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tarydarrington · 3 years

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It takes about half an hour for the general topic of conversation at the party to turn to his scars.

It shouldn’t be a surprise; any guests of Archmage Beck’s are bound to have at least a passing familiarity with the way a Scourger’s arms are meant to look. The maze of ink is a symbol of power, a sign of something dangerous and elite, and his ragged array of raised, pale cuts is a far cry from elegance. It’s natural that they would pick up on the difference. It’s natural that it would be gossiped over. It’s natural that Caleb feels rather like teleporting straight home and letting his future self deal with the social consequences.

To borrow an odd turn of phrase Veth had once used, two halves are at war inside of him. One is filled with an angry, headstrong pride that makes him want to shove his scars in the faces of all those who care to gawk and let them have their fill. The other wishes he had brought a coat.

It’s rare that Essek does much at these functions aside from artfully disappearing in such a way that lets him mingle with as few fellow guests as possible, but after only a few moments of stares following him, the elf appears at his side.

“May I borrow you, a moment?” he asks.

The way his eyes dart around the room reminds Caleb of an irritated cat’s tail swishing.

“As many moments as you like,” he replies, and follows Essek into an empty hallway.

The sound of the crowd is immediately muffled by the walls as they step inside, and Caleb wonders fleetingly if this is where Essek has been all night. Someday, if they ever manage to talk about whatever this is between them, maybe the two of them will attend a party without the rest of the Nein. Just for the pleasure of being able to leave early without stranding anyone, if nothing else.

Or they could stay. Caleb thinks he wouldn’t mind a party like this quite so much, if he were with Essek.

He shakes the thought as Essek finally looks him in the eye for the first time, and Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up as Essek begins to shrug his way out of his cloak.

“Herr Thelyss, we are in public,” he deadpans, and grins at the way Essek’s face - not quite his own, here, of course - flushes.

“What is the Empire saying? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you?” He takes the cloak in both hands, holding it out between them at its full length and width, turning a critical eye on Caleb. He seems satisfied with his findings, folding it neatly over one arm before clearing his throat. “If you like,” he says in a softer tone, “you may borrow this.”

He might have been less surprised if it were a striptease. Essek is fond of his layers. They’re elegant, they present an image of inscrutability, and - most importantly to Essek, he has learned - they obscure his body. It gives him privacy, this kind of which he values greatly. To be offered something like this is quite a gift, indeed.

Essek seems, as usual, to know what he��s thinking. “It is rather warm, tonight. I dressed accordingly.”

Caleb gives him a once-over for precisely the length of time that could not possibly be considered staring. He’s not lying. The fine, light clothing beneath his cloak is amorphous enough to preserve his modesty.

Caleb thinks of the way their stares follow him. He thinks of all the pain he went through to get these scars, and all the good he’s done to ensure they are never inflicted on anyone else. He is not ashamed of these scars. Essek will understand, if he turns the offer down. He always understands.

Then, he thinks of the faces they’ll make if he returns to the room wearing Essek’s cloak.

The rest of the night passes about as he expects, with three important observations made. Firstly, Essek’s cloak is still warm and smells very much like Essek. Secondly, the well-tailored, black tunic he had been wearing underneath follows the lines of his body loosely enough to obscure most details, but just closely enough to draw his imagination to fill in the blanks. Thirdly, despite the smattering of murmurs and stares that still turn in his direction from time to time, the sum of the previous two facts makes this evening entirely enjoyable.

He suspects, from the way Essek steals a few more glances than necessary, that it might be a positive experience for them both.

The number of times the Mighty Nein find themselves in combat before the end of a fancy party truly ought not to be as high as it is.

Then again, Essek remembers the circumstances of their first meeting. It may be absurd, but it isn't surprising.

What is surprising - or rather, what would have been surprising, had one informed him of it several years ago - is the way he doesn't think twice before placing himself between a nearly-downed Veth and the blow intended to finish her. The blade cuts him from shoulder to chest, catching him at the wrist on the follow-through and leaving a stinging cut in its wake.

Caduceus sees to the wound with his usual easy precision, but the magic doesn't work the same way on his clothing. He picks dejectedly at the tattered remains of his neckline, the end of his sleeve hanging ragged to match. This had been a nice cloak. That, and the Ruby’s festivities inside, blissfully unaware of the commotion in the gardens, are still due to continue for another few hours.

Just as he's considering how bad a faux pas it would be to call it a night, Caleb ducks down into his line of sight, squatting beside him where he rests against the low stone wall.

"You know, I think perhaps you are a little breakable to be trying for Yasha’s role,” he says with a bemused smile. Before Essek has a chance to respond, he adds, “That was very brave of you. I will thank you on Veth’s behalf, since I think she has, ah, moved on from the moment.”

Moved on from the moment seems, in this case, to mean that she has been offering for the last several minutes to bandage Bluud’s barely-scratched biceps. Essek waves a hand.

“It’s perfectly alright,” he says. “Though I must admit, I will mourn the clothing.”

Caleb gives him a sympathetic grimace, and Essek tries not to fidget as he watches those blue eyes assess the damage and catch on the strips of rarely exposed skin. He makes a little clicking sound with his tongue as he takes it in that is much more attractive than it ought to be.

“Would you like to…” Caleb’s brow furrows in thought, and to finish the question, he takes the end of his scarf in one hand and dangles it between them. “If you like?”

Essek wipes the look of wide-eyed, touched surprise from his face as fast as he can, but he’s sure from the way a small smile tugs at Caleb’s lips that it hasn’t gone unnoticed. His gaze drops down to his ruined neckline. The damage is high enough that it’s possible the scarf could cover it, if properly arranged.

“That would…” He takes a breath. “I would be… grateful.”

With an encouraging smile, Caleb ducks out from the middle of the scarf and pools it in his arms, offering it to Essek. When he takes it, the warmth and weight of the fabric reminds him of Caleb’s cats. He tries to keep his breathing steady as he turns it in his hands - and realizes only when he attempts to duck through the center that he has no idea how to properly wrap something like this.

He’s slighter than Caleb, so the loops that circle Caleb perfectly slip awkwardly off his shoulders; besides that, the elegant coil has been tangled in the handing off. He tries to wind it around his own neck from the beginning, but finds it frustratingly difficult to get it to sit the way he’d like it to, and is entirely uncertain of what to do with the ends.

“I… am afraid I am rather at a loss,” Essek admits begrudgingly.

Caleb cocks his head to one side in curious surprise, but instead of questioning, he holds out his hands. “Would you allow me?”

He takes the scarf back when Essek nods mutely in response, and suddenly he is very, very close. Caleb gives him a reassuring smile, as though he knows - and of course he knows, he always knows - that he needs a moment to adjust to the proximity. The care in those eyes almost knocks Essek’s gaze away, but instead holds it locked in place.

“Is, ah…” Caleb begins, and his voice sounds thicker than before, “is this alright?”

Essek hopes the somewhat dazed half-nod he manages gets the point across.

He’s had Caleb’s arms around him before, but for some reason the feeling of them bracketing his neck as Caleb drapes the scarf around and around him is so achingly intimate that it stops his breath.

His gaze breaks from Caleb’s for just long enough to notice the v of bare skin now visible at the neck of his shirt, and he snaps his attention back to Caleb’s eyes as his face burns. Caleb’s smile quirks upwards on one side at the sight. He gives the scarf a few gentle tugs to place it just right.

As his hand draws away, he lets it rest cupped against Essek’s cheek for just a moment. The night is cold, but the space between them feels warmer than a fireside. The fireside, as well, would have fewer sparks.

Caleb clears his throat as he pulls away and stands, and the spell is broken as both of them turn to studiously examine their surroundings. Essek shifts the weight of the scarf experimentally. Sometimes, one of Caleb’s cats will climb the man and wind itself around his neck in a thoroughly endearing display of affection. Caleb has always thought of it as the highest compliment, to be chosen in such a way, and Essek imagines it must feel something like this. And never, not even covered in four layers and his old mantle, has he ever felt so protected from the outside world.

“Thank you,” he manages after a moment.

“Ja, of course.” It’s a minor relief that Caleb sounds about as breathless as Essek feels.

As he stands, letting his levitation spell carry him gently off his feet, the hem of his sleeve catches his eye. Caleb’s gaze falls that way, too, then flicks back up to his with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Well,” he says, and holds out his arm, “that is a shame.”

Essek looks from Caleb’s face to his arm and back, heat creeping up his neck. Caleb knows him well enough to understand this is no small request. He knows Caleb well enough, in return, to understand that he will take no offense if he refuses.

Carefully, holding his breath, Essek tucks his hand under Caleb’s arm. The billowing cloth of his sleeve falls down to cover the ragged end of Essek’s, and Essek finds himself wondering for a moment if the loose style was intended to mimic his own.

The smile on Caleb’s face is so fond that Essek can’t help but return it.

“Well,” Caleb says, leaning in conspiratorially, “shall we?”

They’re not the last of the Mighty Nein to return to the party - Essek suspects Beauregard and Yasha have found their own pursuits in the garden, judging by the looks they had been exchanging after the battle - but they’re not the first, either. Jester and Fjord have found the Ruby and joined her in polite conversation. Caleb steers him dutifully in the other direction; they both know well what will happen if Jester sees them like this, and perhaps Caleb is as loath to break the moment as he is. They make the rounds together, and Essek thinks that they must look for all the world like a real couple. The thought brings a strange lightness to his chest, and he finds himself absently curling his hand around Caleb’s arm where it rests.

“My nefarious plot has gone off without a hitch,” Caleb murmurs with a grin. “Now, you are stuck with me for the rest of the evening.”

Essek doesn’t bother holding back the smirk. With a covert flick of magic in his free hand, he draws away from Caleb’s arm to politely retrieve a glass from the tray of a passing waiter. Caleb watches him with incredulous surprise, eyes trained on the end of his sleeve - perfectly intact through a Seeming spell.

“I think I can manage without, if I must,” Essek says mildly.

He passes the drink to his off hand as Caleb flushes a bit.

“Well,” Caleb says sheepishly, “that is one way to do it.”

Essek raises his eyebrows at him teasingly, and before he can talk himself out of it, slips his hand back into the crook of Caleb’s arm.

To his credit, Caleb doesn’t tease. The surprised little smile he gives Essek instead gives him more warmth than the scarf does, and Essek lets himself smile back as Caleb’s hand comes up to rest over his. Not enough to hold him in place, just enough for a little more contact.

“You know, you could have done that before,” Caleb murmurs. “At Astrid’s party, when you lent me your cloak.”

Essek takes a sip of his drink to hide the blush. “I realize,” he replies. He could admit that the way those people had treated Caleb lit his anger in a way few things have since he left court. He could admit that he knows, from experience, that it’s more of a comfort to have something real between you and the rest of the world. He could admit that giving his own cloak as such a barrier for Caleb had felt like a more personal kind of protection.

He could even point out that Caleb could have used the spell himself, if he had wanted to; but he finds he likes the quiet implication given by the fact that he took Essek's cloak instead.

"It suited you,” is what he settles on.

Caleb gives him a hum of acknowledgement in response. “Ja, well,” he adds with a soft, knowing smile, “the scarf suits you.”

Of course, Caleb always understands. And as they move about the party for the rest of the night, arm in arm, Essek thinks that he doesn’t mind parties quite so much with Caleb by his side.

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #mine #mine:fic #caleb #essek

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn’t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

#elysiadjarinkinktober #kinktober #my writing #mywriting #elysiadjarin #nsft #x reader #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #xyou

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dourpeep · 3 years

Note

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

#anon asks #chifema #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact headcanons #albedo headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact drabbles #albedo my beloved #klee #albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff

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pompomegranate · 3 years

Text

curiosity

fandom | nanatsu no taizai

pairing | ban x reader

word count | 2.6k

warnings | 18+. smut. dirty talk. denial. minors dni.

a/n | so there isn't a lot of rhyme or reason to this i just wanted to imagine the possibility of ban's thot days pre-elaine :/ i just know that [REDACTED] is big and i wanted to write about it <3 this isn't heavily proofread and i haven't written an "x reader" fic before so be gentle pls (also kudos are appreciated)!!

read on ao3

You were curious. Maybe a bit too curious.

You’d heard the infamous Bandit Ban was back in town after a successful quest – no one really knew when he was leaving and when he was coming back.

He was like a stray cat in that way. All roaming, no settling, sitting down just long enough to get fed and take a nap before he was off again.

And as you eye him across the parlor, arms stretching behind his head, legs splaying out lazily, he looks cat-like too.

All sleek limbs and a nonchalant look, like he’d rather be anywhere else.

A couple drinks later, the cat-like look dissolves into one of a milk-drunk one, all blushing cheeks and a relaxed stance.

But his eyes… his eyes are the same. Bright and calculated and precise.

And cat-like.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize he’s staring right through you.

And you’re curious. So goddamn curious.

His lips upturn into a smirk, one that has your thighs clenching, and he knows this. He can tell exactly what you’re thinking.

You turn back to your drink and take a sip, trying not to crack under his lazer sharp gaze.

When you look back… he’s tipping back his mug, no doubt lapping up the last drops of ale.

He slams the mug down with a bit too much force, startling the bartender, who quickly tops him up.

Ban’s tongue darts out to lap up the foam clinging to his lips, getting it all in one firm swipe.

You can’t help but wonder just how long it is as it stretches around his mouth.

He knows you’re staring now, but you can’t seem to think about anything but the lazy grin spreading across lips long enough to care that he’s found you out.

He breaks first, turning to speak to the bartender.

You take your chance to stand up and head for the door, heart racing like never before. You saw Bandit Ban. You stared at him and he caught you and… you weren’t scared.

He’d been painted out to be this horrifically scary guy with a ruthless attitude and a murderous stare, but he wasn’t any of that.

He was gorgeous – oozing with sex appeal. With confidence. Like there was no doubt in the world that he could bag any person in every room.

You make it outside and the air is cool on your cheeks, warm from the ale you’ve been sipping on. Or maybe it was Ban – you couldn’t tell.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a shitty bar like this?” A voice calls from behind you – above you.

You turn, expecting to hurl an insult at a drunken idiot, but instead are met with him. All six – seven? – feet of him.

You barely stifle your gasp of surprise as you crane your neck up to look at him.

He’s leaning against the railing, thigh perched on it, arms crossed in a laid back gesture.

His face twists into a grin the second your eyes meet his.

“I was just leaving,” you blurt, already blowing it.

“Oh, were you? Assumed you were stickin’ around,” he teases, quirking a brow.

You realize that you left the bar with a half full mug.

“Stealing’s punishable by law, ya know,” Ban says, leaning forward to tower over you.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to – I promise –” you stutter, holding the mug out to him apologetically.

“Like I’d take the word of a stranger,” he laughs, snatching the mug from your hands and tipping it back.

You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs with effort, stray droplets of ale streaking out the corners of his mouth. He quickly catches them with his tongue, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, sighing with relief.

“Best fuckin’ ale I’ve ever tasted.”

You nod, chewing your lip. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

“Once you’ve got a taste –” he says, leaning forward again, crowding your space, his face getting closer and closer, “– You’ll never be satisfied again.”

You find yourself struggling to stand upright. Is he still talking about ale?

“Let’s cut to the chase, stranger. I saw you starin’ at me back in there. You want me or not?” The lazy smirk appears again, his cheeks flushed from drinking.

He’s not even trying and he’s got you seriously considering sprinting towards his bedroom.

You aren’t able to form words. He’s so… forward. And enticing. God, he’s so fucking enticing.

Your hands are trembling, so you clasp them in front of you. He takes note of this, his expression faltering just a bit.

You’re not scared of him by any means. He just makes you nervous.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck almost… awkwardly? “You gonna get home okay? S’almost dark out.”

“Yes,” you say, finally, mustering up the courage to answer.

He looks confused, but then it dawns on him after he realizes what it took for you to accept his offer.

“My place is right around the corner. C’mon,” he says, and then his hand is hovering over the small of your back and you’re heading to Ban’s place like it’s any other week and not the wildest thing that’s ever happened to you.

His room is cozy, but bare, not many remnants of who he is or what he enjoys decorating the room (besides the empty alcohol jugs neatly lining the top of the beat up wardrobe).

His mattress is in the corner of the room, blanket and pillow strewn about messily.

“I’d say sorry for not making the bed but we’re just gonna ruin it anyways,” he laughs, kicking his shoes off, urging you to do the same.

And then he closes the gap between you.

He’s slipping his arms around you, one hand curling around your waist and the other hand cupping your chin, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss.

And you oblige, moving your lips in tandem with his, sighing as his tongue gently begs for your lips to part.

The kiss is growing heated, so you take the opportunity to let your hands roam, stroking down the front of his shirt, feeling the hard ridges underneath.

He groans into your mouth as you run your hands towards his waistline, catching your lip between his teeth hungrily.

You slip your hand into his pants, palming him gently.

Growling, he runs his hands all over you, grabbing and kneading every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

You continue to work him, sighing when his lips are on your neck, suckling at the tender skin there, his sharp teeth grazing your skin.

“Ban,” you breathe as he slips your dress over your head leaving you nearly naked, your underwear the only thing clothing you.

He grabs you underneath your ass and flings you over your shoulder, chuckling at the way you gasp in surprise.

“Put me down!”

“Alright,” he says, and tosses you unceremoniously onto the bed.

And then you realize you’re nearly bare, on your back, in Bandit Ban’s home (in his bed), completely at his mercy.

He seems to know this, and he’s absolutely reveling in this power.

He grins down at you, eyeing every peak and curve on your body. He reaches back to tear his shirt off, and then his pants, not even stopping to give you a show.

But honestly? It doesn’t even matter, because when he’s done, he’s breathtaking.

Ban’s just a mile of solid, marbled muscle and sex appeal and he knows it.

He crawls towards you, settling in between your thighs. You watch as he hooks a thumb into your underwear and pulls it to the side before sitting back to admire you.

“Such a pretty, pretty pussy. Can’t wait to make a mess of you,” he winks, grinning, leaning in to press an open mouthed kiss on your folds, just sloppy enough that you can’t help but relax your hips even more, opening for him.

He licks a long, firm swipe all the way from the bottom to the top, the tip of it never leaving you. He swirls the tip of his tongue against your clit, the short strokes ripping an involuntary moan from you.

You’re sighing his name and a string of expletives, and it only encourages him to do exactly what he’s doing at an even more relentless pace, his hand splaying on your inner thigh to keep you tightly firmly in place.

He’s not letting you go anywhere – you can’t curl into yourself or bend away as he sucks your clit into his mouth and slowly inches a finger from his free hand into you.

Your hands fist the blanket when he begins to pump his finger, adding another one just as slowly, a complete contrast to the speed of his mouth.

You begin to twitch, feeling yourself climbing closer and closer to your release and you try to clench your thighs but you feel his hand shift up your thighs. He lays his forearm across your lower stomach, anchoring you in place.

He pulls back just for a minute to smirk at you, continuing to work his hand.

“Oh, nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere, baby,” he all but purrs, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, flashing a grin at you when you jolt at his touch.

“Lemme hear you,” he says, picking up speed, his fingers curling inside of you.

“Please, Ban – oh, fuck –” Your hips are bucking to keep up with his movements now, and you feel yourself pulsing around him and you’re so close and –

He stops his movements, pulling his hand away.

You make a frustrated sound, one that amuses the hell out of him. He just laughs, kissing your inner thigh and tugging your underwear the rest of the way down, flinging it across the room.

“Quit your whining, sweetheart. I promise it’s better the longer I make you wait,” he says, standing, beginning to lazily pump himself in front of you and you can’t help but watch.

You knew before meeting the infamous Ban that he was a skyscraper with a chiseled build, and assumed he had the cock to match – but seeing it in person was a different story.

“You like what you see?” He says under his breath, rolling his hand around his tip.

You nod, completely at a loss for words.

“C’mere,” he says, leaning down to kiss you and he smiles when he feels your hand instinctively reach for his shaft. “Eager, are we?”

“How do you want it? I’m lettin’ you pick the speed of this ride, babe,” he murmurs against your ear, hand running through your hair.

“If you’re not sure you can always take me for a test drive,” he chuckles, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.

You nod furiously, and before you know it he’s flipped you and you’re on top, straddling him, just the slightest bit of friction, just enough to make your breath hitch.

He grips your hips, thumb settling into the crease where they meet your thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

“Spit for me,” he says, holding a hand under your mouth. When you do, he reaches between the two of you, pumping himself with that hand, lazily swiping what’s left over your lips.

Ban watches your face (really watches your lips) as he presses into you, and you’re already sinking your teeth into your bottom lip with the first inch and he’s absolutely eating it up.

His hands resume his place at your hips, ever so gently training you farther down, letting you adjust to each inch of him.

“Shit…” He says, watching your face contort. “You feel so fucking good.”

He bottoms out inside of you, and you can’t help but dig your nails into his chest where you’ve been resting your palms to anchor yourself.

You begin to move slowly, agonizingly, and he’s already got you clenching your thighs, but the second he bucks his own hips, you’re a goner.

You roll your hips in time with his own, the pinch of his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips a welcome sensation.

Your moans fill the room, Ban’s pants just as loud, his eyes trained on your face like your own pleasure was enough to get him off.

“Faster,” you mutter, breathless, barely able to get a command out.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, bending his knees so he can pump up into you.

You all but go limp at the new pace, unable to help yourself from buckling, leaning forward until your chest was pressed against his.

He cranes his neck so he can speak directly into your ear, broken praises scattered between gasps. “You’re so – fucking good for me… You’re taking me – so well.”

You groan in response at his filthy mouth, still mumbling words of encouragement as he fucks up into you, his pace relentless and so good.

You take this as a sign to lean back and regain some control, palms flat against his front as you grind your hips as fast as you can manage, revelling in the way his eyes roll back and he grips your hips tighter, tighter –

He slows his own pace, letting you set it, the delicious, triumphant feeling of making him moan beneath you egging you on to move faster.

The confidence and looseness you felt from the mug of ale is long gone, replaced with Ban’s loud groans – you feel like you could conquer the world.

Ban is a writhing mess underneath you, brow slick with sweat, mouth forming around the most foul words (cushioned with praise, of course).

“Fuck – fuck – slow down, I’m gonna –” He takes a hand away from your thigh and rubs firm circles on your clit, trying to catch you up to him.

“Oh my god, yes –” your words come out garbled as you ride his cock and his fingers.

He sits up slowly, turning so his legs are planted on the ground, hand never leaving your clit.

When his other hand finally leaves your hips, he’s grabbing your tit and capturing your nipple between his teeth, suckling until it stings.

That sends you over the edge – your hips stutter just as his movements become erratic, and you can’t help but lean forward to kiss him deeply, passionately until you both ride it out.

He flops back onto the bed, laughing when you yelp at the unexpected fall. You roll off on him but stay snuggled against him.

He speaks first.

“Fuck, that was good.”

You giggle, covering your face with your hands. “Says you. You were incredible.”

He shrugs, standing to stretch.

“Ya know, I wouldn’t mind taking you for a spin a couple of times,” he jokes, retrieving his shirt from the floor.

“I gotta head out to do some things. You gonna head out?”

You bite your lip, a little upset that it was over so quickly. Yeah, you were satiated but… was one time enough?

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t say anything more until he’s fully clothed, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to go just yet, stranger. No rush. I wouldn’t mind another round after I get back,” he winks, grabbing the handle of the door.

You nod furiously, grabbing the nearest pillow to cover your body as he flings the door open.

“See ya soon for round two,” he says, giving a single wave before shutting the door.

You fall back against the covers again, your eyes heavy from being completely spent. The haze of sleep quickly overtakes you, and thoughts of Ban swirl around your mind until your breathing evens out.

#sds ban x reader #ban x reader #ban the undead #ban the fox sin #sds x reader #seven deadly sins x reader #ban fox sin of greed #sds ban #sds #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #nanatsu no taizai x reader #my fic

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: Night of the Storm

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Weeks after Loki’s last appearance you were finally beginning to give up hope, only to find you’d been on his mind all along as he lures you into being alone with him late one night. His other side shows more of itself as things quickly turn into relieving that pent up physical need.

