#i will settle for second best even if it means they simply regard me positively :( i want to be liked so so badly. just for who i am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

icosaur · 1 year

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Unholy exposé

König x G/N reader

smutty, mentioning of jerking off, no y/n mentioning

1,7k+ words

this is me trying to write something short, totally out of my comfort zone 🧍‍♀️

"God damn," the thumb of your left hand rhythmically rubbed the soft flesh of your right palm in circular motions. Hoping to reduce the pent-up pain spreading around the wrist and lower part of the palm, your thumb pressed harder where the pain felt the most pronounced. The heatness flourishing underneath the finger relieved some soreness, however, not for as long as you wish.

"What happened?" König, who appeared in sight fresh from the shower, ruffling his hair with a rectangular gray towel, got curious watching your actions.

"I sprained my wrist or something," your eyes locked onto the wrist, now peppered with reddened spots from harsh massaging.

Another mission went well; amazing snipping as usual didn't go unnoticed. Although, being a sniper had its own downs, especially when the occupation required hiding in the depth of the thickets for a couple of hours. Sore limbs from keeping them in one position, unable to alter the stance or relocate, as any second of inadvertency on the field may cost a life, therefore sacrificing commodity for the mission to be classified as successful - was more than worth it.

"Let me see," König settled on the rolling chair near the table and, shuffling his feet, scooted closer to the bed in his room you were sitting on. Leaving the towel draped over his head, casting a shadow on his face, he inspected the sore palm with an inquiry.

Some plans in regards to working out together were made previously, hence why you were in his room, simply waiting for him to finish the wash-up procedures and dealing with the naughty wrist in the meantime.

Meeting König at the beginning of the service was the best thing imaginable. Quickly becoming good friends with a gentle giant due to having a large number of shared interests had a significant pro - no one dared to mess with you. Just his presence and menacing appearance were enough to scare unwanted personas off, even if he didn't mean it, as secretly - König was the sweetest soul.

"How did you injure it?" glancing at your face plastered with curiosity, he asked. König never told you he knew massaging tricks.

"I don't know, honestly," his thumb pressed here and there a couple of times, trying to locate the root of the problem and once you winced as his thumb applied too much pressure to the thenar, he nodded slightly to himself, "I think it's because of the rifle whe- oh shit," last words came out more like a sigh, as his thumbs started massaging your palm thoroughly. Ridiculously massive hands held yours in the warm embrace as he worked his way closer to your wrist, then back to the middle of the palm, pulling the sleeve of your tactical long-sleeved shirt lower with his finger. Bringing some new sensations, you couldn't help but let out a couple of involuntary groans, which he noticed very well. Who knew he'd help you discover how erogenous your palms are, especially to a touch of a man twice as bigger as you.

However, this realization was somewhere far, far away in the back of your mind, as it was impossible to think of something while his soft, hot from friction fingers kept circulating the flat of your palm. Judging by how your body started to shift at the edge of the bed, receiving such decompression mixed with somewhat of a painful pleasure, he figured out something new about you. Not even realizing the sounds you were producing forced the guy to gradually drop his head lower to hide the fact of how flushed his pale skin became, you merely savored the satisfying treatment. Denying the excitement that washed over him by the fact you enjoyed this a little too much, he plainly stayed quiet and kept going with his actions. Placing the thumb of his left hand into the base of your right thumb, he wrapped his fingers around the back of your right hand. Gently moving his left thumb in circles, it released the tension in the large thumb pad. After that, using the same technique at the base of each finger and then along the right side of your right palm, you felt the release of relaxation thanks to the now alleviated muscles.

"Fuck, this feels so good," there it was, the crucial moment. If he could keep calm before this - right now, there was a storm inside his intoxicated mind, as well as in an elated body. A tsunami of guilty arousal, destroying everything on its way, including the last bits of sanity. The temperature in the room suddenly arose; tugging on his t-shirt a little König tried to circulate some chilly air. Muffled groans followed one after one when he finally decided this was enough torture. Only now realizing that he kept massaging with little to no control just to keep listening to the sounds, the euphoric embarrassment filled his mind. Feeling ashamed for what he has put himself through, his eyes shifted to your face. Seeing your eyebrows frown as your eyes watched his hands closely made him jerk his hands away.

"Sorry, let's work out tomorrow. I'm actually kinda tired," the chair he rested his now stiff body on, hurried away from where you were sitting. His back was now facing you as he began to look through some of his stuff on the table to look occupied, with the towel never leaving his head. Watching him silently for a few seconds, trying to understand the sudden demeanor change as he never declined the offer to work out before, you shrugged at long last.

"Okay," your hands slapped your thighs to lean your body weight on them and stand up from the neatly done bed, "I'm kinda tired too, see you tomorrow then," just before you could leave him alone in the room after a short yeah yeah to your statement, your hand slid up his shoulder a little to leave a longing touch and squeeze after on it, "thank you for the massage, I feel better already."

Listening to your reduced and soothed yet slightly rasp-saturated voice, as last words in gratitude spilled from your mouth, he was left face to face with an out-of-blue issue, tete-a-tete with the thoughts gnawing on his consciousness. Perplexed consciousness and a raging boner, in simpler words.

Cursing himself for reacting like this, his hands flew to hide the crimson face behind them. Once your echoing steps, walking through the hall, finally disappeared, the hands slid down his face, grabbing on the edges of the towel to pull down and land it in the lap. The hair was left in messily placed spikes due to being damp from the shower.

Chewing on the inside of the lower lip, some sinful thoughts were brewing as his eyes shifted from the belongings on the table to the dick imprint visible through the sweatpants. Clenching his fists resting on the same table, the flashbacks of you throwing your head back slightly from the pleasure he was delivering by doing something so simple bloomed, doubling the ardor he failed to suppress.

"Fuck.. me," a low, heavy groan was exhaled defeatedly once his palm appeared over the throbbing erection, squeezed down by thick fabric. Slow strokes lengthwise the girthy cock forced a march of shivers down his spine. Eyes closed shut under the scrunched eyebrows once the messy motions started feeling torturous and inefficient. Through the pants he was pleasuring himself, feeling too guilty to proceed.

However, once the arousal completely engulfed the guilt and the excruciating anguish was too much to handle - his hand slipped past the waistband of the sweatpants. Knowing full well he wasn't wearing anything underneath, his hand grabbed the exposed-to-the-touch, swollen cock immediately. His other hand, with the elbow placed on the table, stayed covering his eyes out of shame. His hips were stuttering, back arched slightly as his mouth fell agape. Slow strokes at first brought some new sensations, but when this wasn't enough anymore, he raised his hips, leaning on the chair's backrest to pull the pants down, resting the waistband stretched out at the mid-thigh area. With his back pressed to the same backrest, his erection sprung out, swaying slightly before his hand wrapped around it, securing tightly. Speedy, but steady strokes up and down the whole length were unbearable to the point he had to drown his own whimpers and groans in his throat to prevent them from escaping in fear of being heard. His hand kept his mouth shut while the other hand proceeded with the now erratic pumps. Swirling around his cock, the squeezes were now more firm. Feeling himself twitch, his hips worked their way further, thrusting in his own grasp. The silky sounds shooting past the rouge lips mixed with the wet noises coming from below captured the room as some unintelligible whispers were bringing him closer to the desired end result. There was something sinister about that murmuring voice; the tone, the chanting - everything was hypnotizing.

Once he pictured your hand wrapped around his leaking with precum cock - his mind grew dizzy with the heat that painted his cheeks with a darker pinkish shade, making him swallow scarcely as he felt the yearning ache spread around his lower abdomen. Brushing his thumb over the sensitive tip, he spread the precum all over it with circular motions forcing his own breath to hitch at the sensation.

"Ahh fuck," his back arched as far as it anatomically could once his twitching dick let out hectic spurts of cum profoundly. Overwrought, his hand sloppily jerked out the remains of the cum, as he rode his high out slowly. That's when the towel, previously placed in his lap, came to use. Breathing heavily, his eyelashes fluttered briefly to focus the vision on the ceiling above. His unfurled eyes widened once the brain registered what he did under the filthy influence of his own mind.

The towel, stained with whiteish fluids appeared scrunched up on the floor of the standing shower in the bathroom adjacent to his room. Deciding it's too humbling to deal with it for now, he jumped on the bed, burying his still flushed face in the depth of the soft pillow on the bed to get rid of the embarrassment he caused himself to experience.

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sotteoks · 1 year

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Fresh Meat | 🔞

──★ ˙pairing: Wonho aka Lee Hoseok x Fem!Reader ──★ ˙word count: 7.9k ──★ ˙summary: adjusting to the modern world as a centuries old vampire has been mostly easy for you. however, you can’t recall the last time you’ve had a meal that makes you want to go back for seconds. ──★ ˙contents: gymrat!wonho duh, vampire!reader, SMUT

warnings below the cut!

──★ ˙warnings: very very brief mentions of substance use, p*rn with just a crumb of a plot, biting, mentions of blood, switch!wonho, oral (m receiving), handjob, light overstimulation, fingering, squirting, mating press position, unprotected sex + creampie, please let me know if i missed anything ! ⸜ (｡˃ ᵕ ˂) ⸝

Searching the streets just for a fix. It’s demeaning, depressing and outright pathetic. But it is the price you must pay for becoming complacent and thinking that the hospital wouldn’t cut you off at some point with how much of a glutton you’ve become since finding out that in the city, money and influence is the easiest way to get what you want.

Three month waiting period for just a few pints of blood, my ass you bitterly muttered as you recalled your last visit. The hospital staff was lucky that you had some regard for human life or else you would have simply cleared the blood bank out and possibly killed their personnel for denying you. However, causing a commotion like that would mean risking being chased out of the country and you were just now getting adjusted to life here.

In a superficial modern society with impossible beauty standards and an emphasis on being ‘healthy’ you thought that it would have been a breeze finding someone to feed on. Much to your dismay, a lot of the upper class social circle you had infiltrated was nothing but a bunch of people who only looked perfect on the outside but were practically decaying on the inside. Disgusted was an understatement for how you felt when you discovered that even those who had the means to eat the best foods in the world, access to top of the line healthcare and the best personal trainers were still such revolting sacks of flesh. They were nothing but a human version of the picturesque fruits you would come across in grocery stores, just to bite into them and find that they were tasteless or on the verge of rotting.

The mere memory of your first time in an upscale nightclub is able to induce gagging as you recall the overwhelming stench of putrid blood best described as rusting nails soaked in vinegar and sulfur that surrounded you. A lack of nutrients in the name of trying to stay as thin as possible was the culprit. Substance use often sullied the taste of blood as well, but with the stresses of modern society you understood why people would turn to things like nicotine, alcohol, and the harder drugs to be able to feel okay. Blood from a person who was barely getting enough nutrients as is and used things such as nicotine or amphetamines to further stave off their appetite was sickening enough to send you into a rage. Yet it was something you had been coming across more and more frequently no matter where you ventured on this spinning blue marble called Earth.

And oftentimes, it was what you would have to settle for if you wanted to stay alive. If you had known humanity would come to this, you would have let yourself die eons ago with your loved ones instead of wandering the Earth alone and outliving everyone you had ever grown fond of.

Food is not only a source of energy and necessity for maintaining bodily function. It’s a part of culture and it has the capacity to make people happy. Much like the average human craves the joy of experiencing fine dining at some point in their life or has a favorite food they would like to indulge in, you found yourself craving the blood of someone who ate healthy, took care of their body and abstained from excessive substance use. With the decrease in accessibility to quality blood, the joy of feeding was gone therefore making staying alive feel like a chore.

Letting your sense of smell be your guide rather than waste anymore time walking around aimlessly, your feet followed where your nose led them to. Walking through the city streets at night, there were tons of different scents to be picked up, most of them being unpleasant, but the smell of the finest blood is sweet enough to cut through it all. As you continued down the block, the smell would become overwhelmingly strong and outshine the stench of—must?

Finally looking up, you find that your feet have carried you to a gym. One would think that the gym would have been an obvious place for you to lurk around if you wanted someone with tasty blood, but you had been around during the 1980s steroids boom—combine that with all the fad diets that had came and went, even the people who followed strict regimens in order to look like the epitome of physical health with their low body fat and high muscle percentage were just beefier versions of the rich, waifish looking socialites you called ‘friends’.

Seeing that you weren’t dressed to go to the gym, you wouldn’t dare enter the premises out of fear of attracting unnecessary attention. Lingering around the outside, you’re able to peek through the glass doors and are surprised to see just how many people were exercising at the late hours. Even with enhanced senses, you couldn’t narrow down who had been the source of the delectable fragrance with just vision and there were still too many different scents in the area. Pacing back and forth, you contemplate if you have enough energy to utilize a different vampiric ability to lure out the person you were after.

While lost in thought, the sound of footsteps approaching causes you to snap back into the present moment and panic as you realize just how out of place you must have looked. Examining your surroundings, you notice the nearby bus stop and dash to take a seat at the bench under the covered port. Listening closely for the footsteps, your acute hearing allows you to deduce that the person heading your direction was exiting the very gym you were lurking in front of. And it seems like Lady Luck is finally on your side as that sweet smell you were after was growing stronger as this person neared you. Despite this person still being at least twenty feet away, their scent intoxicates you and makes your stomach twist with this primal desire; truly testing your restraint. The delicious blend of such perfect, untainted blood with hints of sweat and remnants of this fresh scent— maybe from a shower earlier or from their laundry— has you practically salivating. Your hands had been casually resting atop your knees as you sat down but when you lower your head, you see your fingertips digging into your flesh as a means of relieving the tension in your body.

Without even looking up you can feel them heading your direction, the heat radiating off their body and their pheromones taunting you as their scent is so overwhelming you could practically taste it. Forcing yourself to focus before they get any closer, you pick apart the notes of their natural perfume and decipher their profile; your target was male, late twenties to early thirties, and in nearly optimal physical health. You could sniff out a few deficiencies in some vitamins and minerals but in comparison to most you had come across, he was perfect to you. What made him even more ideal in your eyes is that you didn’t even have to exert any energy trying to lure him toward you; it was almost like some sort of natural magnetism had brought him your way. All that was left for you to do was to seal the deal.

“Hey, I know I’m a little sweaty but is it fine if I take the seat next to you?” A voice gently asks you, in contrast to the mildly intimidating shadow they cast over you. “I just did leg day and I’m starting to feel it already.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine.” You awkwardly reply as you try to regain composure before facing the stranger. Looking up, you catch sight of the boyishly charming face that doesn’t quite match the muscular body it’s attached to but nonetheless, he’s a sight for sore eyes and the appealing aesthetic is enough to cause you to perk up in excitement. “Are you a member of that gym?” you question in an attempt to keep conversation going despite already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, it’s one of the nicer gyms in the area.” He replies casually. “Since I didn’t see you in the gym, where are you coming from?”

You can’t help but smile at his naturally friendly disposition, knowing just how little effort it’ll be to get into his head when the time is right. Not only would you have a satisfying meal tonight, it was going to be as easy as taking candy from a baby.

“I was looking for a treat at the cafe across the street.” You lie easily, gesturing to the aforementioned building. “But seeing the gym made me lose my appetite.” you add in with a small laugh.

“I’ve thought about stopping by that place but it would defeat the purpose of me going to the gym.” The stranger laughs along with you, contributing to the lighthearted mood of the conversation between the two of you.

Sensing that the bus was approaching soon, you now have to make the decision of how aggressively you want to pursue your meal. Should you slowly seduce him with natural charm or would it be better to eliminate any chances of him rejecting you?

“There’s nothing wrong with the occasional treat—especially if you have a good time burning off the calories.” You remark playfully, eyes catching his and carefully reading his expression; and maybe taking a peek into his soul and inner thoughts for the hell of it.

Just as intended, he had registered your words as vaguely amorous and he was flustered over it. The desire to entertain the flirty conversation is there, but he’s a bit shy and you’ve temporarily left him at a loss for words. Oftentimes you had loathed being immortal for so long however, in this moment you’re thankful you had been around long enough to master the gift of telepathy or else you would have interpreted the handsome man’s lack of response as him being put off by your approach.

“Maybe we can exercise together sometime.” He says, trying his best to keep cool. “My name is Hoseok, by the way.”

You tell him your name and manage to exchange contact information right before the bus arrives. Part of you had anticipated the two of you to part ways at this point and you actually would have to hijack control over the situation and take things into your own hands but much to your surprise, Hoseok seems to have no qualms about inviting you out for drinks at a bar near his place. You have to bite back a laugh at how absurdly easy he’s making things for you without even knowing it, making the prospect of feeding on him even more exciting for you.

Without hesitating, you accept his invite; teasing him and questioning if it was common for him to ask strangers he meets at bus stops for drinks to which he’s only able to respond to with a sheepish laugh. Going along with your banter, he points out how quickly you agreed to spend time with him and you’re backed into a corner; briefly wondering if you should give another go at reading his thoughts. Ultimately, you decide against it in the name of conserving more energy and not wanting to risk bleeding him dry when you finally get your chance to sink your teeth into him. Such a fine piece of man, it’s hard for you to decide where you want to get your first taste. Lean muscle with a low body fat percentage meant biting into his flesh would have the perfect amount of tenderness and juiciness; the idea of it makes your tongue feel heavy in your mouth as you start salivating once more.

Your hunger is only exacerbated by the fact that the bus is packed despite the late hour, forcing you and Hoseok to be packed against each other like sardines. So many other bloodbags- bodies surround you in the small space but the only thing on your mind is him. Your senses desire only him; to smell him and to taste him mostly but touching him and even just looking at him is exciting in their own way. As you hungrily eye the bulky man standing in front of you while his gaze is elsewhere, you can’t help but wonder if he would even feel that much pain if you bit him.

The bus braking aggressively after nearly zooming past a stop with one lone rider waiting causes a majority of the standing passengers to lose balance.

You and Hoseok included.

Stumbling slightly, you try to regain your hold on the handrail above your head only to have another passenger knock into you and cause your body to collide with Hoseok’s. Your first instinct is to mentally curse yourself for being so lost in your thoughts that your reflexes don’t kick in. The second thing that goes through your mind is losing your footing like that probably made you look more human anyway so it’s not something you should shame yourself for. And the third thing, perhaps the most maddening thought, is just how warm and sturdy Hoseok’s frame feels against yours. Time seems to slow down as one of his arms wrap around your shoulders in an almost protective manner as he asks if you’re alright.

