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pickleprickle · 5 months

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Breaking Strength: Part 16

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: Obi-Wan reflects on when he was a newly minted knight and unprepared master to a padawan. All the while trying to figure out what you would be in his life or if you should be in it at all. Then it's present day and ya smash.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Obi-Wan's got a panty fetish, holo-sex, mutual masturbation, Obi-Wan's authority kink, implied p in v

A/N: The majority of this takes place in Obi-Wan's quarters in flashbacks. I love young Obi-Wan who's finding his way as a new knight and padawan's master. I also love exploring the deep friendship these idiots had before getting together. Most importanly, I want them to have something nice before everything turns to bantha poodoo.

Obi-Wan absently touched the burn mark where the padawan braid had been sabered off. It seemed that he’d felt his master’s last breath only moments ago, yet here he stood in the new quarters that came with knighthood. Someone had brought in Master Qui-Gon’s garden, and pots were everywhere. Tending to them as a padawan had been an annoying task, especially after you’d shown up and wouldn’t stop touching things. He sighed deeply, begrudgingly pledging to care for these plants as dutifully as he’d care for Master Qui-Gon’s last directive.

Foolishly, he’d asked you over to help settle in and had instantly regretted it when you walked through the door a few minutes ago. As Master Qui-Gon had often pointed out in the last couple years, growing apart from the friendship was inevitable and, after he’d impulsively kissed you in the garden prior to leaving for Naboo, necessary.

“My invitation was thoughtless. Much has happened in a short time, and I should begin adjusting,” he lied, sinking at the hurt that flared in your energy signature. “I need to meditate. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

Silently, you turned to leave, attempting to draw your energy signature away from his. No matter how many times he’d tried to teach you to hold it in, you were never good at it. He felt it tighten into resolve and knew you’d spend the night in the kitchens, stress cooking to avoid this hurt.

“Wait. Take this.” He carefully handed over a pot containing the nondescript yet poisonous white flower that he’d slapped your hand away from during that first year at the Temple. “Let it be a reminder to be mindful of your surroundings and those who may not know.”

Poison pot in hand, you paused at the door.

“Obi-Wan? Now that you’re a knight, will we still be friends?”

He shoved aside the urge to gather you up in a tight embrace and instead delivered a grave nod.

“Always.”

It felt like a goodbye. It should have been goodbye.

Obi-Wan sat up in a start, panting and in a sweat. He’d been avoiding you since he’d practically shoved you out the door a few weeks ago but the other day – against The Code – had needed you and called out. He didn’t mean to. He shouldn’t have. Then you were there, brushing aside the cascading branches of a willow, eyes wide in worry and rushing to his side. Arms around him, tucking his face under your chin. He was silent, knowing you’d hear.

what if I fail

you won’t

Tonight was the first time the two of you had tried to share a normal night as had been done so many times before Master Qui-Gon died. Complaining. Trashy holo-drama. Sleep fell, but instead of carrying your zonked out form to bed, you’d collapsed against one another on the sofa in exhaustion, you tucked under his arm. The complaining felt the same as before; mocking the holo-drama did not. Obi was burdened and determined to not have fun. And sleep? That had been a challenge these last weeks. All he saw behind his eyes was Maul’s red and black face, then the two halves of his body falling down the shaft. Defeating a real Sith had been excitedly talked about by the crechelings and padawans, but Obi-Wan did not take pride in the feat and was haunted.

The dreams that had woken him were telegraphed through the bond even in sleep and you’d seen. Nothing more than snippets were perceptible. Red blurs. Metallic clatter. An anguished voice shouting a single word. A plea on a last breath. Obi’s fear of his own rage.

He’d always been your protector in the night when memories threatened to consume you. It was your turn to protect him.

“Hey. I’m here. You’re safe.” You sat up, drawing his forehead to yours. He relaxed. “Goose. We’re here. We’re safe.”

“What do I say when this happens to you?” he asked after a long while.

“Dreams pass in time.” You turned his face toward yours, struck by the glassy tears that struggled to fall. “They always do.”

“Have yours?”

“I don’t have bad dreams.”

“Yes, you do. You thrash about and get tangled in the bedding.” Obi-Wan blinked the tears away and breathed hard for a moment, grounding himself and coming back to the present. He smirked. “I’ve been punched in the chest and back and kicked in the shins many times, Duck.”

He had you there.

“Ok, I still have bad dreams, but not as often. When I wake up, I . . .” you paused and looked away. “Sometimes I imagine you’re there and I feel safe. It’s stupid.”

“No. It isn’t.” He lay back down on the sofa, guiding you to settle against him, hands clasped. “Meditation might help.”

“Oh, my stars, you know that doesn’t work for me.” You rolled your eyes. “The next person who suggests meditation is getting a throat punch.”

“At least try not to punch me in your sleep again, Lady Punch and Kick,” he grinned. “I’m battered and bruised enough from chasing Anakin all over the Temple. I don’t need more from you.”

“Ani showed up in the kitchens today. Just kinda fiddled in the doorway until I gave him some nuna nuggets and shooed him away.” You smiled. “He’s adorable.”

“Don’t let those cheeks fool you, Duck. He’s a menace.”

“I’ll be on alert,” you laughed.

After you drifted off, Obi-Wan breathed in deeply. You smelled like cinnamon.

A few weeks later, he invited you over again, but instead of complaining and holo-shows, the two of you had settled into dejarik. The old way of spending time together felt immature now; it was long past time to grow up and allow the friendship to evolve. However, you’d still brought along an ample selection of junk food; the cookies survived Obi-Wan’s sweet tooth for about twenty minutes. Adulthood may have arrived, but that was no reason to eschew everything that brought childish joy.

Obi-Wan seemed more like himself as he teased about your poor choices in moves and absently brushed cookie crumbs from his face. That is, until your sneaky strategy - exploiting his assumption that he knew more - paid off and he was demolished.

“How did you do that? You had so few pieces left,” he asked, agog.

“Trade secret. I’ll never tell,” you chuckled, enjoying his bewilderment for a moment before getting serious and addressing a recent thorn. “You’ve been quite the know-it-all lately. Thought it was time to take you down a peg.”

He sighed deeply, eyes closed, brow furrowed. Training Anakin was far more difficult than he’d thought possible. After all, most of his previous interactions with younglings had been with the Temple crechelings. Now he’d committed to training a ten year old boy who knew that not only was his mother alive, but also that she was still a slave. Obi-Wan felt he had to be the one who knew everything. He had to be a point of stability and security as Anakin tried to find his place among the Jedi. He was already failing as a master —

“Hey, stop. You don’t have to be the master with me, Goose.” You reached across the table and gently took his hands, easily sensing the anxiety rolling off him and knowing what to do. Obi-Wan was always comforted by the feel of your thumbs pressing his palms in little circles. “Just be you: the annoying, cocky friend I’ve known for so long.”

“Such a way with words,” he rolled his eyes. “Thank the Maker you’re sequestered in the kitchens where that sharp tongue can be contained.”

“Hey. That sharp tongue licked every one of those cookies you devoured.”

You stared at each other for a moment before exploding with laughter. Just like old times.

“Ani showed up in the kitchens again a few nights ago because he couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams. I was there for the same reason.” You looked swallowed, knowing that admonishment was coming. “I took him to my ledge.”

There was a ledge on the upper levels of the Temple with a view of Coruscant which was peaceful and dangerous at the same time. Sometimes when painful childhood memories plagued sleep, you’d retreat there and think of Master Qui-Gon: the savior who’d given you a safe home and a future worth living.

“Duck, I swear . . .” he fell against the chair, hand to his temple. “Don’t do things like that without checking with me first!”

“He just looked so sad and scared and alone . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interfere.”

“I know, just . . .” he trailed off, pinching that spot between his eyes. “I’m quite tired and will be turning in. Would you like to stay?”

“I would.”

With that, you’d curled up on your side in the bed and Obi-Wan had drifted off while lying on his back until you stirred.

be quiet don’t move

You froze at the thought pushed through the bond. There was another presence in the room. Young. Troubled. Having bad dreams. Anakin.

Ignoring Obi’s direction, you sat up just enough to see the kid laying on the floor without a pillow or blanket.

he’s the sweetest

i wouldn’t go that far but i’m growing quite fond of him

In the slightest careful movements, you pulled your pillow away, leaned over, and laid it on the floor. Ani immediately grasped the pillow and curled around it. Obi-Wan did the same with the blanket.

He made room and let you scoot over to lay your head so close on the now shared pillow and his shared warmth. Sleep fell again and as dawn approached, Obi-Wan heard little feet padding to the door and quietly retreating. The blanket had been returned and covered you both.

You woke in a start. The holocom chirped with an incoming call from The Negotiator.

“I’m sorry. I’ve woken you.” Obi-Wan was sitting on a crate, no doubt hidden in the depths of the star destroyer, scorch marks on his clothes marking a recent battle. However, the hair was neatly combed, and the beard trimmed. “What time is it there?”

Time? Who knew anymore. You were so tired. Sleep only existed in fits and stolen minutes. There had been a few occasions when as much as six hours had been managed, but they seemed so nebulous as if it hadn’t happened at all. The shades here were still drawn and looking at the time would only make everything start again.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad to hear your voice and see you. Even if it’s through blue light.”

“Are you in my quarters, Duck? And . . . in one of my robes?”

You were indeed in his bed and wrapped in one of his robes.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked first.” You winced at the embarrassment of invading his privacy, but the last days had been terrible and the thought of sludging back to your own quarters in the Temple was too depressing to bear. The intent had been only to sit down with the robe and take a few deep breaths from it in the hopes that his woodsy scent had lingered, but sleep hit within minutes. “This is a one-time indulgence.”

“It’s alright. I quite like the idea of you taking indulgence in my bed. As for the robe . . .” he chuckled. “Did you check the pockets? If not, I encourage a thorough investigation.”

Rummaging through the coarse brown material, your fingers brushed against a bit of balled up fabric in the corner of the deepest pocket and retrieved it. Black. Slinky. Yours.

“How did you know I’d picked the robe that had my panties tucked away in it?” There had been multiple in the closet, and you’d yanked one off the hanger without looking.

“Because they all do, love. Started nicking and tucking them away in my robes not long after we first got together.” Even through the holo, Obi-Wan’s blue eyes glittered with mischief. “I like carrying a bit of you with me.”

You smiled soft and warm at the sweet sentiment but it was known that Obi had a flair for drama and was constantly dropping robes. Even when he was a padawan, he and Master Qui-Gon would return from a mission and Obi-Wan would have to find a new robe. The realization hit:

“OBI-WAN KENOBI HOW MANY PAIRS OF MY PANTIES HAVE YOU STREWN ACROSS THE GALAXY?”

He only laughed, withdrawing a lacy blue pair from his current robe— the ones he’d confiscated that time in a dusty storage room on The Negotiator- and twirled it around his long fingers.

“This one is still in my possession.” He began unfastening his pants. “I’ll need a new pair to savor after we’re done here.”

“Done doing what?” you asked with coy innocence, letting the robe drop off one side to reveal a bare breast and narrow strip of fabric along your hip.

“You know what, minx.” His cock was already hard and he lazily dragged the panties against it. “Show me the rest.”

Obediently, you dropped the robe around your elbows, spreading your legs to expose the bikini panties: pink with little red hearts. Not the sexiest, but . . .

“I like those. They’re sweet.” He was stroking his cock, panties dangling from his pinkie finger. “Keep them on.”

You slipped your middle finger under the leg band, pulling it aside just enough to give Obi-Wan a good look at your slick, and began stroking.

“Like this?” you breathed.

“Perfect. Keep doing that. Be soft with yourself but look at me. I’ll tell you when.”

Eye contact was held through the holo. Your gaze drifted to his cock as he began stroking himself faster, tighter. You matched his pace with a soft touch– torturously soft - as ordered. Resisting the urge to increase the pressure, your head fell back. The edge hovered and your pleasure was in his hands. Quick, featherlight flicks along your clit. The slightest tease swirling your hole.

“Eyes on me, love. I need you to see me.”

You snapped up, focusing on his face through the holo. He panted, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed. His hand stroked frantically, panties falling to his wrist.

“Now,” he panted.

You pressed down with three fingers, immediately going over the edge with a ragged whine. Obi-Wan stifled his familiar breathy moan and met you in a burst of pleasure that reached out to one another across the galaxy.

He fell back onto one elbow, absently tucking the panties away into another pocket within his tunic. He’d taken to wearing a brown base tunic which crossed irritatingly high against his neck. You missed the occasional glimpse of his clavicle or tuft of chest hair. As the war went on, Obi became crisper in his appearance: tunics tidier, the part in his hair sharp as a razor. The front still flopped across his brow though, as it did now.

“Shall I hide these away in one of your robes?” you asked while slipping out of the soaked heart-dotted panties.

Then he did it. Pushed his hair away and grinned. For a moment, the cocky boy who’d been passionate about The Force shone through the beard and worry lines and silvering temples. Somehow that seemed to be his true self and it was a gift to see it again.

“No. Leave them under the pillow for me, darling. I’ll be home soon.”

“I liked seeing you work today, Duck.” Obi-Wan kissed your shoulder. “You were glorious.”

Obi-Wan and Ani had urgently – and unexpectedly - walked into Chancellor Palpatine’s office while you, key members of your team, and two supporting senators argued with the Republic’s esteemed leader about gathering resources for the most recent world that had been left in shambles by a Republic victory.

“My lady, you must understand that as the war goes on, resources must be allocated to the Jedi and their clones. If the Republic is to endure-“

“How can the Republic endure if so many worlds are devastated by the fight to save it? Chancellor, my organization is trying to see that the Republic endures when the fight is done.” Tamping down the desire to shout and slam the desk, you instead took on a tone of passionate concern and appropriated something Obi-Wan had said that last time together on The Negotiator.

“When this war is won, Chancellor, violence will persist while piecing the Republic back together. Surely, it can help if we start addressing the recovery now. This world still believed in democracy enough to join the fight for it, to die alongside the GAR for it.”

Your eyes pierced one another’s, unwavering. Palpatine sat loose in his absurdly large chair while you stood on the other side of his wide obsidian desk, unwilling to turn away from his papery face even though it was the only thing you wanted to do.

“My lady, Count Dooku is the most immediate threat to the Republic and must be dealt with.” His manner was that of a moralistic grandfather. “As I’ve saids—“

“Chancellor, she’s right. Master Kenobi and I have just returned from there,” Ani’s voice rang out from behind. He continued to detail the value that world held, most of it strategic. The idea of that sort of defense was repellent, but increasingly necessary. Prior to the war, you and Senator Amidala were often able to influence with more humanitarian arguments or simply her charming nature. The war had turned everything into numbers.

“Thank you for that insight, Master Skywalker. That is most helpful.” Always the unsettling, dead eyes in the middle of the right facial expressions. Those eyes turned to you. “Your organization shall have some of the funds it needs.”

“Thank you, Chancellor.” You unwaveringly met his gaze despite the slimy sense of him. “This is most generous, and we will make the most of what is granted.”

You headed to the door, entourage in tow.

“My lady, the offer still stands,” the Chancellor called. “I have so many hopes for the Republic and would be so much more effective in achieving them with you by my side as my Chief of Staff.”

You still entertained the thought every once in a while; usually when staring at the books and trying to make the few credits stretch as far as possible. It could help to have his ear . . . Then you’d remember how unpleasant it was to be in his presence and the intense urge to plunge your aura into boiling bacta after being in his company.

Ani’s energy signature slightly bristled as the Chancellor spoke. You didn’t think too much about it. After all, he’d just returned from a horrific battle and was probably exhausted and eager to see his wife.

“As does my response, Chancellor,” you said levelly. For a long moment, the ornate, floor-length dress worn for such occasions seemed to become impossibly heavy as if pinning you in place. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with us.”

Thank you, you silently mouthed to Ani. His only response was a narrow-eyed nod.

Afterward at the Temple, Obi-Wan had slinked up from behind, yanked you into an alcove, and crowded you against the wall. Just like old times, he hastily undid his pants and rammed up, plaintive little moan when he was fully sheathed. It was fast and desperate, and you both came within minutes, so intoxicated by each other’s presence. No pretense. Just pure need for one another and the peace that came at the shared climax.

Now, back in Obi-Wan’s quarters and naked in his bed, he absently kissed along your hand and wrist, lights of Coruscant’s endless traffic piercing the window to glint off his golden lashes and silvering temples as he murmured praise. His praise was true, but you felt hollow and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Not with Obi-Wan. But something at the bottom of things felt wrong and oily like a fish left out to rot.

“I was just doing my job, Goose,” you sighed. “It’s all getting so much worse. I’m starting to think we won’t win and, if we do, it won’t matter because everything will be too broken to fix.”

“Don’t center on your anxieties, love. Focus on the present. The future will take care of itself, and we’ll take care of each other.” He kissed your knuckles. “I’m glad we have one another. Lighthouses signaling.”

“I’ve always thought of us as fishing lines tethered to shore,” you mused. “And we’re each other’s shore.”

“What happens if a line isn’t strong enough, fisher girl?”

“The line breaks. But the thing is that our line is love, and love expands.” You looked askance. “Kind of like The Force.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow and propped himself up on his elbow. “You trust in The Force, now?”

“Obi, I trust in you, and you trust in The Force. So, to me it’s the same thing.”

You both stood to dress. Obi-Wan had a council meeting and you had had a strategy meeting about where to best use donated credits and goods. It was hard not to stare at him; he was so precise about the set of his clothes and spent a moment fussing over the way his pants tucked into the boots. Breaking the gaze, you struggled back into the ornate floor-length dress then shivered at the feel of Obi-Wan’s nimble fingers taking over the fasteners along the back. You saved stepping into the panties for last, curious about what Obi would do.

“Those are mine,” he scolded while snatching them from your hand. “Other than our holo-tryst the other day, I’ve never seen you in anything like these. I like it.”

Having not expected his arrival today, you’d worn one of your everyday panties with a fun print which was not the slightest bit sexy and, considering the pattern, a little embarrassing. This pair was deep purple and printed with little blue lightsabers.

“They’re cute.” He tucked them so far into his tunics that they’d lay against his skin. “Do you think of any of these lightsabers as mine?”

Master Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Council, High Jedi General of the Grand Army of the Republic was so clueless sometimes. It was in his nature, though. Always so focused on everything and everyone outside of himself. The man had no idea how the rest of the galaxy saw him on the newsfeeds. It probably hadn’t occurred to him that he’d be on the newsfeeds at all.

If Obi-Wan had looked closely enough, he would have recognized the hilt. Every lightsaber on those panties was his and you were one of the many people who sported them. Thank the Maker you hadn’t been wearing the pair patterned with his profile in that stance.

He pulled you against him, soft beard pressing into your cheek. Every touch was committed to memory.

There is an initiative I’d like us to discuss. I’m quite tired and would prefer to meet in my apartments. My handmaidens will make arrangements.

Padme’s message was oblique, but after years of working together, you could read the underlying meaning. She was troubled and, as always, had few places to turn. And her handmaidens making arrangements? That meant the highest security. Padme’s handmaidens may not be Force sensitive, but together they could still be a challenge even for a Jedi.

Her sitting room was dark when you arrived, but Padme’s outline was visible, backlit by the glow owobif Coruscant’s endless lights. She sat rod straight and eerily still on the sofa. You sat next to her and reached for her hand. She grasped yours so tightly that her fingernails dug into the flesh. A short, tortured sob escaped her. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “I’m pregnant and I’m scared.”

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #star wars #tcw #clone wars #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #count dooku #order 66 is coming and i can't stop it

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honey-milk-depresso · 2 years

Note

don't mind me asking how to kiss Jamil because I don't have the guts

🐝: @kanatos-wonderland ,I will entice you with Jamil if you do mind (of course you would-)~

⋙l o a d i n g…

loading completed!✓ …━━━━━☆

┏ ⋙YOU GOT TO KISS THE SNAKE (JAMIL VIPER X READER) (1) ┛

Part 1, Part 2 (coming soon!)…━━━━━☆

“This man, I swear…” you muttered in frustration to yourself, feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Black, braided hair glistening under the light, embroider with gold and shimmering hair bands that held his hair in a ponytail. He was just so pretty; beautiful dark skin, charcoal grey orbs that shone with such enigmatic aura, sharp eyelashes and all used to form a relaxed, handsome expression, you could look away from the Scarabia vice dorm much to your dismay.