Warnings: People drowning. Also *here comes the smut.* But the start and finish of it is still marked in red within the chapter if you want to skip that part. I know everyone has their own comfort levels. The only thing in this though that I would even consider slight kink is just a bit of biting and tiny bit of blood from that, like really small. Otherwise it’s just needy gods doing what needy gods do.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername

My Masterlist

——————————

You had replayed your last words with Loki over and over so many times in your head. Had you been too forward after all? Was it too presumptuous to think anything could really come of such a random acquaintanceship?

The more days that passed, the more you questioned what you really remembered of your brief time together versus what you may have only imagined in your optimism.

The night he left, you remembered feeling so sure that he would return. Maybe you weren’t certain in what way he would want to see you next, but you had at least felt he would set foot in your home he called Midgard again. And that he would call your name to the waves once more.

So when the days eventually stretched into weeks with no further sign of him, you had to accept the possibility that you were very wrong on your assumptions.

As you stared upward now from the deep ocean, the blackness all around was only penetrated by the briefest strobes of white. The occasional lightning’s flash silhouetting the wooden ship hulls rising and falling far above you.

It was so late into the night, but your Father’s anger cared not for time. The captain of the fleet above had committed the sin of hubris. He had declared himself a master of the sea after too many trips safely across, and now your Father’s storms aimed to remind this man of a harsh truth.

Your uncle Hades would surely claim souls tonight, one way or another. That was already decided per Father’s orders. But should they all die, then none of the men could carry on this message, this teaching moment either.

So you waited, and you listened. Who among them would plead for intervention as the waters first breached their ships? Father could show his wrath, but he’d sent you to show the other side as well.

Mercy from the gods. Whichever ship contained the most believers, whichever prayed the hardest, that was the one Father had asked you to spare.

But the rest....you could only watch as their bodies joined you one by one in the darkness. And you knew soon that they would only find themselves upon the banks of the river Styx.

You bid the nymphs to comfort the men as best they could, to accept fate rather than fight it. The ocean above was simply rage, but down in this abyss they would only know peace.

When the chosen surviving ship had emerged in your mind though, you pushed only that one forward. The waves began to miss it, ignore it even as the ship fully righted.

“Follow them all the way to their home shores,” You commanded the nymphs. “Let none from that vessel drown under your guard.”

“Yes, goddess.” They answered, swimming quickly to join the now fleeing ship. These mortals would return home with tales of their brush with death. But they would also remember as their prayers had parted the seas only for them.

Yet you felt no satisfaction, even with your duty to your Father done. Your distraction still lingered as you only sank further away from the storm’s flashes in the time afterward, to the colder depths where you intended to again sleep alone.

Floating, suspended in the blackness as you’d closed your eyes, to any that could have somehow seen you, you would have looked most like a corpse as well. Albeit intact, unmarred, and with that smallest pulse of life as the thin slits on your neck pulled in those tiny breaths.

But after only a little while you’d opened your eyes again into the void. Because you felt that someone was watching you. It would seem impossible, but you were so certain of this fact so abruptly then that you called out, your magic giving your words wide presence even within the water.

“And what being are you that should watch a goddess as she tries to sleep? Do you now judge my actions invisible one?”

You waited, but of course the void would not answer back, could not even as the feeling of some ethereal eye upon you would not leave.

What did it want from you?

“Milady!”

You startled harshly, even the distant voice of a nymph shocking you at this depth. She couldn’t reach you though, so you had to swim back upward to her.

When you neared further back towards the surface a quick moving fish cut across your vision. It circled, panicked, and calling again. A younger nymph who could not yet take on any larger form. “Milady, thank goodness I found you. Loki has finally returned! But he is injured!”

That was the last of anything you had expected. But you ordered her to stay where it was safe, to only join the others once more before you tore off into the darkness to head for shore.

———————————

As you emerged from the waves, they crashed rough against your back. You hadn’t realized father’s storms had stretched this far. The rain stung against your now exposed skin as you walked onto the beach in the downpour. Loki had never come at night before. And for it to be now no less, in this tempest, you breathed as you looked around for him in the darkness. But you heard nothing over the wind and waves.

“Loki!” You called.

At last you saw a shadow somehow darker than the rest, shifting then just within the tree line. You hurried towards it.

“They said you were injured!” You spoke over the storm.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, though seemingly more agitated at the rain as he looked all like a drenched rat fallen off a moor line now, making you wonder how long he’d really been waiting for you here.

“I know a place, come on,” You insisted.

But even in these circumstances, you hesitated to touch him, yet knowing it would have been far easier to guide him if you could have only taken his arm. But you did your best to lead him regardless, further along the shore until you came upon the cave opening you were seeking.

“Even during high tide it stays dry in here,” You explained, now finally able to speak at a more normal volume with the sounds of the storm muted somewhat as you went farther back into the cavern together.

Yet light would be an issue, as you were already looking around for a way to at least make a fire.

But to your surprise one started from nothing, in the center of the cave now flickering as the light then shown on you both.

Loki lowered his hand afterward, evidently having just used some other kind of magic you weren’t aware of.

But as you turned to him, you could now see the deep bruising on his face even in the firelight.

“You said you weren’t hurt.” You spoke, that tone of concern not hidden.

“It is minor.” He answered, but offered nothing more.

You waited for one long moment, before finally deciding that any notion of privacy he may hold was now overshadowed by the obvious need for some explanation. “Minor enough to come here in the dead of night in the middle of a near hurricane?”

He gave you an odd look, but you didn’t shrink back.

“I only had another large, predictable argument with my brother.” He finally said. “He decided to help solve things in the only way he knows how. I used magic, he used his fists, and here I am.” Loki had already started to try and smooth his wind mussed hair back into place though, some vanity evident there even as he continued. “And this was only one of few places he would not follow me. Brother has no interest in this part of Midgard currently. He at least allows me this.”

“I see.” You answered, though feeling something was still not right here even as you tried to choose your next course of action carefully. “Would you like help drying off at least then?” You asked.

“You insinuate that you can control rainwater as well?” He questioned skeptically.

“Only if it’s made by one of my father’s storms, yes. Which this clearly was.” You replied, raising your own hands as you willed the water to leave him. And it did lift from his hair, from his clothes, even his skin as the reformed droplets floated strangely in midair before you cast them back out the cave entrance with another flick of your hands.

He watched the water leave with the slightest bit of interest before turning his attention fully back to you then.

“And what is your dear father so unhappy with tonight?” Loki asked, adjusting his now at least somewhat dryer clothing. You couldn’t pull out every bit of dampness true, but it was far better than being completely drenched.

“He felt a mortal had lost respect for the dangers of the seas.” You answered plainly.

But Loki actually was silent for a moment at that as only a dark smirk crossed his features. That little knot in your stomach seemed to tighten at the sight.

“And they say I’m petty.” He finally said. “How many mortals did you really let drown tonight, goddess?”

“So it was you.” You said abruptly, accusing him then and there as you neared closer. “You were watching me!”

“No.” He corrected, though looking pleased none the less that you had made the connection so quickly. “Heimdall was. Yet by my request.”

“Why?” You questioned, but not really knowing what to feel as a mix of anger and embarrassment rose in your confusion.

“I wanted to know if your parting words held any truth. And if you’d grow restless the longer I waited to return.” He smiled then, but there was still a cruelty to it. “Yet that show I did not expect. Heimdall can be quite good at relaying details when pressed. And sparing only the mortals that plead for you tonight, letting the rest become food for your sea beasts....ah, and yet with your servants still comforting the damned. It was really quite a finishing touch.”

“So this is the kind of god you are then?” You asked sharply, though still not sure what you’d really expected.

“I am.” He offered. “And I also am not.”

You tensed, patience truly beginning to wane. “There is no point to speak in riddles to me. What is your real intention here Asgardian?”

“Tsk. Now you wound? I am only back to the Asgardian again?” He tilted his head slightly. “No, you tell me. Why did you leave the protection of your seas so quickly at only the word I was wounded, so panicked that you did not even think to bring that spear of yours?”

Your eyes widened slightly, that realization only just hitting you with his question. It hadn’t crossed your mind once to bring it, even now as he stood so near with that growing look of triumph in his eyes.

“You play games with me.” You retorted, even as you watched those fake bruises now fade from his pale skin.

“And now I know what you would do if it were all true,” he answered, yet with that smirk returning.

“I could fill this entire cave and drown you where you stand you know.” You countered.

“You could try,” He agreed. “But you won’t.”

“You presume too much.” He was becoming maddening. Everything you said, he only grew bolder, he taunted harder. And the worst of it all was, you were not really fighting back. Why were you not fighting back?

“You missed me, goddess. It isn’t that hard to deduce. Not anymore. You wanted this.” He finally said. “And if it’s all the same, I share that frustration. I kept away long enough to be sure. But watching you, knowing what you’re willing to do...I wanted to come back and see it first hand.”

And in all these weeks, tonight wasn’t the only night you’d let mortals perish in Father’s name, or even caused it yourself as you’d manipulated the seas on his orders. And was that really what excited Loki tonight? Seeing you use your powers to this darker extent?

“Is this really how Asgardians flirt? Over the bodies of the innocent?” You asked, unable to keep yourself to sane words any longer. It had all gone too far so quickly.

“I am not all Asgardians. And you and I both know there is no such thing as innocence.” He murmured just as his hands first touched you, taking your wrists. The grasp of his long fingers was surprisingly cold. That chill honestly the first thing you noticed, even as you didn’t push him away.

You watched only his eyes for that moment. And in your own awe you realized he was actually still waiting for you to deny him. You were being given a choice here. But you didn’t refuse him. You couldn’t. You’d already thought of this possibility more than once in your many nights alone.

And it was only you who closed the gap first as you took his lips in yours. You felt him tense briefly though, as if he was still somewhat surprised himself before he returned the motion in full force.

****SMUT INCOMING, KEEP SCROLLING IF WISHING TO SKIP

The rock wall of the cave soon met your back as he pressed you against it. It hurt somewhat, but you weren’t made of glass.

As he pinned your arms against the wall as well, his tongue pressed its way into your mouth. But the taste of him was something you only wanted more of then. Yet when your own tongue fought quickly back, you felt him pull away just enough to look into your eyes once more.

His face hovered only inches from your own as he eyed you hungrily. “You realize I won’t be able to stop once this starts. It’s been far too long. Speak now...or be silent save for saying my praises, goddess.”

“Prideful beast,” You breathed, shifting in his grip. “You think I do this each night either? Try closer to never.”

He seemed even more goaded at that, pleased at the revelation, “Then tell me what you want, (Y/N).”

“You.” You answered immediately, reservation shattered as his body pressed further against your own.

“Then I shall enjoy the privilege.” He whispered huskily, and you leaned your head back just as you felt him bite suddenly after, his mouth rough on your neck. You were sure he was testing if marks could be made on your skin, trying to claim it any way he could now as he pressed a little harder and harder with those teeth.

The juxtaposition of a man who would sit with you for hours only reading, versus this possessive creature he was now shifting towards was so very interesting.

And as he released your wrists, his hands only moved to the straps of your dress next. Yanking them from your shoulders, and sliding the thin fabric easily from your chest, exposing your breasts to his groping touch before his mouth moved over your chest.

As he roughly kissed one breast, his hand squeezed the other tightly. In another too fast movement though, his other hand had now already pulled the rest of your dress away. He pulled you from the wall just enough for it to fall around your ankles then as you realized just how quickly he’d rendered you fully nude here before him. All while you’d only been nearly still, too wrapped up in the desperate feel of it all.

After the dress had fallen though, he did pull back not long after, seeming to admire the view for a moment before his hand then went between your legs.

“I wondered how much you’d taste of the sea,” He murmured, licking that slight residue of salt from his lips as his fingers massaged your entrance.

You opened your legs a little more, leaning further back against the wall to help support yourself as those little flicks and movements of his fingers weakened you further.

“You have entirely too many clothes on,” You panted quietly, not caring if your tone sounded more like pleading in that moment.

“You just want me in you already, don’t you, goddess?” He all but growled, taunting you even as he slipped his fingers inside then.

Before you could hope to really answer, he was kissing you again though, his tongue probing nearly as hard as his fingers were pressing below.

You could feel the resistance decreasing though, the more your inner wetness grew and his fingers slid in and out all the quicker. Something he no doubt could feel as well as he broke the kiss once more.

“Beg me then,” He commanded against your ear.

Even in your own need, you were realizing how much he wanted to be in control. Power aroused him, just as he’d evidently been watching you exert your own in all these days, and just as he wanted to feel dominant over you now.

But you also knew how little you cared either way in this moment. You wanted him to be satisfied just as much as you wanted your own release.

“I want you,” You tried again, locking eyes with him once more. But as you tried to reach for his clothing he only caught your hand in his free one.

“Not good enough,” He reiterated, needing more.

It was hard to think in depth though as his other hand only kept moving just enough to keep you stimulated, but not enough to finish you off.

But alright, you could play this game if you had to. You growled a little yourself, “Fuck me, Loki”. That’s what he wanted to hear wasn’t it? You could see that desperate look in his eyes grow and you knew you about had him. In the moment though, you added one more thing, this time being quick enough with your hand to grab hold of his crotch before he could stop you. “Do it, King. Fuck me.”

He let out another sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan as he pulled his fingers out from you before grabbing you by the arms to force you away from the wall entirely.

He released you only brief enough to face his palms towards his own body. The dark green cloak he wore separated at once from his other clothing, it then splaying out across the floor of the cave. And with another motion his black leather unwrapped itself, almost like invisible hands pulling it all from him as he stepped out of his boots. Then at once he was to you again as the rest of his clothing folded itself neatly out of the way.

But you wished time would slow down in that moment, yourself trying to see every detail of his naked form in the firelight before his body slammed back against yours. That vivid white skin, lean, but surprising you with the musculature that had still been hiding there.

In the ocean, you knew well that it wasn’t always the biggest, bulkiest predators to fear the most. Some of the leaner, faster ones could have your throat ripped out long before the others should you let them in too close.

And his mouth met yours just as harshly then, urging you down to lay on your back upon his cloak on the cave floor.

If your back was bruised later, you hardly cared, as you wrapped your legs around him and he laid his weight upon you. Your hands were free now, and you gladly used them, running them through his hair, and up and down his body to feel all you could of him. He was smooth, with that chill to him that was still so unique.

You found his already strong erection as well, stroking it with one hand as your other moved back into his hair. You held the back of his head as he moved down again to suck at your collarbone, his fingers digging into your hips harshly as he thrust against your hand, urging you to guide him in.

And you were more than ready, allowing him to push inside as you angled him as deep as he could go.

He took full advantage at once too, pulling almost all the way back out before slamming back inside as you gasped.

He lifted up onto his elbows enough to look you in the eyes as he pulled out again, before repeating the second harsh thrust, then a third, and a fourth.

It ached, yet somehow you couldn’t imagine this any other way tonight. He wanted to claim you now, as hard and thoroughly as he could.

And you could take it as you breathed his name. You wanted him to let out all his frustration as your hands moved to his back and your nails dug into his shoulders with each faster thrust.

He bore his teeth with a hiss of pain as your nails finally broke his skin. But he liked it you knew, even as he bit down on your shoulder in return.

You felt the pressure, maybe a little stinging, but your back only arched into him as his hips continued to slam against you mercilessly.

As his mouth let go of you again though, and he lifted up, manhood still inside you, you could see that slightest bit of gold ichor on his lips. The blood of the Olympians. Your blood.

He smiled, knowing full well what he’d done in his haze of lust. “Is that what the remnants of ambrosia tastes like?” He whispered, licking his lips.

Contact with ichor could kill any mortal outright, and here he was playing with it. Yet you truly had no idea what its effects could be on an Asgardian. “You do take risks, don’t you, King?”

He made a pleasured sound, still thoroughly enjoying that word out of your mouth as he grabbed your breasts again, thrusting hard once more. “Only when the odds favor me, goddess.”

Your muscles were tensing though, as he squeezed your breasts and changed his angle slightly to rub more against that sensitive bundle of nerves at your entrance as his cock slid in and out.

You couldn’t know what you really looked like to him right now, sprawled out on your back beneath him, laying on his own cloak as he fucked you like he’d never have the chance again.

But you could see his own expression, and his eyes were so intense, like under a spell of euphoria as his breath grew more rapid.

Would he pull out you wondered? Did you even want him to?

“Loki,” You spoke, raising your hand up to the side of his face gently, even though you realized his own red blood now dotted your fingernails.

He surprised you when he only turned his face enough to kiss your hand though, still watching you even as you felt him jerk inside you abruptly. You saw him shudder as that orgasm went through him, and you felt his seed pulsing out deep inside you.

But even as he came, his hand went back to your entrance, bidding you to do the same as he tormented your clit. You’d been on that edge for so long, it was easy to finally let go as you trembled beneath him, getting your own release then.

And even then he still didn’t pull out. He only tugged you so that you both rolled onto your sides on his cloak, still facing one another.

You were both breathing rather hard now, and you truly wanted to close your eyes to rest for a moment, but you felt his fingers edging along the side of your face as you opened your eyes again.

He kissed you once more, and you could taste that sweetness that you knew was indeed the leftovers of your own blood.

****SMUT DONE, CAN KEEP READING HERE

“Have you been sated?” You asked, reaching up to run your thumb across his bottom lip.

He grinned slightly at the touch. “To say yes would only be another lie now wouldn’t it? I am never sated, dear. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t thoroughly enjoy this.”

With that he reached out enough to touch his hand to the cloak beneath you. You felt the material shift before the sides of it suddenly extended, wrapping around you both like a blanket in the cool cave.

More of his own magic no doubt, but there were no complaints from you as you just rested your head against him, closing your eyes again. He allowed it, so you supposed he was also too tired to do anything differently.

You weren’t sure for how long he would actually stay this way. But for now you would only take comfort in this rarity of intimacy as best you could, breathing in his scent, and savoring the feel of his skin still against yours.

———————————-

It was only the extremely persistent calling of seagulls that finally woke you. Groggily you yawned, only startled as you realized yourself fully naked and for one chaotic moment could not remember how in Gaia’s name you got that way.

You sat up abruptly as the green cloak fell away from your bare body. But the silky feel of it brought you back to reality as you ran your hand out across it.

The sunlight was shining brightly into the cave. The fire long gone, and Loki along with it as you now sat alone here. All his clothes that had been stacked against the wall were also gone. Though with some bit of humor you realized your dress was now neatly folded beside the edge of the cloak for you to find. Quite far removed from its original point of just being piled beside the wall last night.

Though with him gone it was interesting that none of the nymphs had yet joined you. Perhaps they had just been too polite. But when you saw those same annoyingly loud gulls with some now walking up and down nervously at the cave entrance, you realized them for what they were.

You pulled Loki’s cloak back around yourself before laying back down, even while calling out. “You can come in, girls! I’m awake!”

With that a flurry of seagulls immediately flew into the cave, landing all around. And in moments they were all beautiful sea nymphs again, staring at you expectantly.

“You cannot tell my father, okay?” Was the very first thing you said as they all nodded highly enthusiastically.

But when you didn’t say anything immediately more, you could tell they were all about to explode in anticipation. “Yes, we coupled. Yes, I’d do it again.” You finally said.

They all squealed, no doubt realizing as well how badly you’d wished for his return in the last weeks. Yet that was also when the questions came.

“But was he better than an Olympian?”

“Was he tender, or rough? Did he try to please you, milady?”

“Was he big? I’ve heard everything is bigger up north. Aren’t they from the north?”

“My gods, girls, I don’t know. It’s not like I do this all the time.” You grumbled a little, curling up further into his cloak. It still smelled like him you realized. A rich scent, likely whatever it was that the royal quarters in Asgard smelled like.

“Oh we know! But it’s just, oh this is so exciting! You’ve finally taken a lover!”

Though as they continued to chat away, you did think of something you could actually ask them in return.

“When did he leave anyway? Did you see him?” You questioned.

“Oh,” They considered this for a moment. “Before sunrise surely, but we were um, asleep...most of us. We roosted outside the cave to wait for you, goddess.”

“I followed him!” Another one said. “But he told me to leave him be and go home.”

“What form were you in?” You asked, surprised he would so quickly recognize a nymph if in another form.

“Oh...well I was a seal.”

You blinked, imagining the ridiculousness of a nosy seal trying to inconspicuously waddle behind Loki all the way back up the beach and hillside last night.

“You should have been a small shorebird, and stuck to the trees to watch from a distance.” You commented.

“Ah, yes, that probably would have worked well.” They agreed.

You sighed a little, but it didn’t matter much regardless. As much as you still wanted to savor last night, Loki was already gone again. Which also meant that once again you could only wonder when, if ever, he might see fit to see you once more.

He’d already showed his capacity to fake his own injuries just to lure you in faster. So there was always the possibility that everything, all of it, had just been some elaborate scheme to bed you. And with that pleasure won, he may only be off to his next challenge far away from here.

You would have to accept whatever the Fates allowed, because what other choice did you have? But there was still no question. If you could see him again, you would gladly do so.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki fanfic #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x original female character #loki x oc #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki of asgard #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine

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rhaenyratargeryn · 3 years

Text

Title: sense

Pairing: Adam x F!detective

Summary: just a little scenario I imagine absolutely happened at some point.

Notes: ao3 link

***

“Oh, thank god— Nate, please be the voice of reason here.”

The detective’s tone was one of intense exasperation, her hand rubbing across her eyes as she stood in the Warehouse kitchen opposite of Adam, who was appearing equally perturbed. A deep line had settled between his brows and he had crossed his arms at her words.

Nate suddenly regretted having not gone the other direction.

“Yes, please. As sense has seemed to have completely evaporated.” Adam countered, his eyes trailing over to Nate expectantly.

At a loss, Nate smiled faintly, “... what am I voicing upon?”

“She is putting herself in a position of unnecessary—”

“Adam doesn’t want me sleeping with my windows open!”

The detective erupts over Adam’s voice, earning a cool glare from the other man. Upon moving his gaze to meet Nate’s utterly bewildered one, his pale skin seemed to flush just a fraction. Realization of just how preposterous the detective’s explanation made him seem flitted across Adam’s eyes for the barest moment before he shoved it down deep.

“It is an issue of safety. Anyone could enter through that flimsy screen.”

“I’m on the second floor!”

“As if such a thing would be an issue for a supernatural.” Adam said, rising up taller, as if he’d won with that statement, “You would be safer staying here if you wished to sleep in such a way.”

“If supernaturals are coming to break into my apartment I don’t think glass or locks would be an issue either!” the detective said, throwing a hand up and out to the side in a gesture of utter annoyance.

Adam had no retort for that.

Nate wondered idly if they would notice if he slipped back out. He got his answer when Adam turned to him, eyes as near to pleading as the older vampire could get.

“She has a point,” Nate said slowly, gauging the way Adam’s expression shuttered.

“Fine.” Adam said with bite, “But do not expect us to come running when you place yourself purposefully in harm's way.”

He turned and exited the kitchen, the detective’s words following behind.

“It’s just a window! For goodness sake!”

Once it was obvious Adam had no intention of returning to the conversation, she sat down with a soft thump into one of the kitchen chairs, attempting to return to her coffee and breakfast with minor success.

“How on earth did this start?” Nate asked after a moment, moving to take a seat across from her with a rueful smile.

“I just mentioned how I was happy the weather was cooling down in the evenings… the air is nice and I sleep so much better at home when it gets all cozy like this.” the detective sighed, “And Adam well— was Adam about it.”

“He just cares.” Nate offered, an insufficient excuse for certain, “This is how he shows it.”

The detective looked doubtful, but did not question the honesty of Nate’s words.

There was no way she would stay at the warehouse tonight after that display. The detective returned to her own apartment, throwing open both her bedroom and living room windows the moment she arrived and enjoying the chilly air that had settled in the twilight hours.

She brewed a mug of tea and settled into her plush papasan chair, tucked a few pattern pillows out of the way and opened a book. It took awhile for her to turn her thoughts away from her own act of stubbornness, which had in turn put her back into the argument from that morning.

Theoretical arguments with Adam were a constant daydream, right next to the ones where he didn’t flinch when she reached out to touch his face.

It didn’t help that the novel was littered with romantic subtropes and finally, with a sigh, she closed it after darkness finally settled across the room. The detective closed the living room window a fraction, as was her usual routine and shut off the lights, heading to the bedroom.

That window she left wide open, changing into her pajamas even in full view. No one was typically out on that section of the street this late and she was high up enough not to worry about anyone getting too much of an eyeful. Even so, she changed quickly, keeping her bare back to the glass as she tugged on a large t-shirt.

