothers. For destroying their love, trust and their memories; and for forcing them to fight ‘till death.

Sakura wanted him dead. And her heart wouldn’t stop racing until his body was laying lifeless in front of her.

Based on the information she had gathered back in the village, Sakura had a good idea of where Danzou would be staying, and since one of the ninjas escorting him belonged to the Aburame clan, chances were they would be camping around the forest. She didn’t really know those ninjas well— even if she had asked Ino about Yamanaka Fū— but their plan didn’t really need them to. They wanted to avoid engaging in unnecessary combat, especially against ninjas that were only puppets following orders.

And so, both the Haruno and the Uchiha tracked Danzou down for three days and two nights, stopping only to gather more information regarding the Hokage’s whereabouts. They barely spoke to each other while they moved, and yet, it was impressive to see how their synchrony was still as perfect as when they were genin. Words weren’t necessary to express their intentions, for their eyes spoke their own, silent language; the same they’ve once learned years before.

Ironically, she thought, that whole thing felt a lot like one of their missions back with the whole team 7. Gathering intel, camping outside and sneaking around in order to track and hunt down a certain criminal. It all felt very natural in her eyes, except for the fact that she had joined a nukenin and their mission was to assassinate her own Hokage. She would be the criminal after that, but at that moment, Sakura couldn’t find it in herself to care.

They had an important mission to fulfill. And no one else could do it but them.

Their third night in the woods finally led them towards their target. Silently and with their chakra levels reduced, the duo lurked in the shadows, their eyes set on a very large tent set a couple of meters below. The two ninjas that had left the village with Danzou stood outside, and for that, Sakura could tell the Hokage was in there.

Rage started to boil inside of her veins, but she knew better than to lose control at that moment. She couldn’t risk blowing up their plan, no. Not when they were so close.

Her eyes drifted to the Uchiha, then, and with a couple of hand signs they’ve learned during their younger days, she told him she was ready for the first time of their plan. He nodded, trustingly, and for a moment, they both held eye-contact for a little too long. She didn’t really know the meaning of that, but she felt her heart rate slowing down a bit, calming her nerves as she gathered more confidence in herself. After that, then, in a blink of an eye, Sakura was already on the ground, slowly making her way towards the tent. She could feel his eyes on her, and even if most people should take that a sign of bad luck, Sakura couldn’t help but feel lucky.

With her hitaiate proudly displaying the Konoha’s emblem, the Haruno approached the two ninja, who squinted their eyes at her presence. The one wearing glasses— Aburame Torune— was the first to take a step towards her, a clear attempt to keep her from continuing. “ Identify yourself.” He said, then, his voice sharp as the kunai in his hand.

“ I am Haruno Sakura. Medical Ninja of the Leaf and apprentice of the Godaime, Senju Tsunade. I’m here to bring new informations regarding her health state.” Sakura answered, no hesitation in her demeanor, as she handed a scroll to the other ninja, Yamanaka Fū. Without asking, then, he started reading the contents of the scroll, as his amber eyes carefully examined the message. After finishing, he passed the paper to his partner, who rolled the paper once he had finished reading.

“ We will deliver the scroll to the Rokudaime.” The Yamanaka said, his voice a bit softer than his partner’s. " You can leave now.”

“ Forgive me, but I request to see Danzou-sama. I still have another information I need to deliver.”

“ Tell us and we will make sure it gets to him.” Torune said, not wanting to let her through.

“ I have direct orders to deliver this message in person.”

“ Orders from whom?” He questioned her, clearly not trusting her intentions.

“ It does not concern you. In the same way you have your orders, I have mine.”

“ What are your intentions with the Hokage, Haruno Sakura?”

“ You shouldn’t be asking me such question, Yamanaka Fū.” She glared at the ninja in front of her, not feeling intimidated at all. “ We are all ninjas of the Leaf, after all. We are loyal to the Hokage."

Her emerald eyes clashed against Fū’s amber ones, and even if she was clearly outnumbered, she didn’t back off. Her breathing pattern didn’t change, her heart rate was controlled and there was no sign of alarm in her body. She is a very skilled ninja, after all. She was trained to maintain confident, and at that moment, that confidence made the difference.

“ Very well.” Torune said, returning the scroll and stepping away from the entrance. “ You can pass, but be quick. The Rokudaime needs to rest for tomorrow.”

“ Hai.” She nodded, then, not bothering to spare at glance at either of them. The pinkette made her way inside the large tent, and as expected, she was soon greeted by his horrendous presence.

Danzou was sitting just a couple of meters in front of her, his feet placed underneath his body, and at that moment, she had to fight back the urge to attack him right there. He was wearing that same, dark robe and his right eye was bandaged for a reason she did not know. His cane rested a couple of centimeters away from his hand, as he slowly took a sip from his tea. Watching him so peacefully living his life made rage boil in her veins, but still, she managed to keep her facade, kneeling down in front of him as a sign of respect. She lowered her head, then, eyes on the ground, as she felt his gaze finally setting upon her.

“ Good Evening, Hokage-sama.” She started, venom hidden in her voice. “ I bring you news from Konoha regarding the Godaime’s health condition.”

“ I’ve heard you outside, Haruno Sakura. Proceed.”

“ Hai. After a group of medical ninjas healed her over the night, Tsunade-sama has finally recovered and is now awake.”

“ Oh, Tsunade is awake, then…”

“ Yes. She’s ready to reassume her position as the Hoakge of the Leaf, as she’s preparing to attend the Kage Summit herself. You may return home, Lord Danzou.”

For a moment, his breathing pattern was the only thing she could hear inside that tent. She noticed the way it changed as she went on, and she wondered if he was buying that lie. Was he simply going to accept her words and give up on his position as the current Hokage? Probably not, but she was already expecting that from him.

“ I see. They’re expecting me to return, then. Will you escort me back too, child?”

“ If that’s what you wish, then, I will.”

“I understand…” He started, then, slowly standing up with the help of his cane. Sakura could tell there was more coming from him based on the ominous tone of his voice, and at that moment, she already knew the answer to her previous question. “ You see, being the head of the Ne for so long has taught me a couple useful things in life… I’ve seen a lot, I’ve heard a lot, and most of all, I’ve learned a lot of valuable things over the years.” He continued, taking a step forward towards her. “ And if there is one thing I’ve learned, child, is not to trust people. Especially not people like you. You’re lying, young girl. Your master is not awake.”

A new silence was spread inside the tent, enveloping them in a delicate aura of distrust, as if he was waiting for her to try to defend herself. He wanted to listen to her pleas and he wanted to see her making a fool of herself, but nothing came out of her mouth. At that moment, the pinkette knew there was no use in denying his words. He had seen right through her, but that didn’t affect her. Sakura knew that moment was going to come, eventually, and for that, she was prepared to deal with whatever was about happen.

“ Stand up, child.” He continued, then, his voice still calm and objective. “ Give up on this stupid act and at least look me in the eye.”

Without saying anything, the girl did as she was told, rising to her feet as her emerald eyes looked into his brown one, sending chills down her spine. She wasn’t trying to hide her disgust anymore, and if anything, she was glad she could stop pretending to respect his authority over her.

“ Now that’s better… Haruno Sakura. I know a lot about you. I know you’ve become Tsunade’s apprentice after your teammates left the village, and I know you have a very promising future as a medical ninja. You’re good at healing people and the whole village seems to like you. So, why, I wonder, do you look at me with such hatred in your eyes?”

“ Why don’t you try figuring out?” She spit, disgust in every syllable that left her lips. "

“ Very well… I’ve never really done anything to harm you. I’ve never threatened your master and I’ve never really done anything directly to your family. I’ve done nothing to you, Haruno Sakura… Unless..” He pondered, squinting his eye. After a couple of seconds, she saw as his expression lit up a bit, and she wanted to punch him for that. “ Unless you’re seeking justice for someone else. Someone such as… Uchiha Sasuke. Oh— Have you finally read those papers?”

Her emerald eyes were still glaring at him when he pronounced Sasuke’s name, and even if she didn’t think it was possible, Sakura could feel more hatred building up inside her. If anything, Danzou didn’t deserve to speak his name like that. Not after the atrocities he did, no. Not after everything. “ You’ve collected so many sins in your life that you’re not even sure of the reason why your enemies want you dead.”