On the outside, you give him a small nod of reassurance but on the inside, you’re struggling to keep your cool as you practically feel drunk after getting that close to him. It took every fiber of your being to not sink your fangs into him when you landed face first into his chest. Without even realizing it, you had been trembling from just how excited the physical contact made you and Hoseok had interpreted it as you being cold so he pulled you in even closer.

Your heart thuds against your chest so loud, you can barely hear Hoseok’s thoughts when you read them again.

Something, something— maybe we should just skip the bar and drink at my place.

The rest of his thoughts register to you as just a slurry of word soup with no real meaning because of your inability to focus. You’re so out of sorts just by being in his personal space, you accidentally leave the channel for telepathic communication open right as you think about just how much you crave him.

Right after the thought is completed, you panic and realize he wasn’t meant to hear that; but after that slip up, you wonder if he’s even able to comprehend what just happened. You coyly peek at him through your lashes to gauge his expression but his eyes seem to be fixed on the streets outside of the window as he waits for the bus to arrive at his stop. As much as you desperately want to read his thoughts once more, you had already overdone it. Your body feels just a tad heavier as you let yourself lean further into Hoseok as a means of support, wishing that the trip was over already. Hunger and lust no longer seem like two separate emotions with each second that passes while you’re in his presence. All you want is to—

“Oh, this is our stop.” Hoseok finally says to you after what felt like ages of not speaking; but realistically it was closer to five minutes. The two of you make your way past the other riders and get off the bus, making you realize just how suffocated you felt being in such a small enclosed space with Hoseok’s scent tempting and teasing you. Finally being able to breathe in the cool, night air you’re able to think straight again. Or at least, gain as much clarity as you can with him still being in the vicinity.

“Do you wanna skip the bar and just get some drinks from the convenience store then go back to your place?” You suggest, laying the charm on thick as you smile at him.

And of course, since he had already considered this, he agrees.

Finally getting back to his apartment, you’re encompassed by his fragrance and no longer have to worry about any repercussions of what could happen if you were to lose your grip. The first thing you notice after being invited in was the accent table in the entryway. Your eyes are drawn to the catchall bowl that sits atop it with a lone key fob inside. Just by the smell, you knew for sure Hoseok lived alone, so obviously the car key had to belong to him. But if that was the case, why would he take public transportation? The only logical assumption was that his car wasn’t working right and it was just fate for you to meet him tonight.

“I’m gonna shower since I didn’t get to take one at the gym, is that cool?” Hoseok asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Only if you're giving me an invitation for me to join.” You tease, watching the tips of his ears flush a light red color at your bold statement. “I’m kidding, but don’t make me wait too long.”

The two of you share a few more jokes and laughs before he finally goes to take a shower. Just as you wished, Hoseok didn’t keep you waiting for long. He returns to the living room where you had been sitting patiently in a plain t-shirt and grey sweats while drying his hair with a towel. Stray droplets of water bead around his neck and hairline just be wiped away with the cloth as he stalks toward you. Settling down on the couch beside you, the two of you resume the playful conversation from earlier while sharing a few bottles of soju between the two of you.

Carefully pacing yourself, you make sure Hoseok drinks more than you as you pour him shot after shot; encouraging him to indulge himself after a good workout even when he says he needs to take it easy. However, it’s crucial for you to get him to at least match the level of inebriation that you were currently at just from being in his presence. Even without utilizing your vampiric powers, you note how much influence you have over him and how willing he is to listen.

“You know, you don’t have to get me drunk to fuck.” He slurs slightly before chuckling as you pour him another drink.

“You can see right through me.” You play along with him, setting down the bottle and then nudging his glass in his direction. “So, it’s fine if I do this?” Inviting yourself into Hoseok’s personal space, you perch yourself on his lap with your lips ghost along his neck as you await his reply.

“Y-yeah.” He stutters out as he feels your tongue poke out to lap at his skin and baring your fangs, letting him feel the pointed canines right before sinking them into his flesh. You retreat for only a mere few seconds to admire the two parallel puncture wounds that mark his once flawless skin. Diving right back as the two little holes start to drip out the crimson liquid you had been craving all night, you feed on him eagerly.

Just as expected, he tastes absolutely divine. It’s hard for you to pull away from him because every time you think about it, you just want to sink your teeth into a different part of his body and see if some places taste better than others. On top of that, he’s such a delight to feed on him as he just gives in to you; letting himself be lulled into unconsciousness. Despite the amount of blood you were suckling from his neck, that wasn’t enough to stop blood from rushing between his legs and causing his not so little friend to start poking you in the butt.

It seems that you had underestimated just how bewitched you had Hoseok. Wrapped around your pretty little finger, he probably wouldn’t have minded you bleeding him dry. But during the few hours you’ve known him you have grown quite fond of him yourself. You would hate to cut your time together short. Mustering up the will, you finally pull away from his neck, making sure not to leave a single drop left behind after finally getting a good meal.

Seeing that he was passed out and probably having some sort of erotic dream about you, you get up from his lap and peruse around his apartment; getting acquainted with the layout and seeing what things he had kept around. Locating a paper to-do list on the fridge, you quickly scribble your name and number as it seemed like the polite thing to do since you were leaving without bidding him goodbye.

And with that, you see yourself out.

In the following weeks, you thought that you would be fine. You went out and did your thing as usual. But Hoseok remained at the front of your mind at all times. He texted you the day after you went to his apartment, having no clear recollection of what happened. Despite how much you enjoyed talking to him and wanted to see him again, you denied all of his offers to hang out again mainly out of fear of losing control in his presence. But the fact he always wanted to see during daylight hours played a factor in it as well.

It had been so long that you had experienced an emotion like this. You weren’t sure how to cope. Being careful about not killing those you feed on had always been something you worried about; but to feel even an ounce of guilt after feeding on someone was strange. As tasty as he was and how much you craved him, the idea of feeding on him again made you feel bad.

But of course, the universe works in mysterious ways and you would cross paths with him again.

Under flashy club lights, celebrating a friend’s birthday was the last place you expected to run into Hoseok. Before you saw him with your eyes, you were able to sniff out his delectable fragrance.

I guess the city is smaller than I thought.

You muse to yourself as you sip on your cocktail, very aware of how his scent was growing stronger and stronger until he finally made his way to the VIP section you were seated at with your friends. Not wanting to deal with any awkward conversations about why you’ve been avoiding him, you quietly disappear amongst the large group of people and scurry off to get lost on the dance floor. But it’s just no use. The natural connection between you and Hoseok strikes again.

Your time dancing alone doesn’t last very long because some random guy thought it would be appropriate to join you. You turn around to tell him off but he won’t take no for an answer, souring your mood to the point of contemplating playing along with him just so you could suck the literal life from him. However, before the opportunity would arise, a familiar shadow looms over you from behind.

Luckily for you, Hoseok’s mere presence is enough to get the weird guy to take a hint and leave.

Maybe it’s the liquor in your system. Maybe it’s the fact that whenever you’re around him, he serves as your own personal brand of heroin—the dramatic metaphor Edward Cullen used to describe Bella was the only way you could describe your feelings— but you’re not thinking straight when you lean into Hoseok’s firm body, finding comfort in him after the odd encounter you just had. His firm chest is pressed up against your back so you don’t have to worry about getting lost in his eyes. Not yet at least. You take it upon yourself to reach for his arms and wrap them around your waist, urging him to dance with you.

“I thought you were avoiding me, what happened?” Hoseok playfully asks, leaning in close to your ear so you could hear him over the music. It’s such a simple action, but the sound of voice paired with his breath fanning over your neck sends a tingle of excitement down your spine.

“I thought I was, too.” You admit with a small laugh, turning your body in his arms in order to face him. “I wasn’t prepared to see you here.”

“Can you tell me why?” He questions as his expression turns serious.

Eyes meeting his, you can detect the slightest bit of hurt under all the confusion and curiosity. It tugs at your heart to see him wearing that emotion. So much so, it compels you to do the unthinkable.

Wanna know a secret? You tilt your head curiously as you look up at him.

Hoseok’s expression morphs into one of surprise as he realizes that he heard your words but didn’t see your lips move. And even if your lips had moved, it would have been impossible to hear you as clearly as he did. It’s almost as if—

I’m in your thoughts.

Silently, you create some distance from him as you remove his arms from your body just to take his hand into yours and lead him away from the crowd. Weaving through the crowd of people, the two of you go out a backdoor that had been propped open as a feeble attempt to get more airflow into the venue. In the empty alley, the air is dramatically cooler and less humid than inside; it’s refreshing.

“Wanna take a guess about what’s going on?” You ask him as a dallying grin tugs at the corner of your lips. “Don’t say your answer out loud. Just think about it.”

In every single way, the current situation Hoseok finds himself in right now is the opposite of the scenes from Twilight. Yet, it’s the only parallel he could draw right now as he sees your pointed teeth glint under the moonlight.

You could read his mind. You turned down all of his invites for morning coffee dates or lunch. He first met you at night and now he’s seeing you once again under the blanket of nightfall. Before he passed out from what he originally thought was him being too drunk, he remembered you being very interested in his neck.

But those things could be just coincidences, right?

Vampires aren’t real.

Or are they?

Possible proof could be standing right in front of him but the fear of dying in order to find out the truth about what’s supposed to be a fictional creature terrifies him.

“I would never dream of killing you.” You say softly, a small laugh escaping you. “If I wasn’t worried about accidentally bleeding you dry, I wouldn’t have avoided you.”

The sudden confession eases Hoseok’s nerves; but it creates new questions in his mind. Questions that you listen in on and you’re more than happy to answer.

A combination of thoughts with a few more spoken words sprinkled into the mix are exchanged between the two of you before both of you agree on returning to Hoseok’s apartment.

As soon as you make it through the door, you’re all over each other. You move so quickly, it makes Hoseok’s head spin. In just one blink, you had him pushed up against his front door as soon as it closed. While kissing his neck, eager fingers unbuttoning the dress shirt he was wearing. Your lips follow the trail of exposed skin, going lower and lower until you encounter a new obstruction.

His pants.

A soft hand reaches to grasp the semi-erect length hiding under the fabric. Giving it a firm squeeze, you feel it twitch under your touch and grow harder. The little movement amuses you more than you should as Hoseok lets out little whimpers so you repeat the motion until you’ve gotten him fully hard.

“Please,” He whines out. “Touch me more.”

The desperation in his voice is so endearing, it makes you almost want to give in to him. Your fingers slowly inch closer to his belt buckle and you take your time undoing it. Hoseok’s eyes watch every languid action, silently wishing you would pick up the pace. Even if he knows that you could read his thoughts, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about what he wants you to do for him and to him.

“Let me have just one thing. And I’ll do whatever you want.” You say, looking up at him as you yank his belt out of the loops of his pants. “Will you let me have it?’

Without even bothering to question your conditions, Hoseok nods eagerly. Too far gone with lust, he would let you have anything as long as it meant feeling more of your touch. But of course, this type of response is exactly what you expected from him and it pleases you.

Making quick work of the button and zipper on his pants, you hastily yank the fabric down his oh so muscular legs; watching him carelessly kick away the garment once it pools at his ankles. Your hands run up and down his thighs, enjoying the way the muscle feels under your palms before you move in closer; lips ghosting along his inner thigh. Hoseok tenses ever so slightly as you litter kisses so dangerously close to where he wants you but not quite making contact.

Hoseok maintains a close eye on all your actions, anticipating what’s next. But his eyes just can’t keep up with you. He doesn’t see your fangs drag against his skin; he can only feel it but he just assumes it’s your regular teeth. Until he feels a small prick into the meat of his thigh and the sensation of liquid running down his leg. He’s only able to get a glimpse of red dripping along his thigh before your tongue is chasing after it and licking it away. Your mouth covers the two miniscule holes on his thigh before you start suckling.

His head falls back in bliss at the suction on such a sensitive area but he starts to feel lightheaded due to the blood loss. Lapsing in and out of consciousness, he can’t focus on a single thing except for how hard it is to stay afloat.

“Don’t pass out on me now.” You coo gently, digging your nails into his thigh as means of keeping him awake.

Eyes fluttering open at the sound of your words, his gaze returns to you and it’s almost like pure energy was injected into his veins when he sees you pulling off his boxer briefs. He holds his breath as his length practically springs out of its confines. A pearly bead of precum decorates the tip of his cock, prompting you to lap it up. The warmth of your tongue surprises Hoseok and elicits a small gasp of pleasure from him; only for it to turn into a shaky moan as your hand moves to grasp the base of his cock. Placing a gentle kiss on the tip, you feel his cock pulse under your lips before finally taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

“Oh fuck—” Hoseok whimpers, encouraging you to take more of him down your throat. With your hand carefully stroking whatever you couldn’t take, you hollow your cheeks and suck him off with a hunger that matches his neediness.

After all, you did tell him you would do whatever he wanted if he let you have what you wanted. And being able to get inside of his head took a lot of the guesswork out of it.

Your tongue is set flat against the underside of his cock, massaging the area with the utmost care as one of the veins throbs with every motion you make. The prettiest moans and whimpers keep falling from him, it’s impossible for you to ignore your desire to keep hearing more of them. So of course, your natural course of action is to not just keep going; but to up the intensity for him.

Just having your lips stretched around his thick length has drool pooling in your mouth and threatening to spill out. As you push yourself further along his cock, greedily cramming the entirety of it past your throat, so much saliva has gathered it doesn’t just help ease him deeper inside; it also starts running down your chin.

Hoseok can barely stand to look at you at this point; the visual is so stimulating it makes him want to cum just from the sight. All of his thoughts are scrambled and he can barely find the words to tell you how good it feels to have you deepthroating his cock with so much gusto. Only a series of gasps and whiny moans are able to come out of him as he feels himself melting under your touch, the door against his back being the only source of stability he has since his legs were starting to feel like jelly trying to keep himself up. The warm heaven your mouth and throat send him to is almost too much to take—especially when paired with the lewd sounds of you gagging on his cock and his thoughts of how good your pussy must feel—

“Please—” Hoseok rasps out, a shaky hand reaching for the back of your head.

“You want to stop already?” You ask mockingly as you pull your mouth off of him, opting to slowly jack him off; the slick sounds of your hand tugging on his length filling in the silence between you as he tries to find the words to convey his feelings. “We’re just getting started.” You pout, moving your hand slower as you enjoy the salacious noises created by his sopping wet cock being pumped by you.

“N-no! Don’t stop, it’s too good.” He cries out, feeling your grip tighten each time it passes over the sensitive tip of his cock. “It’s so fucking good.” He gasps, writhing under your touch as more pre cum leaks out of him adding to the wet mess of saliva you had created and contributing to the sloppy symphony as you pleasure him with your hand.

“Please what, then? What do you want?” You taunt, looking up at him as you feel his cock throbbing under your touch.

His face is flushed as he shyly meets your intense gaze, trying not to stumble on his words after trying so hard to string together a coherent sentence.

“Please…let me cum.” He barely gets out, another pathetic moan nearly cutting him off mid sentence.

Your hand picks up the pace; coaxing him to his finish but as he needily bucks into your fist, you decide to let Hoseok chase after his own climax just for your own amusement. Watching him closely, you observe how his chest rises and falls quicker with his moans coming more frequently. He was so beautiful like this, he could probably make the Greek gods green with envy. His body tenses as his orgasm rapidly builds. With one more tight tug of his cock, his seed spills all over your hand, some of it falling into your lap.

Your hand slows down, but you don’t stop your ministrations as you force Hoseok to ride out his climax no matter how much he whines.

“I’m so sensitive. It’s too much.” He pants out; yet his body says otherwise as he’s still bucking into your hand, the sticky mess of cum making him glide in and out of your fist easier.

“You like it though,” You laugh as you give his cock another squeeze, prompting more of the milky substance to seep out of the tip. “You really wanna end it here?”

Standing up from your kneeling position, you finally release his cock from your hold and lap up the secretion clinging to your skin while observing Hoseok’s current state. His eyes are glossed over, in a daze as he watches you hungrily lick his cum off of your fingers. It isn’t until you have swallowed the last drop, he recovers from his post orgasm haze and feels revitalized. You can practically see the life return in his eyes and the moment he regains his energy, his posture straightens before lunging forward to toss you over his shoulder then haul you to his bedroom.

For a human, he moves pretty swiftly and it impresses you. You’re further enamored by his strength; knowing that being able to lift you so easily was no feat to scoff at. When he tosses you onto the mattress, it causes the short cocktail dress you had been wearing to ride up and conveniently exposes your lace panties to him.

Hoseok is only able to admire you for a few seconds before the urge to touch you overwhelms him. Mentally, he wrestles with whether he should go straight for the treasure between your legs or if he should ease into it and take his time. But of course, you make the choice easy when you’re able to pick up on those thoughts. He looms over you, caging you in his arms, looking down at you with lust thinly veiled by that boyish charm you find yourself so enthralled by.

One hand slips into the fabric of your panties, making your lips part in a silent gasp. Hoseok’s touch is rough against your skin and he moves with an eagerness that excites your senses. His fingers gently gather the arousal that was leaking out of you before going to circle your swollen clit, causing a small moan to escape you. He’s fascinated by your mere existence; he didn’t think that the flesh of a vampire could be so warm. He wants to feel more of you.

Rather than rely on you telling him how to do things, Hoseok is eager to learn how to please you; letting your noises and body’s reactions guide him. Massaging your clit at varying speeds and pressures; bringing you so close to climaxing just from stimulating the small bundle of nerves then stopping when you were about to cum. He was a more attentive lover than you could have imagined and it doesn’t take long until you’re practically dripping all over his fingers and pleading for him to put them inside you. Not one to disappoint, he tears your skimpy underwear off your body; tossing the tattered fabric off to the side carelessly.