After, she shut off the lights and curled into bed, sighing contentedly at the way the ceiling fan spread out the chilled, night scent of fresh clean air. It was nice after having to spend so much time keeping the heat out to huddle beneath the blankets and slowly drift off.

The detective had just fallen into a soft dream when her phone chimed. Groaning, she turned her face into her pillow.

The phone chimed again. And again. And then finally began to ring.

Throwing her blankets off, she fumbled for the device in the dark and answered.

“...speaking.” she mumbled, barely annunciating her title and name. On the other end, the familiar voice of a patrol officer greeted her.

“Hey, sorry to bug you so late. You got a sec?”

“Sure, sure.” she yawned.

“We keep getting calls from folks in your apartment block. They say there is some weirdo hanging around. Big hulking type. Got folks worried about break ins. Have you seen anything? I’m halfway across town so I figured I’d save the trip if it was nothing.”

The detective took a deep measured breath, held and let it out.

“It’s okay. I got this.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah. No problem.”

The officer thanked her profusely, apologized again for waking her and then once they hung up, the detective selected a number from her contacts and plopped back against her pillows.

The answer was quick.

“Commanding Agent Du Mortain.” came the clear, professional answer. Too clear. Too professional.

“Where are you?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I am patrolling.”

“Good, maybe you can help me then.”

“Is something wrong?” his voice lifted, the mask of disinterest fading.

“I got a call from an officer. Says a hulking, unscrupulous and unsavory character is loitering around my apartment parking lot.”

Silence.

“Have you seen anyone like that?” the detective continued, unable to hide the smile in her voice.

“Did you tell them it was handled?” came Adam’s terse, unamused response. The detective thought she heard the sound of his footsteps.

“Yes. Ya know, if you want to keep watch? In the future? Do it from inside.”

There was silence for a prolonged moment and then, the detective startled, sitting up and rushing to find the light at her bedside table at the sound that came from her hall.

“I am inside.” came Adam’s voice, both from the phone and the outside of her bedroom door, sounding way too smug.

The detective threw off her covers completely and marched to the door, throwing it open.

“As I said. Entirely unsound. You did not even hear me remove the screen—”

“Adam.” she said, voice terse and annoyed and tired. Whatever she hoped to say next was lost as her shoulders hunched forward and his expression softened a fraction.

It was then he seemed to note more fully her attire, standing before him in nothing but a thread-bare t-shirt that was so large it hung off one shoulder and a pair of boyshorts. The detective felt the sudden tension roil to the surface, warm and familiar and yet distant. Out of reach.

He swallowed thickly and the detective began to wonder just how long he had been outside her window.

“Just stay here… if you’re that concerned.” the detective said with a sigh, turning and crawling back into bed. She turned to look back at him, noting while his body was frozen his eyes had followed her every step of the way, blazing with vibrant green at the sight of her, half-dressed and lazing on the mattress.

“... I… I cannot.” Adam was at a loss, the prospect no doubt making his head spin and his heart hammer as intently as her own.

“You can. Since it isn’t all of the team, you should be able to find a place to sit out there.” she said with a nervous laugh, the spell breaking the moment Adam realized what it was she was offering. Tension rolled off his shoulders, relief in his exhaled breath.

“You meant in the living room.”

“Where else would I have meant?” the detective replied, making a point of lingering near one edge of the bed, leaving the side closest to him open and terribly inviting. For a moment she enjoyed watching the way his breath puffed from his lungs before catching. That tiny flicker of wanting that he snapped back up and hid down deep the moment it dared rear forward.

“I guess you could always bring a chair in here,” she said, yawning and stretching her arms above her head until the t-shirt rose up high on her waist, revealing the bare line of her thighs. She relaxed and watched Adam’s eyes follow the hem back down.

Without a word, Adam vanished from the doorway. For a moment, the detective felt her heart seize, worried she’d pressed too hard.

But in a moment he returned, one of the antique padded, high backed chairs from her small dining table in hand.

He set it by the window, making a point of glancing out over the parking lot before he sat down.

They lingered like that for a moment, the sound of insects, the soft breeze of the wind outside and the gentle whirl of the ceiling fan filling the silence.

“I’m going to turn the light off.” the detective warned quietly. Adam gave a nod. She leaned over and flicked off the switch, sitting for a moment in the darkness until her eyes adjusted and she could make him out.

He was watching her.

She settled under her blankets, stilling once she had become comfortable again and finding the sleep that had been right at the forefront of her thoughts suddenly illusive.

“...well, good night.” she said with a soft, nervous laugh. Her heart was beating fiercely in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it. No. She knew he could hear it. She willed herself to calm, letting her thoughts fade to the daydreams that helped ease her into sleep. Every once in a while she heard him shift, the sound of fabric, of the chair. His presence was a soothing one, even if it did also make her heart skip and patter in her breast.

It took awhile, but eventually her pulse settled and slowly she drifted back off to sleep.

The sound of her heart was like that of a rabbit caught in a snare at first, thrumming with beats and the flow of her blood, rippling like a stream. Adam had felt his own racing to match, falling in pace now as it settled and slowed.

He tried not to move. Not to make a sound. As if doing so would make his being here less— real. Less present.

It did not help.

It only took an hour or so before he could tell she was truly and wholly asleep, her soft breaths deep and even. At that point, Adam felt himself finally able to relax, able to set fully to the task of keeping a watch out over the complex.

This was why he preferred her to stay at the warehouse. Where he could stand watch without her ever knowing he was there. Which he did—every night she stayed with them. Distance made his chest ache, restrictive and demanding. Searching. As if his heart would escape his ribs if it could to seek her out, only calmed when she was near.

Adam knew this was not just fear for her safety. Knew it was deeper than that, but still refused to place the words that so obviously described the feeling to it.

But now, in the dark, in the quiet calm, he let them flit through his head.

He missed her when she was gone. Without reason. Without sense. Which was why he tried to attribute something rational, something vaguely resembling reason when he argued why she should remain at the warehouse. With them. With him.

This, Adam supposed, was suitable enough.

She shifted in her dreams, the blanket pulling from her legs as she clung to it. After a moment, she shivered. Adam stood, pulling one of the soft quilts from the bed out and laying it over her. He smoothed his hand down her leg from the knee, resting his palm on her ankle until she calmed once more.

He had to fight the urge to lift his hand, to retrace the soft path it had just taken. When the feeling was well under control, he returned to his spot by the window.

When the sun rose, Adam would be gone.

But for now, he closed his eyes and listened to her breathe.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #adam x detective #Adam x f!detective #twc Adam #twc Adam du mortain #adam du mortain x detective #Adam du mortain #do I have enough tags #twc fanfiction #NEVER!!#I enjoyed this I just wanted something yearning and piney and sweet #the irony is if Adam just said ‘I want you to stay at the warehouse because I like having you here with me’#she would be like OKAY *moves all her shit in*

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unbound-space-trash · 3 years

Text

Stars

summary: the mandalorian comes back from a hunt, but you’re not quite ready to go from being cooped up on the ship planetside, to being cooped up on the ship in space [ao3]

words: 2.3k

warnings: none except for some swearing and fluff about idiots in love

a/n: I really wasn’t expecting this to be longer than a thousand words, but more words kept happening and it just... kept going... so, have some words

✰ ✰ ✰

The Child babbled and waved his arms animatedly at you as the two of you played on the floor of the Razor Crest’s cargo hold.

It was closing in on the fourth day since the Mandalorian had left to go chase down a bounty, and you and the Child were both getting a little restless from being cooped up on the ship.

You were also starting to feel a desperate need for adult interaction, because while the Child had no problem holding up a side of a conversation, it wasn’t exactly intelligible. And sure, Mando wasn’t the most talkative of beings (if you were being honest, sometimes you felt like you were talking to an empty helmet for all he held up his end), at least conversations between the two of you revolved around topics other than food and naps.

You stretched your arms above your head before gathering up the pile of scattered blocks again. “Alright little one, I’ll cut you a deal,” you said as you fixed the Child with a mock-stern look. “I’ll help you build one more tower, and then you help me tidy up and put together some dinner, yeah?”

The Child tilted his head at you before reaching out and patting the palm of the hand you offered him, an excited look in his eyes at the promise of minor destruction and food.

You laughed. “Excellent. Now hand me that green one and we can-“

thumpthump thump thumpthump

The sound of someone hitting the outer hull of the Crest cut you off, and at the recognition of the familiar pattern, you quickly shoved the colourful blocks behind a crate before scooping up the Child and rushing up the ladder to close the two of you in the cockpit.

More than used to the routine by now, the Child was quiet in your arms as you got yourself settled in the co-pilots seat. His large ears perked up at the sound of the rear hatches ramp descending, and then you found yourself hurriedly covering said ears at the sudden onslaught of curses and insults.

“-iece of shit! Take these fuckin’ cuffs off me so I c’n knock th’t shitty fuckin’ helmet off your fuckin’ head, you stupid shiny moth-FUCK!”

The familiar hiss of the carbonite freezer cut off the swearing of the pissed off bounty and the Crest fell mostly silent again, until the sound of someone climbing the ladder drifted into the cockpit.

The cockpit doors opened and you shot an unimpressed look at the Mandalorian standing in the doorway, your hands still covering the Child’s ears.

“You know, I really won’t be surprised if the kid’s first word in Basic is ‘fuck’,” you said, before lowering your hands.

Mando made his way into the cockpit and turned the pilot’s seat around to face you before sitting down. “Neither would I,” he huffed, leaning forward to take the Child who had started squirming with a vengeance the second his beskar-clad guardian had appeared. Mando turned his attention to the kid. “You behave while I was gone, ad’ika?”

The Child babbled and waved his hands animatedly.

“Eh, about as well as can be expected, all things considered,” you said as you made a see-saw motion with your hand. “On a totally unrelated note, if you find food stuck to anything high up, I’ll let you use your imagination as to how it got there.”

Mando shook his head. “Womp rat,” he grumbled, and you could hear the accompanying eyeroll. His helmet looked back in your direction. “Sorry it took so long. Bastard was smarter than I thought he’d be. But we should have a clear run back to Nevarro for a couple rest days before heading back out again.”

You couldn’t help the look of displeasure that crossed your face at the thought of being cooped up on the Razor Crest for even longer.

“What is it?” Mando asked.

You moved to stand up, “I- nothing.”

Mando’s head tilted at your hesitation. “Cyar’ika, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” You dropped back down into the co-pilots seat with a sigh. “The kid and I have been inside the Crest the whole time you were gone, and I just…” You sighed again, looking down as you picked at a loose thread on your shirt. “I was kind of hoping that we could, you know, stay a bit longer and just… get some fresh air and let the kid chase bugs or roll in the grass or whatever.” You raised your head back up to look at the Mandalorian who was just looking back at you. Probably. He was facing you at least. “O-only if it’s safe! That’s… that’s why we didn’t go outside while you were gone. I mean, I know you taught me to shoot so I can help protect the kid if I need to, but-”

“Cyar’ika, stop.” The Mandalorian cut you off.

You looked back down at your lap again. “‘M sorry, I knew it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Mando said and he shifted the Child to one arm as he stood, offering you a hand.

You relished the feel of the worn leather in your hand as he pulled you up, a bright smile lighting up your features. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“C’mon mesh’la, I’ll start a fire and we can eat outside.”

You followed Mando out of the cockpit. He still hadn’t explained his nicknames for you, but they sound somewhat affectionate at least, so you guess you don’t mind.

✰ ✰ ✰

After he set up a small area and built up a fire just outside the cover of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian disappeared back inside to clean up in the ‘fresher, while the Child “helped” you put together a quick stew for dinner.

As it cooked, you kept a close eye on the Child as he toddled through the grass and chased bugs in dying sunlight. When the Mandalorian returned, he took over so that you could take your own turn to wash up in the ‘fresher.

Once the food was ready, the Mandalorian went back up to the cockpit to eat, while you and the Child ate next to the fire.

You watched the Child’s eyes drooping closed more and more near the end of the meal, eventually retrieving his bowl before the poor kid could fall asleep in what little was left of his stew. Picking him and taking him inside, the combination of a full belly and running off all his excess energy had the Child asleep almost as soon as he was tucked into his little hammock.

The Mandalorian made his way back outside after you’d settled back next to the fire, leaning back a bit to look up at the stars.

“Where’s the kid?” He asked as he walked down the ramp.

You gestured in the direction of the bunk. “Comatose. I think that’s the easiest time I’ve ever had putting him down to sleep,” you said, a fond smile on your face.

Your gaze was still fixed on the stars above you, so you didn’t really notice the Mandalorian watching you. Not that you would have been able to see the way he looked at you, drinking in your features; the soft smile on your face, the way the stars reflected in your eyes. His adoration for you hidden behind a mask of beskar.

A gloved hand entered your line of sight. “Stand up.”

Your eyes flickered suspiciously between his visor and his hand, thinking back to the last time he’d done this, and the bruised ass and ego that had resulted from the self-defence lesson. “Mando, if you’re seriously thinking about another punching lesson, I’m going to politely tell you to fuck off.”

He said nothing, hand still held out waiting to help you up.

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he wouldn’t back down. “Fine, but just know, if I end up puking, I’ll be aiming directly for your boots,” you grouched as you took his hand and were pulled to your feet.

An amused snort made its way through the modulator of the helmet as he led you by the hand to the side of the Crest, nodding to the handholds on the outer hull that led to the top of the ship. “Up.”

“Oh, hell no!” You looked at him in disbelief. “Nu-uh, I am not climbing up there so you can teach me a lesson in watching where I put my feet! Because when I fall off-“

“I won’t let you fall off, cyare, just climb up the damn ladder,” he said gruffly.

“Fine,” you said with a frown as you took your hand out of his (somewhat reluctantly) and climbed up the side of the ship.

You heard him begin his own ascent as you neared the top, and after you reached the roof of the Crest, you took up what you hoped was a solid stance. “I hope you’re prepared to explain to the kid why I have a broken arm tomorrow, Mando,” you told him.

His helmet tilted slightly. “You don’t trust me, cyare?”

You raised an eyebrow at him in response. “Mando, I trust you with my life. I don’t trust myself not to topple my ass off- … wh-what’re you doing?” You stuttered to a halt as he sat down on the roof.

The Mandalorian shrugged what would have been nonchalantly if you hadn’t picked up on the slightly nervous quality of his voice. “You can get a better view of the stars from up here.”

“I- you… I thought... s-stars?” All of your higher brain function seemed to have deserted you at the sight of your Mandalorian looking up at you, leaning back on one hand while the other rested on his knee.

He chuckled at the combination of confusion and appreciation on your face. “Yes mesh’la, stars.” He leaned forward to take his weight off his arm. “Are you going to stand there staring all night, or are you going to come sit down?”

You startled at the gentle teasing tone in his voice. “Oh, yeah- I… o-okay,” you stuttered out as you made your way over to him. You sat down next to him, leaving a foot of space between the two of you, only to let out a squeak of surprise as his arm came around your back and tugged you so that you were flush against his side.

There was another tug at your shoulder, this time directing you backwards. “Lie down, cyare,” he murmured next to your ear as he gently guided you to lay down with your head on his bicep.

A cool breeze drew you out of the shock of being pulled into such an intimate position with the Mandalorian, and you hesitantly wriggled a bit closer into his warmth. The arm curled around you tightened slightly and his thumb hesitantly began to rub gentle circles on your own arm. “Is… is this okay, mesh’la?”

You smiled at the question. “Yes Mando, this is more than okay,” you said, before turning your head to look back up at the stars.

The two of you had been laying there for a while, silently watching the moon as it made its slow march across the sky before you spoke up. “Are you ever going to tell me what they mean?”

The Mandalorian turned his head to you. “... the stars?”

You snorted out a laugh, “no, you overgrown tin can. What you call me, you know, the nicknames in what I’m going to assume is Mando’a.” His thumb stopped rubbing circles and you lifted yourself up on one elbow to look at him with a small frown. “None of them mean ‘asshole’, right?”

He huffs out a surprised laugh and pushes himself up to lean back on his elbows too. “No, none of them mean asshole,” he said as he turned his head back to the sky.

“Then what-”

“Beautiful.” His helmet tilted back towards you.

“I- what?” You were sure you hadn’t heard him properly.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat a little. “Mesh’la. It means ‘beautiful’.” He reached up and poked at the frown line between your eyebrows when you stayed silent, your mouth open in a little ‘o’ of surprise, and then his hand moved to cup your cheek. “You are beautiful.”

You turned your face into his hand and pressed a shy kiss into the palm of his glove even as you felt your face heating up. “Mando-” you began, but he shook his head and pulled you towards him to rest your forehead on his.

“Din,” his voice was soft and low, the single syllable barely picked up by the modulator. “Din Djarin. Not Mando, not to you.”

His name.

You pulled back to look at him, eyes tearing up a little even as your lips quirked into a smile at the trust he had in you to give you his name. “Din Djarin,” you murmured, testing out his name for yourself.

A low noise rumbled in his chest. Fuck, but he liked how his name fell from your lips. “Can I hold you again, ner kar’ta?”

“Of course,” you smiled and the two of you lay back down, Man- Din pillowing his head on his arm while you tucked yourself back into his side. “So, does this mean you’re going to tell me what the other ones mean?”

Din chuckled and you enjoyed how it sounded directly under your ear. “Not just yet, mesh’la. But maybe…” he broke off as if thinking about something.

“Maybe?” you questioned, perking up at the idea of possibly learning what another one meant.

“Shabuir,” he spoke up after a moment.

“You haven’t called me that before. What’s it mean?”

Din chuckled again. “That one means asshole.”

You huffed a laugh of your own and poked him in an unarmored section of his side in retaliation. “Shut up and watch the stars with me, smartass.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #gender neutral reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfic

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beomglocks · 4 years

Text

test me ; c.yj

pairing: teacher!yeonjun x (of age) student!y/n (fem)

plot: no plot im pretty sure its just smut, part 2 of teacher’s pet

w/c: 1.7K

warnings & other: smut, jealousy, teacher!yeonjun, of age student!y/n, implied cheating, yeonjun possessive, does this count as public sex?, kinda public sex?, revising this at 4am so if there’s still mistakes iM SORRY

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

after what happened the other day with beomgyu and yeonjun you thought you had won. getting yeonjun jealous was one of your many hobbies. although he'd encourage you to find a new or better one. what you didn't know was that yeonjun was not gonna let himself get played that easily.

see, yeonjun is possessive. if he's fooling around with you, you're his now. messing around with him the way you did, did not slide with him. he had thought about what you did all weekend long. even though it was something minor like flirting with another teacher, he couldn't wait for monday to arrive. he felt bad not giving attention to his actual girlfriend but messing around with you was much more exciting.

he was glad you were already legal or else he'd be in real trouble. even though having sexual encounters with one of his own students would cost his job at least he wouldn't be sent to jail. the thought of getting caught was exhilarating. he could only imagine fucking into you on his desk roughly when all of a sudden someone walks in.

he liked the idea of humiliating you like that but realized that he was the only that was allowed to see you in that much of a vulnerable state.

with that, monday arrived. you had forgotten about the way you riled up yeonjun a few days back. you figured he wouldn't be too mad about it so you decided to erase it from your mind. clearly you were wrong.

you weren't dressed too crazy today either, just a cozy sweater and some jeans. the hallways were busy as always but this time there seemed to be a common topic of murmur.

"did you see mr. choi today?" "oh my god he looks so hot." "i can't believe the teachers are allowed to come to school like that as if they aren't already good looking enough." "i want him to fuck me so badly."

you tried to keep your face and mind neutral as you walked through the halls. it's not a secret that the teachers at your school were good looking and were a casual topic among the students but why the hell was yeonjun suddenly trending?

you bit the inside of your cheek thinking about how suddenly everyone had his name in their mouths. you shook your head to get rid of these jealous thoughts bubbling in your brain and started trying to get to class.

you were barely past the threshold of the door when you hear yeonjun's stern voice, "you're late." you have to physically stop yourself from gaping at his appearance. his pink hair was pushed back to showcase the glory of his forehead but the killing part in your opinion was the leather pants.

you're not really sure how he was allowed to dress up to school like that but you thanking the heavens that no one told him off about it. your eyes not so subtly wandered to his crotch area and you almost got on your knees right then and there. the leather clung to him for dear life and showcased his toned thighs and not to mention his dick. god, his dick was literally on full display. the cocky bastard probably wanted the whole world to know he had the biggest cock ever. if he was gonna dress up like that might as well wear nothing at all.

you shiver, thinking about the ways in which he would take you right on the desk beside him-

"y/n," yeonjun's voice rips you out of your thoughts. "if you could take your seat?" you blink at him dumbly but regain yourself, two can play at this game.

"yes sir," you purr. he watches you closely as you stride to your seat. yeonjun liked to act like a closed book but you knew him, he was trying to get back at you. you weren't exactly sure if you'd be able to handle it but you're willing to show him you can try.

he starts the lesson like normal but the whispers beside you are more interesting. "i think i can see his dick print," whispers someone near you. you look to the front of the class and grin.

it's was really a good thing the leather pants were tight, it truly didn't leave any room for the imagination. you licked your lips, lost in your own thoughts when yeonjun calls you for the second time today. he was really starting to get on your nerves since he never ever calls on you. "y/n when your done daydreaming can you answer this question?"

you feel heat rise up your neck and cheeks. why the fuck did he call you out like that? surely you weren't the only one not focused on the lesson. you bite back a snarky remark that would've helped your pride and instead just answer his question.

after that, he thankfully leaves you alone for the rest of the hour. you're sure he knows you're not actually paying attention to what he's saying. screw english, at this point you want yeonjun to teach you a different kind of language.

the bell rings and strangely the girls in class take their time getting out of the room. you watch them eye yeonjun up and down and give him flirty goodbyes before finally leaving. the thing that irks you is that yeonjun is entertaining them. you scoff as he winks to a group of girls and tells them to have a nice day.

you look around and notice you're the last person in class so you decide to get up and leave. yeonjun catches you before you can get out. "where do you think you're going?" he remarks. you roll your eyes and remove his hand from your arm. "i'm leaving?"

"after that little stunt you pulled friday? i dont think so," he growls backing you up onto the door, shutting it closed. "oh? wouldn't you rather go at it with one of those other girls?" you look at him bored and he raises a brow at you. "someone's jealousy is showing," he quips.

"i'm not jealous," you defend. yeonjun leans closer to your ear, taking your lobe into his mouth. he licks a stripe along the side of your ear and kisses it making you shiver from his heavy breaths. "you sure?" he whispers. you sigh shakily and he moves to walk back to his desk. he settles himself in his chair, looking over at you expectantly.

you slowly walk over to his figure. he chuckles, eyeing your actions. you drop your bag on the floor by his desk and situate yourself on his lap so that you're straddling him. he places his hand on your thighs as you lean down to kiss him. you whimper when you feel his hands travel to the front of your jeans while he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. you open your mouth and he wastes no time letting his tongue explore it.

you sigh and find yourself grinding on his crotch. you really can't help it since you can practically feel his cock on you as he gets hard. he moves his hands from your zipper back to your thighs, gripping them roughly. "mm baby," he grunts out in a warning tone.

you don't listen and keep grinding on him, gradually getting quicker in your movements. you're pretty sure you're getting your panties and jeans wet with your cum but you don't care because damn this feels good. at this point you just wanna reach your high, you don't care if yeonjun scolds you afterwards.

yeonjun pulls away from you, scanning over your face. there's a string of saliva from him to you and your eyes are hooded looking down at him. "you're so needy today hm?" he pokes your lip in thought. "i guess i shouldn't have treated you that way today."

"yeonjun please," you whine. you try to grind on him more but he stops you. "take off your pants," he orders. you do as told and get back on his lap. the leather pants feel cold on your thighs making you shiver. "well go on baby," he's smiling up at you evilly. "junnie," you whine again.

he ignores you, watching you make a mess of yourself in front of him. the friction of your panties rubbing against his pants gets you feeling hot instantly. "ah- im s-so close," you mumble. your vision is kind of hazy but you can see yeonjun staring at you hungrily. "don't cum yet."

you smack his chest weakly and he chuckles lowly. "alright." he lifts you up and set you down on his desk. you watch him lower the leather pants and he sighs from relief. "the things i do for you," he smirks. he slides off your panties, licking his lips at how wet you are.