“ Does it really matter, child?” He closed his, calmly, no trace of concern on his features. “ I don’t care about their reasons. I only care about mines. I’ve done what I did in order to protect my village. I don’t expect you to understand that, since you’re still too young… But one day, you will understand me. One day, you will thank me for what I did.”

“ I really doubt that.” She answered, harshly, her hands now turned into fists. “ There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. I will be dead before I thank you for allowing innocent people to die like that.”

“ Oh, I see… You’re loyal to him, but not to your village. How sad.” He shook his head in a faux disappointment, his expression still unchanged. “ What a shame it will be for Konoha to lose such a fine medical ninja. We expected more from you, Haruno Sakura.”

“ As long as I can get rid of you first, I will have served my purpose.”

“ My silly child…” He said, a mocking tone in his voice now. He snapped his fingers, then, and suddenly, the two ninjas that were outside appeared inside the tent, standing just a couple of centimeters behind her. “ You should’ve thought better before coming after me all alone."

Both Fū and Torune towered over her from where they stood, but she couldn’t feel their breaths tickling her neck. She could see them from the corner of her eyes, not moving by any means in the world. Inside that tent, at that moment, Sakura was completely outnumbered, and even if she was supposed to be feeling intimidated, she remained as calm as ever, her eyes still looking into his. Their presence didn’t scare her at all, Danzou could tell. She didn’t flinch, her breathing patter remained the same, and if anything, her eyes were shinning brighter than before, as excitement started to take over her senses.

Haruno Sakura was not afraid of those ninjas. Especially since she knew they weren’t even there to begin with.

“ You are mistaken, Danzou.” She started, not being able to hold back a certain arrogance in her voice. Her lips were twisting upwards in what seemed to be a small smirk, as she cocked her head to the right. “ We both know I’m not the one who’s outnumbered here. If you had done your homework on me, you would’ve known about my analytical skills regarding genjutsus, and then, perhaps, you would’ve tried something different to save your life.”

For the first time since she entered his tent, Sakura saw frustration on his face. He was certainly not expecting his genjutsu to be discovered to soon— if at all. Perhaps, he should’ve tried something better.“ … I guess I’ve underestimated you, child.”

“ You certainly did.” She said, glaring at him with even more intensity than before. “ Now, are you going to dispel it yourself or am I going to have to do it for you?”

At her words, his expression changed into a more focused one, as he glared back with discontentment. In a blink of an eye, he dispelled the genjutsu, making both of the ninjas disappear behind her. They were alone once again inside that tent, as the flame of a single candle continued to illuminate their surroundings.

“ Now that’s better.”

“ Silly child… I don’t care about what you’ve done to them, but I have to give you credit for that.” He nodded, then, recomposing himself. “ But just because you’re not outnumbered, it doesn’t mean you alone will be able to kill me.”

“ True.” She started, taking a deep breath and exhaling it confidently. For the first time that night, she looked away from him, as her feet took her closer to the entrance. Her hands went for the cloth that surrounded the tent, moving it aside, only to be welcomed by the chilly wind of the dawn. “ I alone could never kill a man so treacherous and low like you… And that’s why I’ve brought help. Perhaps, you know him.”

“ What?”

Her back was still turned to Danzou, but she could tell he couldn’t hide the concern in his expression as soon as Uchiha Sasuke joined them inside that tent. He entered without making a single sound, and in a blink of an eye, the old man’s cane was split in half. Danzou tumbled to the right in surprise after that, but soon regained his balance. Still, by the time she turned to face him, his expression was filled with frustration and and anger as he glared at the former teammates.

Both Sasuke and Sakura stood side by side, his hand placed over his sword and her gloved ones turned into fists. Emerald and scarlet eyes were now burning Danzou alive, for anyone could see how much those two ached for revenge.

A revenge that belonged to Uchiha Sauke.

A revenge he deserved to have.

“ Took you long enough.” The Uchiha said, as his eyes slowly drifted to her. For a moment, she felt them lingering for a bit too long, as if they were scanning her for any possible wound or any trace of blood.

“ Tch, I had to so the poison would start working.”

“ Hn.” He grunted, then, nodding at her in consent. Their eyes were connected now, and anyone could tell they were doing so much more than exchanging glances. Their eyes were talking in their own, secret language, and even without words, they knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Even after so long and even after everything they went through, both Sasuke and Sakura still had that special connection between them. They still formed the best duo, there was no denying that. Even if they wanted to— even if they had to— no one could ever surpass them. Not during their genin days. Not during that bloody mission.

“ Danzou.” Sasuke said, finally turning towards the man, his voice now cold and sharp like the night that enveloped that tent. The tomoes of his red eyes were set on that man, and if anything, they were searching for blood.

“ I should’ve known you would be with her, Uchiha Sasuke. A criminal such as you couldn’t simply disappear in the world, right?”

“ Don’t worry. I will dissapear, as soon as I make sure you’re dead.”

“ Always the same, arrogant brat… But you’ve done something good this time, at least. You’ve found yourself a very loyal partner. The perfect ninja to help you with your plan to destroy Konoha. She’s so blinded by hatred that she will even betray her entire village for you. You should be proud of her.”

“ You shut up, you bastard.” Sakura spit, her eyes burning with an emerald fire. “ I will—“

“ Aah. You’re right.” Sasuke interrupted her, a smirk now displayed on his lips. “ Hatred… Revenge… Those are things that consume us in ways we could never really understand. It can turn even the purest ninjas like Sakura into heartless assassins, who are driven purely by an intense bloodlust. If anything, you should be proud of yourself for doing this to her.”

“ You don’t even know why she’s doing this!” Danzou screamed, trying hard to get into the Uchiha’s head. “ You don’t even know her reasons!”

“ Hn.” The Uchiha started, taking a step closer to his target and standing in front of her. His tomoes started to swirl inside his irises, and they knew what was about to happen. “ As you’ve said… Does it really matter?”

From her spot, Sakura watched as Danzou’s eyes widened in surprise, much like hers did. So he heard it all, she thought. Even if she wasn’t really planing on telling him the reasons behind her decisions, it was already too late, for the Uchiha had listened to their whole conversation from outside of the tent. He knew her purposes. He knew what was driving her towards that new goal in the darkness, and he knew that, for the first time, there was someone by his side in his search of blood.

Sasuke knew he wasn’t alone anymore. And whether that made any difference at all, Sakura would  probably never know. They hadn’t made any plans after finishing their job, but she doubted they would follow the same path like they once followed 3 years before. Life could never be that simple, no. Not for them. Not after what they were about to do.

In a blink of an eye, Sasuke took his kusanagui out, lifting it and pointing it towards the man in front of them. She watched as his form was straight and imposing, as he elegantly prepared himself for striking his opponent.

It was beautiful, she thought. Beautiful and pure in its own way, and she felt entranced by the feelings he brought upon her.

They saw a drop of swear rolling down his forehead, and the simple fact that they knew Danzou was suffering at that moment made them feel overwhelmed by a sick sense of excitement. They wanted to kill that man. More than ever, both of Konoha’s finest ninjas were out there in search of blood. That feeling contradicted every single lesson they’ve learned at the academy, and they knew their friends would be very disappointed if they found out.

They would be horrified. And Naruto, oh— Naruto, he would—

And then, it hit her.

It didn’t matter, she thought, clearing her head from any memory from her innocent days at the village. At that moment, all the things she has ever considered joust and rightful were long gone from her heart, as she could feel all the void being filled by hatred. She could feel the darkness of his eyes trapping her in world of revenge, and she couldn’t find it in herself to fight back.

Sakura didn’t want to fight back, no. She was more than willingly accepting that new perspective, finding pleasure in the most gruesome things. She was thrilled by the idea of killing a man such as Danzou, especially since she felt no regrets on this. They were going to murder a man, and the rest, well, it was just the rest. Nothing else mattered anymore.

“ You’re both really far from home, children…”

Danzou’s voice echoed in their heads, and deep inside, they knew that man was right. They’ve come a long way since they were kids, and if anything, everything they did was leading them up to that.