His digits were completely covered in your arousal after the lewd petting so when he goes to slip his middle finger into your weeping hole, it slides in easily and is immediately followed by a second. You moan out loud at the intrusion and instinctively pull Hoseok in for a kiss to quiet yourself. His kisses are slow and tender, a stark contrast to the way his thick fingers fuck your sopping cunt. The heat of his lips against yours is an addictive sensation, but you end up breaking the kiss when his fingers roughly thrust into the sensitive, spongy spot within your walls.

“Feel good?” He gently asks as his fingers slow down, deliberately rubbing up against that spot with more vigor. You think you let out some sort of positive affirmation to him—you’re not sure because your mind can only focus on how good you’re feeling—but his fingers pick up the pace once more, his palm slapping against your clit every time he thrusts deep inside.

“F-fuck, just like that.” You slur, bucking your hips against his fingers, desperate to reach your climax and regain at least some of your mental clarity.

It’s impossible to ignore the slick noises your cunt makes as Hoseok’s fingers work to coax your climax out of you. You’re writhing against the sheets as the two digits inside you pound into you at an ungodly pace; and just when you thought it couldn’t get better, you feel his thumb rubbing at your clit to give you consistent stimulation there. The white hot heat that pools in the pit of your stomach burns brighter and hotter with every action Hoseok makes; your legs shaking and moans constantly pouring from your lips. With a shrill exclamation of his name, your back arches off of the mattress, vision going blurry. You can barely process what’s happening as before you’re squirting all over his fingers and soiling the sheets beneath you.

Eyes fluttering closed, you take a moment to yourself to even out your breathing and gather your thoughts. The bunched up fabric around your midsection suddenly feels constricting despite you having it on for a good portion of the evening so you take it upon yourself to yank it off your body as Hoseok’s fingers help you ride out the remains of your climax.

He had been eyeing your juicy pussy the whole time. Watching you squirt was one of the most erotic things he’s seen and he desperately wants a taste of you. The only thing stopping him is his uncertainty about whether you would like it if he dove back in so soon after your orgasm. His thoughts are so loud now that you’re not so consumed with lust.

Unfortunately for him, eating you out is a privilege he has not earned yet. He would have to wait for another time. You can see his expression briefly become sullen once you relay the thought to him, but you put an emphasis on the fact that there will be a next time which makes him perk right up.

So, for now he would be satisfied with licking your remains off of his fingers after he pulls them out of you.

“Oh, wow.” You muse as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at him. “Your little friend is up after I fed on you and milked you dry? Aren’t you something special?”

Your gaze fixes itself between Hoseok’s legs and you wonder how long he had been sporting that hard on; and also, why on Earth did it look bigger than before? In all your time of being alive and playing with your food, never had you seen a man so lively after being drained of two bodily fluids.

Sitting back on his knees and no longer looking down at you, he blesses you with some more eye candy; letting you ogle at him for a bit and really take in just how well built he was. Your eyes trail up the expanse of his body before you meet his and realize the needy expression he now wears.

“Can I please fuck you now?” He asks the dirty question so sweetly, how could you possibly say no? The mere sound of his words make you wanna jump on him. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the fact that you wanna know what exactly he’s capable of.

Beckoning him closer to you, you invite Hoseok to fill the space between your parted legs, silently relinquishing all control to him.

With one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, you watch as he taps the swollen head against your overly sensitive clit; a shiver running down your spine at the sensation. You’re only able to watch in a lust filled haze as Hoseok drags his cock against your pussy, happily coating it in your arousal. Once his thick length is nice and wet, he eases the tip into you slowly. Just as the first inch slides in, you feel your toes go numb as he stretches you out. As Hoseok sinks deeper into you, your eyes roll back at the pain laced with pleasure. He may have done an amazing job at making you cum with his fingers, but now your walls were so tight and sensitive; trying to take in the girth of his cock isn’t easy. It hurts but you’re begging him for more; and Hoseok eagerly obliges, filling you up to the hilt and just admiring the way your cunt molds to fit him.

Taking a hold of your thighs in each hand, he pushes them against your chest, leaving your ankles to dangle over his shoulders. Leaning into you, the weight of his body presses you into this excruciating folded position but the mild discomfort is easily overshadowed by just how deep you feel his cock. His balls press against your ass, catching the arousal that leaks from your center before his hips draw back just to deliver you a hard thrust that sets the tone for the rest that follow, a choked out gasp slips out of you.

Your eyes roll back into your head as Hoseok fucks you into the sheets, your mind becoming scrambled and only able to focus on how good he makes you feel. Good was a gross understatement for the pleasure he gives you but it would have to suffice with how hazy your mind was.

It doesn’t take long until he’s desperately rutting into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixed in with your moans and Hoseok’s heavy panting filling his otherwise silent bedroom.

“Oh my god,” He rasps out. “How are you so wet?” His question comes out as a breathless whisper. Both of you are able to feel the gush of arousal that seeps out of your pussy at the sound of his voice but rather than make another comment on it, he thrusts into you faster. You snap out of your daze just to watch Hoseok’s head fall back as he loses himself in the feeling of how wet and warm your walls around his cock.

“There, fuck, right there!” You barely get out between moans as the angle of his thrusts shift ever so slightly and hits that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Half lidded eyes focus on how much more attractive he appears as he’s pounding away at your g-spot, eager to make you cum again.

Your legs shake and your moans get breathier and whinier. All the tell tale signs of you being extremely close to cumming were there, but it still took you by surprise when your walls squeezed down impossibly tight on his dick. You shiver as your climax hits you, your juices trickling down on to his length that’s still moving in and out of you as he’s now able to selfishly chase after his own orgasm. Breathy whimpers fall from you as he continues to stimulate your walls, fucking you through your climax and prolonging the sensation of euphoria overtaking your body.

“W-where should I cum?” Hoseok asks, looking down at you with pupils blown out with lust and the neediest expression on his face.

“Wherever you want.” You tell him as a tired smile graces your features, your hand reaching to stroke his cheek fondly. You see it in his eyes, the notion of being allowed to cum where he wanted excites him even more. He pummels into your pussy at his fastest speed yet, searching for his own little slice of heaven within your walls. With the most beautiful sound you’ve heard, he finally unleashes his load inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. You sigh happily as you let him take a few more moments to ride out his climax before slipping your legs off of his shoulders and carefully pulling yourself off of his cock.

Hoseok’s orgasm had sapped the last bit of energy he had out of him as he slumped onto the bed, lying opposite of you. Satisfied with your encounter with him, you kiss his forehead and wish him sweet dreams before you bid him goodbye.

You would disappear before the sun started to rise, but once it was nightfall, you would happily return to him.

#monsta x imagines #monsta x fanfiction #monsta x scenarios #monsta x smut #wonho scenarios #wonho smut #wonho imagines #wonho x reader #lee hoseok smut #kpop smut #sttks writing

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insomniasymphony · 4 months

Text

Gojo x Geto Threeshot (2/3)

Title: Past Summer Lies Important: Read the first chapter here on Tumblr or on Ao3!

→ Cherry blossoms. I still remember the cherry blossoms we cursed that day, even though the time had long since passed. I think Tengen saw through us earlier than we saw through ourselves. Even though Tengen probably only recognised us as alien presences. ←

Suguru Geto, in a place long forgotten.

He walks up and down. Each of his steps makes a clattering sound – a bit like marbles rolling across a wooden floor. The preparations have been made. The seal paper is placed where it should be. Geto’s hair is positioned; and yet Satoru hasn’t lit a flame yet.

There’s no point in summoning Suguru and questioning his ghost – no, rather his soul – further if he doesn’t know the first thing about Kenjaku. He’s just as wise as all the other Jujutsu Sorcerers in the neighbourhood and therefore no help to be pulled out of the netherworld. There are two thousand things more important than dealing with old stuff in these seconds. Not least because he can’t make the same mistake he made in Shinjuku. His carelessness has cost the lives of so many that it is simply laughable to regard him as the strongest of his time.

However, there is this faint whispering in his head creeping to the fore with inappropriate phrases. He is Satoru Gojo, after all. Now that he has realised his mistake and become stronger, no one can really hold a candle to him. So why not have a little chat with an old friend? After all, they haven’t seen each other for three days – in theory.

His unsteady steps stop abruptly as he looks at the situation from this different angle. What does a few minutes cost when nobody wants more from him than safety in a broken world?

Armed with a lighter, Satoru finally approaches the hair and sets it alight. The flame turns an icy blue colour and before he can turn around, he notices the existence of someone else in the room. He closes his eyes briefly. It’s nothing more than his imagination, but Suguru’s subtle tangerine smell won’t let him go.

“I thought your questions had been cleared up after last time. I didn’t realise you had a weakness for sentimentality.”

“Or I just don’t have anyone at the moment who doesn’t run the other way when I talk.” A thin smile settles on Gojo’s lips as he taps the table in front of him and then half-turns to Suguru. “You can’t run away, so why not take the chance?”

“Please spare me your crying about the world being upside down. We realised that back then and no, they’re not going to pay you any better. You just need to learn to manage your finances properly.” Momentarily, Geto raises his hand before brushing a long strand of hair over his shoulder.

In this guise, he just looks like the corrupt monk he was in the end. The scar is missing and even if his gaze looks tired, there is no hint of alien life in his body.

“As harsh as ever,” is all Gojo manages to say in a grumble. Then he lowers his gaze. For a moment, asking the questions lurking in the back of his consciousness ever since can’t be wrong. “Do you resent me?”

“For what, exactly?”

“That it was me who killed you back then... Who had to give you death to protect... all of this.”

The silence sprouting between them roars in Satoru’s ears. He could clench his hands into fists, but showing more weakness than necessary isn’t what will get him to his goal. Weakness in this way isn’t allowed. So he raises his eyes and scrutinises his best friend – the clothes, the hair, the look of honest consideration on his features.

“I don’t know,” Geto finally replies. “I think it was difficult for both of us. It was a moment we both regretted in our own way.”

“What do you mean?” He actually knows. But there are hundreds of answers that could apply. Sure, they both regretted it. Because of that time. Because of the days they spent together. Because of their youth. Thanks to the fact they had been friends – and they still are today. The best.

And it is this certainty that makes Gojo realise he knows nothing. Absolutely nothing. He remembers the feeling when he killed Suguru – right through the heart – and he also remembers the pain in his chest. The tears he held back and the trembling hands, full of blood, as he hugged him one last time to say goodbye. The twisted understanding between them and the pain Satoru pushed into a box in the farthest corner of his heart afterwards have remained. After all these years.

Hearing an answer from Suguru would make it easier.

“You don’t really think I’m going to hand that to you on a silver platter, do you? I’m not even sure you have enough brain cells to understand the meaning behind it.” Suguru, however, can only muster a sigh as he lifts his shoulders and pretends to be talking to a bitter poodle.

“What else? When have you ever served me anything on a silver platter?” Protest leaves Gojo’s lips and though he doesn’t want to get hung up on it, he juts his chin with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you don’t know yourself.”

But Geto refuses to be provoked. The gentle smile on his lips speaks volumes. Whole worlds Gojo simply can’t grasp until his best friend throws a few scraps of intelligible language at his feet. “It’s just like when you thought Tengen was bored when cherry blossoms were still blooming in summer.”

And it is this simple sentence that widens Gojo’s eyes.

He remembers that day. His stupid words and the missed opportunity.

“I'm suffocating.” The fabric rustled as Geto braced himself against Satoru’s chest to put his head aside.

“Then you should try to take a breath,” Gojo replied nonchalantly. He lowered his head only slowly, so Geto’s black mop of hair and the soothing smell of tangerine hung clearly in the air. “If you push against me any harder, you’ll tear the closet in two.”

“Or I’ll kick you out. I can justify a sacrifice in Masamichi’s honour.”

“Then he’ll find us both. I’m not good at keeping quiet.” Gojo lowered his voice briefly. The approaching footsteps outside forced him to be quiet – all while his heart beat faster and heat clung to his body. The summer months were a nightmare.

Suguru felt it too. Instead of responding, he stopped fighting back and accepted the confinement of the closet they were hiding in to escape Masamichi and his boring teachings. No normal person wanted to do any training under the blazing sun when they could relax in the shade.

The heavy footsteps of their problem shuffled into the classroom. Then silence followed, with only Gojo’s breathing ringing audibly in his ears. The sound of another, the restlessness of a body under whose skin lay absolute self-control. Heat was building up. And when Satoru closed his eyes, the blue sky lay above him, while orange trees adorned the surroundings and Geto lay in his arms.

He immediately opened his eyes again.

What a weird thought. Nothing more. Nothing less.

When the movements outside resumed, Gojo barely held back a sigh of relief. Only when the sliding door closed and the echo in the corridor could no longer be heard did he take a deep breath. Suguru, however, immediately reached for the door and opened the closet before stumbling out. His loud exhalation was almost offensive and, as he propped himself up on his knees, Satoru pushed his lower lip forward.

“I don’t smell that bad!”

“Hah?” Raising his brows in disbelief, Geto glanced over his shoulder before a laugh escaped him. “I’d almost forgotten you’re vain.”

“I’m not vain! Just very sensitive when it comes to me.”

“Spoilt,” Suguru corrected, “and definitely vain.”

Satoru strolled out of the wardrobe in slow steps before stretching. Suguru, meanwhile, straightened up again. He patted off his uniform with the flat of his hands, plucked at his baggy trousers and sighed, as if the sporadic supply of cool air was actually helping him. Then he walked to one of the closed windows of the classroom and pulled it open. The rush of fresh air played around the loose strands of hair on his face, and Gojo’s fingers twitched for a moment. The desire to undo his best friend’s knot and run it through his long, black hair tingled under his skin.

He swallowed. The heat was getting to him. It certainly was. Everything else made no sense.

Inwardly, Satoru shooed the thoughts away as he approached Geto and stood next to him at the window. The fresh air at least made the heat more bearable than the stuffy air in the broom cupboard. At the same time, it was a breeze that brushed Gojo’s cheeks and made him look again at Geto, in whose black hair a pink petal had become entangled.

“Tengen seems to have a weakness for cherry blossom in midsummer. A bit sentimental, if you ask me.” He leaned calmly on the windowsill so he could see Suguru’s face better.

His friend, meanwhile, could only manage a weak smile. “Do you think so? I have to say, it has charm.”

“Aren’t cherry blossoms so popular and special because they only bloom for a short time?”

“Maybe,” Geto replied. “But seconds like these are much more exciting. I mean, no one here knows when the blossoms will fall. Any moment could be the last, and that makes this sight... much more precious, because none of us know when Tengen will grow the next ones.” He turned to Gojo. “The unknown has its own special charms.”

The unknown, huh? The thought overtook Satoru for a breath, in which he blinked. Suguru Geto wasn’t an unknown component in his life, and yet, the strange tingling sensation that kept taking over this summer wasn’t one of the moments they usually experienced. It was something he couldn’t recognise.

A component that made Geto’s dark gaze and the smirk on his lips tantalising. Even in this uniform, which absolutely every student in this place wore, he looked better than most. Not better than himself, but better than anyone else, aside from Satoru.

“Let me guess, you have some stupid comment ready.” In the end, Geto’s lips – no, his words – pulled him out of his observation.

“What are you thinking?” Half distracted, Gojo shrugged his shoulders. “All you need for my clever sayings is a bit of style.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you can take anything seriously.”

Could he? Even for a moment? Gojo’s eyes fixed on Suguru’s lips again. If his best friend demanded him to be serious, maybe-

His thoughts didn’t end before he had already overcome the small distance to Geto to grab him by the chin. Instantly, he forced his head back and before questions could arise and remorse could take shape, Satoru pressed his lips against Suguru’s.

Warmth nestled against Gojo’s senses, washing away every unimportant thought and moving the summer breeze into a shallow image of heartbeat and Geto. Suguru’s mouth moved, twitching, making the soft feeling of strange closeness a little more present. At least until Satoru let go and took a step back. The “very serious” that travelled over his tongue like a breath scratched at his mind; and Suguru’s wide-open eyes made his heart stop for a blink.

“Or not!” Satoru added. The wide grin hurt his cheeks and the hollow laugh coming over him sounded unnatural. His hands clenched into fists. A part of him wanted to run away, but weakness remained his enemy. Satoru Gojo would never run away. Not at any moment. Not even when every fibre of his body was screaming to escape.

“You’re looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost. I told you, you need style for my jokes,” Gojo began again, but the more Suguru’s features relaxed, the darker his gaze seemed. The understanding didn’t seem to reach him and just as Satoru put his hand to the back of his head to avert his gaze and distract him from the topic, his best friend stood in front of him again.

It was just one second. A tiny moment in which so much could have happened.

A slap in the face.

The start of an argument.

Perhaps a punch on the nose, which he probably actually deserved.

Instead, Suguru grabbed him by the collar and the force of him pulling it down took Satoru’s breath away. A puff of air he couldn’t catch, before Suguru’s lips settled on his and the warmth became a strange heat that danced across his face.

Gojo’s eyes widened as the gentle touch between them conjured wild thoughts.

Did Suguru use lip balm?

Did he often kiss someone else?

Why was he kissing Gojo?

Why did Suguru’s tongue glide over his lips without breaking contact for even a moment?

There were no answers – even when Satoru opened his mouth willingly and felt Geto enter him. Their lips remained connected, but the play of tongues unfolding behind them sent lightning bolts throughout his body. It was no cursed energy, no attack, nothing that would kill him – and yet it had strange potential to hurt him in a way that shouldn’t exist.

Still, he tasted Geto, the raspberries he’d nibbled earlier, and felt the tongue circling his, tasting and teasing him as if they were no longer dependent on words.

The seconds trickled past them, passed and although it seemed like an eternity, Satoru realised it had been far too short when Geto broke away from him. What remained was unsteady breathing that left no room for questions. The only thing left was Suguru’s brief shake of his head. He ran a hand over his forehead, brushed the loose strand of hair aside, and looked at him.

“That will never happen again, Satoru,” he decided.

A simple statement, presumably. Between them.

A kind of rule that Gojo couldn’t contradict in those seconds, as he simply nodded.

Just like that.

“I still wonder today what came over me that day.” Putting his hand to his chin, Geto seems to think seriously about that time – as if nothing had ever happened. He places the moment they shared as if it was just one of those times you quickly forget.