“He’s just so pretty…” you groaned, stuffing your face into your arm as you blushed.

Jamil lifted his head to see your tired entity and blinked.

“Tired?”

“Go away…” Not knowing what to do, you let out a protesting groan, which proved you worse when he let out a soft and smooth chuckle that made you swoon internally.

“Whatever, Y/N. Make sure to get some rest,” Jamil placed a hand on your head and rubbed it gently and soothingly, smiling when you leaned very subtly into his touch.

He stood up, walking away. How you wished you could just wrap your arms around his torso and permit him to stay by your side, burying your face and take in his scent of aromatic spices and sweet flower perfume…

“Y/N!” You were startled by a cheery outburst, thoughts cut off by a joyous Kalim skipping towards you with a bright grin.

“Hey, Y/N! Have you seen Jamil?”

“Er… he was here a few seconds ago… I think he went back to his dorm…”

“Oh, okay!”

Kalim was ready to head out, but he paused as he observed how dull and gloomy you looked, and he decided he’d stay here with you for awhile in hopes of lifting you from the dumps.

“Hey, you okay?” Kalim jested with a concerned smile, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he bends down to meet your eyes.

“I… well…” you murmured. Were you thinking of Jamil for at least two nights? Maybe. Did those thoughts of him made you sleep? Definitely not. Being caught up with intense romantic feelings for such a pretty guy just sucks. It really sucks. The thoughts of ever confessing to Jamil made you all tingly and warm, before it drowns you in a hopeless void if you were to ever do such act.

“It’s Jamil.”

“Oh, what about him?”

“I can’t do it.”

“Can’t what?” Kalim raised an eyebrow as he draws his lips into a pout.

“He’s just- he’s so- he’s-“

“You like him?” Kalim uttered out straightforwardly as you blushed profusely.

“K-Kalim?!”

“I mean, I had the feeling you do every time you mention him, when you hang out with him, when you look at him, hear him, and you get this look in your eyes I don’t know how to describe but it’s like really noticeable to me and-“

“O-okay! Okay! I- Kalim, I- I do kind of like Jamil..”

“I think you like him a lot.”

“ANYWAYS..” you did not expect Kalim to be this observant around you, let alone just read your emotional state like an open book. That boy is just full of unexpected surprises in the most unexpected way possible.

“I just don’t know how to bring it up to him… “

Kalim looked even more baffled. “Just tell him.”

“I can’t!”

“Why?”

“I- I’m scared to even tell him an inch of how I feel, Kalim!” You blurred out the truth with exasperation.

“Scared..? Y/N, I’m sure you don’t know this, because Jamil wouldn’t say it straight to you either, but he’s really into you! Like, he talks about you, what you did that day, he thinks you’re pretty… actually wait those were secrets between me and him-“

“K-Kalim… p-please have mercy on my heart…” you clutched your hand tightly at your chest as you hugged your stomach with the other with a furious red dusting on your face.

“I can’t keep a secret like this in such a dire situation… which in that case…”

Kalim pumped his fist up high into the air, smiling with triumph and with confidence.

“We’ll just have you two go on a date!”

“W-w-what?!”

“Just the two of you getting your feelings across with no worries! That’s what I’ll do! Set you two up on a date!”

The silver haired boy was smiling proudly to himself with the idea he came up with. You, on the other hand, looked like you were knocked out of air.

“I’m gonna start planning, but Y/N,” Kalim’s lighthearted smile turned into a serious expression with garnet eyes looking at you with firm emotions.

“You have to tell him. Otherwise, you’ll drag on until it’s too late.”

You gulped, your heart started to beat faster without you knowing it and knowing why.

“Oh yeah, and you gotta kiss him, too!”

“Kalim!”

━━━━━☆

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pandoraslxna · 9 months

Note

hi Luna! Its Curntly 11:36 pm for me and i can't sleep! But- I got a quick drabble of neteyam being a soft dom, bc why not?-

°Please.. Let me hear you.°

22yo!Neteyam x fem na'vi mate

Mdni! Whiny nete, p in v, gentle-ish sex, creampie. Etc-

It had started off as soft kisses after you fixed his messed up braids, you didn't even get enough time to re-braid them, so his hair was just loose accept for his queue.

He had gently laided you on the hand-made human looking bed, taking his time with gently kissing your neck, shoulders and then your sensitive breasts.

Neteyam's rough but soft hands gently untie your loincloth, gently brushing his thumb over your nub before gently pushing a finger inside your dripping heat.

"Nete.. I-I dont need that.. Need this.." You'd whine softly, your tail brushing over the bulge in his loincloth. He sucks in a breath, before he carefully pulls his finger out of you, seeing you were right, you were soaked.

He licks his finger clean of your juices and unties his loincloth from his hips and base of his tail.

Neteyam gently pulls your legs up and over his shoulder, moving to hover right over you. "I promise my moon, I will be vary gentle.." He promises, gently cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb over your cheek bone.

"I trust you.. Your so good to me ma 'teyam.." You whispers back, arching your back up into him.

Neteyam nods softly, moving his free hand down to his hard length, lining up the mushroom-like head to your hole before gently pushing his hips forward.

You'd whine softly, head falling back agaisnt the bedding as your soft walls instantly hug his length tightly, making the soft spines on the underside of his cock poke at your walls just right.

Neteyam gently starts thrusting in and out, one hand holding your thigh while the other held your hand tightly.

He hid his face in the top of your thigh, his groans barely muffled.

"T-tey tey.. L-lemme hear them.. P-please.." You mumble out between soft mewls and whines of your own.

Neteyam lifts his head, his loose hair falling over his shoulders with a rough moan. His yellow eyes rolled back as he starts pushing his hips agaisnt your at a slightly faster pace, still keeping a gentle rhythm though.

"K-keep squeezing me.. Ngh.. J-just like that.." Neteyam groans softly, his ears drooped and flushed red.

Your walls start gripping his length tighter as you near your high at a fast pace. "N-nete! G-gonna.. P-please!.." You mewl, your legs shivering and back arching.

He hisses slightly as you clench around him, gushing your clear arousal all over his length.

"N-ngh! Oh fuck!" He whines, pushing his face into your shoulder as he desperately starts shoving his hips against yours, his thick knot starting to stretch you open.

"P-please.. Let me knot you.. Please.. Please.." He begs softly, his ears tucked under his hair as you give a soft nod.

Neteyam bits his lower lip hard, drawing blood as he shoves forward again, diving his knot inside of you, the spines on the underside of his cock getting stiffer as he unloads himself inside you with a deep, broken up moan.

"Easy.. Breathe tey.." You coo softly, gently rubbing his back. Neteyam pants agaisnt your shoulder as you both calm down.

"Thank you.. My swet moon.." He whispers, gently kissing your collar bone, pressing his forehead to yours with a soft smile.

Enjoy Luna! Have a great night/day!!💙

NETEYAM CALLING HER HIS MOON HAD ME BLUSHING SO HARD 😩

That was soo so good, and if you haven’t already then you should really start publishing those on your blog!! Your writing is great and I’m sure others will agree with me 🫶🏻😍

#𝒯𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆#🍄 anon

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coco-goat-milk · 3 years

Note

Hello! May I request the kids with a Rengoku! Reader? I feel like his character’s overall energy would serve great with them, especially as an older sibling!

Rengoku! reader x Klee, Qiqi and Diona (platonic)

Pronounce: She/him/they, no pronounce mentioned so i won't either!

Warning: Slight spoilers for Rengoku, Qiqi and Diona, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of Ganyu x reader

A/n: Moshi moshi~ cutie, Yes i agree! I really think this dynamic is adorable<3 Oh and I'm back everyone, and I'm sorry it’s so short :)

Reblog, comments and likes are highly appreciated!!!

Klee

First time meeting:

When you first arrived in Mondstadt to help the knights of favonius bc they are lazy you also got introduced to Klee, at first you were shocked that a child was a knight.

She was immediately amazed by you, first of all you look so cool! Second of all you were very...uh.. bright.

She immediately ran up to you asking for your name.

You were immediately enamored with the cute child and decided that you would surprise adopt her.

When you two get closer:

ARSON

No but seriously whenever she blows up fish in the lake you would just encourage her. Basically you stand beside the lake and laugh brightly while she blasts fish into oblivion.

Each time she sees you she always runs towards you expecting hugs!

She also loves playing with you whenever you can, mostly it involves fish blasting or searching for flowers.

She loves it when you braid her hair, especially when the two of you take a picnic and she makes a flower crown.

She really loves listening to you talking about all your fight stories, she will boast about you to the other knights about how cool and strong you are.

Whenever you two get something to eat and you yell “UMAI” in the beginning she is kinda shocked but soon after she joins in.

Whenever she eats anything and it tastes good she yells “UMAI” it has become a habit for her. The first time she did it people looked at her scared but she just kept going.

Whenever she is confinement she draws pictures of you and her together <3

She also likes to play games with you like tag and hide and seek, she also enjoys watching you fight.

You always make sure that she doesnt hurt herself nor cry, so that often leads towards her getting her way with you. (i mean bombing fishes and such)

She really enjoys your warm and big cuddles<3

When the two of you walk through Mondstadt she always asks for you to hold her, and who are you to deny that! You always place her on your shoulder while the two of you laugh brightly.

Klee really wants to cook or bake with you, and she wants to wear matching aprons!

Kawaii (人◕ω◕)

Oh and the two of your aesthetics match it’s adorable :3

Qiqi

First time meeting:

She questioned the honesty of your bright smile-

But she soon understood that everything about you was sincere.

She really liked how honest and nice you were, she hadn't felt that joy in a long time :/

You thought she was adorable, she reminded you of your own little sibling.

Snek man was busy so you took Qiqi outside to play <3

She liked you very much even though she forgot your name a lot of times :p

When you two get closer:

She doesn't really remember people that much but she remembers you! Because of your bright smile and bright aesthetic.

And she always tries to scribble as many details about you down in her notepad<3

She really enjoys the concern and honest love you give her.

unlike someone else who is fake asf

She always looks forward to your visits :)

Since you yourself have a little brother you can take good care of her, she is a little different then other kids but you still treat her like one!

She is very happy with that although it's not really obvious, you know she is!

It's kind of funny how your personalities contrast each other-

You are very protective over her. When she told you about Hu tao, you would rescue her

Sometimes she questions how you can be so enthusiastic.

She doesn't really ask you for a lot of things, but she sometimes asks you if you bought her Coco goat milk (my username ;) and whenever she asks for something you bring it to her in a heartbeat<3

The first time you looked for Coco goat milk you found this beautiful girl, the girl was honestly shocked by your slightly obnoxious behavior but she found you cute and really sweet. She helped you search for ‘coco goat milk’ but it ended up being coconut milk.

Now everytime you visit Qiqi you bring her Coconut milk, she will have this small cute smile on her face. Which makes you smile even more oh my how bright can you get?

You like to bring her to walk around Liyue, you always hold her hand so she doesn't get lost. People sometimes get scared because of your loud voice booming over anyone else's.

She likes to take picnics with you and Ganyu, it gives her this unfamiliar but happy feeling of family!

Qiqi is lowkey a matchmaker for you and Ganyu, she makes the two of you hold hands and while Ganyu lowkey dies with a red face your laugh is as bright as the sun.

Your bright and happy presence always manages to give Qiqi a small smile on her face.

Whenever she is sleepy while you two are away you pick her up and try to be as quiet as possible.

Diona

First time meeting:

In the beginning she didn't like you because she thought you drank alcohol, but then you just asked for a normal drink?? What, how is that possible…

When you found out that basically a kid was working in a winery, you thought you were drunk.

Like honestly why is a kid working with alcohol, anyways you decided to ignore him since y’know Genshin logic.

She was kind of rude in the beginning until you decided to just order some drink without alcohol, suddenly she was kind of you.

You really sat there like ( ´･‿･`)?

Anyways, you decided to spend time with the kid because your caring sibling side decided to act up.

When you two get closer:

You don’t drink alcohol whenever you are with her, she appreciates it so much but she doesn't say that ofc.

She huffs whenever you pat her head but she secretly loves it <3 She expects headpats whenever the two of you meet up.

She really wants to go hunting with you as well, and when you show off your strength she will be so amazed :3

^You are now officially her idol, she looks up to you so much.

Diona wants you to teach her tricks with her sword, because the moment she saw you fight with your sword she was enamored.

You do not like her dad...honestly who does..but anyways you full on ignore him and try to ignore him as much as you can. Because of that you are pretty protective over her as well.

She actually enjoys it whenever you bring her gifts, quite likes it when you gift her plushies and bring her homemade sweet potatoes.

Was very embarrassed when you yelled out ‘UMAI’ and scolded you for it, but when someone looks at you weirdly be ready for a hissing kitty with her nails bared at the person.

She doesn't like it when others take away your attention, Diona will attack those people.

(omg im so sorry but i don't have more headcanons-)

#genshin klee #klee x reader #genshin qiqi #qiqi x reader #diona genshin impact #genshin diona #diona x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #ganyu x y/n #ganyu x reader

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dragonshoard · 2 years

Note

Shdhf here’s most of the other drawins! M gonna be workin on sm digital ones tmrw probably but these are the traditional ones i did in my free times :>

(Btw these were all done yesterday morning/afternoon, so more visible/harsh scarring than i’d now draw with the new info u gave me)

Honestly, since u havent posted a ref/in depth description i jus went with whatever i thought might be likely(shoeless because grew out of them+couldnt get any in the pits, tho im guessing she likely has shoes in the au shfg- also scarring on the chin cause i thought ‘damn what if she smacked her face into the floor while trying to get away’) tho obv i’d draw it differently with any new info. The ‘Jinx’ carving into the collar was also jus me being like ‘damn dont they smtms do that to dogs in fighting rings?? Thatd be fucked up lol’ so like,, feel free to ignore it shdhf

Anyway! Away from the doodles! I am jus,, fuckin burstin with questions mate- ur au’s so cool!! U dont have to answer any of em tho dw sjdjf

So does vi show up well post!pits or do her n cait investigate the pits n see jinx? Im assuming its post based on ur comment of them takin a while to show up since things happen differently, but i felt like askin anyway :p

Does fighter!jinx still tinker/build stuff?? Ik u said she would never touch bombs n such(which, understandable. That sounds like jus askin to be triggered tbh)- but if/when she meets up with ekko does she maybe help with buildin them stuff? Makin/repairin hoverboards, makin guns- or maybe knives n such? Idk what skills u’re givin her dhdgdb

Oh, and with ur first post on this au, im assuming jinx escapes at 15? Can i ask how old she was when silco first gets her? Does she spend a lot of time after escaping just hiding out and ekko happens upon her by accident? Does she gain any injuries while escaping? Does she stay with the firelights when she meets them or does she only visit so as to not draw silco towards them too much? Does silco have specific people hunting jinx down(say, her handlers from the pits, or sevika?) or is it jus like,, everyone in his empire is on high alert for her n everyones to go after her if they see her?

And speaking of sevika- whats her opinion of all this? I mean, obv im guessing shes in favor of whatever silco wants, but do u think she ever felt guilt/regret over tossing vander n his kids to the wolves(literally, in powders case) or does she jus,, not care??

And a final thought(im so sorry i jus realized how many questions this is dhdhdhv)- with jinx’s seeming penchant/willingness to bite anyone n everyone(jus based off the mention of biting the animal-turned-shimmer!monster she fought + her desire to bite silcos hand) does she ever get muzzled?? Or nah??

kjnkdjfnkj i love the pics!! Nah any creative liberties you took are cool to see! I’m still having a hard time drawing Jinx so I was practicing before I could actually post any art refs.

“Jinx” would be inscribed in the collar if Silco was a pure asshole, but as cruel as he seems in this AU, he doesn’t actually see her as a dog or a pet despite what everyone thinks. He wants her by his side eventually and sees everything that he’s done (towards the last year or two) as a means of “freeing” her. Oh and she does have shoes. They’re falling apart, but they exist xD Not the best idea to fight barefoot on metal.

And I can totally see the logic behind the scarring. It doesn’t help that she is malnourished, especially in those first few years, so her healing wasn’t very efficient. But, surprisingly, her face is not as marked up as you think it would be after 5-6 years. It’s the rest of her body that’s got an impressive collection.

(He visits her pretty often towards the end, talking to her and braiding her hair, and it sucks because Jinx naturally wants to not be alone, but also hates the bastard with everything in her. She’d have Stockholm syndrome in this au if it wasn’t for the voices)

Vi is gonna have a straight up heart attack the minute she’s close enough to see the scarring. It’s pretty extensive on her upper body, despite how most of it is pretty faint (barring a few bigger scars) and it’s enough to tell Vi that Jinx has had a rough couple of years.

I’ll be honest, when I first posted about this AU I thought Powder was 10 in Act 1 and 16 in Act 2-3. Apparently she was 11-12 and 17-18, respectively, so that ruins things a bit xD

So for sake of keeping it mostly canon, she is roughly 11 when she’s captured by Silco and 17 when she gets free. It won’t be Vi and/or Cait who comes to save her though (I’m actually writing her escape right now so I think I’ll keep quiet on the ‘how’. It’s gonna be appropriately tragic xD). But she does get about a year of freedom before Vi and Cait go into to the undercity. And they show up because she’s messing with Silco’s stuff and leaving a very noticeable trail of destruction behind her. The firelights may or may not be getting caught in the crossfires of her crusade. Ekko is desperately trying to find her (take her in), but for a long while she is absolutely convinced that he’s working with Silco so avoids him like the plague (but doesn’t seriously hurt him or his out of respect for who he used to be to her).

Speaking of Silco, he absolutely is having multiple people hunting her down. Everyone in his circle has a “report if found, do not engage” order while a select few lead capture attempts. He’s very aware that, as her target, she will eventually come at him so he fortifies himself the best he can. He’s ALSO very aware that she is much stronger than most of his lackies, so knows not to attempt a “capture on sight” order.

As for Sevika... I’ll be honest, I don’t think she gives a damn what happens to the girls. She was perfectly fine with a bunch of kids dying for the undercity, so I don’t see why she would care about Powder being put into the Pits. Personally, I think Sevika is in favor of getting rid of her and makes her opinion to Silco very known. Jinx was a danger to them if she ever escaped and Sevika was well aware. She also knew that Silco was soft enough for the kid that he would give her leniencies that might lead to said escape (she’s not wrong).

On another note, Jinx does eventually learn to love building things again. She’ll start building at first out of necessity (her guns aren’t gonna come from thin air, ya know), then because she remembers her passion for it. She is going to be very scared for a while, but eventually learns to get that part of her back. No explosives, but there are plenty of other things to make. In the future, she does spend a lot of time with Heimerdinger once he comes to the undercity/Zaun and he sort of takes both her and Ekko under his wing. He understands she’s been hurt for a very long time and there used to be a part of her that loved to invent, so he does his best to support her interest and catch her up on what she’s missed over the years.

Personally, I think he’ll encourage her to go back to the basics and start her off on small things like those butterflies/animals before moving onto bigger things, but Jinx would probably try to jump right into the deep end (she would be building guns at this point, it couldn’t be that difficult - said Jinx). Not sure if that works out for her yet. This post is a bit long, so I’ll talk about her skill a bit later (but it does change over time).

Ekko... I’m on the fence with him. There’s going to be so much guilt and anger there for a long time. Once she realizes he’s not with Silco, Jinx just wants him to forget about everything that’s happened and go back to the way they used to be (desperate to re-claim the very few good things she has left in this world), but that just can’t happen.

I’m a timebomb shipper. I want them to be together if Jinx is shipped with anyone in this AU, but I don’t know if I’ll actually put her with anyone. She’s got a lot to work on personally (not even looking at her mental health issues) and I’m not sure if pairing her with Ekko is what’s best for the both of them.

-- oh no you’re giving me ideas with the muzzle ahh. But really, I could see it happening the first year or two before she’s permanently fitted with a shock collar. By that point, I think she’s learned when to bite and when to punch or kick.