They’re very far from home. And perhaps, after spilling that man’s dirty blood, they would never really go back.

fin.

a/n: Happy SasuSaku Month, everyone!! So… I think you might notice that I hate Danzou. Seriously, I know a lot of people think he has redeemed himself during his last moments, but I just hate him SO MUCH! What he did to Itachi, Sasuke and everyone else…  I just can’t! Don’t you guys agree with me? He was disgusting with all those sharingans and knowing he wanted Itachi’s eyes, too…. Agh! Well, apart from that, I hope you enjoy this dark one! I’ve tried to make it sound a little deeper than I normally do, and I hope you guys can feel that. Have fun, and please, tell me what you think!! Also, this story is still unbeta'd, so please, go easy on me.

[thewhiterabbit42]

The Messenger’s Messenger

PART 1

Written for: @authoressskr Request: Gadreel x reader x Gabriel, outdoor garden, hot pink

Warnings/tags: established relationship, polyamory, non-angelcest, some angst

Word Count: 1k-ish

Author’s Note: so this drabble became a mini series WHO SAW THAT COMING.  This part is unbeta’d.  All mistakes are mine.  

Also, I don’t have poly tags, so if you’re on a squad and don’t want to be tagged, let me know.

Special thanks to @nobodys-baby-now for help with the title so I could post something for y’all sooner rather than later.

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

Next Chapter>>

You sat on your bed, back against the headboard, as you perused an ancient grimoire on tracking magic.  Your eyes remained riveted to the page, but you were having a hard time concentrating, most of your energy spent on ignoring the angel perched at the foot of your mattress.  

Gadreel, however, was unruffled by your pointed disregard.

“I have a surprise for you,” he baited, finally breaking the silence.  You glared over the top of the spellbook.  Whatever it was, you weren’t biting.  You knew it was just another ploy to try and coax you out of your room.  Nevermind you hadn’t left your house in days or taken a case in even longer.  Fresh air was overrated anyway.  

“Unless it’s playing a game of pin the angel blade on the archangel, I will leave when I’m damn well ready,” you grumbled.  And not a moment sooner.  

He sighed, appearing in the blink of an eye next to you.  “You can’t stay angry forever.”  

You snorted.  That showed what he knew.

He hooked a finger beneath your chin, gently forcing you to look at him.  “Or stabby,” he chided.

You pouted.  You knew you were being childish, refusing to let go like this, but how did he expect you to feel when half of your heart had up and vanished?  

Part of you could acknowledge you should’ve been grateful to have even experienced a relationship with a celestial being, let alone two.  How Gadreel and Gabriel had come to love you enough to share you was a mystery you doubted you’d ever solve.  Then again, maybe it the great cosmic enigma you made it out to be.  Maybe it was as simple as Gabriel had never loved you enough to care.  That was the implication, considering you’d woken up one morning to a half-empty bed and a haphazardly scrawled message on the whiteboard attached to your fridge.  

If you had been an angel yourself, the entire county would’ve been without power for a week.  The jerk could have at least pretended to give a shit and snapped up a halfway decent Dear John letter, given a false apology, given any attempt at an explanation.  Even it’s not you, it’s me was better than This was a mistake.  Don’t come after me.   

“Don’t,” Gadreel warned.  “To hold anger is one thing, but I will not allow bitterness to take root in your heart.”

You scowled at him.  Mostly because he was right.  You may have felt like half of you was missing, but the other half was still sitting right next to you, unfailingly patient, as always.

With a sigh, you let your features relax, your eyes dropping sheepishly to your lap.  “I’m sorry,” you told him, threading your fingers through his.  “I just…”

“Miss him?”  He guessed.  

“I was going to say want to light him on fire with holy oil and toast some marshmallows over his sorry ass, but sure,” you admitted, sadness bleeding over the sullen edge in your tone.  “That too.”  

“I miss you,” he declared, cupping your cheek with his free hand.  He stroked along your face, sage green orbs gazing longingly at you before his thumb deviated course.  It dipped lower, tracing the contour of your bottom lip, and it wasn’t until something sparked low in your stomach, pushing back against your grief and frustration that you realized just how much you missed him, too.  

As soon as Gabriel had disappeared, Gad had followed suit, though his absence was far more noble.  At least you assumed it was.  He hadn’t spoken a word about it, but where else could he be other than trying to track down his ass of a brother to get answers?

You hadn’t asked him to.  He just had, and between his frequent absences and your foul mood, you hadn’t touched each other since the breakup.    

He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to yours in a way that was wholly Gadreel: sweet and unobtrusive; filled to the brim with intense yet tender sentiment.  There was always so much carefully contained beneath his calm exterior, and today he felt filled to the brim.  Yet, he didn’t push for anything more, simply savored the contact, using it to dismantle your fury kiss by gentle kiss until only a few embers of it remained.  

“Come with me,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours.  “Let me help fix this.”  

There was nothing to fix, though you appreciated how much he wanted to help.  He could do just as much by staying in with you and maybe giving you one of his infamous backrubs.  You drew back to tell him as much, but the look on his face stole the breath from your lungs.  It was as if you were everything, like nothing else existed in that moment for him except for you, and it expertly masked the tiredness clinging to the darks of his eyes.

“My heart, please.”  

Well, shit.  There went your plan to set a new record on how many days you could go without wearing pants.

“No more arguments.  No questions.  Just trust me.  Deal?”  

Gadreel had to be one of the most persuasive people you knew for many reasons.  He was a good study of others.  He held a deep empathy for other beings, allowing him to get into their mind set more easily.  He was genuine and respectful, and had a way of putting people at ease.  Most of all, he was trustworthy, so much so that any mention of trust had simply become a trump card with you, and often all he had to do was ask for something.  It seemed unnecessary that he would use it now, and he rarely did anything that was unnecessary.  

You regarded him a little more closely.  “What’s going on?”

The look he gave you suggested if you spent one more minute in bed fighting him, he’d be smothering you with one of the pillows.  

You put your hands up in surrender.  “Alright fine, but I catch wind of any funny business, and I’m reneging,” you warned.  

Next Chapter>>

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @li0nh34rt @baritonechick @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met @blondecoffeecake  @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely @the-moose-of-baskerville @tistai @room-with-a-cat @authoressskr @revwinchester @flufy07 @greieba  @whinywingedwinchester @tardis-is-mine @jadesid @ccasnovak @tangle-of-ivy @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel @angelofwinchester17 @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim

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@bloodstained-porcelain-doll @lacqueluster @samikitten @a-vast-african-plain @kazosa @carryon-wayward-winchester @nobodys-baby-now @acarpouschimerical @ludwigs-a-monster @archangelgabriellives @a-wing-and-a-pen @tricksterxangel @cipherwheeldecoder @thinkwritexpress-official @megasimpleplan4ever @azlinh @troubletrumble @randommotions @the-bleeding-rose @fruitiplierq @gabrielthemessanger  @pizzamanteachings @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @spnimpalaimagines @koithings @booknerd1324 @the-kryomancer @rachdubs @thislittlewhitelight @hiddles-and-skittles @karichanarts @sherlockedtash88 @multy-fandom-lover @archangelashiah @calamitychaos @kissmeimadragonlord @somanyfandomstochoosefrom @erisunderthemoon

[meditativeyoga]

Just Be: The Value of Constructive Rest

You have actually attempted every little thing to deal with tension overload, and also you still feel drained. Have you tried simply doing absolutely nothing? In clinical parlance, it's called constructive rest.

I'm balancing on my father's athletic shoe, age eight. Some neighbor is talking-- developed speak about rain gutters or football-- but after that he stops and also overlooks at me. '3rd quality,' he says cheerily. 'So, just what's your favorite topic?' I don't hesitate: 'Recess.' I flash a self-conscious smile.

Recess, I'm assuming, really is far better than math and also background-- it's just what I have actually simply found out, still swirling in my head, plus the liberty to absorb it, plus the Jungle Fitness center, plus some unusual emptiness. However I smile because at eight years old, I already know what's expected. No one has ever before rested down to discuss it to me, I recognize the needs of a society owned by a job values, the demand to maintain unstructured time in its place. So, I take place to say to the good man that spelling's rather great also. I regret it to this day.