"can you hurry u-," he shuts you up by pushing his dick into you quickly. just by that alone you feel yourself about to cum. "faster," you moan. he complies, thrusting into you at a quicker speed than before.

the sound of skin slapping against skin rings throughout the his classroom and it makes your head spin. it's been a minute since yeonjun fucked you lik ethis but you're glad he's doing it now. you really did feel yeonjun deprived.

"do you feel me?" he teases, placing his cold hand on your lower stomach. you nod, frantically not really caring about whatever he was talking about. "jjun-"

"yeah," he breathes in reply. you let otu a silent scream as you reach your orgasm. the way you clench around his dick makes him moan loudly.

"fuck im gonna cum too," he moans. he pulls his dick out of you and pumps it quickly, making himself cum all over your thighs and lower stomach. after a moment of trying to come to your senses, you flinch as try to get up but he stops you. "leaving so soon," he grunts while pulling his pants back up.

"im just surprised mr. c hasnt shown up," you dont think much of it when you say it but yeonjun frowns. "i told him we were gonna be busy," he mumbles walking back to his chair. you can hear the shift in his voice, "whats wrong now."

"y/n dont test me, you're mine."

#yeonjun imagines #smut #yeonjun reactions #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun drabble #yeonjun smut #txt imagines #Drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcannons #yeonjun headcannons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #yeonjun timestamps #yeonjun fic #yeonjun x reader

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

Coda (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, Chapter 7 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: 3.1k Rating: 18+ (NSFW) Summary: Things got heated between Dr Ramsey and Dr Valentine during Bloom’s event. Will they finish what they’ve started?

Warning: This fic contains adult content, don’t read if you’re a minor.

A/N: Happy Easter, folks! So, let’s pretend this horror of a dress (which, let’s be honest, even Bloom’s PA wouldn’t wear) never happened. Also, this is my first time ever publishing NSFW fic, so please be understanding 🙈 That being said, I always appreciate feedback and am forever grateful for all of you, because you help me grow 💜

Huge shoutout to Bree @jamespotterthefirst who was so lovely to pre-read it and actually encouraged me to post, girl you are golden and I just cannot thank you enough! We are all so lucky to have you 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼😍

Even though he was trying to be sensible about this, every molecule of sense left him during his left palm’s chance encounter with Noelle Valentine’s bare thigh.

But has anything about their touching bodies ever been truly accidental?

Although, if he was honest, this was just the culmination point.

His rational mind’s death by a thousand cuts.

It all started when she entered the premises of the venue in her provocative dress and he had to blink rapidly a few times, thinking that his eyes were deceiving him, breath trapped in his throat.

Cut.

Her every step gracious and light, as if she’s been the human embodiment of a wood nymph.

As if she’s stolen the world's entire allure.

Cut.

Her silky waves, cascading like a waterfall - he wanted to dive into them, lose himself in them.

Drown in them.

Cut.

She was a prodigy, a goddess descending from mount Olympus, who, for some mysterious reason, decided to grace the mortals with her overwhelming presence.

Some guests were standing agape, the others smiled wide and showered her with rain of compliments; a few people had tiny lightnings of jealousy flickering in their eyes.

But no one was left indifferent by her grand entrance.

Strangely, Ethan didn’t feel jealousy.

In fact, he couldn’t be more proud.

His eyes, like x-rays, have relentlessly been reminding him of the perfect shapes hiding under the layers of the sophisticated, silky material. In this regard, he envied everyone else. Unlike him, imagination was all they had.

He knew. He touched. He teased. He tasted. He caressed.

Sometimes, ignorance was truly a bliss.

Today, ignorance was certainly not going to help him get through this evening.

* * * * * *

He almost lost it on the balcony.

Then, the sudden appearance of musicians interrupted them.

He wasn’t startled.

He was angry.

Freaking Bloom and his jazz band, he thought to himself. How on earth was he constantly able to rain on Ethan’s parade, even when they weren’t physically in the same room?

Noelle’s pearly laugh dissipated all thoughts in an instant, her impossibly beautiful face now turned to him. Entwining their hands, Ethan knew he had no choice but to play along.

Inside, he was laughing out of the other side of his mouth.

They were coming back to the room full of buffoons and right now her presence was as comforting as it was driving him further into insanity.

Before he was even able to sit down, someone has already slipped a drink into his hand and when Ethan was ready to sigh and curse the fate that sent him to Bloom’s 4th circle of hell*, a sudden realisation struck him.

This evening wasn’t lost yet.

In fact, it wasn’t lost at all.

And as he was thinking, a small smile ran past his lips.

The answer was right there in front of him.

* * * * * *

“Dr Ramsey, you’re still here?” Ethan had heard the unwanted and all too loud voice, followed by an even more unwanted pat on the back, accompanied by his nemesis’ reddened face and alcohol breath.

He plastered a fake smile, mustering the remains of politeness.

“You didn’t strike me as a party type, I thought you’d be making excuses a long time ago.” Leland grinned like a Cheshire cat. For a second, an outsider could have almost thought these two hold each other in high regard.

Almost being the key word.

“This is the most pleasant surprise.” Leland continued. “You see, I am rarely wrong, so it’s one of these moments when not only am I wrong, but also being wrong actually makes me happy.” He laughed as if he’s just delivered the best punch line in the world.

“Well, we are representing the hospital after all and I wouldn’t be too much of an example if I left before the rest of my team.” Ethan put on his best charming smile, not without a superhuman effort.

You don’t play the game, you play the opponent, he reminded himself.

“It looks like we are finally agreeing on something, doctor.” A sleazy smile ran past his lips, as he left to mingle with another circle. Inside, Ethan shuddered. There was just something about Bloom that didn’t add up and he was yet to figure what it was… but now his focus shifted to something else entirely.

Just like he predicted (or diagnosed, if you will) with every sip, every passing minute, the guests were falling deeper and deeper into inebriation - the excellent staff made sure that every time someone emptied their glass, a new dose of liquid happiness was ready for them. Dr Ramsey knew this must have been Bloom’s doing.

They may have had money and resources but during these events, they were like wild animals held captive and then suddenly let loose. Their problem was that they thought money could pay for everything, but it certainly couldn’t buy back dignity, redeem bad manners and erase terrible first impressions.

Tonight, he will use this flawed logic to his advantage.

* * * * * *

Noelle was sitting across the table, not even trying to hide anymore that whatever the tech moguls were trying to sell, she wasn’t buying.

Neither their fancy apps nor their bullshit.

Ethan finished yet another glass of scotch and stood up, his height towering over everyone else at the table.

“Well, it’s about time I was moving. Thank you for a very… revelatory evening, gentlemen.” The other table occupiers didn’t even pay too much attention and murmured something, shifting their focus back to the beautiful female doctor. “Dr Valentine, can I offer you a ride home? That is, if you were planning to leave soon…”

“That would be great, thank you, Dr Ramsey.” If her eyes could speak up, they would have definitely thanked him for throwing her a lifebelt.

“Fantastic, meet me outside in 10 minutes then? I have…one more business to attend to beforehand.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what it was — the look, the pause between words, the accentuation - but something told her that whatever business he meant, she was very much a part of it.

Her suspicion has soon turned out to be justified, as his tall figure wandered off and disappeared around the corner.

A corner he had absolutely no reason to disappear around.

The younger doctor waited a minute before making her excuses and assuring her companions that a future partnership with Edenbrook couldn’t look any brighter, Noelle turned around and followed the man in black suit.

Walking as fast as her hurting feet and long gown were allowing her, Noelle entered a long corridor at the back of the fancy restaurant and had to admit that even this place, which must have simply led to different utility rooms, looked spectacular and stylish. Almost like those fairytale corridors, which lead to other dimensions.

But only if a voice summons you and guides you there.

Just as the thought popped into her head, a firm grip tightened around one of her wrists, making her jump.

When she turned around, his index finger was on his lips in a clear message.

Quiet.

They only made a couple of steps before he cautiously opened the door and rushed her into a room. It looked like a sophisticated pantry or a wine cellar and she thought the stock must have been worth more than her annual salary.

The room was dark, bar for the little window, which wasn’t much helpful with providing the light, given that the world outside was hugged by the arms of the night.

“Ethan, what’s goi—“ She never had a chance to finish the sentence, before he took her breath away with his lips, not for the first time this evening. He didn’t stop there, pushing her towards the counter, like a famished animal backing its victim into the corner.

“You said you’ll be looking for an encore, didn’t you?” She was trying to accustom her sight to the darkness, the gleam in the blue of his eyes her only reference point.

“Although, if I’m not mistaken and my opera knowledge is still sharp, I think coda** is actually the word you’re looking for.”

She stilled, a shiver running through her spine, the electric feel both hot and cold. An audible swallow filled the silence that lingered after his words, not for long as he continued his monologue.

“And I’m sorry, Dr Valentine, but I’m not a patient man today…I’ve exhausted all my patience on senseless endeavours this evening.” Almost as if to prove the sincerity of his words, he started moving towards her, his every gesture deliberate; there was no space for randomness.

Every word hit her like a wrecking ball, her remaining senses overkeen. She couldn’t rely on her eyes anymore and her hearing, smell and touch suddenly became heavily heightened, almost supernatural.

She couldn’t reflect on this for too long though, as he backed her further towards the counter, blocking her moves.

“H-how… how do you know no one’s gonna come in?”

Even in the dark, she could see the corners of his lips going up, in a smile which wasn’t affectionate. It was dark, almost sinister.

And hot as hell.

Ethan leaned into her and dropped his voice even lower than she thought was humanly possible, whispering straight into her ear.

“I don’t, but… my diagnostic instincts rarely fail me, Noelle Valentine. Plus… that’s a part of the thrill, isn’t it?” He paused for a second to gloat upon the effect his ministrations had on her. Dr Ramsey enjoyed controlling the situation - more than he’d care to admit.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t fantasised of this, of losing yourself in me completely… except you couldn’t, because of a tiny detail, a stubborn question in your pretty head… what if someone walks in on us? What if it happens when you are overwhelmed by pure ecstasy, knowing there is no coming back, that the only way is forward…”

Ethan knew immediately that these words hit the jackpot. If she wasn’t before, she was definitely shaking now, her treacherous body betraying her in all ways possible.

That’s how she knew all these months ago. Maybe her mind could, but her body could never lie to Ethan Freaking Ramsey.

Ethan’s hands started roaming her body, discovering his favourite promised land, as if he had not been touching her on that balcony earlier, as if he’d never touched her before.

Because for him, every time with her was first and last. And he hoped things would always feel this way.

“Who are you and what have you done to Ethan Ramsey?”

She couldn’t see the smirk that appeared on his painfully handsome face.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about what’s to be done to you, Dr Valentine.”

With this, he lifted her up by grabbing her ass and sat her on the counter, pressing her back against the cold wall, which felt strangely warm against her body.

Or not so strangely, given there was a fire inside of her.

Securing her neck with his palm, he pulled her closer for a long, wet and greedy kiss, the obscene sounds of their mouths filling the otherwise silent space.

“Touch me.” A silent plea fell off her lips, her voice a quiet sob. Usually, he’d enjoy teasing her forever, playing little games, checking how far she would go to get what she wanted. But not tonight.

Tonight… he’s gonna give her exactly what she wants.

Because he wants it even more.

His middle and index finger slipped past the silky material of the dress and the band of her underwear. Noelle parted her lips slightly and drew a shallow breath, waiting in anticipation. Her wish was granted a couple of seconds later, when he ran up and down her folds, eliciting a small, guttural moan, which he was sure would forever be his favourite sound in the whole world.

Before she was even able to get used to the feeling, he pushed 2 digits into her without warning, making her eyes wide with amazement. But the movement stilled a second later. Maybe he couldn’t not tease her after all.

“Please.” The sound that came out of her was almost inaudible, yet extremely high pitched. Even if he tried, Ethan simply didn’t know the words that could come close to describing what these reactions were doing to him.

“You know I will give you the world… I will give you anything you want, Noelle. You just need to tell me what it is that you desire.”

She didn’t know what was the biggest turn on - his sultry voice dripping with desire, the feeling of his digits inside her or the well thought out choice of words. But it gave her an answer immediately.

“Fuck me with your fingers, Ethan.”

There was something shy and yet confident about the way she said it, he couldn’t explain it. Whatever it was, it made him even harder, which, at this point he thought wasn’t humanly possible. Although he was painfully aware of his own desire, he couldn’t rid neither her nor himself of the pleasure of watching her come undone on his fingers.

“As you wish, my naughty girl.”

His fingers started moving in come-hither motion, first slowly and teasingly. Just when she opened her mouth to beg him again, his thumb circled her swollen clit and pressed the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision, sending her mind into overdrive. She had to bite her own shoulder to suppress what she was sure would turn into a scream.

“Fuck… yes, right there.” She was an incoherent mess, while his fingers curved and touched places that made her eyes roll. “Faster, Ethan.” She commanded weakly as his fingers picked up the face, going in and out of her furiously.

She was pleading and moaning for god knows what and her hands were desperate to grip something, just anything.

Soon, he knew as well as she did that the peak was close, for her body kept moving and shaking on its own accord.

“I’m…this…you…” She cried, making even less sense than before.

“I know. Let go… let go now, Noelle. I know you needed this so much. Come for me now, baby.”

Sinking her teeth, this time in his shoulder, and tightening her grip on him, Noelle clenched around his fingers, the feeling so arousing that he thought he’s going to explode himself. He had to hold her with all the strength he had in his free arm, as she was all over the place, trembling, cursing, riding out what must have been one of the strongest orgasms she’s ever experienced.

When the feeling settled, Ethan slowly loosened his grip over her and slid his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. The taste of her astounded him every single time.

“In case I haven’t told you before… nothing can compare to the way you taste. Maybe apart from the way you feel, but I need to check to be certain.”

Before he was able to do so himself, she reached for his belt and unbuckled it hastily, letting his pants pool at his feet. Ethan hissed when she was ridding him of the last layer separating them, his throbbing member oversensitive to the slightest touch. He responded in kind, slipping her thongs down.

He stared at her as if he’s forgotten how to blink before saying:

“If I were you, I’d hold on tight.”

She grabbed the edge of the counter and tightened her grip, leaning onto her other arm, palm pressed flat onto the surface. Ethan positioned himself in front of her and the moment his tip met her sex, a wild lust overtook him completely, from top to bottom. He pushed hard, their bodies finally connecting.

He didn’t waste time to make himself or her feel comfortable. Right now, he wasn’t a guest - he was the invader, the intruder, the conqueror.

“Fuck, it’s impossible you’re still so tight.”

In answer, she clenched her muscles around him even more, earning herself a throaty sound.

“You little minx.”

She was going to be the death of him and what an epic death it would be.

“Ethan, fuck me like you mean it.” Noelle bit her lower lip, knowing the effect this tiny gesture always had on him. He didn’t need anything more. The sound of fast thrusts soon filled the air, making it thick and dense. The race started, two lovers chasing their gratification like it was the last thing they were ever going to do.

This wasn’t vanilla.

It was chilli, whiskey neat and flames.

A dance of carnal desires, intense and salient, leading to the grand finale. Nothing finesse, quite the contrary - a satiation of the most primal of human desires.

Ethan kept thrusting into her so deep that she felt blood when she had to bite her lip, trying to stop the animalistic scream trapped in her throat, begging to be released. She felt every vein, every nerve inside of her, every place he was reaching. Her hands and arms hurt, but her mind, currently controlled by Ethan’s cock moving in and out of her in killer pace, has overridden any physical sensations other than pure pleasure.

“So…so close.” She panted weakly, rolling her eyes as waves of pleasure kept crashing on her.

Leaning into her, he caught her earlobe and as he kissed her ear, Ethan groaned. “You’re so,” thrust, “fucking”, thrust, “hot”, thrust, “when”, thrust, “you come.”

And with that, she came.

Her whole body arched and hot white pleasure turned every cell of her body into bliss. It was like jumping into the pool on a sunny day, submerging yourself completely and then just… floating.

Ethan followed her instantly, her climax triggering his own. They were holding onto each other for dear life, compounding the intensity of their sensations and silently praying for this moment to never, ever stop.

When their breathing returned back to normal a few moments later, the older doctor pushed aside strands of her hair that stuck to her face and then cupped her cheeks.

“You ok?” The tenderness in his voice almost made her heart stop.

As if she hasn’t already been dead.

“Ok? No, I’m not ok. I am pretty fucking great.”

“That you are.” He smiled wide. “You are pretty fucking great.”

“Well you are not too bad yourself. How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I died and was reborn, all at the same time.”

They laughed at each other’s choice of words, still in a tight embrace.

“Ready for the next part, Ramsey?”

“Next part?”

“Now we need to sneak out of here for real.”

* * *

* This is a reference to Dante’s poem “Inferno” from “Divine Comedy”

** coda - The final part of a play, film, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved

Tag 🏷 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @terrm9 @maurine07 @the-pale-goddess @drakewalkerfantasy @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @archxxronrookie @queencarb @qrkowna @utterlyinevitable @lucy-268 @udishaman @stygianflood @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @caseyvalentineramsey @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @liaromancewriter @mrs-ramsey @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @fayeswiftie @tsrookie @lisha1valecha @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @lem-20 @fireycookie

#Ethan Ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #play choices #Ethan x noelle

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qwanderer · 3 years

Text

What makes a Loki a Loki?

Loki is called upon to be a lot of different people. He’s been raised on Asgard, and that’s formed some of the more basic aspects of his personality and values, but at the same time he has attributes that have been consistently discouraged and pushed down by that culture, and we can see them step forward as he moves into situations where they are encouraged.

Throughout the canons, there are a lot of Lokis. Siege Loki, Lady Loki, Kid Loki and his murderer, Ikol, King Loki, and the God/Goddess of Stories. The earlier aspects I know only by secondhand information, but I’m very familiar with Loki from Young Avengers and Agent of Asgard, some of my favorite comics of all time. But I know some basic facts - the way the earliest Loki was a quintessential comic book villain full of pure simple theatrical mischief and ridiculous schemes, the fact that Lady Loki was a somewhat more sinister appropriator of bodies for her own use.

In my view, MCU!Loki has, at the very least, the same capacity to shift personalities depending on the circumstances, and I haven’t yet seen anything in the Loki show that’s thrown my suspension of disbelief with regards to his characterization.

I’ve seen some people rebel at the idea of Loki gleeful over the destruction of Pompeii and the causing of chaos it allowed, but it reminds me of some meta I wrote very early on in my years of meta-writing in the MCU. The values Loki was raised with, Asgardian values, sometimes treat death very lightly, especially death in battle, especially human or otherwise non-Aesir death. In the Aesir context, at least to a certain extent and certainly in terms of what we’ve seen Odin teach his sons onscreen, violence is honorable, fighting is an adventure, lives are cheap and Valhalla is the ultimate goal.

I think a lot of the central conflict of Loki’s character is that he follows some of these principles to their logical conclusions in situations that Aesir values never meant them to cover. If life is unimportant, then it won’t be so bad if I tell Thor that Odin is dead. If the throne of Asgard has dominion over all the Nine Realms, then why shouldn’t I rule Midgard?

But he also shifts the way he acts to suit the situation. He is a shifter, it’s what he does. On Asgard, he is expected to be a warrior, a dignified prince, a companion and support for his brother. The values are bravery and dignity, and so a lot of what he projects there is bravado and elegance, which are close enough for him to get by.

When he is taken by Thanos, the only things Thanos wants and values are power and death. So Loki becomes an avatar of power and death. He carries that with him to Earth, because he is still very much under the jurisdiction of Thanos. But he very quickly learns how to use and manipulate Earth values, like wit and pathos. They seem to fit him better than the others, and he carries them through the other movies and the different frameworks he finds himself in.

He also tends to carry Asgard with him, the knowledge that he’s a prince, destined to be a king, that he needs to carry himself a certain way, with that elegance, dignity and bravado.

When I see Loki in the first episode of the show, I recognize him as some of the deepest, most quintessential parts of Loki that have only been allowed to peek out on occasion before. And that is due to manipulation on Mobius’s part - Mobius makes it very clear what he expects of Loki. To get down to the very basic levels of him and find out his motivations, what makes him fundamentally himself - “What makes Loki tick?” There’s a quiet void there, and the only thing that’s being asked of Loki, for once, is that he sit down and fill that void with words - the truest and most sincere words possible.

There’s a clear and interesting divide between that phase for Loki, and the phase we see in episode two - Mobius has stopped providing that space, and in the interim, he’s made it very clear what he expects Loki to be like, what mold he’d prefer the trickster to fit into.

The hard-working, lovable scamp.

Loki is hiding his deepest self again, which we all do most of the time. Loki can’t feel that deeply and express that freely all the time. Because of the environment he’s in - which may not be any more or less free than any of the other environments he’s experienced - he expresses himself in a particular way. He is the hard-working, mischievous scamp Mobius has been pushing him to be.

I don’t think he’s any more or less himself than he’s ever been - he’s simply responding to different pressures. And the pressures of this episode press him very hard into the Neal Caffrey mold. Which is an interesting mold in itself - when I was writing White Collar fic, I made a point to distinguish who Neal was when he was with Peter and who he was under different circumstances - prison, witness protection, with Mozzie, with Kate. (I wrote an autistic Kate, and had him most freely himself when he was with her.)

Like Neal Caffrey, the Episode 2 Loki is treading a line between behaviors that will get him things because he’s useful and compliant, behaviors that will demonstrate that he’s into minor trickery for fun now and might not be getting up to anything bigger, and those bigger tricks that are definitely still running in the background. It’s the obvious balance for a trickster on a leash with an indulgent bureaucrat.

You can see that it’s a facade in the way that he is near tears when he sees the Ragnarok paperwork, but when he brings it to Mobius’s attention and Mobius expresses his sympathies, Loki says “Yes, very sad,” and then dismisses it in favor of moving on to his mischievous enthusiasm over the resulting theory he’s had.

Like all good lies, it’s built out of truth, so when I see this Loki, I see pieces of the Loki I know, just put together a little differently, which is how Loki seems to do it.

Although he’s not free as he might hope to be, and in fact threading a narrow path between a very constricting set of pressures, I do still think he’s enjoying the dropped expectations of dignity and elegance. I think he’s enjoying being in a culture that encourages him to be a geek. To go on about the things he’s passionate about and his areas of expertise. And I think that’s a lot of what unsettles people about this Loki, because that elegance and dignity have carried everywhere else with him. And I’m not going to argue that the TVA are doing anything nice for him - quite the contrary - but I still do enjoy seeing him able to be the geek he’s always had the inclination to be, in the right circumstances.

It makes me wonder, a little, how much his mother is on his mind right now, after the first episode, because if I had a guess, the last time he’s felt free to be this enthusiastic and expressive about his interests is in magic lessons with her as a child.

So. The other variant.

We know from the Lady Loki comics arc that Loki can possess other people’s bodies over the long term, and we know from kid!Loki and his murderer interacting in YA that the original occupant of a body can sometimes hang around and talk back, if only as a figment of his imagination. We know from most incarnations that Loki can go to a lot of dark places if the circumstances push him to it.

As I’ve said before, I’m intrigued by the question the difference between the two variants poses - how much different can two Lokis be before they are no longer meaningfully the same person?

We’ve got clues on both sides, of course - our scamp on a leash saying “I wouldn’t do this to myself” on the side of them being not the same person, and the vengeful goddess he’s chasing saying “I was afraid they’d found a better version of me” on the side of them being the same person.

The more I think about it, the more I’m willing to predict that this vengeful goddess is, in some way, an incarnation of Loki. But (be warned, I’m going to reference Stephenie Meyer now) it could be in as small a way as something out of The Host - a stolen body’s original personality fighting dirty against the invading spirit.

If this is something based on the character of Sylvie from the comics, it could still be anything from a person - human or Asgardian - chosen and manipulated by Loki to do his bidding, to a full-on possession, or even a body constructed for a specific purpose but developing its own personality traits.

We know this variant is a body hopper, and Mobius’s briefing mentioned that it’s an inherent ability of most Lokis to shapeshift, so there are a lot of potential explanations for this unfamiliar shape.

But the differences between the variants could also stem mostly from different experiences.