#origin #Fighter!Jinx AU #oof sorry for the late reply i just got back home :DDD #arcanecorner #arcane #jinx #sry for typos :(

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kingofkingdom-archive · 3 years

Text

Your Wish Is My Command

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (WW84) X Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on my last story! I’m grateful for all the feedback and can’t wait to get back to anyone who’s replied or reblogged it or whateva. This one’s pretty different - Recovery was mainly plot with a bit of porn, this is... well, the opposite of that. ;) As always, heed the tags/warnings, and again there is no use of Y/N here.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only!)

Summary: You have a gift - a powerful, unique, dangerous gift, and King Maxwell wants to take full advantage.

You’ll let him.

Warnings: mostly smut, Maxwell being an absolute jackass (no redemption arc here folks), you encouraging and very much liking the jackassery, brief mention of abuse/trauma, greedy authoritarian behavior, kinda spoilers for ww84

Tags: semi-public sex, exhibitionism, royalty kink (?), unprotected sex, implied and/or inferred consent (i.e. not explicit but there), Maxwell’s POV (until very end), fingering, p-in-v sex, come marking

Word Count: 3.4k

"The messenger you requested, reporting back from the northern provinces, sire."

King Maxwell of the house Lord, sitting in the throne gifted to him by birthright, dismisses the servant with a wave of his hand. He's become quite irritated with the futility of his efforts concerning this matter, and therefore has little patience for further delay. The future of his lands, his wealth, his power, rests on the shoulders of these menial workers and the news they provide. It bears no repeating that should they continue to come up empty-handed, someone is going to lose their head.

He needs the girl, and then it will be sealed. He will crush all opposition and assert his dominance over the entire region, coast to coast.

The messenger, a boy no more than 15, scurries into the room. His hair is tousled under his cap, which he hastily removes in the presence of the king. He bows, deeply and with a flourish, before standing upright.

Max watches with disinterest, legs spread over the velvet seat and head resting on his fist. His rings dig into his temple.

"We believe we've found her, sire."

That grabs his attention. He sits forward, both hands gripping the arms of his throne.

"You believe you have? Have you or have you not?"

The boy swallows, growing pale. "We-we have, your majesty. It's just, uh, we-we can't p-p-prove it's her until she demonstrates the gift."

The king groans, rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face. These people are impossible.

"Where is she, then? Have you at least brought her along?"

The boy nods frantically. "Yes, your majesty. She's been quartered in the guest wing, with two guards to watch her."

Immediately, Maxwell stands. Everyone in the room looks up at him, and he adjusts his sleeves. The boy is nearly trembling.

"Well, then take me to her," he orders, and the boy hesitates.

"Now!"

The messenger boy practically trips over his own feet in haste to correct his error. He sets a quick pace to the guest wing in order to account for the king's long strides, head bowed and arms stiff as he does so.

The room is located to the east of that which houses his throne, on the third floor, overlooking the orchards. Maxwell follows the boy, wooden-soled shoes echoing on the gleaming marble floors of his palace. Mirrors line each hallway, along with fine art ranging from rare vases to family portraits.

Maxwell sees the door as soon as they turn a corner, identifiable by the armored men who stand at either side of it. The boy stops and gestures to the door with a shaking hand.

"Just in here, y-"

"I can see that," the king barks, ignoring the boy completely. "You are dismissed."

He hears footsteps retreat quickly down the hall as he checks his appearance in a mirror. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkled seam in sight. The king sighs, smiling as he admires himself. He takes a moment before turning to the door, the door that hides behind it wealth and prosperity like nothing he's ever known.

The guards simply bow as he approaches them. Maxwell knocks twice on the door and pushes it open.

Inside there is a single room, with a bed and chest of drawers and a vanity. There is a balcony, with glass French doors, through which he can see the shape of a woman standing and looking out over the scenery.

She leans one hip against the stone railing, and as Maxwell walks forward he can see that she holds a goblet of wine in one hand. Her dress flows in the light summer breeze, and her hair is decorated in intricate braids, ribbon laced throughout.

The girl does not see him, yet. He stands in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, watching her.

"Is it true?" he asks, after he's looked his fill.

The young woman starts, a gasp escaping her lips. She turns to look towards the voice she has heard and startles again, seeing the king himself staring quite intently at her.

"Your majesty," she breathes, a smile ghosting across her lips. She bows deeply and then looks up at him, eyes bright and playful.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I've heard many... extraordinary things about you."

Maxwell is immediately taken with her. Not only is she quite beautiful, despite her pauper's clothing, but she is one of few who have not reacted to him with fear or malice. Most begin shaking when they see his face; she, however, seems quite happy to see him.

"Oh, sire, the pleasure is entirely mine," she responds, voice soft, like music to Max's ears. "What things could you have heard about someone as lowly as I?" Her words are humble, but he senses a hint of teasing in them - as though she knows exactly what he's heard, but just wants him to say it.

"You are rumored to possess a very unique skill, one that I am most interested in learning about." He plays along, because her elusiveness frustrates him much less when she's right in front of him.

The king is a very visual man.

He steps forward, fully onto the balcony now. She backs up until her back hits the railing, smile never leaving her face, even as the king crowds into her.

"I possess many skills which I would be happy to demonstrate to you," she says, and Max does not miss the meaning she intends to convey in those words. His eyes darken, his blood running hot at the thought of the many things she could give him. The things he could take from her willingly, without the hassle of a fight.

"It is said that you grant wishes," he murmurs, looking down at her. Max finds he quite likes this view, her looking up to her king. "One must only touch you and state their wish, and it will be so."

The girl chuckles, and daringly takes a sip of her wine. Maxwell grins, before reaching a hand up and grabbing the wine from her grasp. He tosses the liquid out over the ground below and carelessly throws the goblet over the edge to follow its contents.

The girl does not bat an eye.

"What you have heard," she mutters, eyes slipping down to his lips and back up again, "is true."

The king runs his hand up her side, settling at her ribs just beside her breast, savoring the way she shivers at his touch. His fingers splay out over the bare skin of her back, warm and soft and hinting at more.

He dips his head down so that his nose brushes against hers, mouths nearly touching.

"Is there a limit," he breathes, because he knows he must ask this, "to your generosity, my dear?"

The girl smiles, placing a hand on his bicep. Her small fingers feel divine against him, even there.

"No," she whispers back.

Maxwell hums, stroking his thumb idly along her warm, soft skin. He needs to confirm that she's telling the truth, as tempting as it is to believe her outright. The way she's looking at him... she'd let him do anything to her. The thought is as enticing as it is dangerous.

"I wish to find a raven's feather in my shirt pocket," he says, and then feels a slight breeze on the back of his neck.

The king reaches into his pocket, and his fingers brush against exactly the object he wished for. He pulls it out to show the girl. She smiles and runs a hand up to his shoulder, resting her wrist there. His loose linen shirt, which flutters lightly in the wind against his tanned skin, is perfect for a summer's day like this - and when he feels the warmth of her hand through it he thanks his past self for selecting it this morning.

"What a remarkable gift you have," he comments, and tucks the feather behind her ear.

An endearing blush rises to her cheeks, and though she ignores it, the king takes notice. "Thank you, your majesty."

At that moment, an idea forms in his mind. It's devious, downright lecherous and more the act of some tavern drunkard than a king, but she is sure to react well, if he's gauged her correctly.

"You said there's no limit on the wishes you can grant a single person?"

"Yes, sire. I did."

A smirk forms on the king's face. "Then I wish, my dear, for you to be naked."

The wind around them picks up again and the girl gasps. In the blink of an eye, her plain, beige dress has disappeared, leaving nothing behind. She is a vision, bare and beautiful in the midday light like this.

Maxwell is immediately hard. Not only is there a gorgeous, naked woman before him, but his absolute, unlimited power has just been confirmed and lies at his fingertips. He is unstoppable now, now that he has her.

The girl's hands fly up to grasp at his shoulders as his own trace over her curves. Her hips, her waist, her thighs - one of which he brings up to hook around his own hip - all of it is open and shimmering before him.

"They said - in my village, they said you are a monster," she says, though her words trail off into a moan as one of the king's hands finds her breast. He tugs at her nipple, squeezing and pulling at the supple flesh, drawing sweet sounds from her pink mouth.

"Is that so?"

She nods. "I would look at your portraits and - and think... I'd think, no... no man so handsome could be so evil."

The king laughs, dipping his head to lick at her neck. She tosses her head back, giving him full access to the elegant column of her throat.

"And even... even if you are what they said... I don't - I don't care."

Maxwell groans just as she says it, biting a bruise into the junction between her shoulder and neck. He trails bites and kisses down her collarbones, leaving his marks across her unblemished skin.

"I am," he murmurs into her ear, smoothing a hand over her stomach so that his middle finger comes to glide over the thick hair that covers her mound. He dips it into her folds, rubbing softly at the wet, slippery flesh there until she moans, high-pitched and needy. He grins, licking his tongue into the shell of her ear.

"I am a monster, my dear," he whispers. "Every vile thing they said about me is true. And... I wish to fill my personal vaults with triple the gold. I wish to increase my fleets tenfold, with loyal soldiers to match. I wish to never see you leave these palace grounds so long as I live."

The wind picks up considerably around them. The king presses a finger against her opening, hot and dripping for him, and slides it in. Her moans are heavenly, loud and unashamed as he violates her in the open, where anyone could look up and see them. Her cunt opens for his finger, the gold and precious jewels of his rings swallowed by her sweet embrace. Her hands grip at his neck while her leg draws him closer. He adds a second, and it enters just as easily.

The king begins to fuck her with his fingers, watching as the muscles in her stomach tense and her eyes go glassy with the feeling.

"I wish to never be challenged by anyone for the throne," he grunts out. The girl moans at his words, and he realizes that she likes it. Not just the way he's touching her, but that he's making his wishes as he does it. He grins at her, predatory, and cups her ass with the hand not currently knuckle-deep in her pussy. His fingers dig in, sharp and strong and unyielding, surely leaving bruises in their wake.

"You like granting my wishes, darling? You enjoy giving me power, worshipping your king?"

She nods, mouth half-open. "Yes, your majesty." Her voice is breathy, the sound of it nearly knocking him out with the way it draws blood from his brain to his cock.

Speaking of which.

Maxwell thrusts a third finger into her cunt, the stretch made easy by the slick leaking out of her profusely. She wails, hands scrabbling at his neck and shoulders and back and the collar of his shirt.

"Take me out," he orders, and she pauses to look at him, confused. "Take me out of my trousers, my dear. Feel how hard I am for you."

She gasps and her hands fly down to the button at the crotch of his pants. Quickly she fumbles it open, and his hard member pushes up into her palms. The girl gives the king's dick a squeeze, and he grits his teeth, moaning.

"I wish to claim all of the lands in the south as my own. I wish to have loyal subjects in every village and town, that no one may ever defy me again. I wish to have any traitors killed without question."

The girl's moans have increased again as she rubs and caresses his cock. Her hands disappear for a moment as she leans back, licking a long stripe from her wrist to fingertips, and returns to her task.

Maxwell groans, dropping his head forward to press his nose against her skin, breathing in. She smells faintly of lavender, a crop that grows abundantly in the north, sweet and fresh. His tongue darts out to lick away a drop of sweat that rolls down her collarbone. Her hands squeeze and pull at his cock, thumbing at the head and slit and dipping down to fondle his balls on every other stroke.

It feels positively exquisite, but he wants to put his dick to use elsewhere. Somewhere tighter, warmer, wetter.

The king removes his fingers, drawing a whine from the girl. The noise of it is obscene in itself, squelching and sticky as her cunt tries to cling to his fingers and the jewels that adorn them. He chuckles, lifts his head to meet her gaze, and brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks away her essence. She watches, rapt, as he makes sure to get every inch of the three digits that were inside her. The sight of it makes her keen, high pitched noises spilling out of her lips and eyes watering with desperation and need for him.

The king laughs, the taste of her on his tongue. Someday, he swears, he'll taste this sweet nectar straight from the source.

Now is not the time.

He brings his spit-soaked hand down to his red, throbbing cock, giving it a few strokes. His other hand slips up to grasp her waist. The girl lifts her leg further, resting her heel against his ass, helping him to guide his length into her.

"What else do you wish for, my king?" she asks, just as the head of his cock notches at her opening. With a grunt, Max pushes in.

Her words, combined with the feeling of her pussy stretched around his dick, causes his vision to blur and images to flash in his mind of what's now possible with her gift at his disposal. He pushes in further, drawing another moan from deep within her throat.

"I wish... I wish..."

"Your wildest fantasies, my king..." she urges, grip tightening on his neck and shoulder. "Anything is possible. What do you -- oh!"

As her words soak into his skin, he pushes in further and further, until his balls are nestled squarely at her ass. She's pushing him to take, rather than to give, unlike so many who surround him. It breathes fire into his veins, this woman who's encouraging him to do all the selfish, power-hungry things he'd do anyway, all while he fucks into her like this.

The king draws out and pushes back in in one smooth motion, stealing the breath from her lungs. He presses his lips against hers as he speaks, as he sets a rough pace, fucking her into the stone railing.

"I wish to never fall ill or suffer injury in battle. I wish to have the unwavering allegiance of every foreign leader, and that they will defer to me in all international affairs. I wish for my reign to be the longest this nation has ever seen. I wish to live longer than any other man, and I wish to have you here at my disposal for the entirety of my long life. I wish to never succumb to old age."

By now, the wind is tossing her hair and whistling around them, but Maxwell does not care. He's thrusting into her roughly, recklessly now, and all he can hear are her sweet, delicious moans. Her pussy clenches his cock just so, and he sees nearly sees stars at the feeling. Her tits bounce as he fucks into her, her nudity on full display but only to be taken advantage of by him.

Maxwell adjusts his grip on her waist and thigh, maneuvering her around so that now he's taking her from behind. She leans forward on the railing, looking out over the palace grounds.

"Isn't it beautiful, darling?" he breathes, gripping her ass cheeks now, pumping in and out with increased fervor. "Looking out onto your lands, as far as the eye can see..."

She merely responds with moans, punched out of her with each thrust, and Maxwell feels her cunt throb in a way that tells him her orgasm is imminent. He reaches a hand around and searches for her clit, knowing he finds it when she shouts out. He rubs a finger against the sensitive, pulsing nub until she comes apart, writing and screaming on his cock.

Max feels his own climax approaching, and just before he tips over the edge, he withdraws his cock. Taking himself in hand, he strokes a few times and cums directly onto her ass and lower back, marking her up with his potent, royal seed.

Chest heaving, the king runs his hands through his own semen as it cools on the girl's backside. He rubs it into her skin like a masseuse might a fragrant oil.

Maxwell steps back, admiring his conquest. The girl is still leaning against the railing, head bowed and naked as the day she was born.

"I wish for you to be my queen."

The words are a surprise even to him, though he's not shocked at his own impulsivity; that is a trait of his that has followed him from childhood onward.

The girl turns to look at him.

"You have to be touching me for it to work, sire." She doesn't sound angry with him, which is a relief, though he'd never show it.

"I know, my dearest. I wish it, but I won't compel you."

At that she turns to face him fully. She's got that fucked-out look on her face, to be sure, but now there's something else in her eyes.

"Are you asking me to marry you, King Maxwell?" Her smile is sly, something befitting a woman of much higher status than herself. It makes his cock twitch in a valiant effort to get hard again.

"I suppose so."

"In that case, my answer is yes," she says, and pulls him in by his shirt collar for a searing kiss.

The next morning, you wake up sore in an unfamiliar bed.

You look around for a moment, taking in the luxurious decor and faint smell of roses, until you remember where you are. Who you are, now.

Your head rests not on a pillow - something much warmer than that. It rises and falls softly, and then you realize there's a weight around your waist that feels distinctly like an arm. Lifting your head just slightly, you see the king himself asleep above you, face soft and youthful in rest.

As you lay your head down on his chest to fall back asleep, you can't help but think of the people back in your village. The horrors you endured at their hands once they learned of your gift. The nightmares you still have because of what they did.

You think of how much they suffer under the rule of the king - of your husband - and you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

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kaisa-ryo · 3 years

Text

Inumaki Toge NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Fingering your hair is his favorite pastime. It doesn't matter if they are short or long, light or dark, he just loves the combination of your scent and your favorite shampoo. Yes. It is no less pleasant for him to draw in their aroma, so Inumaki always bumps into the top of your head and falls asleep, feeling this native smell. This is probably why he often dreams with your participation.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

Hair. It is obvious.

How he is fascinated by the sight when they develop so beautifully in the wind, how the moonlight pours into them, and how incredibly alluring any touch seems to be. It's like teasing a lover by flattering his imagination. But damn it, when you give him full control over them, he feels great delight. Toge can spend hours doing your hair or putting it in a ponytail, admiring your bare neck, guessing the thoughts behind your back.

— And if we have a girl, will you also braid her hair?

You asked with a slight laugh.

— Salmon! Salmon!

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

Most often in a condom.

Sometimes, of course, on one of the zones of your body, but with your permission. Because of the prices and the need to save money, you can certainly not copulate every day, but you want to get as much pleasure from the process as possible. Speaking specifically about you, then you do not mind that he came inside. The main thing is to properly configure yourself and him.

D = Dirty secret

He is in no other way connected with his kink, which you will learn about a little later.

When you're in the shower or away from the dorm, he takes your headphones and licks the earwax off. Yes, you heard right.

When you were walking with a friend, she couldn't stop complaining for ten minutes that her headphones need to be constantly cleaned, otherwise any music is hard to hear. You, of course, were surprised not to answer her. You have a slightly different thought - why have you never noticed your headphones are dirty? Anyway, you thought you were just lucky with them.

E = Experience

Small, but no less significant.

Watching porn to completely satisfy you seemed insufficient to him. Therefore, in order to have at least some idea of the peculiarities of the female body, he watched how it moves, studied gestures, facial expressions and even intonation, trying to make out what exactly you can get aroused from. The peculiarity was that in real life, body movements and their consequences are never as natural and simple as on a phone screen. For example, when you suck on him, his throat may dry out, from which you ask him to bring a glass of water. Or when you fuck for too long, and neither of you ever experienced an orgasm (this also happens), you just lie down on the bed, not even thinking that it is either of you. Simply because you are just tired.

In general, you both learn something new in sexual relations and experience new sensations almost every intercourse.

F = Favorite position

Most of all he prefers those in which no special effort is needed. For example missionary or "spoons". They do not require any incredible gymnastic skills and still allow you to conserve energy.

A special title is occupied by the pose from behind, where you put a pillow under the pelvis. A huge plus is that such a pose serves for "deeper penetration", so you both experience the same sensations of bliss: you are all Inumaki inside yourself, and he is your incomparable warmth and flesh.

G = Goofy (Serious at this moment?)

Undoubtedly.

We can say that he simply does not know how to fool around. He is serious and subtle to such an extent that even joking flirting with him seems a kind of perversion.

H = Hair (Is the hair okay?)

Frankly, you are not even sure that he has something growing there. But the whole secret is that he tries to pay as much attention to the groin area as possible. This is the only place that, perhaps, only you can see. It is worth paying special attention to it, isn't it?

I = Intimacy (Romance)

This is mainly a manifestation of material or spiritual signs. Moreover, the most common ones, for example, an offer to share food, hold the door, straighten the curls that have come out of his hair .., but he does it with such a disinterested and sincere expression that it immediately becomes clear that this is true love based on affection.

Perhaps to some extent this is just a game of contrasts, the goal of which is to win your heart completely and completely, but unfeigned attention forces it to be sincere. In fact, there is no need for him to play these dirty games, because he has long ago reached you in all his perfection, and, in fact, remains the dearest person for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happens.

It does not matter because of what exactly: your naked, half-naked body, clothes ..., absolutely everything drenches him from head to toe.

The heart is pounding like mad, there is a pleasant tickling in the stomach, breathing quickens, the eyelids begin to drop from such a pressure of mixed, but clearly pleasant feelings. The hand unauthorizedly reaches down to the pants and continues to rub the tip until all the precum has flowed out. Trembling muffled moans hammer into his ears, mixing with yours, which sound in his sexual fantasies.

Once you caught him doing this, but fortunately, you didn't even understand that he was masturbating then.