Twenty years later on, I'm considering recess-ish things. And work ethic. And rare vacuum. Adult life experiences an obvious lack of set up recess, we just take harsh estimates of it now and also then.

Indeed, a few yoga exercise experts could admit that their preferred component of course is Savasana (Corpse Pose), the silent mins of existing still at the end (see 'Find Serenity in Savasana'). They also might flash an awkward smile later. In a nation that frequently gauges its self-regard in efficiency, that would not really feel amusing calling remainder a rewarding pastime?

But under the amusing feeling, there exists something major. Therefore it is that, as another overbusy American, I'm attempting to imagine a full-bore Savasana developed right into our lives-- not the yoga exercise pose itself yet rather something broader. Having actually remembered to call our papas on Daddy's Day, we would certainly hang up and also show before sitting down to pay bills. After an extreme company conference, we would certainly going someplace silent to digest the experience. Rather than downing coffee and the front web page before work, we would certainly delight in the quiet of the morning. The opportunities are endless, in addition to diverting. On crowded street edges, one would see not just bus quits however individuals quits. Instead of iPods and also cellular phone, people would not leave home without their lavender-scented eye cushions. Yes, there would be laughing at first. However soon sufficient, somebody would certainly mention that laughing is a kind of rest too.

' The concept behind Savasana is to totally release,' Tara Mathur, a reflection instructor at the worldwide Art of Living Structure in San Francisco, informs me. 'The advantages of a task only actually obtain taken in when you've done this. With Savasana, it's physical-- the position is created to make sure that no muscular tissue has to strain-- but also psychological. It resembles meditation: being dead while you're still to life. Fatality not as a morbid thing but as flexibility and also agility.'

With Savasana's freedom and also agility, it's stated, we find ourselves able to absorb all the experiences as well as poses of the technique that came before. Savasana is a resting posture, however the relaxing we do is energetic, it is about incorporating exactly what we've discovered-- yes, a radical concept by itself. Yet many striking to me, Savasana is structured right into the technique. We're not delegated find some silent time later on, we're led to it by the hand. Were it not part of the drill, I 'd just roll up my floor covering as well as head house. I understand this concerning myself. Much more important, yoga recognizes this regarding me, for this reason the built-- in Savasana. We such as a deliberate rest-- need it, also-- but the majority of us typically aren't progressed sufficient to demand it without coaxing.

From books like Juliet Schor's Overworked American and Carl Honoré's In Praise of Slowness to national projects such as Repossess Your Time Day, a task started last year by a group called the Simplicity Forum, the message of our very own busyness has crept right into the cumulative awareness. Require reducing down in a culture blowing up with productivity are, in such a way, revolutionary. But they're additionally ending up being typical-- and also are normally overlooked. ' I require a holiday,' individuals whimper consistently, and afterwards they maintain precisely working, as if the possibility of damaging devoid of the numerous hours, also briefly, is just fantasy. 'This year, I'm mosting likely to simplify,' we swear, however the brand-new electronic organizer we buy in order to help us accomplish this grand goal winds up contributing to the heap.

I see no requirement to make another plea for us to function much less, you've heard them all. Nor do I feel drawn to release yet an additional questions right into our strange connection to function, or to busyness. Instead, I intend to consider the matter from the opposite side of the equation. Why is it that our nonworking hrs don't seem enough to invigorate us? Just what do we perform with ourselves when we're not active? And also when its time lastly arrives, do we enjoy our 'recess' at its energetic, purposeful, restorative best?

"TV is not Relaxation"

Following six straight hours of job, as well as coming before six even more, I commit 30 nonrefundable mins to Judge Judy. For but a moment-- the length of a Ziploc bag commercial-- I wonder if this is the finest method to invest my job break. Then the 30-second area mores than and also Judy is back.

The abiding and self-congratulatory myth relating to Americans as well as relaxation is that we've obtained as well much on our plates to partake. As a society, plainly we have underdeveloped suggestions regarding nothingness. While we're certainly busy, we're not too hectic, not by a long odds, not by at the very least four hrs of TV a day, inning accordance with Nielsen records, plus Internet browsing, tours to the shopping center, and more. We have, oddly sufficient, massive books of apparent free time. That we prefer to use so little of it to proactively deal with the different devastations of stress and anxiety suggests a connection to downtime that wants rethinking.

Of the current mainstream dabblings in the anti-busyness motion was a Redbook short article called '15 Ways to Streamline Your Life.' 'Do nothing' made the checklist, but the Redbook suggestion of doing absolutely nothing appeared to do not have the deliberateness of Savasana. 'Maybe you'll review old love letters,' the post recommended. 'Possibly you'll repaint your nails red. Whatever.'

Not lengthy back, I began doing points that just weren't on my to-do list-- silly things, meaningless court TV-ish things-- simply to feel my RPMs cycle downward. I liked it. With reducing sense of guilt, I 'd push back from my workdesk and also sink onto the sofa, or wander out the back door to adjust a passionflower creeping plant. But by as well as by, I understood my deceleration wasn't actually enhancing my whole lot. It happened to me that simply as the recently reformed cigarette smoker soon discovers himself hooked on coffee, I would certainly exchanged numerous hours for virtueless entertainment, the Wonder bread of remainder. Just not doing anything isn't without quality, it's putting down the pencil, which's a begin. Nothingness alone could recover just so much of the upset soul.

' The majority of Americans are doing what I call default relaxation activities, which generate lower degrees of procedure advantages,' states author Schor, who's additionally a teacher of sociology at Boston College. Refine advantages are the leisure activities associated with higher levels of human contentment. 'Watching TV and also buying, for instance, are revealed to have low procedure advantages,' Schor claims. Mathur, the reflection teacher, says, 'In modern culture, when we state we're tired, we generally mean our mind is tired.' Usually, however, we cannot listen up as well as offer it a remainder. Instead, we hunch down on the sofa with the remote in hand. 'With TV, you're adding input instead of removing or cleansing. In a manner, your mind is mosting likely to be a lot more worn out when you're done.'

Liz Newby-Fraser, academic dean at the California Institute for Human being Science, explains this in physical terms. 'Watching 2 hrs of television is not relaxation. With TV, there are stimuli that turn on the considerate nerve system, as opposed to the parasympathetic, which is connected with real remainder.'

The clinical instance for purposeful leisure has acquired prestige over the last few years. Americans may not require longer or even more frequent holidays simply to enjoy, yet our ears do prick up at health cautions. Inning accordance with the National Ag Safety and security Database, a database of farming health, safety, as well as injury prevention materials funded by the National Institute for Occupational Safety as well as Health, 'Clinical study approximates as high as 90 percent of health problem as well as disease is stress-related.' As well as there's no lack of studies linking mental stress to heart trouble. In 2003, for instance, it was reported at the American Heart Organization's Scientific Procedure (four days of talks as well as investigatory discussions) that the variety of heart attacks in a Brooklyn health center increased significantly during both months after September 11. As well as Joe Robinson, owner of the Job to Live Campaign, has created that taking a yearly holiday reduces the threat of heart attack by 30 percent for males and also 50 percent for women.

A Relaxed Workaholic?

And yet I'm doubtful-- or, rather, unmoved. I long for a less demanding existence but appear incapable of making the necessary way of living adjustments. Do I desire to have 10 good friends over for a fancy supper tonight? Yes! Will I rip out the yard concrete as well as amend the soil myself? Yes! Did I accept the assignment to write this story despite a mountain of other work? Yes!

I'm not the only one. To evaluate our cultural perspectives regarding leisure is to confront our real feeling concerning it: We do not desire that much leisure to begin with. Previous labor secretary Robert Reich wrote in The Future of Success that are only 8 percent of us (compared to 38 percent of Germans as well as 30 percent of Japanese) would certainly favor much less job if it suggested much less pay. A Lou Harris public viewpoint poll showed that Americans' leisure had actually decreased 37 percent over a 20-year duration. In the September/October 2000 problem of Utne Visitor, Joe Harrison declared that in the mid- '90s, the United States passed Japan as the most worn country in the industrialized world, according to a record published in 2001 by the International Labor Company, Americans work 137 hrs (regarding 3 as well as a half weeks) more a year than Japanese workers. The 2002 publication Affluenza: The Intense Epidemic explains 'a painful, transmittable, socially transferred problem of overload, debt, anxiety, and waste arising from the relentless pursuit of more.'