The only thing I’m at all sure of is that this variant has also been tortured by Thanos. It’s possible that she branched earlier - that the wild desperation of having freshly escaped Thanos translated into being dragged into the TVA like a cornered wildcat, on the raggedy edge and desperate enough to go all-out to get out of the collar while still in the custody of the minute men. Then, as she became familiar with the TVA in concept and execution, developed opinions and built a personality around taking them down, taking them apart the way she wished she could do to Thanos, the way Thanos did to her.

But she could also have branched later - after the destruction of Asgard, or when Thanos appeared on the refugee ship. After the worst has happened to her people. With some preexisting notion that time could have gone differently, that some things that had happened should not be allowed to happen.

I have a weak spot for interactions between incarnations of Loki in the comics, so I am incredibly eager to see the MCU’s take on this.

#Loki meta #the loki show #loki spoilers #loki laufeyson #loki #meta #marvel #comics #616 #white collar #the host #sylvie #loki s1e2

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moony-meadow · 3 years

Text

The Very Hungry Beelzebub (1)

Summary: Once Beelzebub recovers from an illness, the Avatar of Gluttony goes on a hunger-fueled rampage. When he runs into a certain tasty human, Beel's clouded judgement leaves him wondering why he waited so long to indulge.

Next Part

I blew out a long sigh as I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom. Against my will, my mind had once again wandered to the events of three days ago. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to forget the experience of Mammon eating me whole.

It didn’t help that I was unable to distract myself with the company of others. I’d been instructed to minimize contact with the rest of the members of the House of Lamentation due to an illness that was currently going around. Both Satan and Belphegor were presently sick in bed, and apparently Beelzebub was just beginning to recover.

Lucifer had texted me earlier to update me on the status of his sick brothers. Apparently it had hit Beel so hard that he had been completely unable to keep any food down for nearly twenty-four hours. I had to imagine that would be like torture to the Avatar of Gluttony.

With my mind fixated on the idea of food (whether it be me as the food or otherwise) I found myself feeling quite famished. Grabbing my D.D.D where it lay next to me on my bed, I clicked on the screen to see that the time was 12:17 am. I grinned. “Perfect time for a midnight snack.”

After sliding on a pair of slippers, I exited my room and made my way to the kitchen. The moment I stepped through the door, I knew something was off. The usually tidy room looked like it had been struck by a tornado. Food packaging, containers, and trays were scattered everywhere. Every single cupboard was open, and the drawers had been pulled out and tossed to the side. At the center of it all was Beel, who stood in front of a completely emptied refrigerator.

“Beel! Are you okay? What happened?!” I exclaimed. It certainly seemed like the guy had recovered from his sickness enough to be able to eat again, so much so that it appeared as though he’d eaten every single thing in the kitchen.

Beel didn’t respond right away. All I could see was the back of him, so I could only guess what expression he was wearing on his face. Just as my concern was beginning to mount, the red headed demon slowly began to turn around to face me.

The first thing I noticed was the look in his eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for Beel to appear hungry, in fact it was pretty much his neutral expression. However, the look that the demon currently wore was more than just hunger. Beelzebub looked positively ravenous.

I instinctively took a step back. I had never been particularly afraid of Beel before. Even when he’d gone on his little rampage after Mammon and I ate his custard, he hadn’t directed his rage at me. He may have expressed a desire to eat me on multiple occasions, but there had never been malice behind his words. Even now, the Avatar of Gluttony didn’t look angry, he just looked hungry.

“We ran out of food, but I’m still so hungry,” Beel commented as he began to advance towards me.

Nervous beads of sweat began to pop up on my forehead. “Oh, well why don’t we..uh go out to eat or something?” I suggested shakily.

Beel shook his head as a small dribble of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth. His gaze was fixated on me. “Why do that when there’s a perfectly good human treat right in front of me?” His eyes had a glazed look to them, almost as if he was in some kind of trance.

You know that saying, “you’re not you when you’re hungry”? Yeah, that definitely applied to Beelzebub. It was like he’d forgotten that he and I were supposed to be friends. He’d wanted to eat me ever since we first met, but had always managed to control himself. But now it was as if his self control was all but obliterated and he could only perceive me as food--something to satiate the emptiness in his stomach.

“Beel, no,” I scolded as sternly as I could muster. “I know you’re hungry, but you can’t eat me.” As I said the words, I remembered my pact with him. I didn’t like to command any of the demons I had pacts with unless absolutely necessary. They were supposed to be my friends after all. Therefore, I would attempt to talk Beel down naturally. If that failed then I would issue an official order.

As Beel approached ever closer, I was suddenly overcome with an all too familiar sensation. Every inch of body tingled as, for the second time in my life, I began to shrink. Things were going too far, it was definitely time to forcibly put an end to Beel’s actions. I opened my mouth and attempted to issue the order, only to find myself incapable of making a single sound.

My eyes went wide as I stared up at Beelzebub’s growing form. He had a satisfied, knowing smile on his face. “He cast some sort of silencing spell!” I mentally screamed. It was almost like he had known what I’d been thinking! He predicted I’d try to use our pact to control him and had done what was needed to stop me.

When the shrinking finally stopped, my fear reached its peak. I was now the perfect size to be eaten, standing in front of a voracious demon. The safety net the pact had provided was now null and void.

“Mammon got to eat you like this...now it’s my turn,” Beel announced happily.

I tried to back away from the demon who now stood right in front of me, however, it proved fruitless. With swift ease, he reached down and snatched me up off of the floor, leaving my now miniature slippers behind. My stomach churned as he lifted me up to face level. As those pinkish-purple eyes of his trapped me in their gaze, Beel hungrily licked his lips.

My second attempt at vocalizing proved fruitless, I couldn’t even get a whimper out. All I could do was flail in Beel’s powerful grip. At my full size, I stood no chance against even the most minor demons in the Devildom. Now a couple inches tall, faced with the Avatar of Gluttony himself, I was completely and utterly defenseless. I despised the feeling.

The worst part of it was that I couldn't even really be mad at Beel. I was furious, sure, but more so with the situation than anything. He had been taken over by his sin and was unable to think rationally. I knew deep down that the Beelzebub I had befriended would never do this to me. Still, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt to be treated like no more than food by someone I was close to.

“In you go…” Beel hummed. The next thing I knew, I was being moved feet first towards the demon’s gaping mouth.

The second I was within range, I began to kick desperately at the giant pair of lips. My feet connected with the soft flesh several times, but all it seemed to achieve was causing Beel to chuckle.

In the end, my struggling proved to be futile, as Beel easily deposited me in his mouth. He closed his lips around my midsection, leaving my legs trapped inside his mouth while my upper body still remained outside. I tried to use my arms to push myself out but Beel’s hold on me, while considerably gentle, was completely unrelenting.

Inside the giant demon’s mouth, I could feel my legs getting lapped at by his tongue. I pulled a face of disgust, but obviously couldn’t make the accompanying retching sound. Glancing upwards, I could see Beel was looking down at me. Still, there was no hostility or malevolence in his eyes. He seemed to only recognize that he was doing something that made him happy, not that he was doing something that was harmful to me.

Then suddenly, my view of the outside world was ripped away as Beel sucked the rest of my body inside his mouth. I was instantly coated in saliva, which was only made worse when the tip of a massive tongue began running up and down from my hips to my head.

It was at that moment that I realized there was nothing to prevent Beel from biting me with those deadly teeth of his. With Mammon it had been different. Despite being reluctant, I had agreed to let him eat me willingly, and only after ordering him to not allow any harm to come to me. This time, I had no such guarantees.

Beel’s tongue shifted, but thankfully not to position me in between his teeth. Instead, I was shoved against the hard palate above. I attempted to leverage myself against the roof to push myself away, but the tongue beneath me proved to be too strong.

“Mmmm, dewicioush,” Beel purred, struggling to get the word out right with his mouth full of me.

“Why do I have to taste good? Why couldn’t I taste like rotten cheese or something?” I pondered miserably.

For a few moments longer I was held in place against the roof of Beel’s mouth. He was clearly savoring my flavor. Honestly, I was surprised he had held off on swallowing me for so long. He was usually pretty quick to devour any food in front of him. But I guess because humans were considered such a delicacy, he was taking his time for once.

When Beel’s tongue abruptly began to move me towards the back of his throat, the panic began to really take hold of me. Without a command preventing it from doing so, the acid in the demon’s stomach would no doubt dissolve me. I’d be digested like any other piece of food.

Desperately, I thrashed around. I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish, but my instincts were urging me to fight for my life. My heart got caught in my throat when the entire environment around me started to tilt. If I had to guess, Beel was leaning his head back so that I would more easily slide down his throat.

With my legs already hanging down into the esophagus, all it took was a strong gulp to kickstart my descent into Beel’s body. I loosed a silent scream before I was dragged into the Avatar of Gluttony’s gullet.

#shall we vore #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t vore #soft vore #don't worry it's not hard vore despite what it may seem lol #also I decided to go with a slightly longer format

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Akio’s Idea

CW: Some vague past noncon references, discussion of traumatic events, referenced minor whump, referenced Oliver being gross as shit - all vague, Akio Gets An Idea, modern slavery

(Lisa Huang appears in Teenage Dream)

“Thanks for driving down here, Lisa.”

“No problem.” Lisa Huang pushes her glasses back up on her nose, sitting back in the hard plastic chair in the side room with its large conference table. The faint sounds of the gym are still audible here. Lisa’s got one ankle laid over the other knee, hands behind her head as she looks around. The heavy knit cap on her head is a deep saturated orange, the rest of her clothes a mix of faded gray and blacks. It makes her look, just a little, like she’s wearing a pumpkin on her head. “I needed to meet my sister for lunch some time this month, so I figured, two birds one stone. The drive down was really pretty, anyway. Wow, the gym has hardly changed at all, has it?”

“Not really.” Akio gives her a half-smile. He’s in his own casual clothes, just a hoodie over a t-shirt and jeans. He feels like she’ll see his heart beating, the way he shifts from foot to foot. Lisa was always good at reading people, better than Akio’s ever been, anyway. “New equipment, new kids, but… you know. You probably didn’t exactly get lost.”

“Ha! No. I could have walked to this room with my eyes closed.” She gestures at a large framed photo across the room, settled along a wall between two windows. “They haven’t even changed the team photo. We were, like, kids when we went there.”

Akio looks over his shoulder.

He’s right in the center of the photo, next to the old governor, smiling brightly for the camera. On either end of the line, their coaches. Spread throughout the center, all of them, a range of ages, wearing matching windbreakers and gym pants, smiling. All of them, smiling.

One of them, missing, presumed dead.

“Yeah, Mark’s still really proud of that, I guess.”

“I remember. That crusty old guy’s what got us the WRU sponsorship. Mark just about had a stroke when they wanted to do that whole marketing campaign with us.” Lisa laughs. Akio doesn’t. His nerves are shot, and he doesn’t want to make small talk about WRU. Not knowing what he knows. Not with who’s waiting in the hallway.

Lisa seems to pick up on his reticence. Her laughter fades, and she tilts her head, some of her black hair brushing along her shoulder. “Aki? What’s up, man? I haven’t talked to you in, like, six months and then you ask me to come down to the old gym and say it’s super important but you can’t say why on the phone. Talk to me, man. I don’t mind being here, but if you’re going to propose, I have some real bad news about how thoroughly I am not going to do that. Nothing personal, I don’t want that mess with anyone else, either.”

That does pull a laugh from him, and Lisa relaxes slightly. “Don’t worry, Lees, I’m not asking you to-... anything me,” Akio says, heading for the doorway to the conference room. His palms feel sweaty. His palms never feel sweaty. He can swing through the air and only feel the perfect rush of what his body can do, he can land on his feet, he broke an ankle once without a sound, but now… now he’s scared.

Scared of what he’s going to show her.

Scared of how she could react.

“I’m actually sort of dating someone,” Akio confesses, after a pause. “I mean. I think we’re dating.”

“Honestly, you not knowing if you’re dating someone or not is the most Nakamura thing I can imagine,” Lisa says cheerfully. “You haven’t changed much, either.”

Has he not? He feels like a whole different person since he found Tristan again. Like he’s aged ten years in a few weeks. A new anger burns under his skin, fury at grieving the loss of a boy who was never actually gone.

“What’s his name?”

Akio stops, hand on the doorknob, and turns to look over his shoulder at Lisa’s impish little grin.

“Oh, fuck off, Aki, you think I didn’t know? We practically lived together at the gym. What’s his name? Is that why you wanted me here, to meet him maybe?”

“His name’s-... uh, his name’s Ben. He’s not here, but. Okay, so. There’s something I needed to show you today. I want to show everybody from the old group, but… but I wanted to start with you.” He can feel heat in his eyes, unfamiliar fear making his pulse thrum. Something in his expression makes her own smile fade.

Lisa Huang leans forward, dropping both feet to the floor. She watches him, dark eyes traveling over his face. “Aki? What’s wrong?”

Akio laughs, a little helplessly. “Just… so much is wrong, Lisa.”

“Talk to me, Nakamura. What’s going on?” Lisa’s concern is open, and genuine, and he can’t think of any way to answer except just to open the door, glancing to where Chris is waiting sitting on a bench in the hallway, and gesture him inside.

Chris comes in slowly - he’s nervous, too, and one hand grips tightly to the oversized plastic feather necklace he’s always wearing, rubbing his thumb over the carved vanes. He’d be less recognizable, Akio thinks, if he still had the long blue hair and not the short copper. As it is, he’s all giant green eyes and narrow chin, black compression shirt under a loose oversized blue one, black jeans, wearing his friend’s old black-and-white checked shoes.

Lisa glances at him, and he’d be less recognizable, maybe, with blue hair, but Akio sees the color drain from her face as she takes in a man who is, as far as she knows, a very dead boy. She moves to stand, gets halfway up, drops back down into the seat again. “Aki-” Her voice catches, cuts off. “Akio, what-... who is-”

“Lisa.” Akio’s own voice is rough, staying close as Chris steps inside further, then stops. His thumb rubs at the plastic feather, his other hand curves over his stomach, gripping into the fabric of his t-shirt. “This is-”

“Tristan fucking Higgs.” Lisa cuts him off, getting to her feet again. “He’s-... Aki, Tristan’s-”

“A little less dead than we were supposed to think he was. This is, um. Christopher Stanton.” When Lisa looks at him, eyebrows furrowing, Akio shakes his own head in response. “He was Tristan Higgs. Our, our Tris-... but he ended up-”

“Lisa,” Chris says, suddenly, the name slotting into place in a mind where memories still slip and slide out of his awareness seemingly at will. They stick or they don’t, and Akio doesn’t know what makes the difference. His eyes light up, and he takes another two steps forward, then stops when Lisa flinches slightly back. “Lisa, um, Lisa… Lisa-... you, you, you you did, um, you did, you were good at the uneven bars, were, you you you-you… you wore the, the same ponytail holder every time you did a meet.”

Lisa’s eyes fill with tears, the glitter of them visible even across the room, and her hands come up to cover her mouth. “Oh my God,” She whispers. She sits back down, but it’s more like her legs simply stop working, dropping so heavily the chair creaks beneath her. She keeps whispering, oh my god, oh my god, over and over, her face ash-gray, her eyes locked on Chris’s face.

“Wha-... what…” Lisa takes in a breath, and then another, and Chris moves closer to her, bit by bit. Neither of them is able to close the last foot or so of distance, and Akio watches them, his own lips pressed together into a thin line. He’d expected her to deny it, to call this a joke, to call Chris an impostor, but-

Lisa was the one closest to Tris, other than him.

Lisa remembers him well enough to see him in the older, more angular face in front of her, knows him well enough to hear in his speech and the way his fingers tap carefully on his own skin - finger-twist tap tap tap - that it’s Tristan, through and through.

“What happened to you?” Lisa manages. She sounds like she’s choking on the words.

Chris rocks a little, uncertainly, his eyes drifting to look to the windows, the walls, drifting over the framed team photos over the years. “My, my, my parents-... after-”

“I remember that. But you-... you had to go live with someone-”

“My, my aunt.” Chris’s eyes find the old photo of the team with the governor and lock on. His pale eyebrows come together a little, frowning. Something in his face goes distant. “She, she, she… she gave me up.”

Lisa looks at Akio, who nods. “It’s true, as far as I can tell. He went to stay with his mom’s sister, and then… WRU.”

“After he ran away?”

Akio swallows, and shakes his head. “He, uh. He says he never ran away.” He doesn’t mean to talk for Chris, but Chris is moving away from them, staring at the photo on the wall, wandering towards it and away from he and Lisa entirely. “She, uh. She sold him.”

Lisa jerks forward, as though she’ll be sick on the floor, and closes her eyes. “That’s not possible,” She says, in a low voice. “That can’t be what happened. They would-... nobody would do that to someone, nobody would-”

“They did it to him. He didn’t even know who he was, Lees. They gave him a new name and did that thing where they take all his memories and they sold him to someone.”

Akio knows the look on Lisa’s face. Her mind is spinning, overwhelmed. He knows the feeling, he’s cycled through it a hundred times now, his body and brain working to understand that while he was crying in his bed missing his best friend, visiting his parents’ fucking graves to leave flowers for him, Tristan was locked up somewhere, not even knowing who he was.

“But WRU only takes people who sign up on purpose.” Lisa’s hands drop. Her mouth barely moves. There’s almost no sound to the words.

Akio takes in a breath, glancing over at Chris, standing in front of the photo of the team at the governor’s mansion. “So, I asked, he says-... that’s a lie. They… steal people. Or people get given to them, like Tris was.”

“Who-... who did they sell him to?”

“Him. I was, was, was sold to him.”

The two of them look over to where Chris is pointing at the center of the photo. Akio moves over to him, Lisa pushing herself up to follow on his heels.

Akio’s eyes follow the line of Chris's arm, to his index finger pressed just lightly against the glass covering the photo in the frame. Lisa jerks in a breath.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” She says, voice flat, almost empty, the emotions struggling to catch up to the pile of information building up. “That’s-... that’s the governor that got fucking murdered-”

“Right before he was supposed to testify against WRU,” Akio says, blinking. “I remember. Our coach was super pissed because of the publicity. He had some kind of bombshell something that was going to-... oh. Oh shit.”

If Chris hears either of them, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at the man in the photo, tracing the line of his face with his fingertip.

"Right there," Chris says. “I was there.” His voice is nearly drowned out by the sound of creaking, of shouting, of bodies in the air or on mats coming in through the open door. Behind them, out in the practice area, nothing changes. Everything is the same, with Tristan and without him. Life went on.

Life goes on.

Here, though, the silence draws out, as Akio and Lisa stare at Chris's fingernail, with a star sticker stuck to it, and at the photo of the old governor, the one who died, with his arm around Akio's shoulders. Here, time stands horribly still.

"What do you mean-... you’d been… I mean, we had been told you’d, um, that you’d… you know-"

"Under the, the, the desk." Chris taps lightly on the glass. The desk was right behind them, in the photo. His finger is tapping just behind Akio's legs. "I was... right, right, right there. He, he, he, he liked that no one ever saw me. I was there.”

Akio looks at the smile on Governor Branch's face and remembers how his skin crawled at the man's too-friendly touch. How he’d kept asking questions about Tristan, pushing until Akio had gotten upset. How he’d joked with them and Akio had gone home and taken a shower that nearly burned him from the heat just to feel clean for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself.

How the governor kept asking about Tristan.

"I'm going to be sick," He whispers. Akio Nakamura, smiling gymnast, is standing right in front of the fucking desk. Oliver's hand curved around the ball of his shoulder and he's leaning in and, oh god, they're all smiling, all of them.

Their coaches had been so happy for the photo op.

“Tristan-” Neither of them correct Lisa on the name. “Are you-... are you saying you were under the desk when this photo was taken?”

Lisa’s in the photo, too. She’s off to the side, not really looking at the camera, smiling tightly. Lisa never liked photos, and she didn’t even want to go to the governor’s mansion that day. Her hair was longer then.

“Probably. Some… sometimes he would, um, he, he, he would, he would… make me wait in his, his, his room.”

“Gross,” Lisa says, weakly. “How-... how old were you?”

Chris blinks. He’s lost, Akio thinks. Inside his head, inside the memories he can’t hold on to very well. Grasping on with slippery fingers to images and thoughts that someone will have to remind him of later. “They, they, they, they told me to say I-I was eighteen.” He presses his finger directly over Oliver Branch’s face, digging the flat of it in until a smudged fingerprint nearly obscures the man’s face entirely. “They beat me un, until I said it.”

“WRU did?”

Chris nods.

“But you weren’t…”

“No.”

"Why would Governor Branch buy-... But why..."

"Too pretty," Chris whispers. "Too, too, too pretty for... for, um, for for anything else. He, he, he… wanted young." There's a healing wound on his forehead sure to scar and his green eyes are dark and Akio should move, before he throws up on the photo.

He can't. He keeps staring at the desk, like if he tries hard enough, he can step in and tell a younger version of himself Tristan isn't dead, he's right there, just look. Just look. Just look.

Tris was right there the whole time.

While Oliver Branch looked at Akio Nakamura like dinner laid out for him on a plate, he had Tristan under his desk, and when they left he probably pulled him out from under the desk and-

Akio has to turn away, then, jamming his hands into his hoodie pockets and walking away, to the window, breathing in and out as he stares at the cars in the parking lot outside. His blood rushes in his ears, pounds through his temples. His fingers pulse.

Behind him, Lisa asks Chris about his life now, and he answers, in his familiar stammer that Akio had missed so much when he had to live without it. He talks about his brother, going to college.

All of it is-... good, that Tristan rebuilt, that he has people now, a family. But he had a family then, one he should never have had to lose.

Akio has to let them talk, because he’s afraid if he opens his mouth he’ll start screaming.

How many people has this happened to? Akio knows the company line. People disappear into WRU sometimes, running from debt or criminal charges or homelessness, and they get a whole new life.

But he knows the other side of it now, too. He knows Chris - he knows his dead best friend was never dead at all. He knows what happened to him. He’s met a houseful of others - Chris’s older brother with a pretty smile who told him none of us ever want it, not really. The other quiet brother who has a scar on his neck he won’t talk about. The others who stared at him when he came over, terrified to get close to him, scared he’d turn them in.

Akio has started looking at the street kids he sees sometimes and wondering who ran away from WRU and who’s going to end up there.

He’s started to wonder if it has to be that way at all.

When he trusts his voice again, he says, “Did-... did WRU know you were-... weren’t willing-” It’s stupid, he knows better, but he wants - he wants so badly - for it to have been some kind of terrible misunderstanding. If it is, he tells himself, he can pull back from this.

If it is, he can focus on Tristan, he can walk away from the rest.

“They, they, they call us ‘underagers’,” Chris says, and he still doesn’t look away from Oliver Branch’s face. “We, we, we have special rooms. They… know. We’re... we, we, we... we sell for more. After I, I waas rescued they, um, they they they sent people once. To take me back. My, my, my brother kept me safe.”

Akio feels a rush of heat that threatens to burn him alive in his own fury. WRU has been giving the team money and marketing opportunities and bullshit since-... since they met the governor, who had been the one to hook them up with WRU in the first place, and… and the whole time he’d known what happened to Tristan, he was what happened to Tristan, Governor Branch and his oily fucking voice and his stupid jokes and he had Tristan the whole time.

WRU knew.

They know.

They’re still doing it, probably, hurting people like Chris, sending fucking SWAT teams after them if they get out. How many people are out there hurting like this?

There’s an idea that’s been building in the back of his mind. Foggy, barely-formed. But as his anger lights him up, Akio feels the pieces coming together. Speaking up, speaking out, telling people what happened to his best friend will probably ruin his career. It could ruin his life.

But there are a lot of people like Tristan Higgs whose lives are already ruined. A whole lot more whose lives will be if nobody ever stops it.

If he’s going to speak out, he might as well make sure everyone is listening.

“Lisa, do you still speak to the girls from the Canadian team?”

She nods, frowning. “Yeah, I speak to a bunch of different people still. Why?”

Akio looks over at Chris, at Tristan Higgs’s face. The last day he saw Tristan was at his parents’ funeral, wearing an ill-fitting suit and rocking against the weight of grief, his aunt saying it’d be awhile before he could come back to practice.

He’d never returned.

Then the texts stopped, then his aunt said he’d run off, then she said they’d found his body. Then then then. One lie after another, so she could fucking sell him. So WRU could make money off someone who needed help, who Akio couldn’t hear crying for him, for someone, for anyone, to get him out of this.