K = Kink

Have you ever seen people lick their partners' ears? I hasten to congratulate (or upset), Inumaki is one of them.

During sex, he always starts with this - licking and nibbling your ears. Starting from the scaphoid fossa and ending with the earlobe. Later, he will smoothly move to a climax, ending with the fact that he learns with the language more internal parts, like a storm a passage to the eardrums.

The more you are aroused by the rhythmic movement of his tongue, the more the waves of sexual energy spread throughout your body. Eventually you will begin to succumb to such unusual caresses.

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

Any where you are alone. The most commonplace are the kitchen table and bed. But his favorite is the bath.

Here you are sitting, huddled close to each other, then Inumaki for no reason, for no reason begins to caress you. Under the water, everything seems so sharp and shameless that you will not immediately understand whether you are really flowing or whether it is ordinary water. Plus, the bath has an advantage. It lies in the fact that you do not need to go to the shower after sex to put yourself in order, because you are already in the shower!

Toge knows how exhausted you are, so he will definitely go over your whole body with a washcloth, and this, believe me, will be extremely pleasant. Then you just fall asleep on his chest while he peers into your face, tickling him from time to time with the touches of soft fingers.

M = Motivation

Your persistence

He gets maddened by the way you touch and feel his torso as he stands with his back to you. He feels how your hand moves to his chest, and each time he moans with delight, as if he was touching your tender body, not you. And you slowly and carefully examine its relief, running your fingers into your pants and touching a tense member. Oh, how you smile in response to his sighs and groans. What he thinks about you at this moment, even scary to imagine. Do you want to know his thoughts? You can do this to the fullest while he stands in front of the mirror and watches how you feel his body, looking at his face, which he is diligently trying to hide. But nothing comes of it, because you come closer to his ear and whisper: "Close your eyes ..." He obediently closes, and you passionately lick his neck, and he again moans with bliss. Damn right, he needs it right now.

N = No (Which will not do)

Something that will make you uncomfortable.

Inumaki is a person who truly wants love. It is on this that all his thoughts, plans, desires are concentrated. But not on using your passion as a tool to achieve sexual pleasure. If he ever hurts you or loses you altogether, then most likely he will not find an object for his love and will remain empty and timid until the end of his days. And this will be the saddest thing in his life. That is why he wants to give you what you need in order to receive your love in the maximum amount,

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

He tries with all his might to show that the guy is by nature a gentleman and idealist, but deep down he wants to get as much from you as possible. To do this, he tries to get all the pleasure from just one of your vulgar posture or appearance, the whole charm of which lies in the fact that he seems to be a normal action that does not cause orgasm even in the most dissolute, but still can cause something in between huge pleasure and deep shock. Such a difficult game, however, quite often happens if the guy realizes that you are completely open to his reach. And someday he will tell you about it, and you will probably laugh at it.

P = Pace

Able to suddenly accelerate, forcing you to take his fingers into your mouth. No matter how much you fuck, it will always come as a surprise to you, since a fast pace can appear at any moment, even at the very beginning.

Q = Quickie

Changeable. He chooses when he should accelerate. Even if there is nothing left to your general orgasm, it may slow down, on purpose, so that you begin to sigh heavily and beg to "be faster."

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

He does not like to talk about it, so, most likely, he is not ready. Inumaki is not afraid that everything will go through the same place as to harm you.

If he ever gets such an opportunity, he will show the cross with his hands. Even if somewhere in the depths of his soul he wants to do this, he will mentally slap himself in the face and say “no” to himself several times.

Yes, you are a very active person and you will always look for something new in order to try it soon, for which he fell in love with you. From the part. But at the same time, the guy knows very well that if something goes wrong, it will already be his fault that he did not have time to change his mind and refuse in time.

S = Stamina

On average, a couple of rounds are enough for him, and not to get tired, but to force your body to produce fluid. But this art is so subtle that it takes deep and long practice to master it. But Toge was able to "develop his own style" based solely on you. He knew by heart your movements, desires, weaknesses ... let's say, perfectly mastered your personal body language. And it does not take him long to bring you to the peak of pleasure.

T = Toys

Not an amateur.

When you offered him one just for a change, he frowned and shook his head. He does not consider it dirty, rather strange and completely unnecessary. He has a bad attitude not only to toys. When he first saw one of the varieties of BDSM, he reacted in much the same way.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

Watching you wriggle with the desire for him to fuck your convulsing hole must be an incredibly exciting sight for him. Especially when you, wagging your hips, cum on his fingers, so that he immediately licks your lubricant dry. And you, mixed with an incredible sense of bliss, fuck his cock until you are exhausted, because this is the only way to somehow thank him for the affection.

Preludes are what Inumaki is really good at.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Quite loud. For him, this is such a small complex that he tries to hide, biting your shoulders and collarbones, in order to drown out his own groan at least a little. But you think it's cute and you have already told him about it more than once, but he still continues to be embarrassed by his own voice. Perhaps he himself is embarrassed to hear the loud sounds that he is capable of making, because most of the time he is quiet as a mouse. But despite this, he is pleased that you, unlike him, do not take it as something informal or out of the ordinary.

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

That night you fucked for quite a long period of time, because you, apparently, under the influence of your teenage hormones, decided to spend the whole day on how to drive him crazy with all the excitements that you know how to drink with the pathogen dissolved in water. You no longer remember what exactly your vicious hormones wanted: extra attention or the knowledge of what his maximum could be. In any case, you didn’t regret doing it.

Due to this, you guys had to sleep three hours more than you need to. As a result, both were late for training.

Who knew that Satoru Gojo was peeking into students' rooms !? Although it was obvious, nobody really thought about it.

— Hmm. What are all the same infinite adolescents are. Apparently I underestimated them. - picking up the used condom from the floor and grinning happily Gojo said.

Since then, the teacher from time to time, with an already annoying smile from her endless amount, glanced at you. But knowing that one person knew about it, it was already impossible to say for sure that someone else would not know about it either. In the end, secrets were useless to hide. Sooner or later, everyone would look askance at you. After all, an interesting couple, a strong shaman and a little vulgarity.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

13 cm, during erection ± 0.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

I will not deny that Toge finds you sexually attractive. Yes, he would like to be alone with you as much as possible. He knows that in a way he considers you to be his weakness. He understands that you, like a fallen star, can ignite in him not only passion, but also a thirst for euphoria. But Toge has no doubt that you are in the hands of someone who can protect you. Even from myself.

Sex is a good solution to remind you that both of you can be more vulnerable to each other, that you both have strengths and weaknesses, that one of you can show more than if he was like an open book. And, undoubtedly, each of you wants to experience this feeling at least once a week. But you and Inumaki do not forget that everything has its own measure. I have long been aware that soon frequent sex can affect your contraception, your health and sincerity (you can forget why you are doing all this). And in general, there is no need to do this too often in your relationship. Realism, what else to add?

± 5/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

It depends on how much the process exhausted him. As already mentioned, his endurance is much higher than, for example, yours. Therefore, for some indefinite rest of the time, he will look at your relaxed face, tuck a lock of hair behind your ear or stroke your bare shoulder. If your body decides to turn its back on it, it is unlikely that it will immediately stop touching you. Only after his hands pass from your shoulders to your hips and back, he will want to kiss you on the neck or on the cheek. And then he can easily make your body return to its previous position in order to spend several hours in an intoxicating bliss.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

#jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk inumaki #alphabet

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your-average-weeb-dealer · 3 years

Note

HELLO OH MY CONGRATS ON 130!!!?! I'd love to enter your event!!!!!! I was wondering if I could have either a deathnote or bnha matchup!!!?? I am a Leo, and an enfp!!! My pronouns are she/her, and I am heteroromantic and asexual!!! So first thing I'd look for in a s/o would be that they were respectful of me being ace!!!! The dream would be to be with someone that would either do impulsive things with me, or just stop me from doing them when it gets out of hand!!! My dream date would either be an amusement park so we can ride some crazy rollercoasters, a picnic where we can make flower crowns, doing crazy things really early in the morning when I can't sleep, or just staying home and baking while watching movies!!! I have a hard time going to sleep, and I don't want to bug anyone because of that!! I have a pretty major sweet tooth, so if they also enjoy chocolates and cake and just overly sweet things then that's a bonus!!! I tend to lean towards people who are the opposite of me meaning they are either not very expressive, or they can be a little more harsh(?) than I can!!! *Laughs in both mommy and daddy issues* I am great at carrying conversations as I am very talkative!!! I am 5'0, and I have a smaller build!! I have blonde curly hair that right now is getting to be kinda long so I am going to cut it back to shoulder length!!! I have blue eyes, and tend to dress kinda out there!!! I love to wear pastel colours, with lots of crazy accessories!!! A bonus with a s/o would be that they have a sense of fashion!!! I express myself via my clothing and by making art!!! I am in the middle of expanding my jewelry collection, and I just made a whole heap of crazy earrings!!! I love to embroider and sculpt and just create things!!! I used to love making digital art but I haven't really done much of that in a while because I compared my work with that of other artists too much... I can be confident at times, but my insecurities do come out, and in order to deal with that ideally I would surround myself with people that would be able to help me in those times!!! Also on that note I'm over 7 months ed relapse free!!!!!! I am so happy to be at this point and my friends have helped me so much I owe the world to all of them!!! My home life isn't all that great but I have plans to move to Chicago and become a florist!!! I love dogs!!! I also love music and I cannot exist without background noise and I don't want to annoy anyone with that... one of the most important things for me when it comes to people is being around those who aren't racist, sexist, homophobic, or just not supportive of letting people be who they are or want to be!! At this point I am just ranting, so thank you for the opportunity!!! I hope you have an amazing day, and don't forget to drink some water!!!

Thanks for all the info!! And congrats on 7 months, it takes a lot of strength to get that far!!

I match you with...

Mello/Mihael Keehl (from Death note)

-and-

Denki Kaminari (from Bnha)

Chocoholic (Mello)

you’d be the perfect couple... besides the fact that he’s in the mafia-

He’s go out of his way to buy you sweets (he may even share some of chocolate... if he’s in a good mood)

Being that he gets overly emotional a lot of the times, he would probably end up impulsively doing random illegal shit with you

He’d stop you from doing stupid impulsive things as well

Dates with him would probably be indoor movie dates and cuddling

He can’t do that much with you since... well he is a criminal

He’d be a total tsundere, he’d be a complete jackass when you first met but as you get to know him he’d be a lil softy

H E P R O T E C C

He’d get mad if you couldn’t sleep and didn’t come over to him and ask for cuddles

He wouldn’t mind having music playing while he works- it just better be something he likes.

He probably goes shopping with you, and he’s good at it

I mean he’s got money and a fashion sense, there’s no way you’re going to be walking around in something basic or bland

Memelord (Denki)

You would both be the trouble makers of U.A

Anything happens and you and Kaminari are the first to get the blame

it makes sense though, you and him are both super impulsive

Your dates would mostly be to amusement parks, pinic dates, walks on the beach and you trying to still be with him whilst avoiding Mineta

He doesn’t mind at all that your ace- ok he may be a little disappointed at first but he’ll get over it because...

A PRETTY GIRL WANTS TO DATE HIM

I mean he can’t even get over how happy he is

He definitely knows how to draw, and may even draw little comics of the two of you

He’ll braid flowers into your hair while you’re on a picnic date

If you ever compare your art to his he’ll just say

“Huh? B-but, it’s not a competition. I drew this so you could see how beautiful you are” (denki) he said holding up a portrait he made of you

He tried learn how to sculpt so he could relate to you even more-

yeah, it turned out just looking like a giant lump of clay

You and him run around the U.A school grounds when you can’t sleep, destroying everything you come in contact with

(A/n: AHHh I didn’t expect so many people to request match ups!! Don’t worry I’ll get to all of them!)

#matchup #event #mha denki #denki x reader #bnha denki #bnha denki x reader #denki headcanons #denki kaminari #denki kin #Mello #mello x reader #mello headcanons #mello death note #death note x reader #death note matchup #bnha matchup #miheal keehl #miheal keel x reader #requests

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years

Text

Locksley Hall - Part II

Summery: Tom doesn’t know quite how it happens, but one moment he’s working as the gardener at Locksley hall, and the next he’s run of to marry the lords daughter, a girl he hates. Set in England, 1920.

Word count: 5500 (sorry...)

Pairing: Tom x OC

A/N: Again, this is heavily inspired by the first part in Atonement – Ian McEwan, but the plot is different.

Music wise: For Madeleine’s parts I listened to Old Money – Lana del Rey and for Tom’s part I listened to NFWMB and Work Song - Hozier.

R E A D P A R T O N E H E R E

Gideon’s cottage - 1920.

Tom is awakened by yet another expensive automobile driving up the road and past his cottage. His brain works slowly, still half asleep, one foot in a dreamland where he’s chasing someone in a labyrinth made out of peonies. Slowly he wakes his body by moving his toes, and then his fingers too, before stretching his arms over his head, letting out a tired groan. His body feels warm and his limbs lethargic and slow, as they do after a particularly long nap. For a long while he lays there, eyes half-closed, staring at the dust aimlessly drifting in the sunlight.

Another car passes by outside.

Downstairs he can hear Mr. Higgins doing the washing up. If he concentrates, he can hear the guests from the ball chatting and laughing up at the manor. If he concentrates further still, he can hear the blood pumping through his system, steady and slow.

The whole world feels slow. Like the air in the room stands still, despite the wide-open window. It is mid-July, and the heat feels oppressively persistent, there is no escaping it. Only now, as the clock is nearing eight in the evening, does the world seem to cool. All morning he’d worked in the garden, preparing the grounds for the ball under the watchful eyes of old Dowager Locksley. When she was finally satisfied that there wasn’t a dead leaf, not a single weed, nor an unwatered rose in sight she’d sent him off, ready to attack the kitchen staff instead. He’d walked down to Locksley bay. There he’d rid himself of his sweaty, earth-stained rags and he’d swam until his body felt cool again before returning to the cottage for a long and well-deserved nap.

He stretches again and groans. He desperately wants a smoke, but his pack of cigarettes along with his lighter is all across the room, thrown on the cluttered desk along with countless of books and an old typewriter that the library had given away. The letter M was irreversibly lost and therefor it had been deemed useless. He’d taken it with great gratitude, glad to have something he’d normally wouldn’t be able to afford. It had amused him, typing long passages without using any word containing the 13th letter of the alphabet. In a strange way it thrilled him, that some words in the dictionary simply became forbidden for him. Suddenly out of reach.Words like magic, monarch, melancholy, magnetic, maddening, maiden,

Madeleine.

Finally he gets up, walks across the room and sits down by his desk. He lights a cigarette. Staring out the window he watches as yet another car makes it up the driveway to join the ball.

The sky outside is lilac, and the first evening breeze makes its way through the grass like a wave in the ocean and he prays it’ll make its way through the window to cool his head. He inhales deeply, but the sinking feeling he’s had in his stomach all day stays where it is.

And half of his mind is still in his dream.

Had he been better at drawing he’d drawn her hands, soft and small compared to his calloused ones. Maybe if he’d draw them, he’d be able to get the picture of them out of his mind. Those hands, gracefully holding a cigarette as her eyes, dark and deep and framed with long lashes, observed him with great disapproval as they’d discussed poetry. She always looked disapproving when she was observing him. She’d worn a evening gown in the finest silk, and his ratty jacket over her shoulders, her normally perfectly pinned hair falling down in cascades over her shoulders. It had felt strangely intimate, seeing her like that, so undone and wearing his jacket

Swearing, he puts out the cigarette. He’d been distracted, not noticing how it’d burnt down to the butt, burning his fingers. He doesn’t light a new one, but leans back in his chair, runs his hand through his hair and tries to calm his breathing.

It hadn’t always been this way.

Once upon a time, they’d been friends, hard as it was to believe now. They’d defied gravity when they’d climbed the great oak three behind the cottage. He’d taught her how to swim in Locksley bay, held her up in the water and told her to fill her lungs with air in order to float. She’d taught him how to read. His teacher in the village school had called him slow, so she’d sneaked out books from the library, and with patience of a saint she’d taught him how to recognise each symbol until he could make sense of the words.

She’d been his first kiss.

It had only been a small peck on his lips, lasting not more than a second, but it counted. He counted it.

She’d find him in the greenhouse, crying over the trashing he’d gotten from Mr. Higgins for attacking Francis Locksley. Silently she’d sat down beside him, her long dark hair in a braid and dressed in her Sunday best, having just been to church. She’d taken his bruised knuckles in her hands and she’d kissed them, before kissing each tear streaked cheek, and then ever so briefly, she’d pressed her lips against his. He had felt like a knight, being awarded by the queen for his brave service. He hadn’t known what to make of it, but she’d held his hand in hers and he’d leaned his head against her shoulder and for the longest time they’d stayed that way until he’d forgotten all about stinging bruises and tears.

He lights another cigarette and another car drives up the driveway.

The sky is now a dark blue, the last evening light turning the leaves in the trees golden. Earlier that day Mr. Higgins had put out lights all along the drive way to the manor house and they now lit up the summer evening.

Against the evening sky he sees a bird shoot up, rising to the sky.

Once when they’d been children they’d found an injured songbird in the woods. He’d watched as Madeleine with the gentlest of fingers picked the bird up. He’d watched as she held the wounded creature in her hands, as she observed its broken wing. She’d looked at him then, her dark eyes sad, and she’d told him they’d have to help it heal.

So they’d gone to Gideon’s cottage and he’d sneaked her in, while Mr. Higgins worked in the garden. She’d placed the songbird on his bed. While she was kneeling in front of it, as if in prayer, he’d taken out bandages. He’d watched as she’d gently wrapped it around the bird’s wing. She’d looked at him, and told him to sing. She’d said that it would make the bird feel safer, that it was what she used to do to baby Beatrix when she was crying. So, he’d sung a song to the poor harmed thing, while Madeleine patted its head.

For seven days the nursed it, making sure the wing healed as it should. It had been their secret. She’d snuck out of classes with her governess and he’d faked being ill until Mr. Higgins let him be home from school and they’d sat in his room, and he’d sing for them. They kept the bird in a box, on the lid of which he’d put air holes in, and she’d placed her cardigan in the bottom of it, making sure it was soft to sleep on. They’d feed t worms Tom had dug up in the garden and Tom would sing to it every night.

In the end the songbird had healed, and they’d released it in the woods again and watched as it flew away, awkwardly at first, nearly toppling towards the ground before it found its strength again, slowly rising until it was only a speck of black in the distance. He’d held her hand, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself from weeping, while she had cried openly, pressing his hand in hers. They’d hid in the labyrinth until late that evening, far away from nanny and Mr. Higgins. He’d sung her songs until she’d stopped weeping.

Tom stands up, puts out his cigarette and stretches out one last time. Then he walks out, leaving his memories in the smoke-filled room, heading towards the pub.

The Wild Boar, the village pub

“You ever think about headin’ out of here?” he asks his friend.

They’re in the village pub, The Wild Boar, throwing back beers. A Victorian pub with murky green wallpaper, beer-stained velvet booths and worn mahogany wooden floors. The atmosphere is always good and someone is always singing. Harrison, who most days works in the bar but is enjoying a rare day off, calls it his home.

“What, go somewhere else to drink, you mean?”

“No, no, I mean like leave Milchwood, go to London or something, head somewhere else you know”.

Harrison gives him a puzzled look and Tom can tell he doesn’t feel the same. They’re both comfortably leaned back on each side of the booth. Around them the other patrons are talking loudly, discussing this and that, enjoying their Saturday night and the unusually warm summer weather.

“No” Harrison answers in the end “no, I mean, it’s home, yeah?” He drowns the last drops of his pint, waving to the bar for another before looking back at Tom, “you feel like leaving?”

“Dunno, maybe, sometimes” he says. “’is just, some days I want nothing more than to head out to Milchwood station and take literally any train away from here.” He takes a long gulp of his own pint.

“Well, why don’t you?”

It takes some time for Tom to answer. He keeps his eyes on the dirty window in front of him. Far away he can just make out the silhouette of Locksley Hall. They are all up there now, the lords and the ladies, having a ball.