Such examinations right into job as well as leisure in this country bring about impressively befuddling concerns regarding humanity itself. If our default leisure tasks do us little bit good, and an extra thoughtful mind-body recognition makes us a lot more effective, why do we still pick Survivor over meditation or yoga exercise or simply a few mins of actual quiet? One line of thinking recommends that we can not birth to deal with the messy barrenness of our hollow, online, box-store, early-21st-century lives, we do not dare glimpse the abyss. Schor, for her component, sees it extra merely: Tv's simple. 'Reflection requires an ability,' she claims. 'TELEVISION needs none.'

But creating abilities for much better remainder need not be an impossible job, I'm told, nor have to our vast order of business be totally discarded. Lots of people are looking for a counterbalance to the tensions of their lives, states Michelle Adams, health and fitness as well as motion treatment director at the prominent Canyon Ranch health spa and also health facility in Lenox, Massachusetts. 'You can attain that leisure in a number of methods: 3 minutes of music, a few mins of purposeful silent in bed after the alarm goes off-- even running, if you discover how to concentrate on exactly how your body is feeling. People assume reflection has to take location in a peaceful, dark area, yet that's not the situation.'

Schor concurs that an extra restful, reflective life and antique American performance needn't be mutually exclusive. The increased effectiveness of a healthy employee isn't difficult to imagine, and various other relevant advantages have been shown as well. 'One study shows that individuals living with just what I call volunteer simplicity leave less an ecological impact,' Schor informs me-- an exemplary point, certainly, as well as additionally financially beneficial to those individuals in the lengthy term.

But will Americans ever really select an extra peaceful life? There's inertia and habit to emulate, plus, there seems to be an overlooked mirrors that the rushing and also the vegetating are The U.S.A. at its bipolar best. A few of the best art, success, as well as enjoyable appear born of imbalance. Doesn't our mix of mad and also leisurely give us Friday evening, offer us New york city City after all?

Newby-Fraser puts it by doing this: 'The U.S.A. is very obsessed with achievement as well as addicted to certain adverse excitement. It's still possible to be a workaholic and to aspect in regular leisure. I, myself, am a workaholic as well as I don't view myself.'

When I tell Schor, Mathur, Adams, and also Newby-Fraser about my idea for incorporating a kind of generalised Savasana right into daily life, each responds with something like protected optimism. 'Many people do not live life in a proactively deliberate method,' Schor informs me, but includes that some do: 'You have actually obtained some polarized fads now. The majority is doing this dominant point [TELEVISION, buying, and so on], yet an expanding minority is beginning to do something else, to do this volunteer simpleness. You most likely to places like the Pacific Northwest as well as see increasingly more of it. It's about transforming mindsets toward consumerism, a propensity to be much more reflective as well as diligent.'

In concept, anything could be introspective, from lying quietly, to being in church, to several type of motion. The major thing, Mathur states, is choosing that remainder is a beneficial business in the first area. 'There are still one or two in each yoga class that rise and also leave after asana technique,' she keeps in mind. 'It has to do with seeing Savasana as a similarly valued pose and activity.

I desire to experience the value of Savasana. So, after taking in all the research study and also viewpoints of the specialists, I walk my worn self to the hallway outside my residence workplace. For the following 10 mins, my metaphor of generalized Savasana is mosting likely to be a literal Savasana for me, as best as I can take care of. My busyness awaits me, back at my desk, and I find it oddly liberating to approve this. I will not vow to much less job, I've tried it and it does not happen. Instead, I'm mosting likely to 'not work' better.

At one point in our conversation, Schor informed me her vision for the initial step: Americans, whose efficiency grows approximately 3 percent a year nowadays, must trade the moment they acquire for vacation, for leisure. After reflection, this looks like an additional method of saying recess. Which lengthy back really was one of my preferred things.

[royal-writer]

They’d failed.

Now I see fire Inside the mountain I see fire Burning the trees And I see fire Hollowing Souls I see fire Blood in the breeze And I hope that you’ll remember me.

They’d failed.

In the most tremendous fashion, their futile hopes were dashed. All they could do now was stand, and watch with horror and awe as the mountain top miles upon miles away exploded. It erupted not with the hot molten magma of the planet’s core, but with screeching flames and smoke as the beastly creature arose from its slumber with a mighty roar.

Essätha flinched; tears blurring her vision as the rough warmth of a hand grasped upon hers firmly.

“My gods,” Adela’s soft voice carried faintly from somewhere out of sight. “That… That thing… it…”

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the frightful sight of the towering form. It clawed out of the rugged cliffs and rising boulders more and more to reveal just how inescapably colossal it was. Everyone else was just as transfixed; as far as the eye could see from the horizon everyone was stopping and staring to see the very end of their world rise before them. A blackened sky to greet its majesty and thick armored body.

Startled caws and grunts of alarm had the wildlife racing and flocking in every direction to escape the area. Between the sound drowned out alone with her racing heart, and the uttered swears of Penimra from somewhere behind her.

Fingers slipped between the spaces of her own and held to her palm with a strength that was almost as numbing as her thoughts.

This was it. This was Armageddon. Judgment day. The Apocalypse lay within the maw of the monster as the mountain collapsed within its now empty shell of a husk, revealing it to be the core of the very hillside.

They had doomed the world, and sealed the fate of everyone on the planet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shuddering with horror, Essie could only watch the crumbling, rippling ground grow craters and rifts that swallowed parts of the village whole. There was no time to save the unfortunate souls that suddenly disappeared in the blink of an eye; rubble and earth descending into a blackened abyss.

She knew she should be feeling relief, as she spotted Aylin pulling Ravamora up on the far side of the trench now separating much of the town. There was no relief to be found, however.

“We’ll go around! Keep going!” Abernathy shouted; motioning to the best of his ability.

“I’m not sure they can hear us,” Sulhadur rasped; his voice nearly lost.

The shining golden shell plating of Pri’cha stepped forward. The sole antenna they still had left was curled tight against their head as they reached out, grasping for the Paladin’s trousers to give them a gentle tug.

“We nust keep going, Sir Adernathy.”

The orc-ish elf grunted, hefting up his massive axe so it cradled against the bend in his shoulder slope to his neck. His eyes shone with concern as he watched the distant pair take off; heading northwest towards the mountain.

Altogether, they ran along, flanking the canyon in hopes of finding a way around the vast expanse.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Coughing on soot and ash as flames choked the air, Essie turned around to see Abernathy’s grim expression. Blood soiled his clothes from the corrupted looking demonized creature laying in pieces upon the ground. He offered out his hand towards Penimra, who appeared to be having trouble rising to his feet.

“We can’t just leave these people here,” she wheezed, watching the frightened masses fleeing for their lives in random directions.

There was a heavy silence clouding the group despite the ragged gasps for air. Filth clung to their sweaty bodies in layers; masking their expressions and caking their skin.

A mighty roar cascaded over the lands. With it, trees bent and the ground shook, and the odor of death seemed to permeate the very sky and extend the burning houses into a spreading inferno.

As the ringing in her ears began to dissipate, Essätha rose from her crouched position. A hand reached up, grasping for the ring hanging around her neck by a thin silver chain. It had felt like a weight when she’d first began to wear it. A constant reminder to do better. A constant ache. One look at her reflection and she’d see it hanging there, holding a silver midnight moon’s glow.

It was no longer a symbol of lost things, but of hope and renewal. She could learn to forgive, and heal, and prosper. She had grown despite the doubt and the sneers she never could. In defiance of the world around her, she not only learned to survive, but to thrive and remain gentle at heart.

“What can we do for them?” Penimra cried out against the shouting. “They’re as fucked as we are.”

“We can move them south,” Essie cut in, meeting Abernathy’s gaze as he looked between them all. He regarded her, with ash on their brows and smeared on their mouths and a haunted gaze.