Akio turns back, and to Lisa and Chris he’s nearly a silhouette of darkness backlit by the light from outside.

“What if we-... what if we make it so WRU can’t do this anymore?”

“How?”

“I have an idea. Just... what if we make it so nobody can ignore what’s really happening anymore?”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @downriver914 @vickytokio

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #lisa huang #speak out arc #box boy whump #whump #modern slavery #box boy universe #bbu #wru #referenced past noncon #referenced past torture #referenced past minor whump

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willadisastercry · 3 years

Text

When the dust clears and you almost wish it hadn’t...

tw: emetophobia warning (brief but there), depictions of being trapped/pinned, broken bone, head injury, blood, threat of being crushed, threat of drowning.

The paladins respond to a distress signal on a foreign planet and make quick work of getting its civilians to safety, but on their last sweep surface side, shit hits the fan. Pidge and Lance are hurt but Shiro is trapped and can’t help them. On top of that, the conditions they’re stuck in are only getting worse. With no access to the coms and no tools to help them, the trio is forced to get creative and make some sacrifices.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Dust rained down in a continuous sheet, the tiny particles lit up in beams where the brightness of the day outside peaked through the mottled roof of debris now sheltering them. It seeped through their shattered visors and cacked their lungs making whatever ragged breaths they took after they realized they’d finally stopped falling harsh and desperate.

Shiro was the only one who hadn’t been knocked out after the initial collapse, more just dazed in momentary shock from the suddenness of it all, his visor most in tact and his com emitting static output that would catch a few garbled words every now and then.

The planet they were on had sent out a distress signal when the galra outpost stationed in their solar system had somehow managed to pull their moons out of alignment, and like on earth, their moons had significant influence over their tides.

Before they arrived, the land had only been hit by minor floods but as soon as voltron and the castleship entered their atmosphere, the unruly currents ramped up tenfold and small tremors could be felt from somewhere deep underground.

The abnormal weather phenomena hadn’t yet delved into anything seismic, just tidal, but they’d only been planet-side for ten minutes before alarms started blaring and the locals emerged from their homes frantic and scared.

Evacuation via lion had actually gone relatively smoothly, the paladins able to relocate the citizens before the trembles of the shifting plates became truly dangerous.

It had started off pretty tame, the rumblings far between and only enough to shake the windows and trees. But they steadily amplified the longer the evacuation went on until shaking became shuddering and soon trees were swaying and buildings were groaning.

After everyone was loaded onto the castle outside of the planets orbit Pidge flew the green lion flew back down to the surface stowing Lance and a lionless Shiro. They were in charge of carrying out the final sweep to check for stragglers, though the only thing they’d actually found was themselves caught in the height of a particularly large quake.

They were in the city center attempting to make it back to Green who was stationed at the beginning of the tree line on the outskirts of the city, antsy and waiting. But they would never get there because the intense trembling brought them to the knees before they’d even caught sight of the lion.

It would’ve been alright if the solid ground they thought they were on was truly as solid as it appeared, but it wasn’t, because the cracks splitting the pavilion open splintered towards them before they could even cry out and then the last thing they could hear was a roar almost as deafening as the sound of the planet ripping apart beneath their feet.

The fall wasn’t long or else they wouldn’t be alive to choke on the sheer amount of crap in the air, their helmets not surviving the broken bits of sediment that accosted them on the decent, cracking their visors and damaging their com systems.

Though cumbersome and clunky, their paladin armor was also sturdy and could withstand the weight of the rubble they were more or less sandwiched in. Their suits were ultimately what saved their lives in the initial collapse but it beat their human bodies to hell in the process.

Their senses returned with the panic of not being able to breathe, the moment they realized the ground beneath them was rough with rubble and uneven uprooted earth that wasn’t quite earth audible, marked by disoriented cries of surprise at the debris still falling while the quake that brought them down tapered out.

Pidge and Shiro came back to themselves first, raucous coughs pulling each other to reality over their ringing ears as they worked to clear the soot from their mouths and lungs. It was hard work. The air was dense with all kinds of minuscule specks of ruin that silenced them for a good minute while they struggled against the dryness in their throats.

It was Pidge who tried to move first. She was slumped over a chunk of what used to be a stone pillar from the building that was sucked into the chasm of non-earth along with them, her legs tucked awkwardly beneath her. She stopped abruptly to let out a strangled wail when she went to push herself up.

She hadn’t felt much of anything when she first woke up, just incredibly dazed as she fought to open her eyes under the layer of dust encrusting them. But when she put pressure on her arms she discovered that something was seriously wrong with one of them, collapsing back onto the jagged piece of stone to writhe as pain shot through to her shoulder and seized her back.

“Pidge?”

She barely registered the crackle of a low voice from somewhere nearby, her mind entirely consumed by panicking over the pain she was in as well as the unknown regarding the extent of the injury.

“Pidge is that you? Are you okay?”

It clicked then that it was Shiro speaking but she didn’t have air in her lungs to produce any answer other than a panicked whimper, too afraid to lift herself off of the injured limb to see the damage and incite another wave of agony. She didn’t have enough air to handle that again, sucking down what she could in too large of quantities for such a limited supply.

Shiro was going through a similar mental battle, though the first thing dawning on him as he registered his new surroundings was that Pidge needed help, not his own physical wellbeing. So naturally, he’d tried to get up as soon as he heard her call out only to discover he couldn’t move much because he was sprawled on his back amongst an ever growing pile of debris, his prosthetic arm likely crushed to shit under a sizable slab of stone with smaller chunks pressing against his chest and legs.

He was sufficiently stuck, pinned in place and unable to get to her but forced to listen as her anguished sounds continued.

“Pidge I’m trapped, I can’t—shit, I can’t get to you. And I don’t have visual confirmation from Lance yet so you’re gonna have to work with me here... talk to me, where are you hurt? How bad does it look?”

The sound she contrived then was like the ones before, except not for her own misery, not entirely at least. Because that meant there was still no sign of life from Lance which meant there was a very real concern that there wouldn’t be which left Pidge having to pull herself together and search for him since Shiro was otherwise incapacitated.

This would be sucky and not ideal at all, but necessary.

”Pidge?!”

Logic told her that bones mend and that pain was fleeting. That agony would be temporary, fear too, and once she found Lance it would be better, bearable at least.

And so with that resolve she willed her breathing to slow enough to form a coherent statement.

“It’s my arm,” she huffed quickly, the shrillness in her voice evidence of the severity of the injury.

“Okay, can you move? Is there something on top of you?” Shiro asked calmly, his voice level and sympathetic.

“No, I’m on top of it... if-if I move again—“

“Take a breath, it’s probably broken.”

Clearly, but Pidge was already ten steps ahead, her brain grappling with the notion of whether stabbing pain meant safe compounded fracture or gruesome and bloody and open fracture that would make her sick if she even caught sight of her own arm like that.

She shuddered violently at the thought and bit back a gasp when it jostled whatever lay beneath her.

“You’re okay, just breathe... are you sitting or laying down?”

Still so calm, somehow. So incredibly practical and disarming. It was almost unnerving how well he could do that, compartmentalize everything.

“S-sitting, sort of.”

“How?”

Awkwardly, Shiro. The man might be terrifyingly apt at rationalizing the impossible but seemed utterly incompetent in predicting the obvious.

“Folded over a rock and using it as my pillow... all my weight is on it—on my arm,” she ammended with a gulp.

Shiro took his precious time turning this information over in his head and the radio silence almost had Pidge worrying he’d passed out until his voice came back somehow even more blunt and pragmatic than before.

“That’s better actually. What I need you to do is hold your arm in place with your good hand, press it to your chest and use your shoulder to lean on as you sit back again. It should be less agitating that way—“

Shiro’s gentle instruction was cut off by Pidge’s cry as she sat up and away from the slab of stone like he recommended, her vision whiting as she cradled her arm against herself.

When she could see properly again she found her curiousity too overwhelming and spared a look at the mangled limb.

It was both better and worse than she had imagined. The forearm component of her armor was hanging on in pieces and clearly displayed the horrifying mess that lay under what remained. No skin was broken, but the tip of her bone was very visibly poking the already swelling flesh where the middle of her forearm sported a new joint.

The sight was overwhelming and her breaths soon came in short pants, the threat of passing out suddenly very real.

“Good Pidge, that was great. Take a couple deep breaths for me while you adjust,” he asked gently, his voice taking on a more solemn tone now.

She already knew what was coming next and began rearranging her legs beneath her, several deep breaths required to clear the black dotting her vision before she was confident she could stand testing their strength without them turning jelly.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but you need to find Lance... I’m not mobile and I haven’t heard him yet.”

“Already... on it,” she panted as she leaned on her knees before coming to a shakey stance.

The lighting was sparse in the pocket of nothing that the pavilion collapsed into after the fissure opened, barely enough to make out the terrain in front of her and then some. So she made her way slowly, toeing rocks and larger slabs before proceeding, checking for stability with every step as she slinked across the unnatural landscape.

“Follow my voice... I can hear you now... watch out for the crap still falling...”

Finding Shiro wasn’t difficult when his voice carried so well through the wreckage, even despite the shifting fauna and bits still crashing down and settling.

There hadn’t been another quake in the time that they’d woken up, but that only made finding Lance that much more important. If he hadn’t responded yet then it was more than likely he was pretty hurt, which would be even more dangerous for him to be alone if the rubble decided to rearrange itself.

“Hey...” Shiro laughed pitifully as she ducked under a slanted piece of stone to get to him.

Pidge saw his predicament immediately, he was looking at her from where he was propped up one elbow, his metal arm wedged underneath a piece of stone bigger than he was.

“Well, that’s not good,” she stated before coming down hard on one knee, clutching her arm extra close as she lowered herself to the floor for a better look.

“Let me see your arm,” he ordered in his leader voice, a futile attempt to deflect from his own issues.

“My arm is snapped, let me see if you still have one,” she countered expertly, pushing away his searching hand after once he’d laid back down try and examine the disfigured appendage now securely in her lap.

He sighed in defeat. Pidge had too many years of experience dodging brotherly coddling with Matt to concede to Shiro’s fretting and let him distract from her own triage efforts.

“How bad? Can’t really tell from this angle...”

“I’m not seeing much but there is quite a bit of space between the floor and the rock still so that’s kind of promising for the integrity of the prosthetic... let me get this crap off though—“

“No, you’re hurt don’t push yourself, it’s fine.”

But Pidge acted as if she hadn’t heard him and began to remove the rocks, turning over the more meager pieces of broken stone from his chest with her good hand.

“Pidge, it’s okay. I’m not hurt and you need to save your energy to look for—“

“Wait! Shut up...”

“Excuse me?!”

“Shhhh!”

Pidge held her hand up to Shiro’s face as she closed her eyes and listened for something. Shiro only heard a faint whooshing and a steady trickle until it happened again. A very guttural but human moan.

“Lance! Shit.”

“Go, he’s gotta be close, he was just beside me when we fell...”

Pidge moved swiftly, more nimble than she could’ve thought possible as she maneuvered around the rubble with only one arm to steady her.

“Lance, call out!”

Every time she moved her arm throbbed horribly, but slowing down was not an option, not when another quake was due and could occur at any moment.

“If you can hear me I need you to make a sound, throw something, anything!”

Her repeated shouts are what in the end got him to groan again, the sound of her pointed words coming closer making the pressure in his skull swell exponentially.

“That’s it, keep making noise...!”

As he tried to wake up and open his eyes he only succeeded in making himself more disoriented, the world seeming to spin even with his eyes squeezed shut.

It dawned on him then that closing his eyes when he had absolutely no idea what sort of life threatening situation he may or may not be in was a sort of really bad idea. He had no clue how he was oriented, no grasp of what was up or down, how his body was positioned, if he was hurt or not. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was alive but the second heart beat on the side of his head seemed to eventually convince him he was.

“Lance?!”

But then again the agony swirling around in his brain didn’t seem to care if it was stupid to close his eyes, nor did the intensity of the light above him that burned his retinas when he attempted to open them.

“Call out!”

Uh, no I will not, thank you very much.

Whoever was screaming in his face needed to learn some manners and stop. The sound pierced his ears like a thousand needles and traveled to the center of the heartbeat in his skull, another pathetic moan escaping his lips as he tried to reach for the spot.

“Oh, no—no, don’t do that.”

He was sprawled on his side, limbs askew and otherwise undamaged aside from his armor appearing nearly shredded in some places with how roughly he’d been tossed around in the fray. His helmet was missing and it took Pidge a few moments to locate it, almost wishing she hadn’t once she did.

The left side was dented, the visor cracked so severely that there was nothing but a few jagged shards left of it.

“You’re okay, I’m here Lance, it’s Pidge.”

Lance didn’t care that it was Pidge, she was screaming at him and it was making him nauseous. He couldn’t understand why she insisted on being so loud when he had such a bad headache or why she held his wrist so tightly.

“You’ve got a pretty nice gash there—” she muttered, her restricting hand releasing him to turn his head to the side “—a nice few gashes, actually.”

He must have made a protesting sound at the movement because she stopped and cupped his cheek instead, using the top of her thumb to wipe the tears making their way to his chin.

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright. Can you open you’re eyes at all?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Can you try? Only for a second, I just need to see something. C’monnnn, don’t you want to see my pretty face?”

He made a softer sound then and his eyelids began to flutter as he tried to pry them open, wincing at how painful even the dim lighting was once he did.

“Good, that’s good. Okay, I’m just gonna help you out here, don’t be scared...” she said as she moved her thumb and pointer finger to prop open one eyelid at a time and keep them still so she could get a good look.

His pupils were blown which was probably why opening them hurt so bad, more light was coming in than should be which couldn’t feel nice for his clearly rattled brain.

“Kay, all done... I think you have a concussion, but nothing else seems to be wrong aside from the still gushing head and facial wounds. Can you keep your hand there do you think? ” she asked as she brought it to where the bleeding was worst and pressed down, illiciting a hiss but no other resistance as he held it place.

“Great, you’re doing so great. I know you probably feel really out of it but we need to get you over to where Shiro is... and my arms kinda busted so I can only give you one hand...”

His groaning halted for a moment to let loose a low whine as he tried to open his eyes long enough to look at what she meant, his face scrunching up with concern when he finally managed to.

“You-your arm... s’hurt...” he choked out, more a restatement than a question, his tongue unwilling and his energy spent as he tried to form something coherent.

“Yeah, as I said, busted. But don’t worry about that now, just give me your hand.”

Lance seemed a bit confused at her command so she took up the hand that was limp at his side and moved it to his lap where she could reposition her own at his elbow.

“This is gonna be a tad tricky so just work with me, okay?”

He grunted a sort of ‘uh huh’ and returned with his own grip on her upper arm.

“I’m gonna stand up and lean back, when I do you’re gonna lean forward and stand with me...” Pidge detailed as she moved his legs so that they were bent towards his chest and in front of him.

It wasn’t that he was immobile. The rest of his body was free of visible injuries but his brain and his limbs seemed to be on different frequencies for the time being, the channels of communication disconnected and not taking signals from one another making his movements sluggish and sloppy.

“Okay, ready? Alright, up we go...”

What happened next was anything other than graceful. As soon as Lance was upright he lilted into Pidge who fixed her stance as he stumbled to keep standing, his grip tight on her arm and his weight almost entirely on her hip as he held his throbbing head.

“You good? Here, arm around my neck, just don’t touch my arm... there ya go. We’ll go slow, it’s not far,” she assured as she began to walk forward, Lance following in his own sort of zigzag next to her.

They made their way excruciatingly slow. Pidge moved with care, constantly analyzing the most doable path to lead Lance into, stepping on top of and over boulder sized bits of stone as he continued on whatever even ground she could find.

It was only when she was tapping her toe behind his knee to get it to buckle that he was aware they’d made it. He hadn’t heard Pidge asking him to sit, didn’t even register her hand on his face as he fought with the terrible heat on the side of his head that threatened to make his stomach act on how unsettled it was.

He let out a breathless ‘oh’ as his butt connected with the ground, a layer of recently upturned dust rising after him. Once he was safely seated Shiro removed his hand from his back from where he’d been assisting the transition.

“Shiroo...!?!” he gushed, the word sloshing in his mouth.

“Hey, Lance.”

Though he knew his friend’s demeanor was the result of a pretty gnarly head injury, Shiro couldn’t help but let a fond smile appear at his almost childlike vocalization.

“How ya feeling?”

“Oh, not good I think, right Pidge?—yeah, really not good...”

“Concussion, I checked,” Pidge provided after Shiro took Lance’s bloody hand away from the source of the bleeding to check the damage out for himself.

“That looks painful,” Shiro sympathized before returning his hand to the spot as gently as he could.

Lance processed that his hand had made contact again about ten seconds after which seemed to send his head realing because the next moment he was choking back a gag.

“Crap, it’s alright if you need to throw up. Just get it out, don’t hold it in,” Shiro ushered, his hand moving to Lance’s arm as he doubled over himself, his throat clenching against the bile rising and he sputtered.

He was sufficiently out of sorts and could hardly hold on to a coherent thought but he knew that he did not want to throw up. Not here in front of his friends, especially Shiro.

But the wave of nausea that was making his stomach cramp and his head throb was overshadowed by the sound of something crashing, like a stack of precariously placed objects falling over abruptly except much louder and followed by a sustained gush.

“Shiro..?”

The trepidation in Pidge’s voice made her sound so much younger, like how she did before Shiro left for Kerberos.

At the same time that fear erupted in his friend’s chests, saliva welled up in Lance’s mouth and he let out a pitiful sound, the new commotion having him seeing stars with how angrily his head pulsed from it.

“It’s probably just rubble settling, can you see anything?”

Pidge moved towards the biggest source of light from where the surface above them split apart, the scene hazy through clouds of dust and substantially obscured by larger breakages of sediment. She lifted herself onto her toes to try and makes sense of the destruction around them.

“No...”

Pidge couldn’t see much through the chalky blackness, just hints of structures here and there.

“There’s nothing there—oh.”

The gushing sound seemed to pull to the forefront of the concerning noises then, like a geyser of something had erupted and was emptying itself out into the chasm that had opened up beneath them and swallowed them down. This was concerning for a lot of reasons.

“Yeah, never mind we are so fucked.”

Lance wasn’t even trying to follow the progression of events going on around him, listening intently enough to make sense of a single sentence worsening the pressure behind his eyes while he stomach continued to flip.

The acid taste coming up his throat was putrid, but mixed with a grating layer of dust irritating the back of his throat, the presence of it while already massively disoriented was overwhelming.

“What is it?-crap Lance. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Shiro soothed, his hand secure on the other boy’s back while his frame shook from retching so hard.

“Pipe must’ve burst, well I guess not a pipe, more like a main...”

“A main? As in a water main?”

“Yes,” Pidge deadpanned, using her good hand to steady herself against a taller shred of stone as she continued evaluating just how fucked they were.

Shiro gulped, convinced he could actually feel the tons of weight on top of his foreign prosthetic growing heavier the longer he remained wedged under it.

“How much is coming in?”

He could hear it clearer now, like the rumble in your ears when wind rushed past them.

“Too much...”

With a hiccoughing whine, Lance pitched forward, nearly collapsing into the puddle of his own sick as he continued to gag.

“Woah, okay! You’re alright, I’ve got you... just do what you have to do bud.”

Shiro’s free hand on the center of Lance’s chest was the only thing keeping him upright as he worked through the rolling waves of dizzying nausea.

Pidge spared a cursory glance towards her friend, watching how his shoulders worked as he heaved for a moment before returning back to her internal spiral.

“Coms are wrecked but they’re out of range so it’s not like that really matters anyway... the air is pretty thin already, but the longer we’re down here the less viable o2 there’s going to be... and the crater we’re in is flooding so the more pressing issue is—”

“Pidge,” Shiro drawled slowly, his tone placating as he watched her pace back and forth, images of Matt doing the same thing surfacing in his mind as she did.

She might resemble her brother in appearance but their personalities for the most part could not be more opposite. Though during his time in the castle of lions Shiro had found that they actually share a lot of the same nervous mannerisms.

He knew Pidge probably had no idea how similar their actions are and he’s sort of glad only he does, suspecting the knowledge would only make her sad.

The only issue with this discovery is the fact that even though her reaction isn’t new to Shiro, dealing with it was, and once Pidge’s mind started working it was hard to get it to stop.

Lance was winding down then. His breaths still heavy and uneven, the stream of blood down his neck and front steady as ever, but he wasn’t gagging anymore.

“You’re arm is... fucked, my arm is fucked, and Lance’s head! Oh god, this is—“

“Calm down, we can figure this out.”

She spun on him abruptly enough that Shiro was scared for a second she might’ve given herself whiplash.

“Calm down?! How do you expect me to do that when we’re going to be underwater in an hour, hell maybe even a couple of minutes?!”

Lance’s shoulders seemed to slump somehow further from the volume of her voice and Shiro took a second before launching into his response to help him sit back on his heels and away from the vomit.

“No, I’m going to be underwater. You and Lance are going to start walking, climbing, whatever it is you have to do to get to higher ground—“

“Yeah okay, fuck that. We’re not leaving you—uh buh bah, save whatever case you were gonna make because I’ll promptly stop listening.”

The visage of Matt retreated entirely with Pidge’s indiscretion, her words seeding with irritation as she shut Shiro down.

“Pidge!”

“I’m so very sorry for my attitude but you really did just pitch us leaving you to drown, are you really that surprised?”

Shiro took a practiced breath, the kind he uses to ground himself because the pit in his chest was expanding and the last thing they needed was him devolving into panic.

He eyed the way Lance swayed as he sat with his legs splayed on either side of him, his hands limp in his lap and coated in blood from the gash on his head.

“You can’t stay here, not when Lance is hurt like this.”

“Okay.”

“Huh? Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. If you want to waste your energy trying to convince me to let you die, then that’s whatever because the reality is that you’re the one stuck under a rock and I’m the only one whose mobile. This is very much my call. Sorry big guy, but we’re sticking around.”

Shiro actually laughed.

He couldn’t ignore the way that his heart filled with admiration at Pidge’s defiance but it was overwhelmed by the burden of the fact that no matter how much pride he had in her for stepping up, he was still trapped and they were still going to watch him die.

He shuddered and Lance hummed at the movement, wondering vaguely if Shiro was hurt at all before the thought disappeared and the only thing he could remember was how insanely painful the knot on the side of his head was and how heavy his aching body felt.

“M’tired... think I’m gonna... mmmh, gonna lay down,” he managed with some concentration and put his hands on the ground to brace himself but didn’t make any further moves, his face scrunching up in confusion as he struggled to figure out how to maneuver himself down when his arms were so difficult to control and his head pulsed blindingly any time he moved.

“You can’t go to sleep yet, dude. Just sit with Shiro for now, I need you to keep an eye on him for me anyway,” Pidge instructed with a grin.

Shiro huffed and narrowed his eyes but it only made her smirk widen.

“W-why? Is Shiro hurt?” Lance asked worriedly, forgetting himself entirely and attempting to twist around to see.

The gravity of the action caught up with him a beat later, the groan that bubbled in his chest ungodly.

“Easy there, hot shot, I’m okay. Just a little stuck,” Shiro assured, stilling him with a firm hand on his shoulder when the surge of pain had him tipping nearly over.

“Kay... s’good,” he noted through clenched teeth before his eyes fluttered shut and his head began to lower to his chest.

A sharp pain from where Shiro flicked the side of his cheek that wasn’t cut up and coated in blood roused Lance from his attempt to rest.

“Ow. Rude.”

“Not rude, necessary. There’s no napping on the job.”

“I’m so tired though... just wanna sleep... you guys are so mean... why can’t I just—“

“Nope. You’ve gotta keep your eyes open for me bud,” Shiro chided, shaking his shoulder gruffly enough to have his bloodshot eyes shooting open.

“But why?” he slurred, the exasperation in his whine sort of heartbreaking, “I could just nap through... the worst of this, it’d be... it’d be so nice... wouldn’t hurt so much...”

“Since when are you all about what’s easy, you’re like the most stubborn human I know?”Shiro asked, his voice full of fondness.

“And you get enough beauty rest as it is, lover boy, you’ll live if you miss a few hours.”