“’s just hard to leave you know.” He takes another gulp of beer as the bartender places another pint in front of Harrison. “Spent most of my time in France wishing I was back here and now” he waves his hand in front of him, as if this would explain the strange sinking feeling he’d been walking around with lately. “Now it feels like it all stands still, like I’m just walking around, waiting for something to happen.”

Harrison gives him a worried look “but what’s keeping you here then?”

“Dunno, it’s just, it’s hard to leave”.

He doesn’t have ties to this place the way Harrison does. He has no other family part from Mr. Higgins. Mrs. Higgins had taken him in when he’d been nothing more than a baby, but she’d passed away before his fifth birthday. He hardly remembered her. Mr. Higgins had kept him on, and despite his stern ways he’d been kind to the boy, and taught him all he knew of gardening and thus ensuring that Tom would have a future secured. But Tom knows that Mr. Higgins wouldn’t mind if he took off, that maybe he’d even expect it.

“Yes, we saw ‘em, didn’t we Billy!” Owain Murphy’s loud voice booms from the booth beside theirs.

“Yeah” Billy concurs, nodding his head and staring down into his glass.

“Yeah, we saw ‘em, all ‘em gently folks up at Locksley Hall”.

“Yeah” Billy nods again.

“They say the ‘eir is being married off!” Owain bellows.

Billy is too busy drinking now to agree.

“She looked a vision, didn’t she Billy?”

Something twists uncomfortably in Tom’s stomach. He drowns his beer and nods to his friend. It’s time to leave. The night air is cool and he takes deep breaths of it as he steps outside. They walk and chat for a while, before hitting a fork in the road, saying their goodbyes and promising to meet up for another pint the next day they then part ways, Harrison walking to the house he shares with his parents and little sister, and Tom steers his feet to Gideon’s Cottage and Locksley Hall.

He can see the lights from the building, hear the piano music even from outside. Across the lawn people are taking some fresh air, surely they’ve been dancing for hours. They’re all dressed in their finest clothes, heavily bejeweled. Tom closes in on Gideon’s cottage, and he can’t wait to throw himself on the bed and sleep for a few hours. Tomorrow is Sunday, the day for resting, and he’s free as a bird.

A flash of white moves in the corner of his eye and he looks over.

By the enormous rhododendron bush stands Lady Madeleine Locksley, wearing a silky white gown that somehow plays tricks with his brain; for when he first lays his eyes on her, it looks to him as if she’s wearing nothing more than moonlight, the diamonds from her tiara glistening in the night.

For a moment it feels as if he’s actually gotten the breath knocked out of him. Owain Murphy had been right, she did look a vision.

A man joins her, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s tall and blond and even from this distance he can tell she’s bored with the conversation, but she politely goes along with it.

Tom walks into the cottage, closing the door behind him.

The cliffs of Locksley bay

The Atlantic Ocean spread out in front of her, wide and far and impossibly blue. She’s standing on the cliffs beside Locksley bay. If she were to turn her head to her left, she would see the docks with the boats lined up one after the other, each more impressive than the last. It is summer, and high season for travellers. Would she instead turn her head to her right she would see the bay, and the people playing in the water, lying in the beach and soaking up sun. Enjoying themselves and cooling themselves off in the unusually warm weather.

But she keeps her eyes far ahead.

Out on the water she can see sailing boats slowly drifting over the landscape. It’s not a good day for sailing, not even up here on the cliffs can you feel anything more than a gentle breeze. The heavens are almost violently blue, not a cloud as far as the eye can see. In the sky seagulls fly, screeching as they go and she inhales deep breaths of the ocean air. She feels so far removed from them all, the people on the boats and the ones on the beach.

Her lungs feels tighter, there’s a scream in them that needs to get out.

She takes a step closer to the edge.

A pair of arms grabs hold of her and pulls her in against something hard. “What are you doing?!” A familiar voice inquires angrily in her ear.

He pulls them both a few steps back, away from the edge, before turning her around to face him. Anger clear on his face. His chest, still close to hers, is heaving.

“What are you doing?” She asks, not quite managing to match his level of animosity. His hands are still holding a firm grip around her arms. She pulls herself free and takes a step back, trying to create some distance between them, though she swears she still feels the heat radiating of his body, his scent, which she’d briefly inhaled, surrounding her.

“Were you going to jump?” he asks in a serious tone, his warm brown eyes intensely searching her face for something.

“No” she says, voice firm, and he relaxes somewhat, though he still looks angry. That frown, seemingly permanent on his face whenever she’s around. “But it wouldn’t have killed me if I had, people jump from here all the time”

“Sure, but not young heiresses”. He sounds almost sarcastic and she can feel her blood nearly boiling. Her diamond heart beats faster in her chest.

“Have you?”

He observers her for a heartbeat, like he’s searching for something in her face. The long days spent working in the garden has given him a nice tan. His brown hair looks windswept and he’s not wearing his usual uniform of muddy trousers, suspenders and a dirty white shirt. Instead his clothes look washed and clean; he’s wearing his Sunday best, linen suit trousers, clean white shirt and suspenders that don’t look quite as worn. His arms, well developed from all the hard work, fills out his shirt in a way that makes something inside her flutter, and she hastily looks away.

“Yes” he answers in the end. “Yeah, me and Harrison jumped it last year”.

“Yet you’re so against me doing it?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, and she can tell he’s weighing each word carefully. “I just, I didn’t take you for a thrill-chaser, is all. It surprised me”.

Now he’s avoiding looking at her.

“So, how was the ball?” he asks eventually, having to fill the stale, strange silence.

“Long” she answers and sighs. “Awfully long, and dreary”.

“Poor girl” he teases, but she wonders if there isn’t real malice underneath. “And how is your betrothed?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “James is not my betrothed” she says, trying to keep her voice calm. He’s got his hands in his pockets, an arrogant look on his face and she wants to scream at him.

“Huh” he says, “I heard you were being married off”.

“Well, I’m not. Not yet”

“So, what’s he’s like, this not betrothed man of yours”

He sounds so nonchalant, and it’s making her skin itch with irritation. “He’s nice, actually”.

He scoffs, “nice?”

“Yes! He’s very nice, unlike certain people! And he gave me a book of Wordsworth poetry”

Tom snorts “you hate Wordsworth, you always have”

“How do you know?” She asks, annoyance clear in her tone.

“You told me” he answers, and he sound so certain of himself.

“Yes, when we were children, I might have changed my mind since!”

“You haven’t though”.

“Funny isn’t? All the things you remember?” She tries to sound superior, but she’s not sure she accomplishes anything. He’s still standing there, hands in pockets and a devil-may-care smug smile on his face.

“You find him dull”.

“How do you know if I find James dull or not! You’ve never even met him! Maybe I find it fascinating to talk about dog breeding and horses!” you scream at him.

But he just smiles wider. “I was talking about Wordsworth. You find Wordsworth dull. But clearly I hit a nerve”.

She’s so angry she’s speechless. From the village they hear the church bells ring.

“We should go” he says and nods to the path back.

“No”

“Lady Madeleine, -”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Well, it is your title”.

“Oh, like you give a toss about people’s titles! I’m Madeleine and we used to be friends, or don’t you remember that part?”

“Alright Madeleine” he says slowly, like he’s talking to a particularly petulant child, “we better head home now, they’ll want you back for dinner”.

“I don’t want to” she says stubbornly. “You head back. I’m staying here to watch the sunset”.

“They’ll just sent me out to look for you if you´re not there for dinner, let’s go”.

She takes a deep breath and a step backwards, towards the edge. “You know, I’m so tired of everyone telling me what to do all the time, were to be and what to think, and how to feel”. She takes another step backwards and the smugness on his face is soon replaced with worry.

“I’m so tired of people telling me that I can’t do things when they have no issue doing it themselves”. She takes yet another step back and as he reaches out for her, realising what she’s about to do. She turns around and runs toward the edge.

“No Maddie, don’t!”

But she’s already taken the leap.

Locksley Hall

The next morning she wakes early, though it feels as though she’s hardly slept at all. Memories plays behind her closed eyelids from the day before. The cliffs, Tom’s arms grabbing hold of her, the argument, the jump, the fall, the splash, the sinking, the searching for the surface. And then, a hand grabbing hold of her, pulling her towards the light.

He’d jumped in after her, had thrown himself of the cliff in his Sunday best without any hesitation.

He’d always been the better swimmer, he was the one who had taught her after all, and luckily it hadn’t taken him long to find her beneath the surface.

They’d swam ashore, dragged themselves up in their heavy, wet clothes watched by the bathers who looked at them, some agog and some in chock. (“Is that not lady Madeleine?”)

He’d been furious, practically steaming with anger. It hadn’t mattered how many times she’d tried to talk to him, tried to apologise, he’d only ignored her and kept steering his feet forward to Locksley Hall. Only when she tried to thank him for having saved her did he respond.

“Don’t” he had uttered, his resentment almost palpable.

They had been walking through a path in the woods, sun shining through the canopy, painting the whole world a bright green colour, and she stumbled after him, keeping her eyes on his wet white shirt, his suspenders holding of his soaked beige trousers.

She too had grown angry then. Had tried to argue with him. Tried telling him that he was overreacting, that no one had forced him to jump in as well, that it would have been better if he hadn’t, that they both knew he wished he hadn’t and suddenly -

She’d been pressed up against a tree, his face just centimetres from hers, both their chest heaving with conflicting emotions, his arms on either side of her face, in the most beautiful trap.

Madeleine untangles herself from her many sheets and blankets and walks to the window to pull apart the curtains and let in the morning light. The grounds outside are empty, no one is yet awake. It must be very early indeed, for even Gideon’s cottage seem peacefully quiet.

She opens the leaded window and drags in deep breaths of fresh air, but her lungs still feel too tight. She fishes up a package of cigarettes from one of the pockets of her silk robe and with trembling hands she lights one. Everything is set now. She is to marry Sir James Hatfield, and settle down at Hatfield house in all its ugly Tudor glory. It didn’t matter if she smoked in the house anymore, she wouldn’t stay here much longer.

With picture perfect certainty she imagines married life with Sr Hatfield. Endless conversation of the breeding of horses, hunting and dogs. Her life spent doing things the way they have always been done at Hatfield house, keeping up with the traditions of a family she has no interest in. And then, several blonde little children would come along. All boys, all taking after their father in looks and manners.

Her life would surround around them. She would be Lady Madeline Locksley no more, but instead, Lady Hatfield. She would have to leave Locksley hall, leave Benie,

leave Tom.

The thought startles her, and she gets up from the window ledge, starts walking aimlessly round the cluttered room.

Using her empty tea cup from which she’d drank her evening tea the night before as an ashtray she puts out her cigarette, and with hands trembling more than ever she lights another, before throwing herself back on the bed.

Tom.

Who surely hated her now. The achingly long moments when he’d trapped her against the tree plays again in her head. She’d seen so many emotions on his face, his chest heaving from all of it. First there had been anger, then confusion and then, unless she wasn’t entirely mistaken; because god knows her experience was non-existing in the area,

- lust.

But he’d torn himself free, and marched off, without looking back. And she’d stood leaned against the three, feeling like a planet spinning out of its axis, struggling to remember how to breath again.

When she walked into the great hall she’d been met with her mother, Benie and granny. Upon seeing her, they’d all gone completely silent, the only sound to be heard the water dripping off of her, landing on the newly swapped floors.

“Oh Madeleine!” her mother had eventually burst out “what’s happened?”

She had told them she’d been at the cliffs, and that Tom had come along, but then her granny had interrupted her. “Are you telling me” she’d asked in her superior voice “that you were ‘hanging about’ the cliffs with the junior gardener?” The disapproval in her voice was evident.

“No” Madeleine had answered, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. “I’m saying that I was there, and he was there, he annoyed me, and then I jumped off the cliff”.

Dead silence again.

“You, you did what?”

“I jumped off a cliff. And then he saved me. And now, I really must change, so would you please excuse me”. The wave of emotion that washed over her had surprised her, but suddenly she’d been holding back tears.

““Madeleine, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you need to go and get changed, right now. Sir Hatfield is invited for dinner, and you will behave yourself and you will conduct yourself accordingly” her mother had told her in her sternest voice. So, Madeleine had nodded and walked up the stairs, choking back on tears, her wet clothes leaving a trace of water in her wake.

And she’d changed and Alice had done up her hair and she��d joined the others for dinner. And she’d sat beside James at dinner and listened to him lecturing her on various dog breeds and she’d smiled appropriately. Then, after dinner, he’d taken her aside. Professed in a dry tone his admiration for her and asked for her hand in marriage. He’d told her that he’d already settled things with her father. She had smiled and complied and tried to press down the feeling of nausea in her stomach, tried to ignore to scream growing ever larger in her lungs.

She stands up again, puts out her cigarette, takes one of the many dresses scattering the floor and slides it on. Then she’s out the door. With silent steps, as to not wake anyone, she makes her way down the corridor, and then down the grand staircase and the foyer and out the door. The pressure in her lungs grow tenser and tenser and her feet move faster and faster, until her naked feet are sprinting over the grounds, the dewy grass cold under her soles. When she finally reaches the greenhouse, she’s sobbing.

This had always been her secret place. Not even Tom had known about how she’d used to come here when things became too much, when things would build and build inside of her until she had to let it out. Like it was a living, moving thing in her chest, begging her to set it free. Knowing that the old greenhouse was the only soundproof place in all of Locksley Hall it became her safe place to let it out, she’d always steer her feet here. When she’d been to boarding school, and then in Canada, she’d been forced to try letting the scream free under water, no other place felt safe enough, but it hadn’t felt the same.

She slams the door shut behind her and then she lets it out. Nearly bending over from the force of it she shrieks, for as long and as loud as she can. Her eyes pressed shut and trembling hands in fists. When she finally stops it still seems to echo in her ears, and she feels exhausted. She’s breathing as if she’s just run for miles and miles. Slowly she stands up straight again, unclasping her fists. Opening her shut eyes.

Tom.

Standing in front of her, looking shocked and horrified, hands and shirt muddy. He must have been in here for some early work before the heat gets too intense.

They stand there, for a long time, just staring at one another, her screams still echoing in her mind. And then, like she’s a wild animal, he slowly walks towards her. Taking her hand in his, an arm around her waist, he gently guides them towards the pond, on the side of which he helps her sit down. Bending down in front of her, so that he’s on his knees, he looks up at her, a strand of brown hair falling down, framing his face.

It’s so tender, the way he looks at her. So unbearably tender. His earth-stained hands clasped around hers, placed in her lap, calloused and warm.

“What happened?” He asks, voice soft and low.

She doesn’t know when it started, too distracted by his gentleness perhaps, but she realises then that she’s crying, two tears falling from her cheek and landing on their hands.

“I’m just being silly” she responds, but her voice sounds hoarse and dead even to her own ears.

“I doubt it, what’s wrong?”

“I, I” she begins, her lungs feeling tight again “I have to marry.”

His kind eyes blink up at her, and for a moment she swears he holds on tighter to her hands.

“But you don’t want to.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Why do you have to?” His thumbs stroke her trembling hands and it feel and it is the gentlest thing that’s ever happened to her.

“There’s no male hair. So, if papa dies before I marry, we’ll lose everything”. Her voice is hoarse from screaming and she wonders if he finds her pathetic, but in his eyes she only finds sympathy, and maybe a fair share of pain.

“But you don’t have to marry Hatfield?”

She shakes her head, and more tears fall. “No, but he’s the best option. I can’t afford to wait”.

Silence for a while as he observes you.

Then,

“What if I’ll marry you?” his voice is steady, but his eyes are fixed their clasped hands.

“What?”

“I’ll marry you” he states and looks up at her again. She stares at him in disbelief, for surely, he can’t mean it. He continues. “I know it’s not a good option, but the estate will be safe, and you won’t have to marry Hatfield, you won’t have to leave Locksley Hall.”

When she just keeps staring at him in silent disbelief his cheeks turn pink. “I know I haven’t got anything to offer; you know I don’t. But -”

“Alright”. Her answers comes without her thinking about it and it seems to catch him off guard. “But, are you sure?” she asks, worried that he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

“Yes, Madeleine, I’m sure” he smiles, his hands continuing to gently stroke her hands.

“But, but” she starts, feeling almost dizzy. “But why would you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“Why would you help me? It would change your life forever.” She keeps her voice serious, knows that it’s of utmost importance that he understands the importance of this.

He seems struck silent and for a long while his brown eyes stare up at her in disbelief. “Well I, I mean I would, I” he starts, letting go of her hands and standing up, placing them his pockets instead. It is like he’s trying to look as nonchalant as he usually does.

Turning slightly away from her, eyes fixed on the koi fish in the pond he then continues. “Well, I’d get to live in Locksley Hall, wouldn’t I? I’d be the lord of the manor. No more hard toil in the garden”.

“So, mostly self-interest then?” She says, not knowing whether she feels more relieved or disappointed. More than anything she feels light headed.

“Yeah” he agrees, eyes still fixed on the pond. “It’s self-interest".

Silence spread between them. This is new territory that neither one knows how to tread.

In the end she stands up and he turns to look at her again, something like worry in his expression. “We, well we’ll have to discuss this. If it’s to happen it needs to happen soon.”

“It is to happen” he says, firmly, but then his cheeks turn pink again. “As long as you want it to”.

“Well then” she says, a small but genuine smile on her face. “It can’t happen here; Gretna Green is our only option. We have to come up with some excuse so we can leave for Scotland for a few days”.

He nods, but he too looks more relaxed now. “I’ll think of something”.

“So much to be fixed” she says, mostly to herself. “Wedding dress for example, though the wedding will be so small only something simple will do.”

“Could you” he begins, and he avoids her eyes again. “You could wear that dress you had on at the ball” he asks awkwardly, fidgeting slightly where he stands.

“Oh, yes of course” she says, just as awkward. “If that’s what you want”. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. Its embarrassed, but it’s tender too.

“Meet me at the fountain tonight?” he asks, and that strange fluttering sensation she’d felt when he’d pressed her against the tree makes another appearance. “To discuss how we’ll do this?”

She nods “yes, I’ll see you then. I better get back now, or Alice will notice I’ve left when she brings in breakfast.”

She turns to leave, but changing her mind mid stride she turns back to him. When she reaches him she stands on the tips of her naked, now muddy, feet. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you” she whispers.

***

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thatlongspringnight · 4 years

Text

As Sweet as Your Joy (Jimin/Reader)

⏤ Pairing: Siren!Jimin/Reader

⏤ Genre: Angst, some fluff, fantasy, mythology

⏤ Word Count: Around 3.7k

⏤ Warnings: Suicide, discussion of blood, mentions of drowning, death, angst, Jimin is a siren and sirens kill people. Death is discussed and sometimes in a very cavalier way.

Rating: Mature themes, but not 18 +

Summary: You’ve been alive long enough to know what you want, and he can see it in your eyes from the moment you meet. Still, he refuses to give it to you.

Italics is flashback.

Thank you @wwilloww for beta-ing, and being a supportive Queen, @jamaiskook same to you, my confidence needs you both to function.

Tagging: @ezralia-writes @ladyartemesia @dreamystuffers

They say dangerous things lurk in those waters. In the darkest depths just off the reef, out by the light house. A place only fools like you dare to venture.

Dangerous, but beautiful things. Things with skin so thin you can see the odd blue-green of their veins and sugar-spun smiles that reveal teeth that are just a little too sharp.

Dangerous things with luminous, haunting faces and voices that tune to the melody of your soul, pulling you closer and closer to madness, that will promise you your heart’s desire, calling you further, further away from shore, till your toes don’t touch the bottom and you can no longer see land.

Dangerous things that steal your breath from your mouth and leave you washed up on shore days later, skin mottled with bruises like flowers. A lilac, lavender, deep tyrian warning to anyone who sees, a warning...don’t come too close, don’t be tempted as these fools were.

But unfortunately, you yourself have never been good at heeding warnings. You would wade waist deep into trouble if it meant brushing your hand against the shining scales just below, captivated by the swirling rainbows just beyond your grasp. Nary a storm or murky water could stop you, venturing out a little further each day, undeterred by the steady stream of bodies that appeared on shore.