The only thing giving Gojo certainty when he should usually have the biggest mouth is the shallow blush appearing on the tips of Suguru’s ears.

His hands clenched into fists. It is impossible to count the seconds in which he still thinks about self-control. All that circles his senses is naked failure. Certainty that he made a mistake back then.

He should have disagreed with Geto. A hundred times, if that was what his friend would have needed. Somehow they would have walked this path together and the little things now standing between them like giant walls would have been just a tiny hurdle in all of this.

His heart thumps a little harder against his chest. Seeing Suguru like this, so real and yet so fleeting, dries up Gojo’s throat. This goddamn situation is all his fault, and yet it’s masochistic pleasure clinging to him. His mere memories are probably already a curse.

A snort escapes him. Humans are no less a curse than the creatures they create with their emotions.

“What is amusing you?” It is Suguru who puts the brakes on the hellish thoughts. Chatting is the only salvation in this chaos.

“Nothing special,” replies Satoru, waving his hand. He’s still the cool one of them, no matter how much the breaths sting his chest. He’s not going to die today.

“About your question,” Geto meanwhile picks up again, “I don't resent you. What happened back then ... it was your duty and even if it sounds ironic, I’m glad I died at your hands.” He sighs. “If I had to think of something negative ... it would be that it was disappointing.”

“Disappointing?” Gojo’s brows lift. “Because it was so quick and easy? I’m sorry, but you weren’t able to challenge my cool nature.”

Without further ado, Suguru rolls his eyes before pushing Gojo’s every word away with one hand. “Thankfully.”

Pushing his lower lip forward, Satoru lowers his eyelids. He’s been sulking a little too much lately, and yet Geto keeps arousing that frustration like only a best friend can.

“I’m just disappointed it didn’t work out somehow,” Suguru explains. “With us.”

There are endless things to say in those breaths, but none of them are good enough in Satoru’s eyes. Instead, emptiness spreads through his senses.

Of course it didn’t work out then. He was young and stupid and arrogant and Geto’s best friend. Everything was perfect, and he was a little blind, even though he could see better than anyone else.

Better. Always better.

But he was never able to be honest for more than three seconds.

This time it’s different. His body acts on its own while the words die in his lungs. He reaches out to Geto. The fact he’s just an apparition is probably more of an illusion than the knowledge he can still straighten things out.

If he can just take Suguru in his arms and hold him close...

The narrow smile on Geto’s features invites him. The millimetres separating them are no obstacle.

But when Satoru’s fingers want to meet his friend, he fades away. Geto’s body disappears like a pale illusion. The flame in the background is extinguished. The hair is gone.

What remains is darkness in which no one will see him bite his lower lip and twist his mouth.

No one will notice this faint moment.

Not even him.

#fanfiction #fanfic #anime #romance #ao3 author #ao3 writer #jujutsu geto #gojo x geto #geto suguru #saturo gojou #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo

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shotorozu · 3 years

Note

I have so many cute, fluffy requests but lemme drop this one! I’d love to request head cannons of Bakugo, Shinsou, Kirishima, and Mirio being dared to lay on their crush’s lap. Y/N is chilling on the couch on her phone, unaware of this. So these bois fulfill the dare and of course Y/N is surprised but she always liked them and doesn’t think she’ll have an opportunity like this again, so what does she do? Place her phone down and gently rubs their head with one hand and cheek with the other with a tender smile and even calling them cute.

laying on their crush’s lap

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, togata mirio

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, but a f! reader, quirk’s not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff

note(s) : i want to apologize for not uploading yesterday! i was quite hoarded with school work, but just so you know— i do see your requests :)) i also wrote this at 3am by the way so.. no proofread rn but i will later!

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

ugh— first of all

bakugou is not one for dares. he thinks dares are quite useless, and irrelevant

however, it was either him; bakugou katsuki, being labeled a chicken or

laying his head down on Y/N— his crush. it doesn’t seem so bad to be honest

but.. the problem is that no one excluding the bakusquad has an idea of his feelings towards you

little did he know, you also harbor feelings towards him.

his pride.. can’t be hurt from something like this. nah, that’d be embarrassing

so he decides to go through with the dare.

after dinner, and briefly before he goes to sleep—

he enters the ground floor, and walks past the common room, where the bakusquad was just chilling at

you’re sitting beside them, just chilling on your phone— while listening to their antics

the bakusquad’s just staring at him, with a knowing look adorning their expressions

bakugou blinks, and he can sigh irritatedly— as he walks towards the couch, standing in front of you

carmine eyes practically glaring at you, waiting for you to notice his intense stare locked on you

with the bakusquad staring in anticipation, waiting for something to happen

you eventually notice (i mean, how could you not?) and you can only tilt your head “what’s up with you??” you question him with a light hearted tone

he doesn’t say much, only sighing before immediately dropping down and settling his head on your lap

you immediately grow flustered, suddenly aware of how soft his ash blond hair is (despite it’s rather.. spiky appearance)

the bakusquad’s just like “HOLY SHIT- he actually did it!” and it’s suddenly.. a lot more chaotic.

the blond shifts his position momentarily, red eyes staring up at you as they scan your expression for any sign of rejection

taking in your sheepish expression, and the fact that you gave him nothing but a rather.. contagious smile, he takes that as a good sign

but he’s surprised when you set down your phone, and attaching one hand onto his head- petting luscious blond pieces of hair

he blinks- genuinely pleased by this action and the bakusquad goes beserk

“is that good enough for you, dumbasses?” he asks switching back to his usual self, and they don’t give him much of an answer- only sending him cheeky looks.

when it’s time to go back to your rooms, bakugou suddenly breaks the silence.

“based off your reaction, i could say you like me back.” bakugou says it in such a soft tone, which is very out of character

you can only nod, and before you guys part ways, bakugou grabs the courage to grab your face and kiss you love the pining

hitoshi shinsou

it was definitely kaminari that asked him to do this, i mean.. when was it not-

recently joining the hero course in his second year, finally after working hard for his spot in the class- he became classmates with you

the person he’s been crushing on for the last year or so.

again, hitoshi’s pretty chill when it comes to dares and class games, but he’s not someone that would indulge in them regularly.

but kaminari, being quite the social butterfly he is, waltzed over to the recent addition to their class

and asked him to lay his head on your lap. since he was having his suspicions of shinsou having a crush.

shinsou’s thinking like.. “damn, he definitely knows. i mean, he’s probably the only person that knows.”

thing is, he’s probably the least bold out of all of these characters.

like.. he kinda wants to do it because it’s you but he’s also considering your feelings

oh boy.. if only you knew.

and he doesn’t want to embarrass you either. so he's just having a heart time just finding the perfect moment.

scanning the hallway of any people, he pads right across it as he enters the common room

he’s surprised to see you chilling on the couch.

you squeak out a small noise startled by the sudden appearance of another person, but they immediately calm down realizing it’s shinsou

“didn’t expect to see you there,” you laugh, and he could only chuckle at your reaction, as he stand next to the couch

his stomach is practically swarming with butterflies, but he replies anyway “you’re not staying in your room?”

“i didn’t realize how late it was,” you smile, “what’re you doing down here?”

“just getting a glass of water,” shinsou replies simply, silently trying his best to calm down his racing heart, shifting to stand infront of you

it’s silent for a few seconds, and it feels like forever. but shinsou concludes that he might as well do it now.

there's no one here to question his actions anyway.

dropping down, he pushes his head onto your lap- which surprises you because you never expected hitoshi shinsou; your crush

to just.. suddenly settle his head on your lap.

you’re flustered, but you love how the peaceful look on his usually tired out face.

placing your hand on his head, fingers weaving through purple locks- you allow a moment to pass by

breaking the silence, you speak “how cute,”

shinsou raises an eyebrow at your comment, and stands right up- walking away from the cut short moment.

“where are you going?” you ask, since how could he just do that and walk away so casually??

“getting water, like i said.” the corner of his lips turn up slightly. “i’ll see you later. maybe we could do this more.”

you don’t reply- and shinsou could only laugh at the way you owlishly blink “now who’s the cute one now?” he pokes fun at your bewildered- yet cute expression, and it’s not long before he disappears into the hallway

the next day, kaminari experiences such a field day when he finds out he did it. he could tell by the sheepish look on your face.

kirishima eijirou

who’s the one that dared him? it was mina and kaminari

similar to bakugou, the bakusquad’s the only one that has a slight idea of your crush, and that includes bakugou

to his dismay

so they dared kirishima to do this because it might just give you guys a head start. and they also wanted to see kiri’s reaction.

at first, kirishima was pretty reluctant regarding this dare, because.. how tf is he gonna do this??

is it unmanly to just.. walk up to you and plop his head right down onto your lap?

what if he tarnished what y’all have? he wouldn’t say it’s a relationship yet, but your relationship’s at a pretty good place right now.

it was bakugou that convinced him to do the dare because “just do it, idiot. it might do you something good for once.”

he only said this because he wanted them to shut up ngl

so if his bestie- bakugou is telling him to a dare then.. it’s probably a sign to do it.

shaking off the nervousness, kirishima walks off to find you- because the sooner the better, right?

you’re just doing your own thing, as you chill with mina on the couch. seeing the red head- mina sends a quick expression that practically tells him to go for it

kirishima gulps, nervously- and he enters the area, you’re suddenly aware of his presence.

“oh, hi kiri!” you greet him casually, and he waves back at you, butterflies tickling his stomach.

no need to feel nervous eijirou, just.. do it.

breathing in, he immediately kneels down on the floor right infront of you

you’re startled when you suddenly feel weight on your lap, and you’re visibly flustered seeing your own crush resting his head on your lap

mina’s making train noises right now, but she’s trying hard to not make a huge deal out of it (but how could she not, really? she’s tired of seeing both of her friends pinning over each other.)

“sorry, Y/N” kirishima apologizes, yet he doesn't see the slightest hint of discomfort.

you laugh, smoothing your head over his head, his face practically rivals his dyed hair. “if you wanted to lay your head on my lap, you could’ve said so, cutie.”

wait.. so does that mean you like him too?

mina couldn’t contain herself, as seeing the heavens as y’all interact. rip

togata mirio

shy? that’s so funny.

is that a thing with mirio togata? this is the same man that fought class 1-A butt ass naked.

there’s no shame detected in his bloodstream. more like.. he just knows how to hide it well.

nejire dared him to lay his head on your lap, because she wanted the both of you to just “get together already!!”

and she also wanted to see your reaction.

tamaki’s just like “uh.. won’t Y/N spontaneously combust though?”

mirio legit has no shame, this guy is the sole definition of ‘where’s my hug at?’

would not care about the location because a dare is a dare. the next time he sees you sitting outside of school hours

he’s sitting on that lap. end of the discussion.

you’re sitting on the couch of the dorm’s common room, and you’re just waiting for a text from nejire and tamaki

(since you and mirio aren’t classmates with tamaki and nejire, you guys try to meet up with each other as much as y’all can.)

mirio walks into the common room, and he’s glad to see you just sitting there.

now would be a good time!

calling your name out cheerfully, he approaches you-”Y/N, hi!” he grins as he approaches you, nothing seems off.

“hi mirio- wait,” your greeting is cut off short when he sets his head on your lap, humming immediately as he savors the pleasant feeling.

“w-what’re you doing?”

“laying on your lap! it’s pretty comfortable here. have i told you that yet?”

you shake your head, experiencing a loss of words.

he can only grin, eyes shimmering with joy- absolutely loving the expression on your face.

“you’re too cute, mirio. if you asked me out right now, i wouldn't be too mad at the idea.”

blinking up at you, he asks “well? will you?”

“of course.”

nejire and tamaki’s watching the scene from outside, and tamaki had to restrain nejire from squealing too hard.

thanks nejire :))

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing.

do not steal my work :))

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ladyartemesia · 4 years

Text

The Terms

◐ PART III of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 2300

Author’s Note: As promised, this chapter is twice as long as the previous two and a lot of what people have been speculating about in the asks is discussed in this chapter... along with a few surprises...

“Luna rex provocatione means ‘the moon king’s challenge.’ It is never invoked lightly as its consequences are grave indeed... If an alpha believes that he is the true Alpha and the goddess has placed another in his path as a test of worthiness and dedication to the pack, then he will acknowledge his acceptance of this test by declaring luna rex provocatione. Once the challenge has been set forth only the death of the Luna’s first mate or the total surrender of the challenger can satisfy it...”

Text of the traditional speech given by a chief elder to begin a luna rex provocatione ritual [7th century]

“I know you won’t understand, but this isn’t personal-”

Jimin offered his rival an overtly feigned smile.

“You plan to kill me and claim my mate. Which part of that could I possibly take personally?”

Tae snorted somewhere in the background and Yoongi elbowed him hard.

Tradition dictated that both alphas meet with their second-in-commands in the chief elder’s chambers to discuss the terms of combat.

Namjoon brought Min Yoongi and Jimin had somehow ended up with Taehyung.

He didn’t remember actually agreeing to make Tae his second...

It just sort of happened somewhere between calming his hysterical mother and quickly reading up on archaic pack law.

The chief elder coughed uncomfortably. Goddess, this ascension was supposed to be easy. He never in a million moons thought he’d be in this position.

The last chief elder who oversaw a luna rex provocatione ritual had immortalized it in his journal as “the single most horrific moment of my life,” describing in detail the Luna howling in torment at the loss of her mate and the victor collapsing over the corpse of his foe in misery and guilt.

As in the past, the outcome of this conflict was already decided by fate...

Pain and regret weighed heavily on the older man as he considered the younger of the two alphas.

Park Jimin was going to die violently and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Because Kim Namjoon issued the challenge, his opponent will decide combat form. Your choices are human form, half-shifted, and wolf-form. After your choice is declared, Namjoon may add a minor alteration if he so desires. Park Jimin, please declare form.”

“Human,” he answered softly - and every single occupant of the room recoiled in response.

It was bad enough to witness a fight in wolf form or half-shifted... but to engage in ritual combat as a human-

It would be brutal - even psychologically disturbing - without the benefit of a wolf’s hide to mask the savagery.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly.

“I request teeth and claws.”

Not quite a half-shift. Teeth and claws allowed for attacks using lengthened canines and claws.

It could make a kill slightly more... humane.

Jimin nodded and the elder pressed his seal over the first of the terms.

The were no windows in the small, stuffy chamber and between the heavy ceremonial garb and the nearly twenty braided praesidium bracelets wrapped around his wrists, Jimin felt as if the blood in his veins was literally coming to a boil.

Though he dared not remove them to relieve his discomfort.

Each bracelet represented a prayer to the goddess. They were given as protection to a loved one before a great trial.

His mother had not stopped making them since the ascension. She’d torn apart her most expensive dress and spent hours twisting the fabric strips into intricate traditional braids while she prayed...

Jimin’s fingers sought them out for comfort as the miserable parade of ritual legalities marched past the two hour mark.

Many agreements (like Jimin’s insistence that his mother not be allowed to attend the fight and Namjoon’s pledge to financially support the Park family in the event of their alpha’s death) were settled quickly, however the sheer number of details to be solidified was overwhelming.

“I think it best if we adjourn for a short recess,” the chief elder sighed wearily and Taehyung nearly ran Yoongi over in his desperate scramble to finally use a restroom.

Jimin turned to leave, but a hand on his elbow drew him back.

“I want you to know, I did this for you as much as for the rest of them.”

His tone was low and carefully respectful, but Jimin’s wolf snapped irritably at the elder alpha’s presumption.

“What an... interesting statement to make.”

He pointedly removed Namjoon’s hand from his arm with calculated nonchalance.

“No one expected you to be chosen... Jungkook, or even Hoseok, would have been an understandable alternative, but you’ve never taken being an alpha seriously-”

“According to you,” Jimin fired back, finally allowing his voice to harden in cold fury. “I have always known and valued what I am. I simply never felt called to your version of it.”

Namjoon tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Park Jimin might not look particularly dangerous ... but for the first time, the Kim alpha considered that he may have underestimated his opponent.

“Either way - the pack does not trust you. They are not confident in your ability to lead them,”his hands fisted reflexively at his side as he considered the weight of his next words, “...but if you beat me, they will never question your strength.”

Jimin’s hands tightened into fists.

Namjoon might be an overconfident windbag, but he had a point.

He faced an uphill battle to subdue a restless pack as well as increased threats from rival clans looking to expand their own power and territory.

The challenge was a chance to establish his claim.

Or die trying.

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he chuckled and Namjoon bristled indignantly.

“I have devoted my life to the pack. I have never questioned my duty to them.” He leaned forward a bit, holding the younger alpha’s gaze with purpose. “That is why I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And what of the Luna?” Jimin wondered in mock contemplation. “Do you think she will take kindly to the loss of her mate if you win?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. The Luna was clearly a sore subject.

“If I win, then you were never really her mate were you? Your entire existence boils down to nothing more than a sacred test in my destined path.”

Silence stretched heavily as the two alphas regarded one another with open hostility.

“I will fight you till the last shred of life is ripped from my body,” Jimin snarled.

A shiver ran down Namjoon’s spine, though he was far from intimidated.

“At least now you sound like an alpha,” he scoffed.

Then he was gone.

Jimin waited till the sound of the older man’s footsteps faded before slamming his fist into the table.

He needed air and to be alone with his thoughts for moment before he could civilly resume the endless negotiations.

Unfortunately, the only place offering both of those things was a cluttered balcony near the back of the building.

The room traditionally designated for luna rex provocatione proceedings had been used as a storage closet for at least the last hundred years (and therefore needed to be hastily cleared after Namjoon’s inconvenient declaration). Consequently, the room’s former contents (piles of toys from this season’s charity drive) were now strewn haphazardly across the narrow outdoor space like debris from a brightly colored bomb.

Jimin carefully navigated his way to the balcony’s wooden rail and lifted his eyes to the moon.

“Please,” he begged softly “... send me a sign.”

“If he did not hate me before, he surely does now,” you sighed, staring morosely at the lights flickering in the old chamber building. Somewhere within the bowels of that archaic fire hazard, your mate of less than twenty-four hours was negotiating a nightmare.

“This is not your fault, Luna-“

“Isn’t it?” you snapped. “That’s who I am. I’m the Luna, if I could just accept another mate without someone getting their throat ripped out, then none of this would be necessary.”