The rushing water filled the ambient silence while Pidge made her way back to her friends from her watch post amongst the rubble.

“Are... we?”

Lance’s voice was a broken whisper, the gravel in it a painful attribution to the stress his throat had been put under between the abuse of the acid in the bile and coarse texture of the dust.

“Are we what, Lance?”

“Live... are we gonna live?”

The gush of moving water rose up in Shiro’s ears like roaring wind again but stronger this time, effectively tunneling his attention on those words, the innocence of them.

“Of course we are—“

“I want it on the record that I, Pidge Gunderson, am making no such promises.”

“PIDGE!”

“So loud... please... shhh...” Lance cried desperately, his hands almost comically slow to rise and cover his ears.

“WHAT?! I’m being honest!”

“You’re being negative!”

“Coming from the guy who just told me to leave him for dead!”

The fire in both paladins eyes was burning so brightly Lance could’ve sworn there was an actual glow with how horribly his head was beginning to hurt from listening to them.

“Alright, I might’ve had a moment of doubt, but we can’t—“

“Stop shaking me Shiro...” Lance whimpered as he drew his knees up to his chest carefully “—it hurts... please quit it...”

This broke the two out of their heated argument.

“I’m not touching you, Lance...”

“Then t-tell whoever is... to fucking stop!”

His chest hitched pitifully when punctuating the last bit with a pleading whine had his head swimming in vengeance. If it weren’t for the stability of hugging his propped up legs so tightly he would’ve fallen over with how dizzy he was.

Pidge looked at Shiro as if he’d know any better than her what the hell he was talking about.

Unfortunately for the both of them, he did not.

“Deep breaths, Lance. You’re probably just disoriented, it’s normal for head injuries to mess with your sense of balance and equilibrium—“

“Shiro...?”

He was beginning to hate hearing his name being called when it was almost always followed by something he really wouldn’t enjoy hearing.

“Yeah, Pidge?”

But she didn’t have to continue because he felt it then.

A steady thrumming from somewhere below.

A rumble.

“Quiznak...”

68 notes · View notes

jaedore · 4 years

Text

BINDING BONDS | 10

< prev | next >

parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, asshole Jaehyun, swearing

[ ☽ smut (suggestive) | ◇ angst (belittling, swearing) ]

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue. MINORS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, but I advise you to skip the sexual parts.

[ 8k words ]

You can feel the Spring breeze settle on your skin, the cooling wind planting goosebumps on your naked back as it brushes the blankets from your body. You reach for Jaehyun and his warmth, but the familiar body isn’t next to yours. Lifting your heavy head, you search for him in the room to only find him leaning against the balcony, overlooking the city below his feet. Putting on one of his t-shirts, you walk to him and put your arm on his back, rubbing circles on it. Jaehyun’s gaze continues to stick to the city. To you, it looks like he didn’t get a lick of sleep, dark eye bags painted his face, restlessness coating his eyes, his face showed no emotion.

“Good morning,” you smile. You comb your fingers through his hair hoping to alleviate whatever weighed his mind, “you okay?”

Jaehyun slightly nods to you, his head falling before he turned to face you, “yeah,” he said, “let’s get going or we’re going to be late.”

With that, Jaehyun turned around to head back to your room. Confusion blurs your mind as you watch his figure pick up the discarded clothes from last night. Why was he acting like this? Usually, he’d still be in bed and holding you in his arms, being all lovey-dovey. Was it something that you did last night that he didn’t like? Were you giving too much? Or too little? Did he just not get enough sleep? Nothing but the latter would answer your question after seeing him rub his face.

“Do you want to go grab breakfast before we go? We have a bit of time,” you glanced at the clock.

“No, actually. I’d like to get home as quickly as possible,” Jaehyun responded, not giving you a glimpse as he shoves clothes into his luggage, his hands tightening in stress as he didn’t bother to fold them but instead bunch them in his fists.

“Okay,” you drag out, “are you busy at work?” You asked. You wanted to know if something came up from work that he suddenly had to attend, but that thought disappeared as Jaehyun peered at you with a sliver of frustration.

“Yes, please. Let’s go home.”

You two board the plane, sitting next to each other not peeping a word. The tension between you two was so heavy that even the plane itself would struggle to cut through it. You sat still in your seat focused on your tablet as you did some work, but you also didn’t speak to him, afraid that you’d set something off. And Jaehyun didn’t say anything to you, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

You’re only married to her for business, you think this is all happy and fairytale-like? That everything’s all lovey-dovey just because you’re married upon a contract? No, I bet she doesn’t love you, she probably hates you because of you who are. A dirty, scathing, slug who only clings to the Jung name. Get your head out of your ass. The words his father spat at him echoed in his mind, it was like he etched his own words into Jaehyun’s brain, making sure they’d stick there.

He turned to you, who fell fast asleep, your head hanging over your tablet. Like second nature, Jaehyun gently supported your head until it was up against the headrest, he knows you’d complain about the pain if you stayed in that position. You looked so graceful, harmonious, you are everything he’s ever wanted but he knows he’s far from perfect. Jaehyun knows that you are perfect, that you deserve someone perfect, someone better than him. Who was broken, unfixable, and cold. Last night was the last night you were going to have each other, for he was convinced that there will no longer be a moment to cherish, a moment to be intimate, a moment to love. You were too good for him and he had been too selfish.

When he saw you about to wake, Jaehyun snapped his head back to the window, waiting for the sight of home to desperately reappear and for things to go in the way they were meant to be, just like how it was in the beginning. Maybe it was always supposed to be like that.

Perhaps you were tired and drained, or possibly just sleeping to avoid conversing with Jaehyun. You knew he was still frustrated so you didn’t think it’d be the right time to talk about your trip, you hoped you could reflect on that with him when he’s ready. You genuinely enjoyed every bit of it and you have hope that he did too.

It’s 5 AM when you arrive back home, the dark night sits upon you two like the mood. Not a word has been exchanged since this morning before boarding and the feeling that you did something that wasn’t pleasant to him still lingered in your mind.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your body shifted in the passenger seat towards his.

“I’m perfect.”

“You haven’t talked to me ever since last night.”

“I’m just tired, the time zone has me all messed up,” Jaehyun responds, his voice calm.

Bullshit. You thought. “What happened at work? You said it was because of work that’s got you frustrated.”

“I fixed it on the plane. We just had to seal a hard deal, but everything should be fine now.” he keeps his gaze on the road, but you saw the way his fist tightened against the steering wheel like he was trying to refrain himself from saying something.

You reached for his free hand that rested on the console, “you know you can tell me anything,” you caressed it.

“I don’t want to talk about y/n, I had a hard day today.” He responds in a calm tone, but it’s enough to slightly set you off in a bad mood because you were just trying to be considerate.

You don’t bother to respond, so you pay no mind to him the entire ride back home. You two are quiet in your seats again, letting the hum of the car above the pavement take over the silence.

The sun begins to rise as you two safely arrive home, ready to sleep through the day hopefully to prepare yourselves for the following weekday. You two are quick to shower and change and settle for bed. You wait up for Jaehyun as he finishes doing his nightly routine, gazing at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom you try to read his expression as to what is really wrong with him. Jaehyun wasn’t acting normal to you, but maybe he was telling the truth, that it is the jetlag and he’s just had a really hard day.

Jaehyun glances at your posture, reading how your arms are crossed and your forehead is creased, it definitely lets him know that you want to talk, but your features soften when you catch him glancing at you. Your arms fall to your sides and you turn away from him, covering yourself under the sheets as you let out a disappointed sigh. In the flash of a second, he knows that you’re disappointed. Were you disappointed in yourself? Or in the tension between you two and his lack of care to communicate to you?

Quietly, Jaehyun crawls beside you, mimicking your actions, his back facing you like there was a wall between and no one dared to knock it down, for who knows what chaos it would bring.

The next couple of mornings brought coldness to your body. Every morning when you woke up, he was already gone and out the door, not a text was sent, not a note was posted. Nothing. Like he just vanished in thin air until he appeared with the moon when you were deep asleep.

You went to bed every night alone, too tired to wait up for him. You tried to talk to him, but it’d always just result in him brushing you off like the dust on the picture of you two in Paris you gifted him. Even if you did talk to him, it was short and general. When you tried to ask him what was wrong, you’d apparently press the wrong buttons and an argument would ensue.

One night you grew out of his silent treatment. As soon as he stepped through your shared apartment, the time had already reached midnight. Jaehyun walked in, surprised to see you sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in your hands as you gazed at the lights that protruded through the night sky. The image of you before him made him long for you. He knew you were upset, he could tell in the glint of your eyes when your head turned to the sound of his steps.

“I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“I wanted to see you for once,” you respond.

“Look,” Jaehyun breathes, “it’s been busy at work.”

“I can imagine-” you scoff, “-but do you think I haven’t been busy either? I still try to make time for us, but every time I do, it’s like you don’t want it.”

“That’s not true. You know that.”

“But do I Jaehyun? You’ve been ignoring me for days! Every moment I talk to you, we always get on each other’s nerves and end up arguing. I haven’t even held you since we came back home. Please, please just tell me what’s going on.” You plead at the man in front of you, whose expression hasn't changed. You’re convinced that Jaehyun has turned off every emotion in his body, you’ve seen the cold, expressionless look too many times to count.

“It’s just a bad time right now at work,” Jaehyun defends.

“Yeah, I get it, everything is because of work. I got it,” you sigh, clearly too tired of the same answer over and over again. Perhaps it was a sign for you to stop.

You stand from the couch, legs stiff from sitting so much, and you walk up to your room. Jaehyun doesn’t call after you. You even turn around to see him still sitting in the same position, his body facing where you once were. You wanted him to say your name, to run to you and envelop you, telling what was truly wrong. When the silence reached your ears, with sad eyes you left him in the living room until he was ready to come to bed.

You don’t know when Jaehyun came, but when you felt the mattress dip behind you, you had a sudden urge to turn around and hold him in your arms, but when you turned around, you saw the well-known image of his back facing you. It took all of you to stop when you found yourself shifting your body towards him. You wrapped your arms around his large frame, sniffing the back of his shirt, inhaling the scent you missed every time you held each other. Leaning your head on his sturdy back, you heard his steady heartbeat. How peaceful it sounded.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but please, let me know. I’m here for you, Jae. Please, please talk to me. I just miss you, I love you. I don’t know what happened that made us like this but please,” you beg, clutching onto him tightly as you prevent yourself from crying. You held him as tight as you could, afraid that if you loosen your hold, he’d slip right through your fingers like sand.

Little did you know, Jaehyun heard you, he heard your sniffles and your broken voice. He knows you’re hurt because of him, but he also knows that this is for the better. It’s far better than if he were to completely give himself to you and let you do the same. So answering with silence, Jaehyun shifted away from your hold, leaving you alone and cold for the night.

When he moved away from your body, you felt your heart clench. Your chest heaved and quiet tears streamed down your face as the cold air hit your chest. His silence and action threw answers that confirmed you were his problem. With a small part chipping from your heart, you turned your back to him, a regular body position you grew accustomed to. Minutes onto your side, you quietly turn back to check if Jaehyun was sleeping. His soft snores and long breaths proved your thoughts and with silent steps, you left.

You weren’t as silent as you thought, though. Jaehyun felt you leave, he heard you collect your things, shut the door, and exit the apartment. A big part of him wanted to sprint to you, but the other restrained him, bound him to the bed like the stars to the sky.

Exiting the parking garage, you drove off into the night. You had no idea where to go at this time of the night, but the only person you wanted to see right now was your best friend. You took out your phone and dialed Haewon’s number, clinging to the hope that she’d pick up at 2 AM.

After a couple of rings, the familiar voice rang through the line, “y/n? Why are you calling this late? Are you okay?” the grogginess could be heard in her voice and at once you felt bad for waking her up at such an inconvenient time.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Can I sleep at your place tonight?”

“Of course. Text me when you’re here.”

Haewon kindly offered you the other side of her bed, since it was big enough for you two and possibly even somebody else. The soft duvet fell over your figure as you wrapped yourself in the nostalgic blankets, remembering the feeling from when you were young and would always have sleepovers with her. What the old times brought.

As always, Haewon was kind in letting you lay in peace before speaking. You were a composed person always with organized thoughts, but how come the expression across your face contradicts that?

“We’re fighting again.”

Haewon’s head shoots to you with wide eyes, your face still facing the ceiling, “are you serious?”

You nod to her answer, not knowing what other information to provide to her that won’t make you break down in tears. You were always horrible at holding your emotions in for such a long time that the tears brimmed and streamed down the corners of your eyes, wetting the side of your face.

“Oh, honey,” Haewon coos you as she wraps her arms around you, giving you the warmth of her hug and the comfort in her touch as she rubs circles on your back, letting you cry out everything you’ve shoved down.

“Paris was fine, it was fun, and I thought things were going great between us. But the morning we had to leave, it’s like he shut off all of his emotions. He won’t even speak to me and every time he does, it’s short-lived,” you briefly explain as your breath is still stable.

“Do you guys argue a lot?”

You glanced at her, “yes, but it isn’t as bad as before. It’s not what you think, but whenever something small happens, he just bursts at me.” Even through complications, you still find yourself defending Jaehyun.

“Arguing is still arguing y/n,” she breathed, “I can’t believe he’s still doing this to you. Have you talked about it to him?”

You shook your head, “Every time I try to, he always disregards it or says it’s because of work.”

“Bullshit,” it’s like Haewon read your mind, but only said them aloud.

“I-I don’t know what to do Haewon,” you stuttered as your arms fell to your side.

“Maybe something happened at home?” her voice rose in suspicion. No, she didn’t know about Jaehyun’s father, but there were always circulating rumors.

You inhaled a sharp breath, yourself beginning to calm down from your high of crying, “maybe. I don’t know, I’m done trying to talk to him for now.”

Haewon embraced you in her arms, “come,” she lowered your body to the bed, “let’s get some rest.”

As you lay alone in the silence, with Haewon fast asleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe the reason why Jaehyun’s been worked up is because of his father. Maybe something really bad happened between them and Jaehyun didn’t want to tell you. Were you two really lovers if he couldn’t communicate with you? But again, it is something very private to him. Your heart began to play games while your mind made sure to keep your thoughts linear, but your heart won the match and by the time the sun rose, you hadn’t gotten the slightest bit of sleep. You woke up before Haewon did, texting her your thankfulness before driving back to your apartment.

Jaehyun also couldn’t sleep. Without you by his side, how was he supposed to? Even if he was the one to push you away for the better, he knows his heart only belongs to you now. His large body took over your space and his limbs stretched to all corners of the bed hoping that he could build the same amount of warmth your body did when it was here.

Carefully, you cracked the door open to your shared bedroom, Jaehyun laid on his back, conceiving all the space on the bed. The fall and rise of his chest made your heart waver because you just wanted to jump in bed, to feel him, and to smell that homey scent he always carried. How peaceful things were before...where and why did it go so wrong?

“You’re here,” Jaehyun rose from his bed, snapping you from your trance, “where’d you go?”

You shifted your gaze from him, “yeah, I spent the night at Haewon’s,” you grabbed your clothes that hung in the closet, not giving Jaehyun any attention and getting yourself ready for the day. You heard a small “oh” coming from him as he left for the bathroom. You let out a long sigh that neglected to relieve any tension your shoulders held.

You swung your blazer around your shoulders as you sat down on the edge of the bed, after finishing making it. Just in time, Jaehyun came out of the bathroom. Hair wet, towel around his waist, robust body, what a sight that captivated your eyes. The last time you saw him this revealing was your last night in Paris and that was a while ago, everything has changed after that. He was so tender, soft, and kind, the longing feeling weighed on your chest as your eyes followed his naked figure into the closet.

“Jae,”

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?” you asked.

“What about?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? Is it because of your father? Are you having nightmares again?” Your gaze fell upon your fumbling fingers before Jaehyun could snap his head at you.

He hesitated, “no.” lies. Part of it was, but most of it was because of his own self. Jaehyun couldn’t risk ruining your successful life with his dark, corrupt one. You were the most perfect person he’s met, even with imperfections and flaws, he saw you as an angel. He saw himself as the dust that was even lucky enough to brush past your beautiful face.

“Then what’s the matter? Why haven’t you been talking to me, Jaehyun? Everything’s changed since we got back from Paris.” You stood from the bed in your poor attempts to get closer to him.

Jaehyun let out a loud sigh, clearly letting you know he didn’t want to talk about this, “can we just talk about this after work? I don’t want to start the day like this.”

Again. Again and again. How many more times will he brush this conversation? How many more times will he brush you off? You felt hopeless like you were drowning and Jaehyun was in the boat above you watching you be engulfed by the water, yet refusing to give you the anchor.

“This is pointless,” you mumble. You quickly collected your things and left after making sure to slam the door behind you.

Jaehyun watched you leave, it hurt him every time you did because he didn’t know if you’d come back. Every time he made you leave, you were angry and the night would just end up being filled with slammed doors and cold nights, whether you were present or not. He stared at the bedroom door for what felt like hours, wishing that you’d come back and want to talk about it and fix things. But what was he expecting when he was constantly pushing you away at every chance that was given to him?

The day didn’t go by any faster, any moment you had to yourself, your mind was occupied with Jaehyun. Like he made a home there and didn’t plan on leaving. You found it hard to not overthink everything. From the home-cooked meals to the sex, you couldn’t find anything wrong that you did. Maybe he didn’t enjoy the sex? Am I too controlling? What if I’m not giving him enough? Or Any? What if that’s it??

You sat in your seat, completely disregarding the presentation. Who cares about rubber shoes? Audace is a chic, luxury fashion brand, we don’t do rubber. You were so occupied in your thoughts that with abruptness, you stood from your chair and left the meeting without a word. You carried your portfolio and bag out the door with you, not bothering to stop at your office.

At Jung Corporations, Jaehyun had just finished a meeting while his father was at another meeting outside of the building. He thanked the gods for their grace in giving him his own office, he wouldn’t be able to last a minute in the same room with his father. Looking over the notes on his tablet, his mind wandered to you again. Like your mind, you lived in his. Jaehyun always pondered if you’ve eaten, if you were taking plenty of mental breaks, and giving yourself the kindness your heart needed. Especially when he was treating you like this, he was sure to tell himself that this is for the best. He knows deep down in his heart that you deserve someone who can love you better than he can. Someone who can not only give you the utmost, fulfilling love, but also life.

Like his whispered wishes, you barged through his doors. Jaehyun stood from his seat as he watched you saunter up to his desk with determination and anger in your eyes. There was no greeting, no hello, no warning, but just you pressing your lips against his. Oh, how much he’s missed the feeling, the warming pleasure from your lips, and how they executed tenderness. Like his body was running on his own, his arms made their way home on your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You gently tugged on the hair that laid on Jaehyun’s nape as he lured you to his body, before picking your legs and brushing papers from his desk to clear a space for you.

You weren’t even thinking clearly, you were only driven by your emotions, but you missed him so much that even this kiss was everything. It’s everything that you ever wanted and you were ready to surrender and give all of your morals to him.

Wrapping your legs around Jaehyun’s hips, he made his fingers busy by unbuttoning your top that laid beneath your blazer, later tearing it from you. Jaehyun’s fingertips set your skin aflame, every follicle of hair, skin he touched was burning and aching for more.

“Please, please,” you whined when Jaehyun’s kisses trailed to your neck, giving your sweet spot attention.

Regrettably, those words snapped Jaehyun from his muse. This is wrong, he thought as he immediately pulled away from you. You stared at him with your mouth slightly open, ready to say something, but he beat you to it.

“This is wrong,” Jaehyun choked out.

“I thought that this is what you wanted,” you whispered.

He scoffed in disbelief, “are you being serious right now, y/n? Do you even hear yourself? Thinking that I only want you for your body?”

“Well, it seems like it is because this worked,” you shot back, jumping from the desk.

“You think that I’m in this for the sex?” Jaehyun questioned you, as you collected yourself again.

It was your turn to scoff, “I’d like to think that because you haven’t spoken to me at all.”

“We just talked this morning!” Jaehyun retorted.

“Not like that. I mean like, actually talking about things other than your day, your work. I’m tired of it, I just want to talk about the things you enjoy, the things you want to do with me in the future.” You explained, sliding your blazer back on your cold body.

“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t talk about you for a couple of days.”

“That’s not what I meant! Oh my gosh Jaehyun, you are so oblivious.” You grabbed your things and left.

You sat in your car, your head falling in your palms. What has gotten into you? This is not you, you never act so rashly like his. You’ve changed and right now you’re beginning to think it was for the worse. Tears threatened to brim at your eyes, but you pressed your palm against them hoping that they’d stay in because you still had half a day of work left.

“Where have you been? You left so suddenly at the meeting,” your mother asked.

“I just needed to take care of something.” You lied.

“Is it because of Jaehyun? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, we just had to figure some things out. Don’t worry about it mother,” you lied, again. How many more times were you going to lie to your own mother? Lie that you were okay and that you weren’t hurt, heartbroken?

“Okay,” she sighed in defeat, you were indeed stubborn, “well if you’re not busy, go check how the Designing Department is doing, and then you can head home. You don’t look too good.”

“Yes, mother,” you nodded and headed to the lower level.

You stood in the elevator, waiting for it to get to the designated floor. Your mind replayed your little stunt. You still hated yourself for making your way to Jung Corporations, just how desperate are you y/n?

Ding!

You stride towards the prototyping of the outfits, double-checking that everything was right. Making sure that each outfit was according to the style of Audace. You were already in preparation for Paris Fashion Week, you can’t let a small bead even be misplaced. Every stitching had to have the exact, appointed color; every fabric must be to scale and cut sharply, no loose threads. There’s no space for mistakes anymore.

“How is this going, Chaeyoung?” Your eyes narrowed to speculate the embroidery of a jacket.

“Perfect, we’re almost done. All we have to do is to sew in the beads in the embroidery.” Her head nodded to the jacket as her hands were occupied with another mannequin’s outfit.

“I’m pleased to hear.”

“Um, Miss y/n?” Chaeyoung’s voice called, but her tone was informal like she was talking to you as a friend.

You turn towards her, humming for her call.

“Are you okay? If I’m being honest, you don’t look the best,” she worriedly states.

You blink a couple of times, even your mother said that you didn't look too good. Just how bad did you actually look? Last time you saw your reflection, you thought you looked decent, healthy at least. You nodded to Chaeyoung, “I’m fine, thank you. I’m actually heading home right now, so I’ll make sure to get plenty of rest.”

“Oh...okay. I hope everything is okay.”

Before leaving, you smiled at her consideration. It was interesting how everything ended up this way, especially between you two. You’d think that she’d have bad blood for you, but her kindness always made you reconsider that. In another world, you hoped that you two were genuine, friends.

You arrived home before Jaehyun, setting your things down at your feet, your body couldn’t even grasp energy to change. As soon as you closed the door, you grabbed a glass of water and sat on the couch waiting for Jaehyun to come home.

The sky that was painted in streaks of red and orange, transfigured into dark hues, letting the moon take care of the people for the night. You found your mind reminiscing about your past and the fun trip to Paris. Everything was fun as long as it lasted, you somehow knew things were going to get worse before they got better, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad and come so soon.

The familiar click of the door perked your head towards Jaehyun who looked like he had a stressful day. Maybe it was because of you, but you were silently praying that you were wrong.

“Hey,” he greeted, untying his shoes.

“Hi,” you shifted in your seat, waiting for him to come your way.

Feeling the dip on the sofa, you two sat in silence, letting the absence of sound drape over the apartment. Only the sounds of the beating of each other’s heart could be heard among the hum of the city and the heat that flowed into your apartment. The flickering lights of the city reflected against your tall windows as you let yourself speak first.

“What happened between us?”

Jaehyun shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been avoiding me every second you have and when you do have a second, you’re arguing with me. Clearly-” you emphasized, “-I did something.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then what is it? Is it your father?” your head turns to him, brows creased in concern. Jaehyun gave you no answer and you sensed that you were right, his father was the core of all this. “Jaehyun, it’s okay. I can help you.” you reached for his hand only to have him yank it away from you.

“Don’t you understand? You can’t help me.” Jaehyun stood from the couch, walking to the kitchen. Frustration coated his words and it began to dig into your skin. You didn’t want to pry too much or press his buttons again, you just wanted to help.

“Then tell me how. We can do this together,” your strides attempted to reach his figure, “I can find a way.”