Some would say you had no sense of self preservation. A foolish little thing, others would echo in the town, tutting their tongues and shaking their heads. A girl without parents to guide her or husband for counsel.

It was a surprise to everyone you weren’t dead already.

Still, the day came that you pulled yourself onto a rock several meters from the shore, an ugly jutted pillar that smoothed out on the side facing the water, ignoring the ache in your bones as you stood to full height -

And you waited.

Waited for the deadly creature who could grant you your heart’s desire. Longing for just a moment, wanting to see his face as you had that one night.

The choppy water did nothing to stop you, reaching your waist as you dove in. The sea was a clear green, an unnatural emerald that you could see through, that you could get lost in, and getting lost was just what you wanted to do. The setting sun’s reflection was lost on you as you swam further from shore, deeper in. The darkness grew with every yard you conquered.

It wasn’t that you wanted to die, it was just that on that day you had nothing to live for. The persistent, unnatural pound of the heart in your chest, and the curiosity for the unknown - it was enough.

Your gasping breath was muffled as you submerged your head again, swimming further into the depths till your lungs cried out.Then, like a flash, something caught your eye, a flittering of scales, pearlescent rainbow. You turned your head sharply, hand brushing the bottom of the murky depth.

And meeting the smoothness of bone.

Your gaze lingered, a sort of horror in your bones, contorting your features into fear as you realized what you had stumbled upon, the settling silt revealing a field of skeletons. A siren’s graveyard. Clothes decaying, but bright gold still shining, precious jewels capturing what was left of the light.

And just to your left, the glittering creature.

A strong hand gripped your wrist as you stupidly gasped, sending water pouring into your throat, a choked sound following.

The creature tugged you to his chest, lavender eyes capturing yours, flaxen hair a shade of sickening green underwater.

He smiled, and all you could remember were his too-sharp teeth

______________________________________________________________________

“I know you’re here!” You crowed, no sound but the waves against the rock responding. It was sunset. The same time you had seen the creature that first time. “Why won’t you come out?”

You groaned, glad that the sun was no longer beating down on you, but frustrated nonetheless. “Please?”

“Pretty birds like you shouldn’t beg.” A melodic voice cut through, sending you almost teetering off the rock. “Nor should they try to tempt fate” You stared at him, those beautiful blue eyes of his, eyes that seemed to fade and shift to purple with the light, drawing you in. Unconsciously you leaned closer to the water, closer to him, perching precariously on the edge.

He was beautiful now, in a different way from before, his blonde hair hanging about his shoulders, muscles glistening with seawater.

He flicked his tail, the bottom fin breaching the water, revealing his rainbow scales dancing in the light. You stared as though in a trance, the world slowing down as you saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Feeling lightheaded you shut your eyes, the feeling ending as you met the darkness of your lids.

“Closing your eyes won’t hide you from me.” You heard the shift of the water, felt the coldness of his skin against yours as he brought his hands to your face. “You came out here to die, didn’t you?”

“N-No.” You tried to pull away, but he was strong, his nails sharp against your face. “No I don’t want to die.” He chuckled, a low sound that contrasted dreadfully with his sweet face.

“My dear, if that is really the case, why all but throw yourself at me, here to kill you.”

“Because you won’t kill me.” Your voice was a whisper, lost on the salty breeze. He tensed, the truth of your words catching him off guard.

“I won’t kill you.” The siren affirmed, his touch weakening till it was nothing but a gentle caress. “But I won’t give you what you want either. No, my beautiful bird, you won’t get that from me.”

______________________________________________________________________

His name was Jimin.

Jimin liked shiny things, baubles, bracelets, trinkets. He especially liked the silver necklace you always wore, trailing down reveal a locket set with a single shining sapphire. He liked flowers, and he liked to braid those flowers into your hair, soft pinks to the darkest shades of blood. His nimble fingers wove them thickly into your hair, till the heady scent made you lightheaded.

“You are as bright as a Starling.” He said, his voice soft and sweet against your skin. “A beautiful thing. A fairy, even.”

“You lie.” You mumbled, the blush on your cheeks hidden by the flush placed there by the hot sun. “Only one of us is that beautiful.” You reached over, tucking the last rose into his own hair. “And it’s you.”

“You only feel that way because you refuse to see me as I am.” His tone turned dark, eyes shining unnaturally in the sun. “For what I am really.”

“Jimin-“

“A monster. A monster who kills you a little more each time I touch you.” His fingers squeezed yours in affection, in pain. “I won’t give you what you want. You have to know.”

“You don’t know what I want.” You challenge, the proud tilt of your features almost makes him smile...almost.

“I do know, I’ve known since the moment you sought me out. Day after day, your wish has always been there.”

“Please, don’t say it.” You begged him, tears brimming in your eyes. “Don’t break this spell just yet.”

“This has to stop.”

___________________________________________________________________

“Do you know how sirens are born?” He had asked you one day, before you knew his name. You had shaken your head, unsure of the exact mythology behind his existence, only really knowing that he was there and that somewhere in the great expanse of the oceans there were more like him.

“How are creatures like you created?”

“We are born in death. Unjustly killed in the very waters we haunt. Doomed to drag others to their deaths as revenge against the humanity that wronged us.” He was perched on the edge of the rock, his chest exposed down to his waist, where his scales just began to peek out from the water.

“Who wronged you, then?” Your first question, perhaps callous in the face of the agony in his tone. Yet, your hands swiped the skin of his cheeks, attempting to sooth his ills, marveling at the coolness of his skin even in high summer. “Why do you hunt these waters, siren?”

“A friend. With hair as red as blood and eyes I learned to trust. Trust didn’t come easy to us, in our line of work.”

“What sort of work?”

“Oh, my little starling. I was a pirate.” Though his eyes were dark, his smile was sweet and soft, masking those teeth that haunted your dark dreams. “A savage of the seas, but that was many years ago, long before now.”

“You don’t look savage.”

“Trust nothing that you see.” He sighed, a sound so sad your heart broke for him all over. “Trust nothing of my face. I am still just as savage as I was then. Only a little more refined.”

“Refined?”

“See, little bird, you don’t even realize that with every moment that you let me touch you, I’m killing you.” His breath was in your ear, his face at the crook of your neck. You felt them, the teeth, sharp and jagged, lingering just above your pulse point. Your breath hitched, terror bleeding into your veins. He wouldn’t kill you, would he?

“The fear is delicious.” He murmured, tongue laving over your skin. “I can smell it in your blood.”

“P-Please-“

“Have you come to your senses about me? Do you see what I can do?” His smooth voice was harsh now, and you wanted to flinch.

“I see that you can do many things, but you still…won’t kill me.” He tensed at your words, and you could feel the tremor that traveled up his body.

“Why did you die, siren?”

“Jimin.” He breathed, eyes glassy. “My name is Jimin.”

“Okay. Jimin.” You tried your best to keep your voice a soothing, dulcet tone.

“I died because of love.”

“Love?” Quiet as a mouse you whispered the word back to him.

“Love for the man who killed me.” The chasm between you in that moment seemed insurmountable, and only a step, all at once.

“You loved him?” You prompted, uncomfortable in the silence.

“Loved him. Some would say, madly. I killed for him. I bathed in blood to satiate his desires. I grew honed like a knife to please him. Then, when power was just in our grasp, he decided that only his grasp was worthy.” You followed every word, eyes wide with sadness. “Love means nothing. That’s what he said when he plunged a sword in my belly.”

“Jimin…”

“I took my final breath as a man drifting to the bottom of the sea floor, eyes wide open, choking on seawater and blood, the sting of betrayal burned into my heart.”

“And?” You gripped at his hands, entwining your fingers with his. This- This feeling in your stomach never seemed to fade when you were with him. Even if you knew he could kill you.

Even if you hoped he would.

“And I awoke at the bottom of the sea floor, hungry for the souls of the damned who should lurk in those waters.” Damned like you? Still you smiled at his seriousness, shaking your head as you reached over, hand finding his - rewarded when he squeezed your fingers.

“And without any legs.” You couldn’t stop the laughter in your throat, even as his eyes widened, an abashed look on his face. Till he too was laughing, a sound as clear and beautiful as bells that sent a rush of feelings into your chest.

___________________________________________________________________

One afternoon, about a month after he told you that he wouldn’t see you again, he breaks his promise. Or perhaps you forced his hand.

You couldn’t lie to yourself now, the trek to the rock made your lungs ache like it hadn’t before. It took you a moment to catch your breath, your chest burning as coughs wracked your body.

There were some truths better left unspoken. Not by you, not by the people in your small little town who covered their mouths with kerchiefs as you walked by, not even by the gentle sea breezes that whispered secrets into your ears and lulled you to sleep at night.

This was one of them.

You settled yourself on the warm rock, wishing that it could remain summer here forever. Winter brought icy winds that curled up inside of you and wouldn’t leave. With winter came chopping firewood with chapped hands and gasping breaths, praying that you made it home.

With winter came water that was too cold for you to touch, choppy and biting.

You heard a familiar splash, a smile forming on your face. You knew he would come today. Knew that he was like you, unable to stay away.

Because he knew too, with winter you wouldn’t see him again.

“Starling.” His smile was free of the annoyance of before, a soft look of melancholy on his features. “You don’t look well.”

“Ah, well, it’s just the heat.” You smiled back, patting the hard surface next to you. “Come sit.”

He didn’t, choosing instead to rest his head on the warm stone, his lower body hidden in the water. You frowned, leaning over till your stomach was resting on the rock, your nose almost touching his. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Oh, my darling one.” Those lilac eyes, tender and solemn, pulled you in so easily, your heart rate rising, fingers clenching against the rough stone. You could see galaxies in his eyes, swirling shades of blue fading into purple. Unnatural pools that tugged you closer to the edge… to the end. Looking into them left you feeling breathless, dazed...liable to succumb to madness every time you saw them.

You felt your breath quickening, an unnatural sound leaving your lips as his eyes widened, his hands coming up to clutch your shoulders. “Not now.” There was an edge to his voice as he clutched you, his nails digging into your skin painfully, reminding you where you were. “Don’t succumb like this.”

‘Why won’t you let me?” You demanded, voice hoarse. “Please, just let me.” A tear slipped down your cheek and you felt his tongue drag a rough trail up your skin.

“Your despair doesn’t taste as sweet as your joy.”

__________________________________________________________________

You loved him. The easy confession did not startle you, didn’t frighten you. It was like waking up after a long sleep, feeling refreshed and new.

Of course, you also knew there was no future for the two of you.

No future for you at all.

Still, you made the trip, until summer began to fade again and autumn took its place.

Until the rattle in your throat grew too hard to ignore.

“There was one like you before.” He confessed one day, hand resting in yours, letting you nestle your tired body against his chest. It was daringly intimate, shocking in its kindness. “A man, hardworking and diligent.”

“Why like me?”

“He wanted me to take his burdens from him.” Jimin curled a piece of your hair around his finger, humming lowly. “Day after day he would come out to me, and day after day, I refused.”

“What burdens did he have?” You were sleepy, barely awake, there was a chill in the air, and it made your bones ache.

“He lost his wife and child, sickness had worked its way through your tiny little village, and left him with nothing.”

“Why didn’t he take his own life?”

“Why don’t you take yours?”

“I don’t- I don’t want to die.” You murmur softly, burying your face into his chest.

“Neither did he.”

“But he did die?”

“All mortals die.” The implication that he was not in that category was not lost on you.

“Did you kill him?”

“He gave me no other choice.”

“And if I gave you no other choice?”

“Starling, killing you would be the end of me.” You didn’t dare ask why.

______________________________________________________________________

The graveyard that lurked just below your feet had stopped frightening you. You got braver each day, bolder with him, more brazen.

It was hard to ignore how seeing his soft smile as you stared down at him from your perch made you feel.

Perhaps also you had started coming to terms with the truth.

The truth he had known from the moment he had seen you, months earlier, first standing on the beach, staring for hours at the vast expanse before you. The truth you knew he had felt as you caught sight of those luminous scales just below the surface.

That is why you kept going, to the point that you spent your afternoons there more often than at home.

Not that you had anyone at home to wait for you.

You never asked him about it though, about the skeletons, the precious jewels. They felt detached from his beautiful face. Even at his most sullen, they seemed too dirty to be any fault of his.

Even if you knew that wasn’t true.

____________________________________________________________________

People, often enough, don’t throw themselves off lighthouses, you mused, the winter wind beating at your skin. But, people often enough weren’t you.

Standing at the top of the ancient building, you glanced out at the angry waters below.

It felt like it had taken you hours to climb the steps, and just as long to hoist yourself onto the edge, teetering back and forth like a scarf caught on a windy day.

You didn’t want to die.

You used to be afraid of heights. Memories of clutching at your mother’s skirts every time you had to walk across the tall, swaying bridge that took you to the mainland swirled in your head.

It wasn’t so bad now.

You couldn’t swim, your body wouldn’t be able to take the water, the cold would seep into your bones too quickly, and surely, you’d drown before you ever even reached the rock.

But this, this would negate that altogether. You could effortlessly fall, let the icy water envelope you, and know he would come to you, like he always had.

And even if he didn’t, the prospect of seeing him again was enough to make you take that breath, letting the wind sway you naturally, closing your eyes as you leaped —

____________________________________________________________________

“I’ll never be able to live again if I have to see you die. If I have to be the one to do it.” Jimin’s voice was a harsh, tear soaked whisper, and you could only smile, reaching up to brush his cheek lovingly.

“Then die with me.” You coaxed, the ultimate act of cruelty. You were selfish, you knew, if you had to die, and you were going to die, you wanted to keep him with you. “Neither of us has to be alone anymore.”

“Would that make you happy?”

“I wanted to see you one last time, and I did. So I’m already happy.”

“What a darling little bird you are.” His voice is so distraught, for a moment you let yourself feel bad for what you’ve set in motion. Just for a moment.

“Don’t you trust me?” You coughed. “I trust you.”

“Don’t say it.” He was begging. You kept the smile on your face.

“Don’t worry, my dearest, I won’t say it.” You didn’t say it. Didn’t say it even if it burned in the back of your throat.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

There was black along your vision, and one last thing you needed to do. You weakly held on to him, clinging like you so wanted to cling to life. You pressed your lips to his, sealing your fate, embracing the swirl of warmth that fell around you, as your hands went lax, falling away limply from his form, you knew that you had all but thrust the sword of fate into his belly this time.

Maybe you were sorry he trusted you.

_____________________________________________________________________

Growing up, you heard the myths, tales woven into your childhood of the danger of sirens. Beautiful creatures that lured the unsuspecting to their deaths with the promise of their hearts desire.

Heart’s desire…

You rested on the rock, the height of summer beating down on you.

Was this a memory?

You took a breath, feeling no ache, no pain. A soft bark of laughter leaving your throat.

Two summers ago maybe? Back when you were still healthy. Back when-

“My little bird, my Starling.” A soothing, peaceful voice broke your thoughts. He was smiling like the sunshine itself, beautiful and clear.

“My love!” You called back, reaching out to him, letting him tug you into the warm water.

Love? Your thoughts became fuzzy, trailing off as the scene progressed.

His hot mouth on yours, the feeling of his taut skin, his sharp teeth. His whispered sweet nothings.

“Come with me.” You grinned against his mouth. “Lets go to shore.”

“I love you.” He pulled you closer, farther away from the life you knew.

“I love you too, I”-

_____________________________________________________________________

The girl was mad. It’s all the village whispers about.

Mad enough to drag her dying body to the top of a lighthouse. Mad enough to jump into the sea in midwinter.

When they finally find her, a week later, her body lying still in a small cove almost a mile from where she jumped, there is more to talk about.

She looks peaceful. More so than most can ever remember seeing her.

How content she rests! With her arms folded at her chest. Her clothing perfectly draped. Her skin so cold it seems almost like porcelain.

The men who find her, spend weeks in the church afterwards, praying to whatever spirits they are worried they angered when they disturbed her. Praying for absolution, when there is no real forgiveness to be sought.

But there is one thing no one talks about.

The one thing no one even dares to whisper about is the single rainbow scale that she clutches to her chest, her fingers frozen in death around it for eternity.

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idjitlili · 4 years

Text

Imagine asking Thorin to braid your hair like legolas’ which he does.surprise, Surprise, Surprise .

Extra information:Kili , fili, nor Thorin die in the five armies.

Word count:2071

You had been friends with legolas ever since you literally fell into Mirkwood. Legolas was suspicious of you for a while but then warmed up to you, he even convinced his Thranduil to let you stay in Mirkwood.

Thranduil brought Elrond to see you, to see if you were telling the truth. As Elrond is a magically elf or something legolas had told you. Thranduil didn’t really like you , but the same as legolas he warmed up to you it just took a lot longer. He sympathised you, Losing your whole life , and family ending up in a stranger world with elves dwarves and hobbits.

You lived with Thranduil and Legolas for over a five at this point, in which surprisingly Thranduil became very protective of you. So when you had been walking near the river , and thirteen dwarves , and hobbit had been rushing by. Along with Orcs , you were more than shocked. In which you had snuck out passed river gate to go sit somewhere alone. You knew Thranduil was going to be mad. Damn Thranduil was your dad.

Even more shocked when something hit you in side , making you fall sideways into the the river. You heard someone calling your name , sounding like legolas, you glance up while you are falling to see legolas running after you fighting orcs.

Your mouth gaps open, “legolas.” You almost whisper. You expect to hit the water with a smack, but instead you are caught by strong arms. Damn what are the chances , that you fell as a barrel went past exactly when you fell into for them.

You do be in a romance move, now who was your prince. Little did you know he wasn’t a prince..

You turn to see a long haired man, oh right he was a dwarf. He was very good looking, you look into his ocean blue eyes with your e/c ones. “T-thank you.” You stutter our to your James Franco. He looked like one of those guys , that acted tough , but were really were so sweet.

He gives you a small smile, placing you in the small barrel, that was very tight for two people. You look around to see the orcs fading away, and Legolas looking towards you, you give him a wave , before he disappears as you turn around a corner. Thorin notices your gesture, deciding to speak up now.

“How do you know the elven prince?” He questions you with a rough voice, damn sexy.

You are startled by his voice , “uh , I have been living with him and Thranduil , since they found me in the forest.” He looks at you processing your words slowly.

“What were you doing in Mirkwood?”

“You won’t believe me.” You tried to avoid the question.

“Try me.” He looks at you intensely.

“Uh well I was in my kitchen making mash potatoes when I tripped over my dog , and felling into Mirkwood forest , when a weird line thing appeared on the floor.” His face unreadable.

“Yeah that is bloody crazy, we shall take you to Gandalf, but for now you should come with us, going back alone is dangerous “ he spoke as you approach the shore.

“Who is Gandalf?” You didn’t mind going with them, you had done nothing really in Mirkwood except read , draw , eat watch Thranduil sass everyone. This quest, mission, thang seemed like fun, so you didn’t even question it.

“He is a wizard,” you nod understanding.

Throughout the travel to Erebor Thorin made sure to keep you safe, he knew Thranduil allowing you stay with him and his son was beyond impossible. Plus he saw legolas looking at you when, when he caught you, he knew he would tell Thranduil. Knowing his he knew if something was to happen to you he would probably be slaughtered.

When you reached Erebor, Thranduil and Bard trying to settle what Thorin promised. You stood next to Thorin, Thranduil saw you straight away with his elf eyes.

“Y/n?” He called out, you waved back eagerly.

“ADA! Thorin says I can stay with him for a while.” You smile, that was the first time you had called Thranduil , your father , it made his heart swell with love. But he was angered at the thought of you living with dwarves. Thorin liked you, it was better because you weren’t a elf and that it annoyed Thranduil you staying with his kin.

After the battle , which had joined in because you felt like something bad was to happen. Of course it would you idjit people are trying to kill each other it’s a war. Dumbass. Which you had saved all three of the Durins line. Thranduil had quickly rushed to you , to make you come home with him.

“Please let me stay, I am an adult , I just want to stay for a while to see what it’s like here.” You beg, frowning.

“Y/n , Mirkwood is your home, me and legolas love you.” He pleads , grasping your hands.