Jin sqeezed your hand sympathetically.

The council placed you under guard in a small cottage across from the elder’s chambers in order to prevent the alphas from having any contact with you. Since then you kept a constant vigil from its rickety porch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man whose life you had ruined.

“Would you do it then - if you could?... Would you accept another mate to spare the Park alpha?”

Bitter tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, “...I think I’d do almost anything to save him.”

Comfortable silence settled between you for several minutes - until a small flutter of movement drew your gaze to the chamber balcony.

Then he walked out.

And just the sight of him was enough to slam your heart up into your throat.

Jimin...

Jin quickly turned to your guard and unleashed a wave of pheromones that would have knocked out a grizzly bear. The guard whined and abandoned her post to follow him inside without a second thought, leaving you conveniently alone.

Male omegas are a rare and dangerous breed, you observed wryly, before retuning your attention to the man across the path.

A painful ache twisted hungrily in your gut as you watched him tilt his face to the sky. Somehow the relentless beauty of his features was even more captivating in the moonlight...

Suddenly a strong breeze braided though the air around you, playing with the loose strands of your hair and carrying your scent away from the small cottage and up to the balcony where the young alpha sought solace.

Jimin’s eyes shot open as the rich, unforgettable essence of you exploded over his senses. His gaze immediately locked with yours, cutting through the distance and darkness with an intensity that left you reeling.

You could not see his face at the ascension - instead the blindfold left you burning with curiosity as your mind conjured a thousand variations of how he might have looked on you in that moment...

Yet every last one of them fell short.

You could never have imagined the naked longing - the fierce desire - that burned boldly in his regard.

A strange, desperate frustration overtook you.

He was too far away - and Namjoon was going to take him from you before you could touch him again - before you could breathe him in again-

The cruel wind continued to pull your fragrance toward Jimin like an erotic incense, yet it offered you no such gift in return. You could not discern his scent and you wanted to - needed to - with a voracity that was almost blinding.

Please...

A mournful whimper tore from your lips and Jimin’s body reacted instantly to your distress.

Suddenly he was digging through the piles of mismatched trinkets and toys on the balcony, tossing aside all manner of discarded treasures till he finally found what he was searching for.

“Jimin-hyung! Where are you? Chief elder wishes to resume-”

Jimin glanced toward door as his fingers worked frantically over the object his hands.

“I’m on my way!”

His eyes found yours one last time, then he drew back-

A muted thwack echoed a few inches from your shoulder as whatever Jimin threw embedded itself into one of the porch beams.

Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you reached forward to retrieve (what appeared to be) a pointed metal dart - probably from a wall-mounted Darts game someone donated...

A length of braided cloth was tied tightly to the shaft and you recognized it immediately as a praesidium bracelet.

Soothing waves of Jimin’s scent drifted up from the fabric where it had rubbed repeatedly against the glands in his wrist.

Your body calmed instantly. Cold desperation gave way to the soft warmth of tenderness.

He knew.

He knew what you needed and he found a way to send it to you.

Your hand closed tightly over the bracelet as you crumpled to your knees and sobbed.

A gentle knock sounded at Namjoon’s door and a familiar figure slipped inside.

“...Yunli?”

Namjoon blinked for several moments in confusion before closing his evening read to approach her.

“Yunli... why - what are you doing here? It’s late - the ritual set to begin at sunrise.” He glanced at the door behind her, “Is Yoongi with you?”

She shook her head.

“My brother doesn’t know I’m here.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he considered all the ways his best friend’s younger sister sneaking into his house (in the middle of the night no less) could go horribly wrong.

“Ah. Well... that’s ...not good,” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. “Are-um - are you here to wish me luck for tomorrow?”

He reached for a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

“No. Frankly I hope Park Jimin beats you to a bloody pulp.”

Water sprayed comically out of Namjoon’s mouth as he began to cough violently.

“What?!” *wheeze* “Why?!”

She offered him a sad smile.

“You know why, Kim Namjoon.”

He did know why.

Yunli had loved him (or believed she loved him) since she was a little girl.

He sighed heavily.

“Yunli, we’ve been over this-”

“One week. The change comes to me in one week-”

“You’re Yoongi’s sister-”

“I’ll be twenty years old, and for the last time I’m not your sister-”

“Goddess above, Yunli!” he shouted, “You’re just a child!”

Yunli’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

“I am not a child!” she growled.

Then her mouth was on his and every single thought he ever had disappeared.

There was only her.

Heat poured through him like heavy syrup as his senses surrendered one by one. His arms wrapped around her without the slightest hesitation, as if their sole purpose was draw her in.

Sweet... Oh goddess, she’s sweet.

Yunli whined needily and a possessive growl rumbled from his chest in response.

Then she was pulling back - wrenching herself away from him with an anguished sob.

Bitter tears flowed freely down her impossibly beautiful face and Namjoon - who spent the majority of his life barely acknowledging his heart - suddenly felt it shatter.

“You should have waited for me,” she whispered.

“Yunli-I-” he tried calling out to her, but it was no use.

She was already gone.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Jimin offered his second a distracted smile and nodded. His room looked the same as it did the morning of the ascension, yet his entire life was different...

“You were great today, Taehyung. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tae felt his chest swell with pride. He didn’t want to think about what sunrise might bring, but he was determined to serve his old friend well.

For as long as he could.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, recalling that he fell asleep on his feet for three entire terms before anyone noticed. “You’re a surprisingly ruthless negotiator. I barely contributed.”

“I wasn’t alone though...” Jimin whispered, “and when Namjoon first issued the challenge... I thought I might be.”

Taehyung gulped, pushing back the oppressive sorrow settling in his gut in favor of some levity.

“You - uh - you actually missed the wildest part of the whole day.”

“...I did?”

“Yeah it was bizarre. Did you notice the table was different after our break?”

Jimin shrugged. His thoughts had been... elsewhere at that point.

“We couldn’t find you at first, so you missed the whole ordeal but - when we all came back to the room, that big oak table was split in half.”

Hello my precious readers! If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments.

(If you are already on the taglist, I will automatically tag you in all future chapters, you do not need to ask to be tagged again.)

Please please please PLEASE let me know what you think! This chapter was HARD and I genuinely aganized over it. Your feedback and support are what kept me pushing though. Truly. I would love to hear from you! I treasure every word of feedback like diamonds.

End Note: Yoonji was mentioned earlier in the story. She is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. Yunli and Yoonji are separate characters.

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

Text

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time.

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night.

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.”

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him.

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Language.”

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.”

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series.

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it.

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words.

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked.

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it.

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.”

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth.

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable.

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.”

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room.

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse.

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm.

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress.

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely.

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit.

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide.

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred.

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm.

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip.

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul.

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure.

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack.

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled.

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock.

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place.

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic.

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.”

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary.

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed.

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.”

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.”

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud.

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them.

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed.

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.”

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #negan fanfiction #negan smut #negan fanfic #negan fanfics #irresistible danger #ash writes #twd #the walking dead #negan x reader #negan x you #slow burn #twd negan #the walking dead negan

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licuadora-nasir · 3 years

Note

Hello ! Do you write for queer reader ? If so, may you please write a Lance x Male reader, where they were long time best friends before (TO) Lance loves reader but as the last dragon he thinks it’s his duty to continue the legacy so never aknowledges his feelings wich leads him to be quite depressed, until Erika-I-stick-my-nose-everywhere find out somehow and build a plan with others to confront both about it ?

Thank you !

Hey there! Thank u for your ask, I loved the prompt! And I'm sorry for the delay, my relative is still hospitalized but he's better😊.

Also, of course I write queer, I'm part of the community and even though Eldarya doesn't have queer options regarding the MC I think it's interesting to treat other possibilities.

This one's structure was a bit different from the one I normally use. My amazing beta @rina-nanashiro and I have come to the conclusion that would be better to use the first person singular and the omniscient narrator to correctly portrait each character thoughts.

For this one, let's say that the plot is settled not long before Lance becomes the chief of the obsidian guard and Erika arrived 4 years earlier.

Also, whether the MC is human, faerie or faelian is up to you. I didn't dwell on any physical descriptions or mention his race.

To conclude, my ask box is closing soon. So if¡ anyone wants to request something, you have a couple of days to think about it.

Lance and a male MC have problems confessing their feelings and Erika meddles in under the cut

I carefully settled the dumbbells in the fresh grass, brushing away the light film of sweat, which covered my forehead, with the back of my hand.

Almost every day was a sunny one in the City of Eel. I have been told once that the shield surrounding the Head Quarters repelled rain and other natural phenomena, and I was delighted to enjoy the warm sunbeams, though as the day drew on, training in hot weather wasn't very pleasant.

A group of females crossed the gardens and threw a glance toward my bare, glimmering chest, sweat sliding down my pectorals and abs. One of them blushed while the other winked at me. The flustered one dragged her friend away while she couldn't help her giggling.

I was used to the attention. Such things would usually happen whether I was training shirtless and why not saying it, showing off a bit.

But those females’ attention... wasn't the one I was longing for.

As if my thinking was some kind of magnet, the object of my thoughts suddenly appeared in the Central Pavilion. I gulped and clumsily tried to fix my hair, using the fingers to comb the lost strands while Lance was engrossed in a conversation with Erika, laughing by his side.

"Hey, you" The girl gave me a sincere smile while Lance grabbed the nearest towel and threw it at my sweaty face not before smiling too. Jerk.

"Thank you, Lance.” I rolled my eyes seeking to restraint the smile of my own.

"Why are you training at this hour? It's too hot," asked Erika.

"The correct question would be why you are training and showing off at this hour." The dragon winked at me not before running his eyes over my bare chest.

I gulped for a second time and focused on the dumbbells on the ground, ignoring the warmth that settled in my chest and threatened to go down to my inner thigh. Yeah, it was indeed hot there.

"Well, it may be too hot for you both, but I enjoy the warmth." And while Erika simply didn't favour it, Lance was naturally more comfortable in cooler places. Disadvantages of being an ice dragon, I supposed. When the man opened up to the guardian and revealed his true nature, I was speechless.

It was a well-kept secret that not many knew and that such a closed-up person as Lance decided to give me that reliance meant the world for me. He didn't only trust me but wanted to show himself as he was. As the powerful and endangered being that he was. Keeping that secret all their lives made the twins wary of everyone, afraid of their reactions. But what I saw didn't frighten me. It made me want to know Lance more and unravel the person that hid behind that dense layer of steel and smugness.

"Oh come on, just admit it! You want to get tanned since summer is close!" Well, maybe that was another reason why I was training at this hour, but there was no way Erika was get away with it, so I hurled my towel, full of sweat, into my friend's face which made her grimace in disgust and Lance chortle.

"By the way, where's Valkyon? I need someone to back me up since apparently, you two have decided to bully me today." Valkyon had told Erika about his new nature as well. Before starting to hang out with the brothers, I didn't know much about the woman apart from her faelian condition, but we quickly befriended each other after spending time with the twins and meeting in several missions.

"He's been assigned to organize the armour's stock, so don't expect to hear from him in the next two hours," replied the brother.

Suddenly, a female elf popped next to us, most likely an acquaintance of the dragon. Her pink stare found Lance's, and she smiled sweetly at him as she spoke up

"The Obsidian Chief would like to meet with you. He's looking forward to discussing your promotion if you don't have any relevant matters at hand right now.”

"Yes, of course, just give me a moment." Lance turned to face me. "I came by to ask you if you're available after lunch. I've found some cool techniques in one of the books I'm reading and I thought you might be interested in learning them."

My chest tightened at the words, and after taking a deep breath I answered.

"Of course, I would love to." Lance parted from us undertaking to meet us at lunch with the rest. Normally, we would have lunch with Valkyon, Ezarel and Nevra, and sometimes Miiko, Yhkar and even Kero would join.

I sighed thinking about my last training with the Obsidian-Chief-to-be.

Lance was situated behind me, a firm hand holding my hip while the other grabbed my arm in a defensive position.

"You are doing it wrong. If anyone sees you with a posture like that one they'll mistake you for a novice lost on the battlefield. Let me teach you how to do it.”

I was painfully aware of my friend's figure pressed against my back. The warmth was sinking into my body, and I tried to think about pure things instead of embarrassing himself, but it was so difficult to focus on something else when his breath skimmed my ear and my butt was pressed against his-

"Hey."

"HEY."

"SNAP OUT OF IT, SCATTERBRAINED!" Erika brought me back from my memories with a hard slap to my head.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, VIOLENT MAD WOMAN?!" Geez, Erika could be really aggressive at times.

"I want to know what's going on with you" The young woman was directly looking at me with a clear stare. The kind of stare that made her violet eyes shine brighter. "And before you answer 'I don't know what you're talking about Erika, I'm perfectly fine' please, don't take me for a fool."

"I don't think you're a fool."

"I know something is going on with Lance. Every time he turns his back, you stare at him with that painful-but-loving look on your face and you sigh like he has taken your breath with him."

"I think you're a busybody."

"Come on, talk to me." I attempted to go away, but she grabbed my wrist. "I'm your friend. You know you can trust me."

"There's nothing to talk about. And nothing is going on with Lance either."

"Is it because you're both males? You know no one would-"

"It's not that!" I broke free from her grasp and finally addressed her. "I don't give a fuck if someone came insulting me or spitting shit on me or whatever. It just... It's Lance, we aren't talking about anyone." The problem wasn’t just that we were both males. It was far more complicated than that.

"And that means...?"

"It means he's a dragon. It means that apart from Valkyon, his race is extinct. He's born in a different league, and he shouldn't be with a male. He shouldn't be with me." I lost count of the times I wished Lance had been born as a female, or me, for that matter.

"You don't even know what he wants."

"I know what he deserves."

(But Erika didn't agree with him. Lance deserved someone that cared about him and not some random female that could give him offspring. And the guardian loved him. Deeply. She knew the second he met him he had a crush on Lance, and she could bet the dragon noticed as well. Come on, even Valkyon was aware of the guardian's feelings for his brother.

The one who didn't seem to realize Lance attempts to hit on him was the guardian. He was so dyed-in-the-wool that he didn't even consider the possibility that Lance could be interested in him as well. But she couldn't blame him: Lance himself was a mess of feelings.

The guardian wasn't wrong: Lance truly thought it was his duty to continue the legacy of his race, but he was conflicted between what he thought he had to do and what he desired, what meant taking one step towards his friend just to take two back. They were more and more miserable as each day passed and Erika couldn't stand seeing her loved ones like that.

What if they couldn't have offspring? Should they sacrifice their happiness just because they couldn't have kids? They love each other. They cared about each other. That should be enough.

But there was no use trying to convince them otherwise, so she did what she knew best: stick her nose into someone else's problems.

She conceived a plan to confront them: In three days, she would go on a mission. But at the last minute, she would remember that she had to deliver an urgent letter to Lance that he had to read immediately and she could ask the guardian to deliver it.

That way, when Lance opened the letter in front of the guardian, instead of coming across with an important document, he would find a text that said something of the sort "Actually, this whole thing was an excuse. I wanted to confess my feelings for you even if I didn't know how."

Yes, he would definitely kill her, but she wasn't going to sit in silence and watch how his possibilities of going out with Lance were decreasing each day, right? There were a lot of girls going after the twins, therefore if the guardian didn't hurry... Another one would do it.)

One morning, after I had accompanied Erika to the boat to wish her good luck in her mission and say goodbye, she let out an astonished gasp. "Oh no! I can't believe I forgot! Please, can you take this to Lance? It's something urgent, so tell him to open it the moment you give it to him!"

"I... Yes of course, do you know where he might be?"

After being told that at this hour he would probably be on the edge of the forest, I wasted no time and hurried up. Erika was a competent girl, but it wasn't a surprise that she sometimes forgot things like that. She could be hardworking and a mess with legs, but that made her more adorable.

I spotted the two brothers taking a stroll and conversating about something probably irrelevant since Valkyon seemed to be mocking his big brother. They were inseparable. Wherever Lance or Valkyon went, the other would tag along. It was truly heartwarming seeing how much they cared for and loved each other.

"Lance! Erika forgot to give you this." Both dragons instantaneously turned their heads to look at me, eyes clear and ready to listen to whatever I had to say. It was kind of funny to watch how seriously they take their roles. "She said that it was important and you should open it immediately."

When Lance opened the envelope, Valkyon took a step closer to his brother but after reading the first words, he squeezed his twin's shoulder and departed not saying a word.

When we were finally alone, Lance looked up to face me and muttered. "You finally came to talk about your feelings for me?"

Those eyes were clear as ice, and even though there was no trace of mockery, a heavyweight settled in my stomach. My...feelings for him? What the hell he was talking about?

I didn’t even say anything. I just gave the envelope that I had been tasked with and that was been all. At the sight of my confused mien, the dragon tended me to the letter.

I slowly took it, not leaving his eyes for a moment, and when he read I... My hands ripped it apart and tossed it somewhere in the woods without caring where it landed and hissed. "This was that busybody's doing!”

‘I wanted to discuss my feelings with you,’ she wrote.

I couldn't believe Erika had done that. It wasn't her affair and she had no right to meddle in someone else's business. How would she feel if I did that to her?

“Just... Look I'm sorry I can no-" The blood under my face was boiling, my whole body was boiling in shame and panic. I couldn't face him right now, I had to get the hell out of there.

I didn’t make it far before Lance gave me a firm grip on my wrist and said "Please, let's talk. This was my fault. I should have talked to you earlier, explain myself to you before anyone stuck their nose into this."

"What are we going to talk about, Lance?" I confronted him praying this new growing determination would not abandon me. "Do you want to talk about how you can't be with a male? How we are not meant to each other?"

"You know that's not true."

"Isn’t it?" I frowned and let a sad chuckle slip my lips. What a bastard. "You can't be with me, Lance. You deserve and want someone who can give you a family, that will bring you children, and I can't do that."

The dragon didn't so much talk. He couldn't say the proper words because I wasn't mistaken.