“We have to try.”

A ghostly smile appeared on his face. He gave a nod, his hair bobbing with his head. It appeared less of snow and more like their fellow nobleman’s; smudged with gray and black.

“We’ll separate into teams to take different districts. I will…”

She already drowned out his words. Her eyes turned towards the weight of a gaze that was on her, and had moved away as she looked. Tired lines beneath their sea-depth colored eyes that flared with of all things, determination. Hope. Trust.

Her mouth wobbled unexpectedly. It was hard to look any of them in the eye without feeling an overwhelming sense of loss and fear. Looking at Lord Amon however, left the largest gaping hole of all in her heart. She was just starting to get to know him in a new light. They shared something new and thrilling; filled with excitement and yearning and… now…

“… and that leaves Amon with me.”

Look at how much you’ve grown, Essie thought with a flood of great pride. She wondered if he saw it too; wondered if he knew. He should know himself so well to see this: the way the crippling weight upon him like the great story of Atlas had hunched his shoulders and made him bitter and resistant had eroded with the tides. Little by little, he was chiseled anew with life once more. His heart reemerged to let in the world as he let himself out, free of his confines.

And she’d sank in the depths of his ocean. No harbor ever safer.

While they began to murmur words of encouragement, Essätha kept her brave face through a false smile. She held to Adela’s hand, and snickered at Penimra’s sass. While Pri’cha and Abernathy spoke to her, her head bobbed with understanding. Hands behind her neck, she fiddled with the latch to her necklace as they stepped aside and she approached the one figure who had their gaze adverted to the smoggy sky.

“M’lord.”

He was slow to respond. His eyes torn from the scorched black clouds to her gradually. Captured upon her light brown gaze with a shrouded blankness.

She fidgeted with the ends of the chain. Biting upon her lower lip, Essie pushed up on her tiptoes to better reach for him. Amon grew stiff for a moment, but gradually inclined his head down so she could latch the jewelry around his neck.

Settled on her heels once more, her eyes darted over his chest. He followed the transfixed state, looking upon the small band dangling below his collarbone.

A tightness grasped her throat, and made it hard to swallow. Reaching up, Essätha patted her hand gingerly upon her mother’s old ring and Amon’s upper torso.

“Mom would have loved you.”

The lulled whisper of words calmed neither of them. As tracks moved over her cheeks and carved paths against the grime on her face, Amon raised a hand. The warmth of his callused palm rested atop the back of her hand, and his unnerved gaze looked upon her. His jaw worked; teeth grinding against each other that she could just barely see, refusing to raise her face.

“I will see you again.”

Essie’s lower lip wobbled. She could almost scold him for lying to her in such a way. He knew better than that. Or maybe he meant what would come after, in which she could never say with any certainty where she was going to be led after all was said and done with her final breathe.

She forced a smile. The best one she could afford to spare, while forcing herself to look up into his face. It would be the last time she could lay her eyes upon it and so she studied him; trying to remember every crease and furrow of his worried complexion and the way fire danced across the reflection of his eyes. The shape of his lips as he tried on a smile, the color of his hair as strands clung to his face and temples in sweaty disarray.

In a choked voice, she whispered, “Take care of that for me, just in case.”

Between the shouting, the crying, the screaming and the bellowing echoes of a monster’s roar, terror rippled over her body and latched hold of her wide-eyed stare. She pulled her hand swiftly free of Amon’s, resisting the urge to sniffle as further tears clung to her lashes and the air began to be hard to draw in as she turned away.

“Wait.”

A gentle hand wrapped around her arm. She could break free and she knew this; but she didn’t struggle as he pulled her back in. The embrace of home in his arms; one she’d never had. Lost and found among family and friends. Learning to love again and in a whole new light in those arms that held to tightly and helped to keep her strong when she no longer wanted to bare her burdens.

He breathed close to her ear. His words curled against the wisps of her dark hair in a soothing murmur as he spoke gently: “I’ll find you, Essätha. I’ll find you again, I promise.”

Though his vow sounded true, the unwavering hold around her tightened as though he was reassuring himself as much as her. An uncertainty lingering in the air as she tried to commit the feeling of his arms around her to memory, and the aroma of her skin even as it smelled mostly of sweat and dirt than the musk of his cologne.

His arms slackened, and once more she was forced to let go of someone that brought her an endless source of joy and smiles. It was too much to ask the universe for another moment, or for something to call her own.

Essätha turned her head, pressing a quick peck to his smudged cheek. She dare not look at his face, and risk seeing the turmoil and sorrow that lay there. She wanted to remember the way he looked when he smiled, at his happiest. When all things no matter how terrible seemed possible to overcome. When there was no overbearing sense of loneliness in the winds and they dared to believe for a future together.

With a last smile and tears running into the corners of her lips, her foot slid to step back.

A weakly startled gasp barely managed to squeak out of her lungs as Amon dragged her back in. His nose nudging her cheek, and a fiercely protective arm around her. His other hand cupped the back of her neck and from there, plunged into her locks.

As alarming and sudden the kiss, his lips knew only gentleness. Fingers twining through her hair and a blazing warmth rushing through her hotter than the flames. Courage mingled with bittersweet anguish.

She grabbed for his jerkin. Desperately moving her hands up to throw her arms around his neck and cling to him. The last good thing she’d ever have.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sulhadur raggedly dragged in oxygen beside her. Her own chest heaved, finding it harder and harder to take in the embers that suffocated her.

As another of the twisted corpses crumpled into dust before them where they sat, they watched the remains of yet another house fall seconds after. The stench of burning hair and flesh was charging the air like a sickening sacrifice. Her own skin was marked with evidence of the flames; scorched and peeling black with raw bloody skin. Lacerations from the mutated creatures too stained her clothes and flesh, but none so much as they did Sul.

“Come on Sul, we need to keep moving north,” she rasped, tugging at the crimson Dragonborn’s chest armor.

He smiled at her; sharp jagged teeth glinting in his maw grizzly with blood. The flicker of his eyelids moved sluggishly. They would close and open partly before closing away, too tired to be able to fight all of his exhaustion.

“We’ve evacuated as many as we can in this area, we have to keep moving.”

A hair-raising garbled blood-curdling cry had her whipping her head around, searching for the source of the creature.

“Keep going, Essätha,” Sul coughed, speckling her shirt with flesh scarlet drops. “I’ll stay behind and hold off the monsters.”

“I’m not leaving you-”

“We won’t stand a chance if we keep stopping to fend off these things. There’s others that still might need our help. Our comrades might still need us, Essie. Go. I’ll catch up to you.”

You’re lying. She raised a hand as though to slap him. She hated him. Furious beyond words that he would even suggest such a ludicrous idea. He wouldn’t be able to hold them all off forever; he might be powerful, but it would be just one solo man with no aid no one to distract them.

Her hand came softly up to the side of his face, and she bent her head down low, weeping openly.

Sul gave a weak chuckle. He slowly pushed her hand aside, and rose to his feet. Gaping holes in his warped armor, and dripping wounds around his joints and the spaces of his plating for mobility.

Another howl carried in the wind, closer this time.

“Go, Essätha,” Sul growled, hefting up the massive glowing blade. “I’ve got this.”

It was not cowardice that gave her aching limbs strength. The conviction in the Dragonborn’s words did so; and sure enough she got to her protesting feet. They wanted to drag in the dirt and stone, but she found strength to scramble first, and then sprint ahead. The wind passed her by; barely making it to the bottom of her lungs.

Whipping her head around as the fire crackled all around, she spotted the creatures closing in on Sul. His sword whipped around and moved in a mighty thrust to the closest one, and flames billowed out from his maw as more swarmed in from the sides towards him.

She turned away, heart twisting, frightened to see him fail, and fall.

There would be nothing left fighting for.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Barely any magic coiled in a mist around her any longer. Sparks like miniature stars flickered and danced around her fingertips.

She had little to nothing left. Her magic all but mostly spent on the fiendish creatures. Huddled masses of people she’d saved were running by in a blur, and she could hardly see as her vision doubled and returned to normal. Smoke lined her throat; filled her nostrils and burned her eyes. There was no marching order to the chaos; it all seemed to come at once, from every direction, and she was alone and tired.