“I know , as do I but I must I really want to see what life is like here , I will write and visit , and it will just be for a couple of months. Also forgot to mention ,this is far fetched to believe a nice ginger women called rowena kidnapped you ,and told thranduil if he got a certain spell book she would set you free. And give you more years in life , and slow down ageing. (This allowed you in to live through lotr yes babe) it was crazy , but this women loved her son and needed to save him.

You eventually convinced Thranduil to let you stay, and hugged him goodbye. You entered , “ I guess I am staying boys!” You exclaimed throwing your arms up , receiving cheers from the other dwarves.

Kili and Fili liked you very much, they included you in many of their pranks , for example: You guys stole Bofurs hat while he was sleeping putting it into the oven. He spent three hours looking for it, he wasn’t pleased , lucky the oven wasn’t lit. Uh , kili also shaved off Bofurs eyebrows , that didn’t go done well either. He tried hiding it with his hat, it looked terrible.

Thorin wasn’t happy with this especially , when you pretended to be injured , he came running , when hearing you shout.

He clutched your hand in distress begging for you to wake up, only for kili and fili to whacked him in the face with a cream pie. You had bust out with laughter , he wiped the cream from his eyes looking doing at you smirking.

He wiped the cream onto your face, his hands running done to your sides , tickling you. You couldn’t breathe. “T-Thorin p-lease.AHH.” You tried to reason with him the best you could , but it was no use. your cheeks hurting from laughing so wide, your throat dry, sides aching.

You reached your hand up to Thorins face getting cream on it, you tried to eat it off your hand with out choking. You bust out coughing , Thorin stopped, sitting you rubbing you back, at this point Fili and kili has left minutes ago. As they wanted to talk secretly about Thorin not being an ass.

“Are you okay?” He asked you with a cream covered face.

You stopped coughing, looking him in the eye “damn are you okay? You look a bit pale. DAMN you are a elf.” His smile , disappeared , in which his hands reached for your sides again. “You done it now .” He smirked , and he attacked you again.

After this attack , he help you up , and you led him to the sink, that was five steps away because you were in the kitchen. You used a sponge to wipe all the cream off. His face wet, eyes scrunched up , so no water could get in them. He was finally able to be happy after getting revenge and reclaiming his home and finding a nice girl/

You used a cloth to dry his face , dabbing it gently, unknowingly to you , Fili and kili came back watching in awe. Secretly obviously.

Now that brings you today you sat in your bed with a small mirror between in your legs In your chambers, trying to sort your hair like legolas used to do it. The same as his . There was three gently knocks at your door, you had told them to come in.

The door opened to reveal. Thorin , with a box, it wasn’t rare for Thorin to gift you with things. You just thought he was being friendly, but little did you know. He was attempting to court you. He stepped in with a gently smile, he looked you up and down.

Your cheeks flashed with red, you wore a tunic and underwear (or shorts whatever I know they didn’t have underwear.) , as you wore them to bed. But you were struggling with your hair otherwise you would’ve been dressed a long time ago.

“ are you okay?” Thorin spoke with a small smile.

“Uh I am just struggling doing my hair today, otherwise I would’ve been up already.” You were embarrassed for the king to see you like his.

“Would you like some help?” He walked slowly closer towards you, placing the box on the end of your bed.

“ would you help me? Your hair looks majestic all the time.” Thorins cheeks spike with a small dash of pink.he nods his head.

“Thank you, may I ?” He gestures the space behind you on your bed, you nod with approvement., you pass him your brush, which he had also gifted you. Damn he’s a king he can do what he likes.

He sits , gently brushing your tangled soft h/c hair. You didn’t know about dwarven courting rituals , well you knew nothing about any other than modern day ones.

“ how do you want your hair ?”

“Uh.. like legolas’ , I get if you don’t want to, he used to do my hair for me..” you frown , it was easy when you had an elf doing your hair everyday.

“I will, you will have to remind me on how he does.” Which you do , allowing him to get to work, with his thick fingers gently pulling and gliding in your hair. It was relaxing to say the least. Damn it was scary to think he could kill you , yet he treats you like glass.

His fingers soon pull away from your hair, and he softly mutters ‘done’. You pick up your Mirrow looking at his work, your eyes lite up with joy, he was very skilled with his fingers. Could you imagine you quickly dismiss your dirty thoughts. You turn around hugging him tightly, after a minute you pull away smiling at him. “ thank you.” He stands you walking to where he put the box , he picks it up looking at you.

“ y/n , these last couple of months I have been trying to tell you something, I am just going to say it... I would really like to court you, I have brought you something, if you would accept, I would you wear it to dinner with me tonight.” He looks down at his feet breathlessly and frankly scared.

You stand up walking towards him , lifting the lid to the box to reveal a navy blue blue velvet dress. You gasp,bringing your

Fingers to feel the material, it was beautiful, damn that must of been expensive. You quickly use that hand to lift up Thorins chin, leaning over the box you press a kiss to Thorins lips. He smiles widely at you. “ I accept,is that why you have be so many gifts?” He nods his head still grinning.

“I would accept even without all the gifts , I knew when my you caught me, I do be living in a romance novel.” He chuckled at you, placing the box down again , wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close. Pressing a kiss to your lips , this time very passionately.

That night you write a letter to Thranduil and legolas , about your news. You knew Thranduil gonna be shaking , and not his ass.

A/n I finally managed to do my hair like legolas by myself for the first time. I am so happy.(yeah that pic is my hair)

#the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #thorin imagine #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield #thorin fic #thorin x reader #the hobbit x you

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candyshua · 4 years

Note

36 with Joshua 🥺

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

i had soooo much fun writing this!! hehehehe i hope u all enjoy it :p

Genre: Angst, Fluff, princess!reader, poor boy!josh

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None

You felt his calloused hand in your own as he continued to lead you through the dance floor. The King was watching, and you could practically feel his eyes bore a hole through the back of your head. Your hair was put up in a lovely, wonderful braided bun. A crown was placed atop your head, and although you were dancing at your own royal wedding, you did not feel like the future queen. And Mingyu, your betrothed, felt quite the opposite.

You thought Mingyu hated you. After all, he was a prince from a foreign land brought in to marry you. He was a pawn in your father–the King’s–game. You never expected him to love you.

And you never expected to hate him.

Mingyu was obsessive, arrogant, and overly-masculine. He thought claiming you as “his” was charming, like it would have you swooning. At times, you felt bad for your ill-natured feelings towards the tall and handsome man, but then those feelings of guilt would disintegrate when he’d say or do something that made you even more resentful of him.

Perhaps it wasn’t the future king’s fault as to why you hated him. You just didn’t want to accept the fact that you were in love with a man you could never have–Joshua Hong. Before you were announced to be the future queen of the kingdom, you went on a walk throughout the capital city to get to know the citizens who weren’t as pampered as you.

You wished you had never even left your bed that morning. You wished that things were so, so different.

You were in a simple outfit, black combat boots, cargo pants, and a black t-shirt. It looked appropriate for the bustling environment you were treading through, hagglers in the streets trying to sell their items. It was their livelihood, it paid the bills for them and their families. You couldn’t help but feel guilt as you turned down every man and woman who tried to pitch their products to you.

They needed the money, and you– the future queen–did not.

You avoided eye contact, eyes drawn to the ground in an ashamed manner. If you had looked up, you would’ve never bumped into the boy holding an entire carriage of fruits from various lands. You wouldn’t have gotten entangled into the mess that was Joshua Hong and his life.

Sadly, there’s no changing the past.

It all happened too quickly. You and your hurried pace came to a sudden halt when you crashed into the carriage, breaking the door that kept all the fruits from falling out. Once the door snapped, the fruits fell along with the poor boy’s face. You gasped ashamedly, trying to salvage whatever you could. Unfortunately, it was to no avail. All of those precious fruits that probably cost a fortune came tumbling out, and they either got stepped on, covered in dirt, or stolen.

“I’m so sorry!” You shouted, finally making eye contact with the boy. You, fifteen at the time, were just trying to get a feel of the kingdom you were going to rule one day. You didn’t mean to cause trouble, but that was your main talent–always stirring up something.

Instead of getting slapped across the face as you’d expect (physical punishment taught you to “behave”), the boy gave you a sad smile.

“It’s okay, I can always get more.” His voice was sweet and intoxicating, and before you knew it, your facade was getting closer to falling the longer you stared at his angelic face. His eyes were a chocolate brown, and they were warm and enticing. He was skinny, yet had lean muscle. His smile was just as inviting as his eyes, and his black hair was neatly styled to the side. He had a tan complexion, which just made you swoon even more.

Despite his warm smile, he was putting up a facade too. He worked incredibly hard for those fruits, and they were destroyed by one crash. Before you knew it, you grabbed his wrist and led him to an alleyway, making sure no one was watching. He knew how to defend himself, yet the brown-eyed boy knew you weren’t going to hurt him.

You were wearing a cloth to cover your mouth and a hood on your head, truly hiding your identity. You checked your surroundings one last time, eyes darting from person to person, making sure their attention was elsewhere.

The boy gulped.

You sighed, finally deciding to reveal your identity. You dramatically tore the cloth from your face and took your hood off, revealing the face of a princess. The tan boy was about to bow, get on his knees, but you held him upright with surprising strength.

“Don’t,” You ordered, “it will just draw attention.”

He nodded.

“Your Majesty,” He greeted. You scoffed, forever hating that title.

“You can just call me Y/N.” He gave you a curt nod.

“Then you can just call me Joshua, or Josh. Whatever floats your boat.”

His informal words made you smile out of endearment. He was dashing and adorable. You tried to ignore your rapidly-beating heart, but it was a strenuous task. You thought it was just beating fast since you ran to that alleyway, but it didn’t stop when you caught your breath. In fact, it beat faster since you were in such close proximity with the boy.

“I’m sorry for that. I’ll cover the expenses, don’t worry.” Joshua was about to open his mouth to protest, but you put up a hand, signaling him to stop. “You need it.”

Joshua nodded weakly, as if ashamed. But his shame didn’t match yours. You saw the city for what it was, a social ladder filled with back-stabbers and lowlifes. You wanted to scream at your father, asking him, how does it feel to be at the top? How does it feel to never truly suffer?

When you’d become queen, you were going to change things. That was for sure.

“I’m sorry, Josh.” You lamented, looking anywhere but his beautiful eyes. He nodded, and was about to walk away.

And, you’d go back to your palace. This would’ve just been another memory to you to look back on. You would never talk to Joshua again.

You hated that idea.

“Wait!” You whisper-shouted. You thought Joshua didn’t hear you, but after you said it again, he came to a halt. He spun around on his heel, curiosity betraying his usual unreadable exterior.

“Um, meet me here at twelve noon tomorrow. I’ll bring the money.”

Joshua gave you a curt nod. Something glinted in his eyes, but you just couldn’t put your finger on what that glint was.

It was excitement. Joshua was excited to have the opportunity to see you again.

The next day, the two of you upheld your own promises, meeting at the same time. You were in the same disguise as yesterday, which made Joshua find you much more easily. He smirked at the sight of you nervously pacing in the alleyway between a pub and a blacksmith’s shop.

He cleared his throat, making you jump. Usually, you could sense other people’s presence quite easily, having been trained in the area of self-defense and combat. Yet, Joshua’s movements were nimble like those of a cat. He was agile, quick, and quiet.

“Hi.” You greeted, already out of breath. Thump, thump, thump. Your heart started to beat swiftly all of a sudden. You cursed internally, something your father would not approve of. You had to contain yourself from rolling your eyes at the thought of him.

“Hey.” Joshua smiled, flashing you his beautiful teeth. Your eyes lingered on his lips for a bit too long, and he pretended not to notice. He had a bit of trouble hiding his smugness, though.

Yet, the smugness dissipated the moment you pulled out a cloth bag filled with an insurmountable amount of money. You had used the highest currency your kingdom had, and you just filled it in a bag. You had hoped it was enough.

Joshua practically drooled at the sight of the fortune sitting before him. You took his hand in yours and forced him to hold the bag. He couldn’t tell if his hands were sweaty due to the nerves from seeing you or the amount of money you possessed. He noticed the way you handled that amount of money with such ease, as if it were nothing at all.

“Thank you,” He hoarsely whispered, big brown orbs boring into yours.

You gave him a curt nod. It was just business, after all.

“You should probably get that home as soon as possible, before some thief comes and snatches it right from you.”

Joshua couldn’t agree more. He started to jog away from you and toward his house, until he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around only to see you with a frown on your face.

He didn’t want this to be the end.

You were a princess! Even though he found you deadly beautiful, even though he knew you found him handsome, it could never work.

But he was just a kid.

You were probably already betrothed to a much more handsome and financially stable prince. If he stopped then, it would have been easier for everyone.

You wanted this too.

“Same place same time tomorrow?” Joshua asked, hope glinting in his eyes. You were excited, but absolutely astounded.

“What? Why?!”

“Just because.” And with that, you nodded a bit more eagerly than you should have, and Joshua ran off into the distance with a slight skip in his step.

Mingyu looked down into your eyes with an unreadable expression. You ignored him and continued to dance mechanically, your mind on Joshua Hong and nobody else. You had danced with Joshua before, but it was in an empty pub as he sang the words of the music, nothing else playing.

You were going to be sick. You couldn’t do this–you couldn’t marry Mingyu. You couldn’t have your fate sealed with a man you didn’t love. You thought you could change things, but you knew Mingyu, as the king, would have much more power than you.

And he would never listen to you.

No, you wouldn’t be able to change a goddamn thing.

After the music ended, you told the future king you needed to step outside. For once, he didn’t probe you with questions and just gave you a nod of approval. You scoffed. You would’ve gone anyway, with or without his approval.

The ballroom was gigantic, with a huge crystal chandelier protruding from the ceiling along with paintings of the past kings and queens with golden frames. Elegant tables dressed with tablecloths and chairs worth more than a poor peasant’s yearly salary were thoughtfully placed throughout the suffocating environment. Despite how grand it was, you felt claustrophobic.

You expertly slipped through the doors of the room, having passed by guards many times before. Just like then, the purpose was all the same–you wanted to see Joshua.

He was in your room, just like he’d promised. He worked in the castle as a servant, a job you appointed him just so the two of you could see each other more. However, he wasn’t supposed to work tonight, but you helped him get in the castle and hid him away in your room.

He smiled at the sight of you, letting himself intake your beautiful dress and crown. However, he felt a twinge of melancholy, knowing that you weren’t dressed up for him.

Before he could even greet you, you crashed your lips onto his. He, of course, reciprocated almost immediately, always up to kissing you.

You pulled away, much too soon to the both of your liking.

“I can’t marry him,” You admitted, “I can’t be queen. They’re gonna squash me like a bug. Mingyu will never listen to my ideas, the men will always be one step ahead of me, Josh. What should I do?”

Joshua sucked in a deep breath, a bit rattled by your words. He knew what was going to happen the moment he decided to keep meeting up with you. He knew you were never his to begin with. You were destined to fall apart.

“You must.” Was all Joshua could muster. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain himself from crying. He was doing quite a poor job, since he could taste his salty tears on his lips.

“Josh, you’ve shown me what love can feel like,” You began with haste, “and love is very fucking–pardon my language–powerful. Let’s run away to another kingdom. I’ve heard stories, Josh, ones that give me hope. There are places out there without kings and queens, the leaders are elected due to their ability. Josh, if we leave right now–”

“You’re being stupid, impulsive, and overly-emotional. You’re going to get us killed, Y/N!”

“I’d rather die loving you than live without you.” The words were powerful, they held the fire of a thousand suns, yet your words did not burn Joshua. For some odd reason, they comforted him. Your grasp around his hands felt warm all of a sudden.

“Well, if we’re gonna leave, you’re gonna have to change your dress. I’ll start getting supplies, maps, and whatnot. We have to be quick.” Joshua demanded. Whatever boyish qualities he had once had faded away years ago. He was a man, at the ripe age of twenty-three. You loved him more than you loved anything else in the world. And, if you were to die by the hands of your father or Mingyu, at least it would be by his side.

You undressed with haste, not struggling in the slightest. You’ve worn your fair share of dresses before. You undid the braids in your hair and took your crown off.

You left it on your nightstand. You had hoped the message was clear to everyone–you did not want to be the queen of this corrupt kingdom.

Joshua came back within twenty minutes, his eyes widened with fear and adrenaline.

“How are we gonna leave? Y/N, we should’ve thought this through–”

“You think I haven’t? Pft,” You scoffed, “I have friends who stand with me. I’ll get us two horses and a carriage in a heartbeat. We need to go north, that’s our best shot. Okay?”

Joshua nodded. No words were necessary, the drumming of his heart that reverberated throughout his head was enough consolation to him, and to you.

You ran up and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips, leaving him a bit taken aback. Before he could ask why, you answered for him.

“Just because.”

People had started looking for you, but you expertly dodged all of the guards. You and Joshua managed to get to where Joshua had kept the supplies he had gathered, and your friend who worked in the stable with the horses helped you haul them onto the carriage. You gave her one last hug goodbye and stepped into the carriage, letting Joshua steer. If anyone saw your face, you would be dead.

You imagined the “wanted” posters that would go up once everyone realized you weren’t going to marry Mingyu. Fear bubbled in your stomach, but it didn’t outweigh the love you felt for Joshua. It didn’t outweigh the hope you held close to your heart for a bright future.

“Let’s go.” You demanded.

And so you went, on into the dwindling night. The bitter air kissed your skin, but you didn’t feel cold whatsoever. You felt alive and free.

You weren’t sure if you would succeed, but you knew you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least try. And, with Joshua by your side, you felt as if you could do anything.

“I love you, Joshua.” You murmured to no one but yourself. He couldn’t hear you over the clanks of the horse’s feet against the ground anyway.

No, you were not destined to fall apart. In fact, it was quite the opposite–you were destined to rise.

154 notes · View notes

terapsina · 5 years

Text

5 Times Monica and Her Mom Have Difficult Conversations About Auntie Carol (+1 Time She Plans A Parent Trap With Her Skrull Friend)

---- ao3 ---- 1 ----

When Monica is five years old, her mom and Auntie Carol don’t come home in time for dinner.

This is unusual, they’re always home in time for dinner. But that day they aren’t.

She’d known something was weird before that, when the phone rang while she was playing Planes and Pilots with her bears Bessie and Jerrie, and Grandma almost dropped the phone and then pulled the cord until she could talk from the other side of the door. But it wasn’t anything that was important.

She’d thought so at first anyway.

But when Monica starts asking for cookies Grandma actually gives them to her instead of making her wait until she’s eaten her lunch. And then she doesn’t start getting ready for her mom and auntie to come home. And then Grandpa comes over to watch her too, and that only ever happens when Mom and Auntie Carol have to work on Sundays.

By then something has started clawing inside Monica, it feels like there’s a cat trapped in her stomach and trying to scratch everything in its sight. Grandma and Grandpa are so quiet.

She spends almost the whole evening just trying to draw but none of the colors look right and even though she’s big now, there’s frustrated tears at the edges of her eyes that she’s holding back by sheer stubbornness.

By the time the front doors finally open, Monica’s eyelids are beginning to grow heavy and her head is tucked into Grandma’s lap. She shoots up straight and is off the couch like a rocket before those doors get a chance to close.

“Mom!” Monica exclaims as she rushes into the hallway but stops short at the sight of her mom.

There’s tear tracks on her mom’s cheeks and she’s clutching at the wall like she’ll fall if she lets go. And she’s all alone.

“Mom?” She asks, suddenly so scared she doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, honey.” Mom says, voice hoarse, and drops to her knees in front of Monica. She smiles at her, but it’s small and weak and only makes Monica more scared. “Let me talk to Grandma and Grandpa for a minute, and then- then I have to tell you something. Okay?”

“Where’s Auntie Carol?” Monica says in response, the claws inside her stomach getting sharper.

“Just a minute. Okay?” Her mom says again and leads her up to Monica’s room, sitting her down on her bed. She kisses her forehead and whispers into her hair before she leaves. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She says back because that’s what she and Auntie Carol always do, and because it’s true.

Then she grabs Amelia from her pillow and clenches the bear against her chest. Waiting for Mom to come back. It feels like forever before she finally does.

And then her mom sits in her bed and pulls Monica and Amelia into her arms.