Jaehyun’s body rapidly turns to you, immediately making you stop in your tracks. Especially when you see red, anger in his eyes, “no, you can’t. Unfortunately, you can’t help me at all.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, Jaehyun. We can find someone professional who can help.”

“You don’t understand and you never will y/n!” He shouted. Your body slightly jumps from the reverberate of his voice, it’s been so long since he’s yelled at you like that and this time, it stings your skin like salt on your past wounds. “You will never understand because this-” he points to his chest, the one over his heart, “-is who I am.”

“No it’s not, this isn’t you Jaehyun.” you walk towards him, but Jaehyun only steps back away from you.

“Yes, it is, y/n. This is who I am. I have been like this until you changed me for the worse. I cannot be fixed. I cannot be helped! I am like this!! This is who I am!!” Jaehyun repeats it several times until it’s ingrained in your mind. His shouting shoots at the wall vibrating his voice into your ears and it doesn’t sit well into your stomach.

“You’re angry. I get it, let’s just breathe, okay?” You offer your palms to him, understanding that he could just be stressed. You’re ultimately wrong when he aggressively slides all of the papers and decorations off the kitchen table, letting the plants and papers crumble to the floor.

“Don’t tell me to breathe y/n! I have held it in for so long, that I can’t do this anymore!” His chest rises from his hard pants.

You stay quiet, anxious to ask him what flashed through your head in red blinking lights, “do what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but Jaehyun hears it break.

“This. I can’t do this marriage,” Jaehyun replies in the same tone.

“When?”

He looks at you with furrowed brows, “When what?”

“Since when did you know you couldn’t do this?” tears begin to brim at your eyes, but couldn’t find care in the world to hold them back. Not after what you’ve been through, what he put you through.

Jaehyun’s face becomes expressionless, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hit me with that bullshit, Jaehyun,” you scoffed, “since when did you fucking know?”

“Our last night in Paris.”

A loud sigh escapes your lips as tears stream down your face, wetting your cheeks, barely holding onto your jaw. “Then did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Jaehyun asks. His meaningless questions burrow themselves under your skin, how oblivious could he be?

“When you said you love me you asshole!” this time it’s your time to shout, but it’s more of a cry for help. You’re begging for him to give you the answer you want, but the world never liked playing on your side.

It was like time had slowed down. You only stood a few feet from Jaehyun but it felt like miles. So far, yet so close. He stood in front of you hesitating his answer, debating if he could give you the truth or if it was better to rip off the bandaid and put a new one on it.

“No.”

You’re hysterical at this point, your cries turn into scoffs of breaths, which turns into laughter. They’re quick to rebound into loud cries when you feel your legs becoming weak. Instead of falling to the floor, you force yourself to stomp to your bedroom.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow you, wondering what you could be doing. His answer quickly comes to him when you leave the room with your large duffle bag in your hand, full and zipped.

“Where are you going at this time?” Jaehyun asks, surprised he even found the courage in him to ask.

“Out. I’m done Jaehyun.” You slam the door shut behind, leaving Jaehyun in the empty, cold apartment.

You ended up going back home, finding yourself in a spot where you had to explain to your mother.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you cried in your mother’s arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay to cry” she stroked your hair as she held you in her arms, “it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to feel what you need to feel.”

Since your father was overseas, you slept with your mother, you couldn’t stand not being alone at this time. Being in your mother's arms reminded you of when you were little and you couldn’t sleep without her by your side, it makes you miss how easy life was. How happy you were without a worry.

It’s been days since you’ve texted or called Jaehyun, he hasn’t bothered to reach out to you either. Every night for you was filled with tear-stained pillows and the unnerving feeling of calling Jaehyun, but you never reached across your bed for your phone. You two were good at being stubborn in ignoring each other, it makes you wonder if this was now the end.

However, Jaehyun wasn’t handling the situation well. Every morning brought him agony that it wasn’t a nightmare, that this was real and you were truly gone. He stayed away from drinking, the clubs, and only locked himself in the master bedroom, away from the world. Jaehyun often looked out the window, looking below at the city. Knowing that the road leads up to the apartment building, he always watched out for your car, but he only saw it in his dreams. Jaehyun waited and waited for you to come back. Again, what is he expecting? He’s done his deed in pushing you away in the worst way possible, how much more did he want from you? Why was he now asking for you to come back into his arms when all you’ve been is forgiving and loving to him? And he was the one to ruin all of it? The one to just throw it away like it meant absolutely nothing to him when it really meant the world. It’s fucked up, it really is.

Jaehyun thought about you every day. You live in his mind, you go to work with him, you’re in the car with him, you go to bed with him. He pretends you’re there in spirit, but he knows you’re physically gone. Insane, that is what he is.

“Come on, it’s been days! You have to come out,” Taeyong speaks through Jaehyun’s phone.

Jaehyun sighs, “not tonight Yong.”

“You’ve been saying that every time I call you. You never come out anymore, is it because of y/n? Are you finally getting tied down?” Taeyong only says it to joke around, but little did he know, it had a great effect on Jaehyun.

“Can you just shut the fuck up man? Jeez,” Jaehyun hangs up on Taeyong, clearly angry. He’s not though, he’s been constantly hurting, but Taeyong finds out the second he’s hung up on.

That’s why in the next ten minutes, there’s a hard knock at the door, forcing Jaehyun to drag his body to the door.

“What?” Jaehyun deadpans at his best friend who wore a smile on his face, which shortly falters after noticing the darkest bags under a pair of eyes.

“What happened to you?” Taeyong walks past Jaehyun, welcoming himself into the apartment. He looks around, for never being in here, he considers it as a luxury apartment, but something was missing. It felt cold and empty in here. “Y/n here?”

When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns to see Jaehyun silently crying, his head hanging in his palms. His shoulders shake from his cries as Taeyong embraces his best friend. Taeyong is completely lost, not knowing what was going on, but the only thing he knew was that he needed to be there for Jaehyun.

“She’s gone,” Jaehyun sniffles.

Taeyong pulls away to hear it again, hoping that the words Jaehyun expressed were false. Each time they’d meet up Jaehyun would never shut up about you, in the beginning, he’d grumble about the little things that you did that irked him, but as time went on, he found the little things to be the most precious. Taeyong found Jaehyun as a new jubilant person, he’d always look forward to things, he’d smile more at others, there was an unbeknownst glow that you brought to Jaehyun’s heart.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Taeyong’s brows creased.

“She hasn’t been home for days Taeyong. She’s fucking gone!!” Jaehyun shouted at his friend, bloodshot, red, painted within his eyes.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into a month. Yes, you kept count. It’s been almost a month without a sound from Jaehyun. You despised yourself for always checking your phone, thinking that the ding you heard was a text from him or a ring was a call from him. Your hopes failed you when you were faced with the ghost presence of him. A huge part of your heart wanted to forgive and go back into his arms, but another wanted to completely disappear from his world. You wanted to erase yourself from his story. You knew you couldn’t go back after he admitted that he couldn’t find it in himself to marry you or the fact that he didn’t mean a single action or word when you two were in Paris.

Lies everything was a complete lie. You slam your portfolio shut as you gather your things into your bag. You informed your mother that you’d be home later, you had to go back to the apartment to collect your belongings. All of them.

As you drive down the old road, little memories of you and Jaehyun lingered in your mind. The late, late ice cream runs, the drives to watch the sunset or sunrise at the pier, the little bits of laughter echoed through your ears, and the cold walks among the beach where you’d walk close to him. You two built many sandcastles that were washed away too soon by the harsh waves.

The familiar, tall, silver building came into view too quickly. You parked your car into the parking garage and walked up to your room, your feet remembering every single step so well that you could’ve gone up safely with your eyes closed. You softly knock on the door, fully knowing that Jaehyun was home. After Taeyong visited Jaehyun, he called you that day, and several days after that, begging you to visit him for Jaehyun had been isolating himself and was completely miserable.

The door swung open, letting a brisk wind blow past you, the nostalgic smell of your apartment softly hitting your nostrils. How much you’ve missed this.

“Y/n.”

“Hey,” your eyes scanned the man in front of you. Disheveled hair, dark eye bags, swollen eyes, and he looked like he’d been lacking in cooking for himself. Taeyong was right, he was completely miserable. But as much as your heart longed to forgive him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give him that kind of benefit again.

“Come in,” Jaehyun opens the door wider for you to come in. Nothing about the place has changed. You’re surprised by such a messy image of him, the place is well kept.

“I’m just here to collect my remaining belongings,” you reply, already making your way up to your once shared bedroom before hearing a quiet “oh” from him.

The room resembled your heart, it was chaotic. The bed wasn’t made, the curtains were halfway drawn, drawers were slightly opened by his inability to shove his clothes fully in, the laundry basket was overflowing and spilling of clothes, letting it scatter amongst the carpet.

“Jaehyun,” you silently whisper at the state the room was in. You weren’t mad, you were just disheartened that Jaehyun had been this frustrated that he couldn’t even take care of himself.

“I’m sorry,” he shoved past you, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he tripped over his feet by trying to pick up his dispersed clothing from the floor.

“Jaehyun,” you choked out at the poor man who sat on the floor, scrambling on his knees unable to get back up, and you couldn’t resist it any longer. He looked so frail, like a broken vase that had just been recently glued. You rushed to him and held him close to your chest, letting out a choked cry and tears streaming down your face.

Along with your cries, Jaehyun’s was also heard. He clutched onto your arm that settled around him, afraid that if he’d let go he’d lose you forever. Heavy sobs left Jaehyun’s chest as his tears stained your shirt, were you here to stay with him?

Jaehyun pulled away from your embrace, he caressed your cheek as he brushed a tear from your eye, “please stay. Stay the night before we both decide we’re over.” He didn’t let you give him an answer because he knew you’d stay. Picking you up into his arms, he carried your frail body to the bed as you attempted to calm your breathing down. Jaehyun was careful in changing you out of your clothes and into a shirt of his, for that was the only thing that was left now.

Nonetheless, you let him carry you, change you, you let yourself stay because you knew that this was going to be the last night you’d see him. It was a horrible thing, but you prayed for only one more night with him.

Jaehyun’s body came flush to yours, letting his arms wrap around your waist to bring you impossibly closer. He looks at you with eyes full of love but also drowned in sadness. He knows you’re not here forever. Without hesitation, Jaehyun pressed his lips against yours, the very distant memory of his lips sliced through your mind making you yearn for him. It’s only been a month, but it felt like years since you’ve felt those pink, plump, soft lips of his. Like always, it interlocked with yours like the key to a lock, like the last piece of a puzzle, like the calming of a river. There was no stripping of clothes, no coitus, just the two of you locking your lips together, feeling nothing but the actions of your mouths molding together. Jaehyun’s hands wandered your body, his mind needed to memorize the landscape of your body just in case you’d leave forever. But soon, they found a home in your hair and on your waist, while you found your place on his back and nape, occasionally tugging his strands.

It continued for a while until your jaw grew tired, your mind was worn and you were emotionally and mentally drained. As much as you didn’t want to, you pulled away. Jaehyun’s head softly fell on your chest, hearing the steadiness of your heart before he closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun whispered before drifting off.

When Jaehyun woke up the next morning, you were gone. The cold, wrinkled bed sheet telling him that you left hours ago without a sound. From the corner of his eyes, a glint coming from your side’s drawer glared his vision from the sun. It was your ring and a key on top of a handwritten letter from you. Jaehyun firmly rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was seeing things, but it was too good to be true.

Dear Jaehyun,

We’ve spent these past few months in hate, lust, and love. We have so many lovely memories that I’ll cherish forever in my heart. From the drunken laughs to the pillow talks, I’ve enjoyed each moment with you, don’t you doubt it.

I wanted to thank you for the things you’ve taught me. You have given me the patience that I didn’t know I needed, you taught me how to forgive, and you’ve helped me acknowledge that it’s acceptable to stand up for what you believe in. Along with that, you taught me that people can change. I want you to understand that I was nowhere near trying to change you or fix you. You are not broken, you have the infinite ability for self-growth. I wanted to be there for you, I wanted to help you, trust me I really did. But I cannot be with you until you love yourself. I cannot see you love me more than you love yourself.

Don’t lie and tell me you haven’t meant anything you’ve said or done up until now. I know your heart, I know there’s love in there for me, your actions were always better than your words. You were never good at lying, your ears gave it away, but even so, your words found its way to my wounds and like salt, I gave it to you to pour on me.

We were always good at ignoring each other and running away from our problems. To this day, I will forever wish that I woke up next to you, but I can’t do this anymore. If you don’t want this marriage, and you mean it, please forgive me for giving you every access to my heart. I wish that I hadn’t settled into the feeling of being someone you loved.

My last wish is for you to find love for yourself. You are worthy, you are worthy of love and to be loved. You were never broken, you just had some cracked areas and I hope that you can go back and paint those areas with gold. You are a strong man, you’re capable of love, always remind yourself that.

By the time you get this, I’ll be out and probably somewhere lost among the crowd. Please don’t look for me anymore. I need time and I need to make peace with my heart. This key and this ring is my returned gift to you. I hope you can give them to someone strong enough to teach you what I couldn’t.

And perhaps if fate allows, we will meet again when we are older and wiser, but for now, goodbye Jaehyun.

With all my love,

y/n.

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun series #jaehyun au #jaehyun #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct au #nct imagines

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ethereaiin · 3 years

Note

pspsps a2 waltzing would be pretty snazzy of you

features; you and a2

[au]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Ever since you were young your mother has always been strict, especially when it came to how you presented yourself. You were the daughter of the only grand duke in the kingdom and she thought it was imperative that you appear as perfect as your title suggested.

Being the sole heiress to the grand duchy held many benefits but forced just as many responsibilities onto you, which your mother oversaw with a keen eye. While you were given the best education in the country and excelled in various aspects of etiquette, there was only one subject you had trouble mastering.

Dancing.

You weren’t sure what it was about it that caused you so much trouble. You had the best instructors around, the top dancers handpicked by your meticulous mother, yet even they were still not enough to instill the precise movements of a basic waltz into your head. You couldn’t even count the number of hours you spent watching them elegantly sail across the ballroom floor, spinning and stepping in sync with the music before one of them offered their hand out for you to put all you saw into practice. Yet it would only end with you stepping on your instructor’s toes or dancing the wrong part altogether.

Your instructors never once told you what exactly you were doing wrong. They merely smiled lightly, shifting uncomfortably on their bruised toes as they spoke insincere assurances that you definitely improved from the previous session. But you knew it all to be lies. You danced nothing like them. Not as graceful, nor as nimble.

Compared to them, you were akin to a newborn fawn who just learned to use their legs. At this rate, there was no way you were going to be able to dance at your coming-of-age celebration without embarrassing yourself completely. Your mother would never let you see the light of day if you managed to step on the toes of your partner and you can’t even imagine the disappointment from your father.

You were the grand duke’s heir, after all, there was no room for mistakes. Even for something so minor as dancing. Already, you can imagine the face your mother would make when she witnesses your terrible dancing tomorrow during practice.

“She’s gonna kill me when she finds out.” You sighed as you sunk deeper in your seat, a plate of cookies placed before you alone with a steaming cup of tea. Many thoughts clouded you, many of them pertaining to your mother and some of them belonging to your beloved. “There’s no way I’m going to give him that promised dance. . .”

By him, you meant your unofficial fiance, Cirian Lacan. While you two were not yet formally engaged, you’ve been promised to each other since birth. It was an age-old agreement that had yet to be fulfilled due to the fact that both of your respective families had never produced children of opposite genders. Well, until now at least. You and Cirian were on great terms and you considered him to be a very precious childhood friend you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life with.

To say he was excited about your coming of age ceremony was an understatement. He had his own the year prior and was determined to be your first dance and you, being ignorant to the true difficulties of a simple waltz, wholeheartedly agreed. You wanted to make him happy but at this rate, you’d only give him several bruised toes and a terrible experience.

“My lady, you must sit up properly.”

Came the stern voice of your appointed personal maid and guard. You glanced up towards the left side of your chair where A2 stood, her face pulled into a small disapproving frown at your slumped form. Your lips formed a small pout, but you chose wisely to do as she said. You were a firsthand witness to her monster strength and you did not want to see what she would do if you refused.

Your maid was an odd person, one whose origins you were never fully informed of and was often shrouded in mystery. Your mother appointed her to you shortly after you were named heir to the duchy for ‘protection’ but the woman currently standing next to you looked as if she couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone wield a sword. She was tall and delicately lean, but under that maid’s dress, you weren’t sure if there was even an ounce of muscle to be seen. Not to mention her name. It was strange and sounded more like a pseudonym than anything else.

The only thing you had learned of her so far apart from her no-nonsense personality, was that she and two others like her were ‘gifts’ from the royal family. Your father would only relent that much to you and the other two that supposedly came along to your residence with her were nowhere to be seen.

“They are doing their work, my dear.” Your father said from his seat at his desk. His eyes never once lifted from the stack of papers in his hand to address you, yet you could still feel the warmth in his tone. This was how he displayed his affection and patience for you. Never once raising his voice in your presence or running you off when you so obviously intruded on his work. And then, under his breath, “Out of sight, out of mind.”

You never did understand what he meant by that and you were pretty sure you were never meant to hear it. Yet whatever the other two did, it was much more secretive than what A2 did for you. All you could do for now was hope that your father would explain more once you’re declared head of the family.

“A2, can’t you see I’m in a crisis right now?” You huffed, twisting yourself in your seat towards her and sitting in an even more improper fashion than you were moments before. Your new positioning seemed to noticeably peeve A2 who furrowed her brow. “If I can’t get this dance down, mother will kill me. . . and Ciri,” Your avert your gaze, your eyes softening as your mouth quivers into a frown. “oh I can’t even imagine what he’d do.”

“Cry, probably.” A2 remarks and you throw a light glare in her direction yet she shrugs it off with an indifferent bow of her head as if she were apologizing, but you knew she wasn’t. “I tell only the truth, my lady.”

As much as you wished to defend your fiance’s honor, you were well aware of his meek nature. A2 was right. He was more likely to cry if you ended up making your first public dance together a complete disaster. You only had one shot at this and if you failed, not only would you break the promise you had with Cirian but those nasty nobles who’d been attempting to gather as much dirt on you as possible would jump on this opportunity. They would use any flaw you had to their advantage, anything to keep you from getting the grand duchess title.

“There must be something I can do. . .” You nibbled at the nail of your thumb, a habit you accidentally picked up and one both A2 and your mother hated. While you were a normally composed person, the thought of your nearing coming-of-age ceremony and your lack of knowing a relatively simple dance seemed to have driven your nerves up the wall. “If I can’t dance, I should just avoid doing it shouldn’t I?”

Your gaze, which had fallen to the ground in thought, rose only to meet A2’s for approval. You wouldn’t say you and her were close, but the fact that she spent the most time with you out of all your servants, made her feel something akin to a friend. But with her, there was always a line in the sand she purposely drew. She never once made the effort to get closer to you and often discreetly blocked your advances from getting to know her. You respected her decision and despite her reluctance to open up, you still very much liked her.

She was pragmatic in nature and voiced her opinion often enough that you thought of her as honest. Her indifference towards you and the rest of the world was somewhat refreshing. Unlike other servants, she didn’t try currying favor with you and if there was a noble that bothered you for a little too long, she always made sure to tell them off in your stead. She didn’t care much for social standing and if she wasn’t the personal maid to the second most powerful family in the Leiden kingdom, you were sure she would have been hanged for how impartial she truly was with people. Her mouth would one day get her into trouble, you were sure of it.

When she gently smacked your hand away from your mouth, you could see the glint of resignation in her silver eyes. “Do you really want to learn that useless dance?”

“Hey,” You started, your hand settling back into your lap as you watched her move to stand right in front of you. “I won’t deny that dancing is useless. . . in fact, I couldn’t agree more.” You nodded to yourself with certainty and a satisfied smile. If only your mother and Cirian thought that way. You could be saved a hell of a lot of trouble.

“But this is what’s expected of me.” Your smile dropped at the thought of your father and all he had to sacrifice to get where he stood. “I really shouldn’t neglect this just because I hate it.”

“For a girl your age, you think too deeply.” You glanced up at her surprisingly soft tone. She presents her pale hand for you to take and you do so without much thought. Throughout the few years she’s been by your side, you definitely trusted her a little more than anyone else. “Being terrible at one thing won’t kill you, nor would it make your father think any less of you. No one expects you to be perfect, [name].”

She pulls you off towards the large open clearing of your room and it’s only when she has her hand on your waist that you realize what she’s doing. “While I can’t help you with much of anything in regards to your studies, this is something I can assist you in.”

Before you’re given the chance to process her earlier words or even the fact that she was helping you with dancing, she spins the two of you around; gliding effortlessly across the floor. With your hand caressed gently within her own. You stare at her with widened eyes. Everything about her in this moment had taken you by surprise, but you didn’t find yourself hating it.

A2 could be a kind person if given the chance and while most people had never minded how hard you exerted yourself to even resemble a bit of your father, she was the first person to ever realize the high expectations you set up for yourself. Your mother called your ambition and strive to be the makings of a true leader, but you sometimes found them to be nothing but burdensome. More than anything, you just wanted someone to tell you it was okay to mess up. Even just a little. Her sentiment warmed your heart in ways you could never truly convey into words.

So, with a cheerful grin, you swayed along with her. Though, your eyes stayed trained on your feet if only to avoid ruining the nice moment.

Dancing in silence may have seemed odd to an onlooker, but you swore you could hear the melodic beat in your head. You hummed along to the non-existent song, momentarily glancing up from your feet to meet A2’s curious stare with a grin. At first, you had trouble keeping up with her graceful steps, and more often than naught, you stepped on her toes. Each time, you apologized with reddened cheeks, yet she shrugged them off with a light smile and a shake of her head.

She was a much more diligent teacher than you initially expected. For every mistake, she told you exactly what you had done wrong and where you needed to improve. Yet, she was also so very patient. She went over countless parts of the dance, repeating the moves you had trouble on and never once expressing anger when you didn’t seem to get it.

This repeated for hours on end and well into the night before you finally called it quits. While you were exhausted with your chest heaving and small beads of sweat rolling down the side of your face, A2 looked as if she were not tired at all. You shambled over towards your bed, plopping down before looking to A2 who seemed to have read your mind and was fetching you a towel.

“Thank you,” You said with a sigh as you took the towel from her before patting the softened cloth against your cheek.

There was a few moments of silence between you that you used to compose yourself. Your heart settled into its normal steady rhythm and your exhaustion mellowed into fatigue. A2 stood in front of you, hands folded neatly at her waist and eyes lowered to give you some privacy.

“You’re very good at dancing.” You finally say as you drop the towel to your side. “When did you learn?”

“When you did,” A2 says as she lifts her eyes to meet your own. Within her silvery gaze, you can see obvious amusement. “I learned from watching you.”

A2 was always such a perfect maid. Doing everything to a tee and perfect in all aspects. You were unsurprised to hear she was a quick learner as well as a talented dancer. It was a shame her talents were held back by her class. If she were of noble lineage, you had no doubts that she would have given even the crown prince a run for his money.

Yet, there was something about her that was strayed from her normal indifference. You noticed it the most when the two of you were dancing. Her face looked so serene. With a ghost of a smile on her lips and eyes fluttered shut as she twirled you along to your hummed song. She was undeniably beautiful then and even someone so oblivious as yourself could see that.

You hummed at her reply, leaning back on your hands as you stared at her with a wide grin. "You like dancing, don't you?"

"It's. . . Okay." She says with a shrug of her shoulders. "Nothing special, really. I don't know why you nobles make such a big deal out of it."

"So then you wouldn't mind helping me out again, would you?" You offer your hand out for her to take and she does before pulling you off your bed. "You're a fine teacher. Better than those 'professionals' mother hired."

When you're up on your feet again, A2 attempts to let you go but you only tighten your grip on her hand. She looks at you, her brows high with a curious expression on her normally stoic features.

"Let's go another round, A2." You grin as you pull her towards the middle of your room once more. "There's a lot more I need to work on if I want to be perfect."

The woman behind you merely smiles, her pale cheeks tinged red as she nods to no one in particular. "As you wish, my lady."

#requests #finished requests #nier a2 #a2 #a2 x reader #x reader #reader insert fanfiction #nier automata #au

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