Staggering over dead bodies, Essätha raised her hand and choked out an incantation, watching as another dead body thudded to the ground only to turn to dust seconds later.

Gods and Goddesses, give me strength, she prayed, gasping loudly as she clutched a hand to a throbbing wound at her side.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Her knees hit the ground, and then her palms. Blood pebbled up on her palms as she tried to catch her breath, to no avail. Shaking like a leaf, her eyes turned up to the sneering face peering down.

Death’s hood seemed to briefly embellish the creature, and it raised it’s warhammer.

An arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself nearly to the feathered fletching of the shaft through the beast’s head. It swayed for a moment, seeming stupified or drunk, and suddenly fell to the side with its stolen weapon crashing into the ground and its body fading before her.

Essätha spat; particles of the creature’s dust on her lips as she trembled. Her head lifted as she struggled to her feet. Pain seared into her side and she gasped, doubling over.

Before she could hit the ground and curl up a miserable, whimpering ball arms grabbed at her shoulders and yanked her up. Their clothes smelled of death and blood and smoke, but there was familiarity in the gentle care in which they held her.

“M’lord Amon!” she crooned, digging her fingernails into the fur lining of his cloak. “What are you doing here, what-”

She caught sight of his face. A purple-hued bruise swelled his split lip and his eyes were large and luminous. There was a mat of blood on the side of his head where his hair stuck out and he was more sooty now than ever. His gloves were gone, and his clothes were tattered and torn; coated red. Further bruises seemed to hiding just beneath his sleeves, and there were rope burns on his hands.

Frazzled, she began to babble stupidly: “Where’s Abernathy? Why are you here; weren’t you supposed to be going to help Aylin and Ravamora I don’t, I-”

“Abernathy’s with them now,” he gasped, reaching out to her. She flinched with surprise as his raw, bloody hands reached for her. They shook horrendously as he gently cupped her cheeks, and cradled her face.

A hiccup pressed past her lips, and her eyelashes fluttered as she leaned into his touch. She sighed, choking on a whimper of agony. Her hand slid across the back of his, and despite the gore and sore flesh, she turned her face to kiss upon his filthy fingertips.

“Essie, where is Sul?”

Her chest rose; heaving as a sob broke through her. All she could do was shake her head, mumbling almost incoherently through her tears, “I don’t know. He told me to go- he told me to run he- he was holding off some of the creatures I lost him I don’t know I-”

“Shhhh,” Amon hushed, dropping his hands to grab her once more and drag her into his chest. A weak cry broke through her; splintering her heart as she held to his cloak.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to bury her face into his charred cloak. Let the shaky heaves of her sobs rake through her chest, and feel the security of her Lord Amon’s hands smooth down her back even if his flayed hands probably hurt to do so.

“You should be with them,” she muttered; voice cracking as she reached up to wipe at her face. “This wasn’t part of the plan you- you couldn’t have known if I was alive-”

Cooing with gentleness, Amon placed a hand against her cheek and wiped at the damp circles beneath her eyes. His voice barely a breath; hardly audible against the groaning buildings collapsing and roasting flames as he stated softly: “If the world’s going to end, Essätha, I want to be right by your side as the stars go out.”

“I told you I’d find you,” he rasped, allowing her to sag into his grasp as she choked on weak sobs. “I promised you.”

Her body quivered. She should never have doubted him.

Fingers dragging against his collar, she held to him tight.

She’d never doubt him again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The mountain monster towered above them. So high, Essätha could not even see its eyes as it lumbered across the ground. With each step of its mighty clawed feet, the ground shook and dirt caved beneath its prints into large indentations.

People were screaming, caught beneath the clawed toes and swing of its massive tail. As it lowered its head, the beast gobbled up fleeing humans by the mouthful.

No blades pierced it; no arrows found a mark. Magic seemed to do nothing to the natural armor plating of the beast’s thick, scaly armor. It bounced off or seemed to evaporate against its form.

Essätha screamed; her voice breaking at its highest point as the monster went for Ravamora after she fired an arrow up at the beast’s snout. She barely dove forward enough to miss being taken into its maw and caught upon its chin, but the beast swung its head wildly and she went flying.

Aylin cursed the vile beast, but it seemed to have no affect. It opened its mouth, and a plume of fire erupted, burning him to cinders along with a group of people running for their lives.

There was nothing left of him.

Nothing.

Tapping into the last reserves of her magic, she pointed at the creature’s face. Tears swam in her vision as she uttered a string of words to herself. Violet magic sputtered, and suddenly bloomed along her hands and fired a barrage skyward.

When the last of the power began to tapper, Essätha howled. Her energy began to drain fast, and a dizziness began to drag at her feet.

Tiredness. She was so tired…

The head of the beast shook, and turned town towards her.

Life ebbed out of her soul, and into her magic. Blazing white; it crashed in rippling waves over the god-like titan. It gave a sound of agony as a blast didn’t ricochet, but splashed over its eye.

Blackness swirled around the corners of her vision. Her knees began to unbuckle.

“Essätha! Essätha that’s enough, stop!”

Someone grabbed at her waist, and she slumped. Gasping for air, she was a limp doll in Amon’s arms as he seized her, feverish wild eyes boring into her as he hoisted her up.

“We’re not going to win this fight!” Adela called out. “We need to retreat!”

Her head lolling, Essätha looked up. She could only just make out Amon’s face as her vision began to steadily clear. His eyes were filled with fright as he cradled her against his chest, huffing for air.

She was bouncing in his grip like they were… running?

“Amon…?”

“You scared me half to death,” he choked, his eyes darting down to meet her gaze. His pulse was rapid against her palm as she rested her hand against his neck.

She smiled weakly. Exhaustion tugged at her, but it was deeper than just the need for sleep. It felt… colder. Like the ensnaring fingers of Death’s bony digits upon her, then pulled just out of reach.

He stumbled, cursing as he nearly dropped her.

“Let me stand; you can’t carry me the whole way.”

“No, I-”

A mighty roar pierced the air; drumming in her eardrums and aching her skull. She cursed, and Amon’s lips moved in what she assumed was much the same.

Digging its feet into the ground, the beast turned a glare in their direction.

Essätha could make out the blinded discoloration of its right eye where she’d struck it with her magic.

It began to inhale, light brewing along its teeth and in the back of its throat.

Gasping for air, Essätha grabbed at Amon’s face. He turned to look at her, screwing up his features like she’d touched a sore spot.

“You have to put me down!” she squealed. “You have to put me down and run-!”

Boots tripping up, Amon cursed lividly, falling to his knees. Blood welled up on his kneecaps and he turned, looking over his shoulder at what she had been looking at.

His eyes moved back down towards her.

“Essie, I could never outrun the cone-”

“You could try!”

He smiled slowly. Acceptance in his eyes, and he pulled her closer with one arm while gripping his cloak; pulling the torn remains up to shroud the white light beginning to engulf the horizon.

She clawed at him; trying to drag herself up as tears swam in her vision.

“Amon please-”

“Don’t look back, Essätha,” he murmured softly. “Look at me.”

Strangling against the lump in her throat, her eyes moved over to catch sight of his eyes. Dark pools of the ocean pulling her in.

His grin broadened, leaning over her like a protective blanket. A scorching heat had sweat breaking out over her skin. The same very same dripped down Amon’s face, from his eyes and on to her. She grabbed for his jerkin; fisting what remained of his clothes in her hands as she looked into his gaze.

There was a sharp, thunderous exhale and a flash of blinding light, and their friends cried out as they watched helplessly as the inferno washed over them, leaving nothing but ash.

[randomnameless]

Chapter 10 - Miletos to Chalphy!

Here we are!

Finally, after 20 years, Oifey returns home!

Oldvis reaps what Arvis sown, Julia’s still useless and spooky figures appear.

Palmarch can’t believe it, Oldvis really wants to save the children??

Quick Palmarch! Use a rewarp staff! How’s that you don’t have any??

hm : forgot to screencap a panel - But Oldvis gives something to Palmarch.