She knows this means it's going to be a 'serious conversation' - just like the time when Mom told her about how she couldn't tell her friends that Auntie Carol lived in the same room as Mom because some grownups could be really mean about it, even though there was nothing wrong with that. Monica knew that anyway though, the moms and dads of her friends had the same rooms too, and though Monica didn't have a dad she had Auntie Carol, which was the same thing.

"There was an accident." Her mom says, her hands running slowly and soothingly over Monica’s braided hair.

"What kind of accident?" Monica asks, pulling Amelia so close to her chest that her nose dug into her shoulder.

"Auntie Carol's plane crashed and we can't find her." Mom says and starts rocking her in her lap. Monica’s lower lip trembles and she smushes her face into Amelia’s fur to hide it.

"But... you will, right?" She says, voice tiny and quivering, and she doesn’t feel very big at all anymore.

"I don't know, baby," Mom says and squeezes her tighter "I hope so."

Monica looks up to her mom and bursts into tears as soon as she has, her mom is already crying, eyes staring forward out the window and into nothing. She looks just as scared as Monica feels, and something about that is so very wrong Monica has no words for it. Just the inherent certainty that Mom isn’t supposed to be scared.

She falls asleep in her mom's arms that night, doesn’t remember if she ever stopped crying, just remembers feeling her Auntie Carol's absence like a cold river-stone in her chest and somehow knowing there's a stone just like it in her mom's chest too.

---- 2 ----

Monica is eight years old and Auntie Carol has been missing for three years. There was a funeral not that long after the day of the accident but her mom doesn’t really believe that Auntie Carol is dead, Monica can tell because she doesn’t believe either.

She's heard her mom and grandmother fighting about it sometimes, because Grandma can tell too and she does believe that Auntie Carol's really gone. Monica doesn't like it when they fight about it, she's afraid that one day Grandma will win and her mom will start believing it too.

She doesn’t know what wakes her up that night. But when she opens her eyes, the windows are dark. After blinking the sleep from her eyes though Monica grows thirsty and carefully gets up from her bed, pushing her feet into her fluffy panda slippers.

Halfway down the steps though she hears her mom’s voice. She sounds upset so Monica stops to listen.

"Where the hell are you Carol?" Mom says and Monica’s heart starts running in her chest. She slowly takes the last few steps down, avoiding the creaky one by grabbing hold of the railing and very carefully skipping it.

She sneaks a look into the living room and her heart falls with a painful swoop at finding her mom alone.

"I heard your voice. I know I did. I didn't imagine it no matter how much those badge wearing bastards try to tell me otherwise. You were fine after the crash, so where did you go." Mom’s pacing back and forth through the room, eyes toward the ceiling, like that’s where Auntie Carol’s hiding in.

"My mother's been trying to get me to let you go. Yes, I know what you'd say: 'She never liked me, Maria.' And you're wrong, she liked you fine... eventually."

Grandma didn’t like Auntie Carol?

"Maybe... maybe she's right. Maybe I should stop waiting for you to show up like some kind of gift from heaven." She says, sounding frustrated now.

Monica has to bite her lip to stop herself from yelling that Mom couldn’t do that.

"Wherever it is you are, it's not here. And it doesn't look like you're in any particular hurry to come back." Her mom says, and she sounds mad now, but also sad, like she did when Monica spilled ketchup on Auntie Carol’s favorite jacket after she took it without asking permission.

"Where the f-" her mom starts saying but stops mid word as she finally seems to catch sight of her. "Monica?"

Monica steps out of her hiding place, feeling a bit guilty, she knows it’s rude to spy on grownups. But then she remembers what Mom had just been saying and that overcomes the little niggle of guilt. "You're angry at Auntie Carol."

"No, baby. I'm not." Mom tells her, dropping to her knees in front of her.

"You sound angry.” Monica argues and then flinches as a terrible thought crosses her mind. “Do you- do you think she left us on purpose?"

"Of course not. She loved us, you know that." Mom says and her eyes are as wide and honest as ever, so she knows that her mom isn’t lying to make her feel better.

But that just makes it more confusing.

"Then why are you mad?" She asks, not understanding.

"Sometimes it hurts less when we're mad." Her mom says very quietly and wipes away a tear from Monica’s cheek. She hadn’t even noticed she’d started crying.

She looks down and starts playing with the sleeves of her pajamas, it makes it easier to say something she’s never told anyone before. “Sometimes I’m mad at her too.”

“And that’s okay. It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t mean we love her any less, do you understand?”

Monica nods, even though she doesn’t really.

“Did you come down here for something, baby?” Mom asks after Monica doesn’t say anything more.

“I was thirsty.” Monica says through a sudden hiccup. She hates them, they always show up when she gets upset.

“Let’s get you a glass of warm milk then, okay?” Mom offers and wipes more tears from Monica’s face.

“Yeah.” Monica nods and lets her mom pull her up into a lingering hug, feels it as she starts drawing little circles over her back while they move toward the kitchen. It makes some of the lingering pain of thinking about Auntie Carol leach out of her but some of it remains, some of it hasn’t really ever gone away.

---- 3 ----

Monica is ten years old. And lately she’s started to think about something that never seemed like it mattered before but now doesn’t feel quite right. She’s thought about it so much that it finally feels like she’ll burst if she doesn’t ask her mom about it.

"Hey, Mom? I have a question about Auntie Carol." Monica says after she stops in front of her and sits down on the opposite side of Mom’s work table.

They’re in the little hanger near the house. Her mom’s busy working on what looks like a faulty injection pump.

"What is it, baby?" She asks and looks around for a different tool when hers proves too big to ply open the metal covering. Monica passes her the smaller one that’s on her side of the table. “Thank you, honey.”

"Why do we call her Auntie when... when she was... more?" Monica says, jumping straight to the point.

Her mom puts down the broken engine part and the tool she’d just given her, and looks at Monica. Then she lets out a long breath and seems to be steeling herself for the conversation.

Monica doesn’t let herself fidget. She’s not going to be nervous about this, if she doesn’t look like she can handle the answer her mom might decide to tell her she’s too young to understand.

"You loved her." She instead says, continuing to her next point in her mental list of reasons for why something isn’t quite right.

"Of course I did." Mom says but her face tells Monica she’s taking her question seriously.

"And she lived with us. And she made us breakfast because she always woke up so early, and she used to kiss you sometimes, and we were a family. And it doesn't... feel like my aunt is gone.” It’s the truth, because she thinks about her as Auntie Carol, but she's never thought of her as her aunt. Not the way other kids have talked about their aunts and uncles anyway, even though some of them live at the same house as them, just like Auntie Carol used to live with her and Mom. “Laila's aunt left for Minnesota and it doesn't hurt her like it hurts when I think about Auntie Carol. It hurts like it hurt Johnny when his mom died last summer."

"That's because we were raising you together." Mom says but it sounds like an excuse.

"Like parents do. So shouldn't she have been Mama Carol? Why didn't I use to call her that?" She says, trying to drive her point home.

Her mom sighs and gets up to pull her bench to Monica’s side of the table. Then she sits down and takes Monica’s hands into her own.

"Because people can be really cruel." Mom tells her, eyes staring straight into Monica’s. "You remember that talk we had about how you should always tell me if one of your teachers is particularly harsh on you, Laila, Gabriel, Angel and Jordan but not the rest of your class?"

"Because we're black and they're not allowed to do that?" She asks, a low-burning flame igniting in her chest at remembering the conversation Mom’s referring to. The one her mom has had with her more then once because she always says it’s important to have it fresh in her memory.

"Yes, well sometimes there are people who hate us for who we choose to love, like there are people who hate us for the color of our skin.” Here she picks up her smaller hand and pointedly kisses it like she always does during those talks, she says it’s a reminded that Monica’s beautiful and that no one is allowed to make her think otherwise. “And no matter how much we'd like to punch them all in the face, and no matter how much they would deserve it, sometimes when we have something to protect, it's safer to not step in front of those people in the first place."

“What did you have to protect?” She asks, not wanting to but beginning to understand.

“You. Our jobs. Each other.” Mom says with a sad smile that makes Monica feel like maybe she shouldn’t have asked in the first place. She hates making Mom sad.

“Oh.” She says and thinks about this for a moment, feels herself grow angry at yet another unjust thing. “Well, it’s not fair, we shouldn’t have to lie about how much she means to us just because people are stupid.”

“You’re right, baby, it’s really not fair at all.” Her mom says and squeezes her hands between her palms. It’s like being reassured but Monica doesn’t want to be reassured.

She pulls back to jump to her feet and clenches her hands into fists. The flickering flame inside her has been fed a little bit more fuel.

“And you said we should always stand up for ourselves because other people won’t, so isn’t that true here too?” She says, knowing she’s right, knowing her mom agrees, and still knowing that there’s very little she can do about it right now anyway.

“I wish it was that easy, Monica.”

---- 4 ----

Monica is eleven, and yesterday Auntie Carol came home. Monica and Mom had been right, she hadn’t died and she didn’t leave them on purpose.

It’s been a day since then and so much has happened. Mom and Auntie Carol are heroes, they saved a spaceship full of people - they were aliens but they were also people. She’s already prepared to argue with anyone who would say otherwise, even though she knows this is a secret and that there’s no one else who knows.

One of them is her new friend. Her name is Talia, she’s shy but really nice, Monica’s going to miss her.

She’s going to miss Auntie Carol too. That shouldn’t feel like a new absence, she’s been missing her for so long now after all. But somehow the sting is fresh. Even though she’s so proud of her.

They said goodbye to her half an hour ago but Monica and her mom are still sitting on their porch and looking up at the stars, staring at them like if they try hard enough she’ll still be up there looking back. It’s here that Monica finally pulls together the courage to ask the question that has been bothering her for the past two days.

“Why didn’t you tell her, Mom?” She asks, turning her face sideways to look at her.

“What’s that, baby?” She asks, voice sounding far away even coming from right beside her. Monica’s pretty sure it’s somewhere up in the sky with both their hearts.

“You didn’t tell Auntie Carol that you loved her. And that she loved you.” Monica isn’t going to let this go, they’d gotten her back. She won’t let them lose her when there’s so easy a way for them to keep her.

“She doesn’t remember it, honey.”

Monica continues staring at her mom, her mom continues looking up.

“So? You could have reminded her. And she remembered that I was Lieutenant Trouble.” She says and feels a smile crossing her face again, Auntie Carol remembers her. Even if it’s just that one memory, it’s one Monica shares with her and somehow that’s all that matters.

“I know. But... it would have made it harder, and it would have meant making her choose and it wouldn’t have been fair to do that. Talos and his people need her right now.” Mom says, finally looking down and tucking Monica against her side.

“But she left us that communicator, Mom. We’ll be able to talk to her now, and she said she’d visit.” Monica says, pleading for her mom to change her mind about this.

“And I’m sure she’s going to. But you can’t tell someone they love you, they have to figure that out on their own or it doesn’t really mean anything.”

“But-”

“It’s late, baby, you should get ready for bed,” She says, standing up and reaching out to pull Monica to her feet too.

Monica lets Mom take her hand but doesn’t let her drop the conversation. “I think she does though. Love us.”

“Monica-”

“She looked at you just like she did in that photo you took out before we showed her the rest of them.” Mom looks surprised, like she’d thought Monica hadn’t noticed. She had though, and once they started going through them, Monica knew which one she’d taken. It was the one where there were just inches between Mom and Auntie Carol’s faces and both of them were visibly laughing at something. But there was also a strange look on Auntie Carol’s face, like she was completely spellbound by Monica’s mom. “So I think you should tell her.”

Her mom just shakes her head and goes on the offensive, starting to tickle her till Monica yells at her to stop through her uncontrollable giggles.

“To bed with you, Lieutenant Trouble.” Her mom says with amusement.

Monica finally listens. She doesn’t admit defeat though, she just needs to think of a new strategy.

---- 5 ----

Auntie Carol does call them. She calls them almost every night around dinnertime. And when she hasn’t she always tells them why later, sometimes she even retells the coolest parts of whatever fight had happened. Monica’s pretty sure she skips a lot of the more gnarly details to not make Mom mad though.

But during the nights when Auntie Carol calls on time, Monica pays close attention to how she and Mom interact during them.

By this point Monica’s pretty sure she has conclusive evidence that she was right. Auntie Carol might not remember how it was before, and if Monica’s honest there’s a lot she doesn’t remember either - she was only five after all, - but she’s sure that however it was then, it’s a lot like that now too.

They smile at each other and joke with each other, dryly and occasionally through sarcasm but Monica’s well aware that those are her mom’s favorite modes of humor. And whenever Mom isn’t looking at her, Auntie Carol’s smiles turn all sappy and soft.

Auntie Carol loves Mom, it isn’t even a question.

Besides, there’s also the way she’s started to say goodbye when it’s time to cut off the call.

“Love you, Trouble, Maria.” Auntie Carol says with a smile for Monica that she knows is honest but also only half the story. Because then, like gravity, her eyes would always flicker toward her mom.

And yes, Monica has noticed how Auntie Carol always puts her first. Like a barrier between the sentiment and the other person it’s being directed at. Her moms are impossible - she’s started sometimes to think of Auntie Carol like that, as the second of her two moms, if only inside the safety of her own mind.

“Love you too, Captain.” Monica says and turns significantly towards her mom.

“Goodnight, Carol.” Mom says instead as the hologram flickers off, leaving them alone a second later. It was still enough time for Monica to see that brief half a heartbeat where Auntie Carol’s smile fell a bit.

She glares at her mom. Mom, as is starting to become her habit, pretends not to notice it and stands up to take the empty dishes to the kitchen.

“Grab your plate, honey.” Mom just says, already by the doorway.

Monica does and then stomps off after her.

“You’re supposed to say it back.” Monica says, losing her patience. It’s been happening for months now, this weird thing where they almost say something and then never actually do.

“We’ve talked about this, Monica.” Mom says, placing her stack of dishes in the sink and then taking the ones from Monica.

“No. you said that Auntie Carol had to figure it out on her own. I think she’s figured it out.” Monica says back and then, perhaps rather unwisely, actually says the thing that’s been hiding in her mind for a while now. “I think you’re just scared.”

Then she freezes, she knows she’s not supposed to talk to Mom like that.

“I am.” Mom says, instead of immediately sending her to her room, though the look that comes with the words is stern. Monica’s on thin ice here.

Monica stops in her tracks, - not because she’s one step away from getting in trouble but because she didn’t expect Mom to actually admit that she’s scared. Now that she has, Monica’s not sure how to proceed.

For a minute she just stands there as her mom starts washing the dishes. What finally comes out is: “But you love her. And she loves you too.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she thinks so because one of those flashes told her that she once did.” Mom says back, adding more dish-washing liquid to the sponge.

“But don’t you want it to be like it used to be?” Monica asks, finally feeling lost.

“It’s complicated.” Mom says and continues doing the dishes.

Monica grabs a towel to help with the drying and falls silent after that. Mind busy stewing in frustration over adults and their need to call very simple things ‘complicated’. It’s not complicated, it’s so easy; her mom still loves Auntie Carol and Auntie Carol is clearly either starting to remember or has fallen in love with Mom all over again. Either way the answer to what they should do is very obvious.

Monica has a terrible feeling that if she lets them continue like this on their own they’re never going to figure it out. She can’t let that happen.

---- +1 ----

She’s not supposed to call Auntie Carol for anything other than an emergency because there’s no way to predict if she’ll receive that call while on board their hijacked space cruiser, during a live firefight or while on a covert op. It’s all around safer if Auntie Carol’s the one who contacts them.

But Auntie Carol is not the only person Monica uses their holographic communicator to talk with.

Which is why Monica is closing her bedroom door and turning on her radio to cover up the noises from her planned conversation. That done, she goes back to the communicator and enters the - by now familiar - string of Kree symbols.

“Hey, Talia. Are you by yourself right now?” Monica says as soon as the call connects and her friend’s image forms above the device.

“Hi, Monica.” Talia says from her side of the galaxy as they grin at each other. “I’m in my room. What’s up?”

When Monica first met her, Talia might have come across as shy and quiet but she learned really fast that this was true only while Talia hadn’t known her. Now that they’re friends they’ve fallen into the habit of talking for hours, sometimes right up until the point where their parents have to make them stop and go to sleep.

“I think I need your help.” Monica says and starts ruffling through her bag for the book that’s given her an idea. “You know how Auntie Carol plans to come to Earth for a few days next month, because it finally looks like things are going to be quiet for a little while?”

“Yeah, my dad’s going to be free too, he said he wants us to spend some time together while it lasts. Why?” Talia says, looking curious.

“I need Auntie Carol to spend more than a few days home. I’ve told you about how she and Mom have been dancing around each other without ever just sitting down and admitting that they’re in love with each other, right?” She says, knowing she’s kinda whining a bit but after seven months with a first-row seat, she thinks she’s due.

“Only once or twice.” Talia says with a smirk and a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Monica throws one of her stuffed bears through the hologram and gets met by the sound of Talia laughing as the light reforms back into her.

“That wasn’t nice. I thought you wanted my help.” She says, still smirking. This is why Talia is her best friend even though she’s two years younger than her.

“I do.” Monica says and turns serious. “Can you talk your dad into taking you here to Earth too?”

“Maybe?” She says, though she doesn’t sound entirely sure. It’ll do for now, they can throw around some ideas on how to accomplish that part after Monica explains her plan.

“I found this book in the library and it gave me an idea,” she pulls out her copy of ‘Lottie and Lisa’ to show it to Talia, “it’s about these twin sisters who got separated as babies by their parents, and then found each other and decided to switch places while pretending to be each other.”

“But what does that have to do with your mom and aunt?” Talia asks.

“Well, I was thinking. If you were here and pretended to be me and neither of us would tell anyone which of us was which...”

“...your aunt and my dad couldn’t leave before we told them.” Talia says, finishing Monica’s thought.

“And we won’t tell them until Mom and Auntie Carol admit how they feel about each other. I don’t even think we’ll have to do much, they just need to spend enough time together that they forget all the stupid reasons they’ve come up with for why they’re too scared to be together.” Monica finishes by letting out a long, extended, exhausted breath.

“That’s brilliant.” Talia says, her pretty green eyes widening in wonder.

Monica smiles, proud of herself.

“So can you do it? Make yourself look like me?” She asks and bites her lip, this is the one part of her idea she isn’t sure of. If Talia can’t turn into her, then her plan gets unraveled at the seams and she’s back to square one.

“Probably?” Talia says, bending her neck to the side and seemingly taking a new look at Monica. “You’re not that much bigger than me and I’ve been practicing with dad. It’s also a lot easier if we know the person we’re trying to turn into. But I can’t really do the memories thing yet.”

“That’s okay. I’ll tell you everything you have to know and if they ask us something we haven’t covered we’ll both pretend that we don’t know the answer.” Monica says and smiles an exhilarated smile.

This is going to work. This has to work.

----

They step downstairs hand in hand - hand in the same hand, in fact, - it’s time for the show.

“Monica?” Her mom says cautiously.

“Yes, Mom?” Monica and Talia answer in unison just like they’ve practiced, two identical grins on their faces.

“What are you two doing?” Mom says a suspicious cadence coloring her voice and a look on her face like she’s already getting an idea of what they’re planning. And why.

Monica doesn’t mind, as long as her mom isn’t sure which of them is the real Monica there’s nothing she can do about it. Knowing what Monica wants from them might actually hurry this thing along faster.

She does know that as soon as this is over she’s going to be grounded for a very, very long time. But sacrifices have to be made in the name of the greater good of Mom and Auntie Carol getting back together.

“Yes what are you two up to?” Auntie Carol asks looking over the back of the couch. She looks amused and unlike Mom clearly hasn’t yet worked out that Talia’s not about to change back any time soon.

They exchange a look and pull their lips in a smirk, Monica has to admit it feels a bit strange seeing her own face looking back but it’s also kinda... really cool too.

“Nothing, Auntie Carol.” Talia says innocently.

“Nothing at all.” Monica echoes her.

They both look left at the sudden loud chuckle coming from the corner where Talia’s dad is standing, as soon as they do, he sends them a quick wink and continues laughing. Monica likes him. She has a good feeling that he’s not gonna snitch on them even if he does have some way to tell them apart.

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