"There you have it." My voice cracked at the first word and I could have sworn something broke inside him as well seeing the gaze he gave me. "You may want me, but I'm not enough for you." Tears ran freely down my face like raindrops of a cold, cloudy day in winter. "Find a good mate, Lance. You have many admirers, so I don't think you'll have much trouble."

Lance couldn't stand it. He had never been a coward and that wouldn't be the first day he would start being one. He gently brought his hands to each side of his friend's arms and held him there. Firm but gently, he gripped him making sure he wouldn't go anywhere until he finished what the guardian deserved to hear.

"Look at me, please." Those eyes that were always full of love were hurt and sorrowful. He took a deep breath and let out his thoughts.

"I do not want you, I love you. You can not imagine how much I care about you and what your presence in my life means to me." His hands were slightly shaking. "You are right. I think that as a dragon, I must continue our legacy, but I have been unfair to you. I couldn't make up my mind, and I have hurt you."

The guardian started sobbing and one of the dragon's hands met his face to wipe his tears.

"You know, I've talked about this with Valkyon several times and I've realised my brother is right. I dese- We deserve to be happy. Together. Whether I can or cannot have offspring doesn't matter, it shouldn't be a duty and I shouldn't force that on you."

The guardian sobbed harder and embraced his beloved, feeling his hand on the head, the other arm gently stroking his back. Lance couldn't restrain a few silent tears of his own at the sight of the male whom he loved him as much as was loved by.

They will make it work, Lance could assure.

Do you have any requests? Feel free to stop by my ask box! But first, please read this.

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heauxzenji · 4 years

Text

Brainrot Kinktober 10/27

the best medicine

Squirting: Sugawara Koushi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Skdkfkf a lot- angst if you squint, post breakup rebound sex kinda, recreational drug use bc it’s me who wrote this and every day is 4/20, sex under the influence so if you count that as dubcon oops, fingering, I wrote this for myself tbh so if you hate it oops, oral sex (f. receiving), Suga is a gemini, he is a menace, uhhh and yeah- squirting... I’m sorry I’m horrible at tags. It’s smut.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/n: yes you get this a day early bc my anniversary is tomorrow and bc @super-noya is taking a break. Be grateful... also I didn’t expect to make it this far into ktober without a train wreck so this is a good feeling. ☺️ enjoy yet another self indulgent piece.

Brainrot Kinktober Mlist

The best way to get over someone is by getting under someone else. But that’s not why you texted Suga to come over. He was going to help you numb the pain of your breakup in a different way- the both of you getting insanely high. That was your ritual. Whenever one of you got dumped, the other would bring their stash, and you’d drown your sorrows in several bowls. After all, no one likes being high alone, and what else are best friends for? If anything, he’d be there to listen to you vent.

“I’m not going to say I told you so if you don’t,” he said as he walked through the door of your apartment. Before meeting up with you, he had just gotten stood up for the third time by another girl he was seeing. Taking his shoes and jacket off, he handed you his stash box. You blew a raspberry at him, bounding toward your room. You’d already had the lights low, and your speaker blasting music for the optimal vibe- which just so happened to be “all men-and the girl that stood Suga up- are trash.”

You sat on your bed as he came in behind you, grabbing your bong from its place on your shelf and sitting on the other side of the bed. Slowly and meticulously you had started to grind a portion of the quarter he had bought over.

“So what even happened,” he sighed as he began to pre-roll a few joints for you both.

“You sure you want to know?” You gave him a raised eyebrow.

He winced, getting the hint.

“Okay, maybe I don’t,” he laughed.

You hadn’t been with your now ex long, but it was no secret to any of your friends that you weren’t very happy with him in regards to your sex life.

The first few billows of smoke filled your bedroom from your lips, ending in a cough as you passed your bong over to Suga.

“God I hate this thing,” he chuckled, sparking the glitter encrusted glass. He took a feel inhale, the sound of the bubbling popping in your ears.

“So ugly,” he blew out. A light cough escaped from his lungs as he examined your piece.

“Fuck off,” you laughed back, snatching it from his hands. “It was my birthday gift from Yachi, and I happen to love it- she decorated it all on her own.” As you rubbed the cold glass with pride, a plastic letter popped off, sending you both over a barrel with giggles as you tried to gain your composure for another hit.

You shifted yourself to a more comfortable position on your stomach as you changed the song on your phone to something more mellow, reaching down in front of you to grab your snack stash below you before finally fully settling in and taking a few more hits, letting the familiar feeling of fuzziness overtake your senses.

Once both of you were comfortably numb, you moved the box in between you two, scooting closer to Suga for warmth. He tossed the hem of his flannel over your feet, the soft fabric somehow feeling even softer as you fixated on the texture in your inebriated state.

“Was he really that bad?” He sighed, sitting up next to you and grabbing another handful of Cheeze-Itz. Your trance on the plaid pattern broke as you felt your stomach drop just a little thinking about your ex.

“I mean… I never…” you trailed off a bit, body pricking with an uncomfortable embarrassment that was definitely harshing your high.

“I never came once. Literally 3 months of my life, and I didn’t.”

“Yikes,” Suga breathed out. He didn’t know exactly what to say, the drugs in his system impairing his normal supportive demeanor. You could tell he felt bad for you, but at the same time, he wouldn’t remember any of this come tomorrow morning.

“Well you know, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else…” his voice wavered, taking a drag of a joint he had left sitting in your ashtray.

“You’re so gross,” you huffed, giggling at him. “That’s not true anyway!” You flopped backwards on your bed, laughs softening as your head hit your pillow- your foggy head resting mere inches from his as he shifted to accommodate your new position.

“It would be if you were under me.” Smoke plumed from his mouth in a few rings as he stretched to lean back into your mattress.

There was a still silence for a second, but it felt like hours. He looked over at you with low eyes through the LED tinted haze. As red and glassed over as they were, they were still the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. He was too gone to notice you were staring back. Without warning, he sat up, hooking a leg around you and taking hold of your wrists, looking down at you with lustfully hooded eyes.

“What if,” he started, a lazy smile enveloping his face.

“What if I made you cum? Would you be over him?”

You were entirely too high to comprehend the question, let alone protest it- especially because it had been something you’d wanted for so long. It couldn’t be real, he was just off his ass… there was no way this was happening… right?

You simply nodded at him, mouth agape- giving him the go ahead. His grin widened, pleased to be given the chance.

“Let’s get those pretty eyes rolling, then,” he breathed, lips already moving against yours, trailing kisses down your neck and chest, slowly sliding your leggings down and away from your body. You arched your back into him, making haste to pull his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere in your bedroom. Suga pushed you back, a wash of confusion blanketing your face as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“This is about you right now,” he chuckled, kneeling down and grabbing your ankles. “If you’re not too fucked out afterwards, then maybe we’ll get to me.”

What a tease. But his words were velveteen against your ears as your core started to heat with desire of what it would possibly be like to be able to get to him.

His motions were fast but everything around you felt slow. Propping your legs up and apart, he gave one last glossy-eyed look at you. Your jaw was slacked with anticipation as he brought his fingers to your mouth. You coated them with your own spit, just enough to wet them a little, never once taking your eyes off of Suga. You traced his every move as he lined his slicked digits up at your poor, neglected slit, which was already soaked in anticipation of him. Slowly, he sunk in one finger, then another. You were already clenching your walls at the mere feeling of friction.

“Greedy are we?” He laughed, slowly adding in a third finger, filling you completely. Your long drawn out moan was response enough to him as he started to move, slowly curling them against you. You began to move as well, begging for more friction only to have your bottom half pinned into place by Suga’s free hand. The swimming feeling in your head made you feel even more sensitive to his touch, as jagged breaths left your lungs.

“Stop squirming, baby,” he cautioned. “I’ve got you- I promise.”

“Please, just… please don’t stop,” you said, barely above a whisper.

You were met with a jolt of wet heat as he attached his mouth to your core, fingers still slowly pumping as he wrapped his lips around your clit. Even in your fuzziness, your hands found his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth and face, trying so hard to get all of the friction you could as he fucked you on his lithe fingers. A string of curses left your lips as he removed his fingers from you and plunged his tongue inside, swirling it up and then around your clit again.

He detached from you, hooded eyes and a lazy smile spreading across his face as he watched you writhing under his touch. You whined in disapproval, only to be pulled down by your ankles and into his lap on the floor. He placed lazy open mouthed kisses to your own, sloppily dragging his tongue anywhere he could make contact, the taste of your arousal meeting your own tongue.

Humming against your skin, Suga took the lead, hands roaming your body as he twisted you to sit in his lap, back against his chest. He lifted your chin to look at him, shakily breathing as one of his arms found his way between your thighs, lithe fingers tracing against your slit, slowly slipping themselves into you, walls eagerly swallowing them in pleasure.

“I’m going to start moving now, okay?” he said softly, eyes stuck to yours as he curled them in and out. His other hand snaked around your waist, pressing down to your abdomen as you arched your back at the change in pressure. A gargled moan caught in the back of your throat as he sped up, pistoning his fingers directly into the soft, spongy flesh in your core.

You could barely form any coherent words- lips sputtering half praises and soft gasps as he guided you, the butterflies welling in your stomach set to burst through. Goosebumps were pricking your body as he whispered in your ear.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Does it feel good?”

You nodded, the fuzziness in between your eyes coupled with the building pressure in your lower half gave way to a dizzying sensation, a squelching noise coming out from your walls. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you grabbed at his wrist, feeling the familiar approach of your high, but even stranger, the burning feeling of having to go to the bathroom.

“I’m going to…” Suga cut you off as he clasped his lips over yours again, fingering you faster and bringing his thumb to your clit. Your screams were muffled by his kiss, a wet release streaming from you as Suga removed his fingers to flatten his palm against your sex, rubbing as fast as his hands could against your clit.

As you came down, you clutched onto him tightly, shaking in the realization of your wetness soaking his jeans. You let out a deep sigh, ears ringing as you entered the earthly realm yet again.

“Never knew you were a squirter,” your best friend teased, helping you out of his lap and up onto the bed.

“I didn’t either,” you panted out.

He raised an eyebrow, scooting up next to you in bed. Your fingers twisted at your t-shirt, fumbling to throw it back on and feeling his eyes on you, still lingering in the heaviness of the smoke that was dissipating in your room.

You looked at him longingly through the vapors, fingers tracing the details of his face as you both lingered in the reality of what just happened.

“So,” Suga sat up, taking your hands in his. “You think you’re over him?”

You nodded.

“But I don’t think I’ll be over you anytime soon,” you said softly.

He sparked up another joint, pulling your face to his as he blew the smoke into your mouth, sealing it with another kiss.

“You don’t have to be,” he smirked. “We’ve got all afternoon if you want to stay under me…”

You definitely did.

Brainrot Kinktober Taglist (if ur url is bolded, check ur privacy settings!): @ukaic @definitelythotful @shrimpypenis @nonexistent-social-life @crushingonsuga @revolutionary-chocolate-cake @right-shoe-jpg @sugawara-sweetheart @nxynxy @aoba-baby @arianna20 @scorpiosanssexy @ceo-of-daichi @dinosaurtsukki @turquoiselace @nonamemaximum @omibaby @chokemelevi @bokuakadaily @haikyuuangst @cutie-aesthetic-palace @whet-ones-write @superdepressedhoe @iwachanswh0re @crushzone @kiseox @mysticalroadnightempath @toobsessedsstuff @trouvelle @kodzu-ken @elianetsantana @sonyaroses-blog @tsukkisbitch @mrs-kuroojinguji @tendousfingers

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maboroshi-no · 3 years

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Hamefura LN11 Moments: RaphaelxKatarina 2

While reading Hamefura Light Novel Volume 11, I wrote some summary / quick translations of some moments.

Here is the second RaphaelxKatarina moment in the book.

Context

Dewey is feeling down because he loves Maria and feels like he has no chance against Cyrus or anyone else

Katarina wants to help him

Katarina’s POV

In the end, I didn't ask Sora for advice regarding Dewey's issues, but there is someone who is the best person to turn to for advice in times like this, so there is no problem. While on the way to the special room used for dark magic practice, I told Raphael about Dewey's issues.

Katarina: "...and so Dewey feels down because he has no confidence in himself. I don't know what I can do for him."

Raphael has a keen understanding of people's feelings. A little while ago, he even correctly perceived the feelings of a child he never met. And then he gave me very good advice. He was originally an amazing and competent Senpai and I admire him as my superior, but now he is to me a reliable teacher whom I fully trust. So if I ask him about Dewey's issue, I feel like he would give me good advice. After hearing the story, Raphael gave it some thought for a short while. And then he said

Raphael: "I see. In my opinion, Lady Katarina..."

Katarina: "Yes! What should I do?"

Raphael: "I think you shouldn't do anything."

Katarina: "Eh?!"

As he didn't give me the answer I expected, I let out a stupid yell. Since Raphael is kind, I thought he would give me concrete advice, like something I can do for Dewey.

Katarina: "Umm... Dewey is feeling down so if I don't do anything even after hearing about it..."

As I was panicking, Raphael made a soft and kind expression.

Raphael: "You can listen to Dewey whenever he wants to talk about it, but aside from that you shouldn't do anything."

Katarina: "Umm.. But why? In Liam's case you gave me some good advice."

As I shyly asked this,

Raphael: "In Liam's case, I thought he wanted someone to reach out to him, which is why I told you to lend him a hand. However I think Dewey is different.

This is what he said.

Katarina: "Dewey is different?"

Raphael: "That's right. Dewey doesn't want anyone to settle his problem for him. Rather, he thinks this is something he must settle himself."

Katarina: "So Dewey must do it himself?"

Raphael: "Yes, himself."

Raphael nodded and then continued.

Raphael: "Like me, Dewey Percy may have some circumstances, and because of that, he may have low self-esteem. This is what I think."

Katarina: "Ummm... What is "self-esteem"?

Raphael: "Emotions which make you feel positively about your worth and your existence, and they are low in Dewey's case. To put it simply, it seems like he has no confidence in himself."

Indeed, even though Dewey is so smart, he doesn't really say it and insists that what he did wasn't anything special. I thought he was just being modest.

Raphael: "I don't know the details but I heard that Dewey's family isn't particularly wealthy. Maybe this is why he can't have confidence in himself.

Ah, that's right. This was what was written on the memo, and I also heard it from the person himself a while ago. Because his family was poor, ever since childhood he attended school while working. Raphael muttered

Raphael: "Or maybe he had been continuously rejected by the people close to him."

His eyes looked somewhat pained as he said this. I can understand this feeling.

Raphael: "When you lack confidence in yourself, you can't change that easily no matter what other people try. In this case, only you can change yourself."

Katarina: "Then does it mean I can't help Dewey?"

Raphael: "No, you can lend him an ear and watch over him. And if he asks for your help, then you can lend him a hand."

As he said this, Raphael smiled. These words made me feel at ease. I see. I don't necessarily need to do something, I can just watch over him and lend him an ear, but would that be enough? It's true that during hard times, I just want someone to listen to me. And then Raphael finally added

Raphael: "Besides, Dewey also has his pride as a man, so he may not like having a woman worrying about him."

He said this, grinning like a mischievous kid. I see, Dewey also has his pride as a man. He is right.

Katarina: "Ha ha ha. You're really amazing, Raphael! I am so glad I turned to you for advice! Thank you!"

As I smiled, expressing my thanks,

Raphael: "No, not really. Well then, let's head to the room."

he said, walking ahead with a quick pace. It wasn't like him, so I thought it was strange. I think his face was red but I may be wrong. After that, he was back to normal. And then after reaching the room, I continued my darkness shape alteration practice that I started the day before yesterday. I thought it would go well today since I could do it fine the day before yesterday, but even though I could make the darkness floppy, I couldn't give it a clean shape. As a result, the lesson ended with me only able to make the darkness floppy. Raphael kept saying: "You have just started so it's normal" but since I have supposedly half a year left, I felt uneasy wondering whether I'll be able to do it properly by then.

Raphael's POV

I, Raphael Wolt, made Katarina go back ahead to our department after we finished our dark magic practice. And then, once alone in the room, I loosely sat on a chair. I usually don't sit loosely like that, but my heart was beating furiously. The distance between me and Katarina had become smaller since we started dark magic practice, but it had increasingly become smaller ever since I gave her advice regarding this child in the orphanage. Katarina is trusting me so much now. She was relying on me just a while ago, which I really appreciate, but Katarina tends to be completely defenseless around people she trusts. This is what troubles me. We were all alone in a room and she was looking at me with her sparkling eyes, giving me heartfelt praises, all while I was at a distance where I just needed to extend my arms to wrap her in them. This was quite intense. Of course, I interacted with her without showing any of it, but once it ended, my heart was beating furiously without me being able to do anything about it. "Sirius, you are not the lowly child that woman gave birth to, you are a splendid human being". That woman who was rejecting "Raphael" always said these words to me and they had been cursing me for a long time. But now I have been set free from them. And Katarina's words, "You're really amazing, Raphael!" are pushing me forward. Alright, let's do our best this afternoon too! While saying this in my heart, I got up from the chair.

#hamefura #my next life as a villainess: all routes leads to doom #bakarina #katarina claes #raphael wolt

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thedevillionaire · 3 years

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Illusionary

Cerberus, Kia, domestic bedroom snz scene with a little magic, little romance? Hmm, yeah, sounds like me. 😏 --- Wrapped in a full-length darkest burgundy dressing robe, feeling somewhat refreshed but still more than a little coldhazy, Cerberus emerges post-shower to the sight of Kia, changed from her earlier black velvet bodice and jeans into a burnished deep gold satin negligee, lying on her stomach across the bed, head resting on her hands, attention fixed on the Testing papers in front of her. He pauses at the threshold, leans against the door frame to simply look at her awhile, silently enraptured, a soft smile on his face.

:Just so you know, babe,: Mindsends Kia, keeping her eyes on the papers, :it’s not possible for you to enter a room and not be noticed.: She glances back over her shoulder at him and grins wickedly. “You’d be a terrible spy.”

Cerberus chuckles, walking over to settle beside her on the bed. “Hard to argue given the circumstances, I suppose.” He toys with her hair, looking down at the papers. “Which Level are you applying for?” A light sniffle, and he frowns slightly, rubs his nose against an irritation rising anew.