However, what does he mean by “you were a confidante to Sigurd”? Palmarch wasn’t a part of our group on Gen 1, was he? Or was he Siggy’s pal from before? Maybe he is the court archbishop of Chalphy?

OMG here it is

OMFG

This, this line holds so many things, i dreamt of it so many times you have no idea. Julia doesn’t care about what happened, rather, “what happened” doesn’t matter, she never hated her dad. Now, what is that “what happened”? Is it the stories about Siggy and how Oldvis murdered everyone? When all of her LA pals were saying they hated Arvis because he killed everyone? Even in her amnesiac state Julia didn’t hate him? Or she didn’t care about her LA pals?

“To me”, is it “imo you’re kind” or “you’ve always been kind to me”?

Aw, Oldvis calls himself a fool was he a fool just like Reptor

I still can’t believe the “powerless to do a thing” angle.

You’re still the Emperor, how is that “i have given the empire to julius”? He is a mere prince, you’re supposed to outrank him. And Arvis calls him the embodiment of Loptyr, does that mean that he thinks Julius had always been Loptyr?

DEEDEE NO :’(

OTOH, Oldvis still sees Deedee as a material possession, “he took the love of my life from me” no he killed her, he didn’t take your toy away... Deedee warped Julia away.

maybe you wouldn’t have been sent in a war without tomes nor staves?

OMG JUGDRAL AU : JUGDRAL’S BEST MOM FOUND JULIA

At this point, Julia still thinks that it was Julius who killed Deedee. Or maybe she thinks it was Julius, but when she sees him afterwards she realises he isn’t her bro anymore.

“you had too many lines, the plot commands you to stay useless”

MANFROY NO JULIUS ASKED YOU TO KILL HER NOT TO BRING HER TO VELTHOMER

So Julia is a bargaining chip!

Just kidding, everyone with half a brain would know that she’s dead when Manfroy finds her, which he did so even if Oldvis managed to kill Seliph, Julia’d still be dead :)

what if Arvis learnt that Julia was with the LA? Would he have thought she was an hostage?

Again, Jugdral AU : The empire knows Julia is with the LA, and the LA knows who Julia is.

What do you have with your “people belong to someone else”? Still, it echoes what Oldvis said, now, the Empire belongs to Julius. But before?

what is the pain beyond the ken of mortal men? Turned into a deadlord à la Reidric? He already lost his wife, his son, his bro and his daughter, i doubt you could break him even more.

he is so evulz! Hee hee hee

HELP ME DAMN IT YOU HAVE THE STATS TO DO SO

LIAR YOU HAVE YOUR HW WITH YOU AND BIG SHIELD AND A STUPID SWORD YOU COULD REKT MANFROY DAMN IT

BECAUSE IT SAVED HER? I DON’T THINK SO

“ssh i can’t tell you but it’s important if you manage to survive long enough to find the hidden vault in Velthomer”

“HE’S GOING TO KILL ME ASAP”

“don’t worry about that”

Hopefully Arvis read the plot in advance!

Julia cries because her dad abandoned her to a certain death.

“you’re leading us to a cliff you know that?”

“in a certain manga someone has been able to swim through the silessian channel, so you can do it too!”

“That’s why you have to swim!” Eyvel drifted from Conote to Fiana, so you can do the same!

“i have faith in the crusader of Vala! Wait...”

Meanwhile, a child is concerned about his liege.

Daw, Alty takes care of this child. It’s so cute.

“Do you want a dragon ride? I’m sorry but we can’t do that in this game.”

OMG Alty’s going to have a res stat in the double digits!

I’d like to learn more about those spells that endanger the caster. Maybe casting without staves is dangerous?

Alty acts as a reponsible adult. She doesn’t want the sweet kid to die to save her.

Daw!

Alty helped him? Maybe when she hanged out with Hannibal or something, I’d like to see a pre FE-4-5 thing regarding Alty’s life. She’s made friends, managed to help a kid, spent quality Father-daughter time, etc... Eons away from the bleak life another manga tried to paint (i think it was LI?)

:’)

It makes it all the more heartbreaking when Cairpre decides to abandon Thracia to inherit his dad’s ancestral seat, if his dad had any. But in this verse Cairpre is Alec’s kid, so...

Safety first !

This was more heartwarming than I thought.

Ready steay go?

i implore of you make it so she doesn’t die to the first mage in the next map!

Seliph finally reaches the old man running away.

all i can to survive and he heads off to a cliff --> yay of course

It makes me think, Seliph most likely never saw the Tyrfing before. Maybe OIfey told him stories about his dad being even more op with Tyrfing?

i smuggled it - nope wrong divine sword!

I”ll finally be useful! Take that Cousin Leif!

Seliph’s surprised at his HW while Palmarch begs of him to end this chapter.

first of all, it’s not a return, because, just like Seliph pointed it earlier, he’s never been in Chalphy before. Secondly, what do you mean by endure?

Wrong Seliph! Julius’ still laughing at your silly sword, despite what the game wanted to do.

But Seliph can rekt Arvis now! Well, rekt is a bit presomptuous but...

Oldvis had been waiting for Seliph to come.

Ohoh, look at that pre-battle quote. Somehow, it feels forced - you called him courageous first, and now you’re calling him a worm? 

Of course Patty’s amazing. She will finally be able to promote in the next chapter!

Lene doesn’t like how this kid is surprised at seeing her here.

DASTARD

Meanwhile, after 20 turns of dodging, BS’ing and missing, Seliph finally kills his step-dad.

“Julia who?”

“lester if it is a prank i’m going to tyrfing you”

Seliph remembers someone he’s seen 17 years ago? Ameldha can’t say the same thing, in 20-ish years she forgot the face of her newborn :’(

“you know Shanan, Oifey and Aidean raised me”

“i don’t give a fig, bless F!Lewyn”

“you forgot Oifey and Shanan mom”

“of course i’m married to one of my friends! hey, praise me, i avenged dad and killed your second husband!”

? Seliph knows that Julius is his half-bro

“JULIA WHO”

“i forgot that you inherited sigurd’s dumbness - Julia doesn’t she look like me a bit? Has the same name as the imperial princess, my own daughter?”

“JULIA WHO”

Ohoh! Ghost!Siggy is here!

He isn’t the one to become arrogant, save for, maybe, killing Arvis. “i know, Shanan and Oifey and Aidean already made my education, you know?”

Arvis gave Palmarch the sword, Ghost!Siggy saw it from Ghost!Jugdral.

OMG Ghost!Siggy is a ghost of wisdom! “your truth is not the reality of all”, if only Siggy listened to this advice before turning into a ghost...

know the pain of the commons? You know, Seliph spent more time with the randoms than you did, Siggy, unless you’re talking about somehting else.

Note how Siggy asks Seliph to learn and to know about things, and how it is a contrast with what F!Lewyn has been doing to him since the beginning. Leif was allowed to learn and understand by August’s side, but when Seliph wanted to know and understand why the war in Thracia was crucial, F!Lewyn told him to return to Tirnanogue if he couldn’t continue to fight.

See you ghost!Deedee! Maybe you’ll appear to Julia one day - haha who am i kidding

stay humble my dad said

:’(

Chalphy has never been your home Seliph, and will never be. You’re supposed to go to Barhara! And I’ll smack you if you call this place your home when you were raised in Tirnanogue.

“ah yeah i nearly forgot my mom”

I HOPE YOU TURN INTO GOO JUST LIKE DUMA 

kill that guy/dragon, seriously, Julia’s been missing for nearly one chapter, he was supposed to be her caretaker, but he treat her like the punchline of Seliph’s romantic partner joke.

Ignoring the fact that, yes, Seliph is already married in this verse.

I really hope this changes in the remake

I WONDER WHY

“enough about julia, she’s starting to be important to the plot”

You feel Empty because vengeance sucks Seliph. Avenging Siggy isn’t the reason why set up on your quest, despite everything pointing in that direction. Seliph wanted to help the people, and wants to stop the child hunts.

The last map!

“I set up everything in advance for this big battle, crusaders vs crusaders. and julia is just a punchline lol”

The truth about dragons and crusaders or the truth about how i saved Jugdral’s messiah only to abandon her afterwards?