“6.” Kia sighs. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I can get that, but…I don’t know, I’m not…evenly skilled across the options or something.” She rolls over to sit up, cross-legged. “There’s a bunch of stuff I can do really well, and some other stuff I’m…just not very good at, I guess.” She gives him a rueful smile. “But I think if I maybe…”

“What is it you’re not sure of?” Cerberus reaches across her and picks up the papers, flicking through them as he moves to sit leaning back against the bedhead, rearranging the array of pillows and cushions to suit. Another sniffle, more sharply this time and he recognises the battle as lost, his focus dissolving captive to undeniable need, and he turns from Kia in surrender to an adversary already his conqueror many times over today. “HHAHTSSCCHU! Damn it, I swear Healing deal in placebos. Comple…ehh-HH ..completely…hh… Ahh-HEHTSSCH-uu!” He sniffles again and fixes Kia with a look conveying irrefutable vindication, raises an eyebrow. “*snf!*Hm? As evidenced. Completely ineffectual,” he states with authority, and takes several tissues from the box on the bedside. “Excuse me a mome… hh-HH... Oh, for f… HHAHTSSCCHU! Ah, gods. *SNF!* Pardon me, love.” He blows his nose in an attempt to stop any further irritation, at least in the short term, though he holds very little faith in that regard, and incinerates the tissues in a flashblaze of aetherfire.

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Kia says, gently strokes his forearm. “I’m fairly sure the meds have helped a bit, though,” she suggests. “Compared to earlier, at least.”

“Oh, well, yes, I’m sure I’ve had at least ten minutes respite here and there,” mutters Cerberus sardonically, though he concedes to his bonded’s wry smirk quickly enough, places a kiss on her forehead. “Ah, I’m sorry, darkling. It’s just that as a rule, I’m rather fond of breathing.” Resting back against the pillows once more, he sighs again, absently rubs his nose, and returns his attention to the papers, making a quiet hum of thought as he flicks through them, in consideration.

“Sweetheart?” Kia, curious, shuffles up along the bed a little more to kneel beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, trying to read what he was reading. “What are you doing?”

Cerberus points to the skillset of Illusion, listed as a subcategory within Hypnotics, several thick and emphatic lines scrawled beneath it. “This is underlined because…?”

Kia scoffed. “Because I suck at it,” she says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I can do the basics, but…” She looks up at him, nestling into him, trailing absent patterns across his chest with her fingers. “It’s just…it’s like…you have to sort of direct what someone else sees, so it’s…putting your images into their eyes without actually seeingthrough their eyes, so you don’t know if it’s actually working, you just kind of have to hope for it, and I can’t figure out when it is working so then I get distracted and the whole thing pretty much falls apart.”

“It’s a skill Demonics covers as well.” Cerberus kisses the top of her head, draping an arm across her as he drops the papers in his lap.

Kia stares at him, taken aback. “You can do this?!”

“Well, I don’t use it widely, nor is it my forte, but…”

“Oh, oh, oh! Want to take my Test for me?” Kia gives him a playful entreating look. “Just, I don’t know, shapeshift or something. Is that a thing? You can do that, right? I’ll let you wear whatever you like. Oh my god, I bet you’d be super-hot as me.”

Cerberus collapses into laughter, and she laughs with him, her heart warming as it always does when he loses himself to delight, and particularly now, with him unwell. She repositions herself to settle beside him, kissing him tenderly as she does so, and picks up the papers in one hand, resting her other hand on his thigh. “Alright, alright, okay, I know. I’ll take my own stupid Test. It’s mostly Vampirism specific, anyway. But still…” A devilish grin darts across her face and she bats her eyelashes at him with exaggerated flirtation. :Super-hot.:

Smiling, Cerberus looks down and shakes his head in an ill-advised move that brings about yet another stark reminder of the throbbing sinus headache he’s only just managed to almost forget. He winces slightly and does his best to ignore it. Claiming the honeyed tea from the bedside tray, he reheats it with a touch, and takes a sip. “Well, darkling,” he says, “perhaps not quite that, um…absolute, but I certainly owe you any favours I can offer at this point, so if you’ll allow me—” He kisses her forehead. “—to revisit a request that you once asked of me… Drop your Protect.”

Kia’s eyes widen and she looks up at him, confused, curious. “Why? Do you even need me to?”

“No, love, technically I don’t. But I’d prefer to have your consent, if you’ll give it.”

“For what? I mean, sure, of course, babe, but…”

And then Kia loses her words, struck voiceless, astonished, and reaches her hand out to feel for a bed that is no longer there, finding instead only the soft moss and verdure of a rainforest glade, the gentle sensation of vivid greenery under her touch; lush, thick and rampant plantlife above her, beneath her, beside her, in sensory undeniability. She turns rapidly, looking everywhere around her, unable to comprehend what’s happening even as the very atmosphere changes, the dark, thick, wet scent of fernery, pines, rich soils, and peat surrounding her, immersive and entirely real, solid, incontrovertible. The sky darkens to gunmetal greyblue, stormclouded and windswept, and the crash of distant thunder seems to vibrate the air itself. Sky? But there can’t be sky. Where’s the…where’s the ceiling? What…

“Honey?” she asks, questioning, her own voice feeling like a foreignness, seeking her love who isn’t where he had been mere seconds ago, and she runs her hand along the bark of a nearby tree, one of several, the texture rough and actual, definite. She pushes it, pushes harder; it does not yield. The thunder echoes again, muted but resonant, a certainty, and the heavy cloudcover darkens with it, bringing further shadow to the dell. Shifting her position and reaching for familiarity does nothing to transform the verdant rolling hills back into the furniture she knows so well – oak and cast iron and ornate fabric lost to, consumed by, this wilderness she’s breathing. The landscape stretches out endless and impossibly vast; bedroom walls stay invisible, dissolved. There are no hard angles. No corners. Thunder once more but softer, as if moving away. Wisps of phosphorescence dartdance across thickets and brush, phantasmal. She curls her toes against some lichen at her feet.

:Know this, love,: Cerberus Mindsends almost as if in echo, in memory, to the bone, and Kia spins around to face him, seated beside her but on the opposite side to where she last saw him, dressed as if for a fog-covered moorside in a thick cable-knit sweater and fleecelined suede coat, which she knows is not possible this is not possible it cannot be possible how can he do this how can anyone oh my god definitely not reality but still the only tangible perception she can make, and she isn’t at all sure she can speak to him and she tries to see what she knows to be real, where she knows she must be sitting, but she simply can’t, and she plucks a honeysuckle flower off a nearby creeping vine that has to be fictitious and yet it somehow isn’t, marvelling as she turns it over in her hands, touching its petals, breathing its sweet perfume.

“You’re extraordinary,” she whispers, tears in her eyes.

:Close your eyes a moment, darkling, and immerse. Remember this. Understand this.:

And feeling the reassuring touch of his hand on hers, she closes her eyes as requested, reopening them after just a brief time to see again the bedroom that she’d logically known she’d never left, only then consciously recognising that he could not have taken her hand in that way from where she’d thought she’d seen him last, and she gazes up at him, open-mouthed in astonishment, for the shortest of moments before reaching up to trace her fingers along the contours of his face, almost as if to confirm his existence. “How are you even…” she murmurs in wonder, before calling herself back to reality somewhat.

She takes a moment to rebalance, breathes deeply, recentering. “Okay.” She exhales slowly. “Alright. Okay, that was…wow, that was completely amazing and… I love you but that was… If that’s what I’m meant to do… I mean, I could feel it. I held a flower. Fuck, babe. I have enough trouble even getting an image to form. A single image. You…you made a world. There’s no way I can do that.”

“You most certainly can, love,” counters Cerberus, “and, in fact, will. Should bring you up to a Level 8 grading, I’d imagine.” He presses his index finger then the back of his hand against his nose, frowning a little at a building itch, sniffling. “Excuse me. You just, um…recall the memory, enter in and redirect, adjusting for context. You’ll only be working with mortal capacity for resistance, also, if I recall the Vampirism protocol for this sort of thing correctly, so it sh…should be…” His breath hitches, the returning urgency stealing his sentence; he excuses himself with haste and turns from Kia, succumbing desperate, heavy, absolute. “AhhHEHTSSCHuu!”

“Bless you!”

He raises an index finger and gives the briefest shake of his head, brow creased, and frozen in thrall to the crescendo of oncoming need; he takes an imposed moment, expectant, and another, inhaling shallow scissored twice and over, then deep, deeper still.

And again.

“hh-HH… Hh-TSSCHhuu!”

And oh he does not want to concede, but again.

“HMPTch! HHKTchu!” His attempt at resistance proves no contest against the still insistent, overwhelming tickle, and he gives over completely this time, abandoning any further fight. “Hh-TSSCH-uu! ah-hh… AHHTSSCHUU! Ah, gods.”

Kia’s own breath comes a touch uncertain too as she purrs a honeytoned, “Bless you, sweetheart.”

Cerberus exhales tiredly, pushes silken ebony disorder back from his face with one hand while claiming several tissues with the other. “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, adding a sotto voce curse or two about the entire situation. “Pardon me.” He blows his nose, a little more gingerly now, sniffles again and sighs, repeats the process. Ridiculous.

A thought suddenly occurs to Kia that piques her interest far too much to not to ask it. “So, um…what would have happened if you’d sneezed during that whole…you know, ‘the bedroom is a forest now’ performance?”

Cerberus wipes his nose a final time before vaporising the latest used tissue collection. He chuckles quietly, clears his throat. “You’d best tell me, I think.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, though. I would have…” Kia breaks off, examines her beloved’s expression with wary sidelong glance, considering whether there was any chance of...

No. With a faint scoff, she rejects the possibility, positive, confident. “No, you did not. There’s no way I don’t hear that.”

“If you say so, love.”

She frowns. “You’re right here. I am next to you in the bed.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful.” He flashes her a candid, disarming smile. “My favourite thing.”

Laughing, Kia pushes him in play. “Well, mine too, sweetheart, but that’s not what I meant and you know it,” she says before returning to her point. “You did not sneeze during that, though. No way. It just isn’t… Nope. You’re teasing me.”

“Well.” Cerberus once again brings newly steaming heat to the cup of tea with a touch, the very slightest of smiles crossing his face. “I admit that thunder is rather a cliché, but I didn’t have a great deal of time to consider intricacy of plot.”

“You di… But…” Kia stares at him in complete bafflement. “How?!”

“Illusion, darkling.” He stretches an idle arm across her shoulders, presses a kiss to her temple. “This is how it works.”

“Are you serious?!” Kia shakes her head in amazement. “God, do I even know what reality is?!” She gives a half laugh of incredulity, simultaneously astounded and utterly unsurprised at the variety of skills her beloved seems able to just call to command at will. “Okay, okay, and…so now because you…set me up, is that right, I can just, what, do that now? Oh. Ohh, whoa now, wait a second. Hang on.” She gives him a sly look, comprehension dawning. “Did you just do my homework for me?”

Cerberus laughs softly, a little darkly. “Consider it a crash course. Anyway, I know that you are in fact highly skilled in…not unrelated areas. I certainly know you can direct events. Your truly…outstanding talent with Immerse and Possess proves it. I suspect you just weren’t sure where to begin in this case.” He gives her a gentle smile. “You have an advantage, love. You should use it.”

Kia smiles back. “Oh, I’ll use you alright. I mean, use it.” She winks, laughing again. “I liked your mountain man look, by the way. Do you even have a cable-knit sweater?"

Cerberus raises an eyebrow. "What? You dressed me in a sweater?"

“I dressed you? What?"

“My direction only goes so far, darkling. Illusion involves a great deal of obfuscation, but it’s not a complete taking over. Some parts of it are nothing more than guidance, suggestions. And certain aspects are – I assure you – entirely of your own creation." He looks at her in nonplussed bemusement. “Really? Cable knit?”

“Navy blue, with a tan suede jacket,” Kia specifies with haughty precision before dissolving into laughter anew and doubly at the expression on his face. "I guess that’s what you get for setting everything in a forest. Come on, I was thematically accurate, at least.” She wipes away tears of laughter before meeting his gaze with conviction, points at him as if delivering an unarguable truth. “You looked hot as fuck, incidentally."

“I feel I’ve learnt something entirely new about you tonight,” Cerberus remarks, smiling briefly at her before suddenly turning away again, a couplet of fierce, unstoppable sneezes almost catching him unprepared absolutely, and he apologises with haste. “Hh-TSSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHH-uu! Goddamn it. *snf!* I have had more than entirely enough of this.” He sharply pulls another pair of tissues from the box, blows his nose again, immolates them afterwards with a burst of flame rather more emphatic than required.

“Aw, bless you, hon.” Kia tuts softly, strokes his hair back from his eyes, moves to sit across his lap, facing him. She traces a finely manicured nail down his neck, across his shoulder. “You know,” she nearwhispers, her tone softly teasing, “it wouldn’t kill you to wear a sweater once in a while.”

“I’m really not…”

Kia leans closer, purrs as if sharing the wickedest of secrets. “Denim jeans too.”

:Gods, love, who are you?: Cerberus Mindsends in shadowsnarl as he wraps a strong arm around his bonded and draws them together, claiming her mouth and kissing her with fire palpable.

:You know me, sweetheart.: With deft touch and feline grace, slightest shrug, Kia allows her negligee to smoothly fall away, returning her beloved’s kiss perfervid, wanting, infusing her reciprocal Mindsend with the same.

:Your favourite thing.:

----

#supernatural soap opera #cerberus #kia #cerbia #snzfic #sneeze fic #he will never wear denim jeans nope never not gonna happen #the sweater's not completely out of the question though #my writing #my OCs

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sockablock · 4 years

Text

I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.”

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

#to be continued...?#critical role #critfic #shadowgast #critrole #cr2 #the mighty nein #fanfiction #fanfic #jay writes #long post #LONG ASS POST #SUCH A LONG POST IM SO SORRY #for later #i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it #time to build a magic school #text #fic

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nlights37 · 3 years

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Time to Pretend - Ch. 2 Teaser

Good news, @noordinarylines and I should have the next chapter in this little fiasco we call a fic up in a day or two. Until the notice hits your inbox, here's a little taste of what's coming next:

“Tell me the cost of Northern fealty, Jon. The true cost. What must I do to prove myself?”

Jon’s head tipped to the side, surprise washing over his features, and then a heavy hesitancy that seemed to still his tongue. His lips parted several times, as though he couldn’t quite settle on what he wished to say, but finally he did. “My father,” he began, and her heart skipped, then settled as she realized who it was that Jon Snow meant, “always said we find our true friends on the battlefield. I suppose I had hoped that, if I could convince you that my cause is just, somehow persuade you to fight for us, for the North…,” he sighed heavily, his voice trailing off. “On the beach, you asked Tyrion what sort of Queen you would be if you weren’t willing to fight for your people.”

Daenerys let out a belated, resigned sigh of her own, and left him standing there in the center of the room, rounding Aegon’s table, her eyes wandering over the map absently. He might be quiet, she mused, but he was clever, clever enough to use her own arguments to convince her. “Yes,” she said dryly, “I recall what I said.”

It took little effort to recall other things, a menagerie of images only barely restrained, of standing here in this room with him, his larger frame bracketing her, his every word designed to tease her into sinful submission.

Turn around, Dany.

She could feel his breath hot on her neck, his cock hungry for her and pressed against her, his eyes on fire for her, only for her, always for her. If she wished hard enough, it was real, for a beautiful moment in time.

She opened her eyes and the illusion was gone, replaced by a different Jon Snow, the true Jon, sad-eyed and stoic, too far away to touch, even if she wished. She felt tired, weariness encroaching once more, so that even conversing with him felt like a battle she could not possibly win. “And you believe that their minds and hearts will be changed, if I ride into battle for them? If my men, my armies, are willing to sacrifice their lives for a people who may never swear fealty to me? Though I have done nothing to earn their distaste? Or distrust?” She studied him intently, not shying away when his stormy, troubled eyes met hers. “It seems a heavy price to ask of me, does it not, that I must first risk myself and my armies to be deemed worthy?”

His jaw worked, his lips pressed in a thin line, something sure forming in his heavy stare. “It is. I know it is. I know.” She believed him, could hear the tormented edge to his voice. He knew what he was asking, knew it was far more than he had a right to, in his position. She could take the North, if she wished. But she was weary, tonight, weary of fighting and weary of hiding from the memories that plagued her. She wondered, as she watched him pace, if he was tired, as well. “The past can remain in the past, where it belongs. What matters, what truly matters, is what we do in the here and now.”

“It matters to your people, it seems.” Her rasping whisper seemed to strike him, and he stubbornly clenched his jaw and shook his head, even as she continued. “The past, that is.”

“Not to me. And one way or another they will see reason.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I must simply hope I will live to see the day.” His self-deprecating smile stirred something in her breast, shook her free of this fresh melancholy that had besieged her enough that she found herself able to manage a small twitching of her lips in return.

“As do I,” she murmured in reply, and the seconds ticked by, one by one, as they simply gazed upon each other, a strange sort of spell weaving its way between them, or so she fancied. And perhaps it was not all in her imagination, as she saw his eyes drop to her lips and linger just a moment too long before he seemed to shake himself.

“I should bid you goodnight, I think. ‘Tis probably enough troubling discussion for one night.” He nodded to her, and turned on his heel, making for the door, only drawing up short at the sound of her voice.

Her heart had picked up a frantic beat against her breastbone as she realized he was departing, and she scrambled for something, anything to say, to waylay him for just a bit longer. “Do you play cyvasse, Jon Snow?”

Words whispered in her mind again, his low Northern burr far more playful in her memory than she’d ever heard it in truth, as he turned back to face her, his brows raised in surprise and no small measure of interest, she saw.

Why, we played cyvasse well into the evening, of course. What are you implying?

The memory fled when the man before her smiled warmly. “Aye, Daenerys, when I have the opportunity.”

A hot burst of excitement flared within her, then, and she fought desperately to maintain her composure. “Well, then,” she replied, in a carefully measured tone, “perhaps tomorrow evening you might join me for a match?”

“I think I’d like that very much. I mean no offense,” he said quickly, his eyes twinkling with amusement and a dash of caution, “But there is not much to do on these shores once the sun has set.”

Daenerys had to disagree, internally. There were a great many she could think of, in which he was actively involved, but it would be wildly inappropriate to give voice to such things now. “Let us meet here, then. Tomorrow evening?”

She thought she was the same eagerness in his gaze as what dwelt within her, but she would not, could not allow her imagination to run rampant in regards to the King in the North. She had a great many tasks set before her, after all. Best to be practical, where he was concerned. But she smiled when he echoed her reply, his teeth flashing as he grinned. “Tomorrow, then.”

The door shut quietly behind him, and she was alone, again, with the ghosts of the past, and the dreams that seemed impossible to rid herself of completely.

#jonerys fanfic #jonerys #fic tease #jon x daenerys #time to pretend #fic update coming soon

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hb-writes · 3 years

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The Firstborns

A Sylvie Bridgerton Story - 1815

Sylvie (OC) is the eldest child of Hugo Bridgerton, the older sister to George (OC), and a cousin raised alongside the infamous Bridgerton brood. Born in-between Daphne and Eloise, Sylvie has made it her mission to delay her season again and again. Will 1815 be her year?

A/N - I’ve read the books and watched the show, so fair warning there are likely spoilers and it’s also likely a mix of both media because my mind honestly didn’t separate them - it just choose what it wants from the books/ tv show.

---

It was often said that elder brothers could be the worst sort of thing to happen to a young woman of marrying age, but Sylvie Bridgerton had three elder male cousins and could rightfully attest to the fact that they could be similarly problematic.

Sylvie supposed they were essentially siblings, the Bridgerton brood labeled tidily from A through H, because she had been raised mostly by their side as an alphabetical outcast, the elder of the two children born to Lord Hugo Bridgerton, left in the care of her Uncle Edmund at her father’s passing, the responsibility then left to her cousin, Anthony, only a year after that. At least that was the way society dictated it.

Sylvie had always been quite certain it was really her Auntie Vi who was in charge of her and her younger brother, George, though. Or more precisely, Sylvie was quite certain that Auntie Vi was in charge of everything, her Viscount of a cousin included.

But as Sylvie sat twiddling her fingers in Anthony’s office for the third time in less than a week, she was starting to question that certainty.

Sylvie had assessed that her cousin looked rather disgruntled, though she supposed Anthony had simply had that look about him for about a week or so now.

“So, are we to have a little chat or…?”

Anthony had ignored his cousin from the very moment after instructing her to take a seat a little over a quarter of an hour before. He focused instead on whatever was keeping him chained to his desk at this time of night, some paperwork regarding the estate and the family finances.

“If not, maybe you’ll allow me to borrow a book to pass the time?” Sylvie gestured to his brimming shelves.

“Sylvia.”

Anthony set down his pen, eyebrow raised as he interlaced his fingers, settling them on top of the papers before him. He was surprised she’d humored his silence for so long, nearly fourteen minutes when he’d expected no more than three to seven.

“Is my given name truly necessary?” she said, allowing only a moment of silence before continuing. “I suppose from that alone I should gather I’m in some sort of proper trouble?”

Anthony only stared at her and then, despite himself, he sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples and rolling his neck.

If anyone thought raising girls was an easy business, they’d clearly never done it themselves. They’d never met Daphne or Eloise or Francesca or Hyacinth Bridgerton. And they’d certainly never met Sylvia.

It still shocked him a bit, the differences between the Bridgerton girls, his younger sisters and his younger cousin. It was impressive, the way they could each vex him in such creative and distinct ways, their ability to bring him to laughter matched equally by their making him wish he had remained an only child, and entirely cousin-less as well.

On some days, Anthony wondered if every Bridgerton below him in age didn’t actually gather in the drawing-room at an agreed-upon hour to arrange a schedule designed solely for agitating him, deciding who would next take a swing and what technique would be employed. It seemed that Sylvie had been assigned extra vexing duties as of late, though that was not entirely surprising to him. She had always seemed to enjoy it a bit more than the others. And she was bloody good at it too.

“Are you ever not in trouble, Sylvia?”

Her eyes longed to roll, his continued insistence on using her full name bringing her the slightest bit of frustration, because despite all of the evidence otherwise, she did prefer when Anthony wasn’t lecturing her. She actually quite enjoyed his company when he wasn’t scolding.

“On those precious few evenings when you actually do go out, or better yet go to your own home, I find myself in a distinct lack of trouble. No one else deems me fit to be scolded, however—”

“However—” Anthony sat up and straightened his jacket. “—I am seemingly required to do so three...or four,” he said, allowing for the chance they’d find themselves in the same situation the following evening, “nights a week, all because you think a little untoward behavior will allow you to put off your season for another year.”

Sylvie was left with her mouth open, her elder cousin’s words an effective silencer and stunner, finally coming straight to the point after the two of them had danced around it for weeks.

“I—”

“Hear precisely what you are saying, my dear cousin, and will stop all this nonsense at once?” Anthony suggested.

“That’s—That’s not what I wanted to say,” she answered.

“No, of course not. I would never dream to expect as much.”

Sylvie took a breath as she considered her options. She wanted to ask for another year of reprieve. That’s what she had planned for, waiting at least another year before subjecting herself to the same torment Daphne had endured only two years prior.

She was still young enough to justify a delay and she’d successfully done so for two years already, citing a need to finish out a few academic endeavors the first year and an ankle injured in a particularly ruthless game of Pall Mall the next, but she hadn’t postured herself correctly for her cousin to be amenable to a conversation on delaying yet again. But then again, Sylvie hadn’t truly postured herself very well for Anthony to be amenable to her requests for nearly a decade by this point.

“But Georgie—”

“You do not need to concern yourself with matters concerning your brother. The boys will be at Eton come the next fall. They’ll be home for the summers. No matter who you marry, you shall always be welcome to visit him here or at Aubrey Hall, and I’m sure George should like to come to visit you as well.”

Sylvie’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she cleared her throat and regained the ability to form proper words. “Actually Anthony, I had expected that Georgie would be living with me.”

Anthony shook his head, sitting up in his chair. “George will be at Eton. He and Gregory will both be at Eton and then—”

“He is my brother,” Sylvie answered. “My responsibility.”

“I think you’ll find that both you and George are both my responsibility. And that responsibility extends to seeing you settled in a comfortable marriage and your brother receiving a proper education before, when he is ready, he also settles into a comfortable marriage.”

“When he’s ready?” Sylvie repeated. “Why is it that you boys get to marry when you’re ready and we young ladies are simply commanded to join the parade when you men determine it’s the proper time? Why do you get to decide everything?”

Anthony could have been honest and told Sylvie that he wanted them all tucked away into the safety of marriage because he didn’t know that he would be around to see to it if there was a delay.

Or he could have spoken to her from firstborn to firstborn, appealing the fellow eldest child he found in his younger cousin, aligning them through their common thread, and insisting that he only did these things because it was what he thought was best for them, same as she did for the younger ones and George especially.

Or he could have been quite frank and informed her that he had no desire to have multiple Bridgerton girls in season at the same time, though the prospect of settling Sylvie, Eloise, and Francesca down all in one go was enticing.

But Anthony didn’t tell her those things. He offered a much simpler explanation, one which he suspected would allot less room for argument on the part of the cousin who was testing his capacity for patience at such a late hour.

“Because I am Viscount, Sylvia.”

Sylvie released a quick breath and turned her face down to focus on her fumbling fingers as she considered it. Anthony had only uttered four simple words, but there was a whole lot of complicated meaning built up behind them.

Because you are Viscount.

And a man.

And I am nothing.

A woman, and therefore, nothing.

Property.

A dowry.

A machine for use of creating an heir.

Meant to be seen and not heard.

Nothing.

She found it all hard to swallow after her upbringing even though she knew Anthony, and the other male Bridgertons, didn’t truly live by those beliefs. But society did. The ton did. And so the second she entered society, it would become reality, in a way.

Sylvie had never before been discounted on account of being female. As a young Bridgerton girl, she had frequently gone out into the fields tagging along behind her older cousins, playing the very same games as the boys, climbing trees and forging streams. Even once they moved to London year-round, Sylvie had retained a certain amount of autonomy.

And though they often went toe to toe, Anthony had always respected Sylvie’s position as George’s older sister, and he’d always acknowledged the importance of the common ground that stood between them, that of the firstborn sibling, affording her an extra measure of respect that he’d not afford to even Benedict in certain matters. It often came out in shared glances across the room, or their lending one another support with simple nods in response to “Right, Sylvie?” or “Right, Anthony?”

Although they had never explicitly discussed it, Sylvie assumed when she did one day marry, her brother would come to stay with her, assumed that if he were still of a certain impressionable age, George would officially become the responsibility of her and her future husband.

And if she didn’t marry until later in life, until her younger brother was fully grown, or if she never married at all, she was alright with those scenarios as well. She loved Bridgerton House and Aubrey Hall and being surrounded by family, her wild cousins and brother running about and shouting at all hours. She didn’t long for the solitude of marriage. And despite loving children, she wasn’t entirely sure whether she wanted to bear her own.

“But—”

“What could you possibly have to say to argue that point?”

“I’m not going to argue whether or not you’re the Viscount, My Lord.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. He rued the day that his cousin learned that she could somehow twist his title into an insult.

Sylvie smiled, considering his silence permission to continue, not that she was truly waiting for it.

“I’m going to argue against this season. Daphne didn’t meet Simon until the season in which she turned one and twenty, and your own wife didn’t have her season until one and twenty, and—”

“And you’re telling me that I should allow you to wait until you are one and twenty?”

“No,” she said. “You, my dearest cousin, are the Right Honorable Viscount Bridgerton, and I am well aware that I cannot tell you what to do. I am merely asking that you consider my humble little request.”

Anthony snorted. “Sylvie Bridgerton? Humble, eh?”

“My ability to be humble is not the question at hand, Anthony,” she muttered. “And neither truly is the time at which my season should take place because... well, your wife has already agreed with me. Kate thinks one and twenty is the perfect age for a first season.”

Anthony’s thumb rubbed at his temple, an entirely subconscious gesture on his part. “My wife has already agreed with you?”

“Yes, the Viscountess has agreed that I should be allowed to wait a year. We had tea this afternoon while you, Ben, and Colin were at the club.”

“Of course you did.”

“She also said that you’ve lost a bet to her and as such, you will have no choice to go along with us.”

Anthony closed his eyes and his nostrils flared before he released a deep exhale. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Me or Kate?”

Anthony waved a hand in the air. “I’ll let the two of you work that out. Not as if my opinion on the subject matters.”

“So, you’ll tell Auntie—”

Anthony’s booming laugh cut off Sylvie’s words. “No, no, my dearest cousin. I shall leave that particular discussion for you.”

He stood up from his desk then, taking his hat as he stepped towards the door. “Best of luck. Do let me know how that goes.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton oc #bridgerton one shot #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton #sylvie bridgerton

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ducavalentinos · 3 years

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Why do you think that Cesare helped Della Rovere become Pope? It's seems uncharacteristically...stupid? Perhaps illness and grief had made him desperate?

(Also I can't get that scene of Della Rovere hitting on Cesare in Borgia out of my head help lol)

Oh, thank you anon, for giving me the chance to vent my thoughts about the most frustrating event in Borgian history! This is long-ish, and tumblr is being weird(!!!!!!!) with the read-more link, so I'm not sure where/if it will show up below or not. Before answering your question, there is a question to be made first, I think: Why was Della Rovere still breathing in the year of 1503? If we follow the Borgias’ historical literature, the vast majority paints Rodrigo and Cesare, in particular Cesare, as unscrupulous, utterly ruthelss, vindictive men. They were the terror of Italy, and they meticulously eliminated all of their enemies. Yet, most of their enemies and their families, important to add, lived. Including Della Rovere, the most dangerous and bitterest rival of their family. What are we supposed to make of this? It's another one of those common situations in Borgian bios where what it is said is demonstrably at odds with the historical material, and it's something to ponder, I mean, Cesare only found himself in his predicament in 1503 because he and his father failed to strike down Della Rovere during those long eleven years they were in power. Their inability and/or unwillingness to do so was a graver political mistake than Cesare helping Della Rovere win the papacy in the end. And answering your question now, yes, I think the initial impression is that it does seem uncharacteristically stupid for Cesare to support Della Rovere, and help him win. But then again, I don't think Cesare's biographers are very good in showing the complexity of papal Conclaves, and the whole political landscape Cesare was in, and all the possible factors that came into play in his decision. Maybe it's a decision made not to overwhelm or bore the reader, but it usually has only one or two chapters covering both Conclaves, with a lot being left out or ignored, or simplified. The two most popular opinions are that: 1. Cesare had no choice, but to support Della Rovere. Some claim he was no longer in a powerful position, or felt lost without his father's guidance, and/or Della Rovere was the only and strongest candidate for that Conclave from the start, and his election was an impossible thing to avoid. It was already settled, and Cesare had to roll with it the best he could, and try not to make the future Pope even more hostile towards him. 2. He had other choices, namely he had cardinal Rouen, but in the end it didn't worked out, and Della Rovere stood unopposed as a candidate for the papacy, which forced Cesare to support him, and/or he apparently believed Della Rovere's promises, and thought they could reach an understanding. Opinion #1 is the most messy, and it makes zero sense to me today, given there is actual historical info reporting the contrary. The idea that Cesare's power and influence died out or diminished after his father died, or that he was lost without his guidance, are false. Prior to Della Rovere's election as Pope Giulio II, Cesare's power and influence remained strong. He still had large sums of money with his bankers in Genoa and other places of Italy, he continued to be visited daily by cardinals and orators, and indeed it even seems he was thought to be the decisive factor for any papal election. There isn't much criticism to be made either, when looking at his actions right after Rodrigo died, esp. considering at the same time he was dangerously ill himself, and it wasn't something he had prepared for, being it impossible to predict such a thing, he played all of his cards wise and correctly. He was able to secure Piccolomini as Pope, who if not a Borgia partisan, at least was not antagonistic towards him and his family. About the second Conclave, there is a report from Machiavelli in which he says cardinal Pallavicini was the only one being regarded as a possible rival to Della Rovere. And Burchard, whose info seems to have been correct in this instance, writes of a meeting that took place between Della Rovere and Cesare with the Spaniard cardinals at the Vatican, a variant of this info is of Della Rovere meeting Cesare and the Spaniard cardinals at the Castel Sant' Angelo, where they were able to reach an agreement. Opinion #2 makes a little more sense, and it matches a little bit more with the info there is, but it's still messy. Cardinal Pallavicini is almost never mentioned (only Woodward mentions him iirc), and it has to be said that even if Della Rovere succeeded in making himself an unopposed candidate, nevertheless, the Spanish vote could decide an election. So Cesare still had choices, and the reason why he didn't went with those choices, in my view, is not because he believed Della Rovere's promises, it's not the case of Della Rovere winning in the game of deception, I believe both men were aware that agreement was only temporary, and Cesare's decision there was composed by other factors. And between these two opinions, here's what I think is more plausible to have happened: Cesare, knowing his beloved tutor Giovanni Vera was as impossible a choice in that second Conclave as he had been in the first, thought about supporting the French cardinal Rouen. He was far from the ideal choice, but he was a workable choice for him. However, although his influence with the Spaniard cardinals was strong, he must have been aware his influence with them had limitations. The cardinals would never vote for a French candidate, because they were also obliged to King Ferdinand II of Spain, who also had his influence with them, and whose interests they were there in Rome to protect and represent. So much like Vera, Rouen quickly became an impossible choice for him. After this, it's reasonable to think he turned his efforts towards any candidate who stood a chance against Della Rovere, which turned out to be cardinal Pallavicini. Pallavicini is interesting, because like Della Rovere, he was also from the Liguria region (Genoa), but unlike Della Rovere, he maintained a friendly relationship with the Borgia family during Alexander VI's papacy. Rodrigo Borgia was able to secure his support during his own battle to win the papacy in the Conclave of 1492. He also counted on this cardinal's efforts when trying to nominate Cesare for the cardinalate. And he appointed him Bishop of Pamplona, a title previously held by Cesare himself. There is nothing, that I've found anyways, suggesting he and Cesare had direct interactions, but it's possible Cesare cultivated a relationship with him much in the same way he did with cardinal Piccolomini (later Pope Pius III). So by all accounts, Pallavicini was Cesare's best choice then, and it is intriguing there isn't much about this, or why Pallavicini failed to make himself Pope. In theory at least, with Cesare's support, he would have won the papacy. The Italian cardinals were not supporting Della Rovere because they wanted him, many disliked him, some still remembered the papacy of his uncle, but he seemed like a better choice than another Spaniard, or a French, or god forbid a Colonna or an Orsini, but with cardinal Pallavicini, they had a good choice there, and the only reason I can think of as to why they didn't elect him comes down to money and benefices. At some point, Pallavicini, even with Cesare's support, couldn't keep up with the resources Della Rovere made sure of having, and just like Rouen, he fell behind. From this point forward, things get more complicated for Cesare, but Della Rovere's election was still not a concluded reality. A question that follows when reading the info about him meeting with Cesare is: Would he have reached out to Cesare, the son of a man he hated to the core, from a family he despised, if his election was such a sure thing? I think the answer here is no. Della Rovere entering into an agreement with Cesare highly implies, if not proves it, he did not had the necessary votes to win. He needed the Spanish vote, 11 votes to be precise, which were under the influence of Cesare. Without the 11 votes, every single voting would end up nowhere, and a thought I believe was on Della Rovere's mind at the time was that: the longer it took for an election, the more difficult it became for him to stay as strong and unopposed. The support he had could shift in one week or two. New rivals could emerge, unexpected things could happen, because papal Conclaves were mostly unpredictable. It depended a lot on money, influence, the political situation on a daily basis, esp. in Rome, where as it was the norm without a Pope, was a city under total chaos. Della Rovere could only control so much for so long, and I think he knew that very well, hence why he swallowed his hatred, and went to negociate with the son of his archenemy, and get the 11 votes he needed to win as soon as possible.

Another question that follows after reading all this is: Ok, so why didn't Cesare used that for his advantage? better yet, why didn't he use the chaos in Rome, for example, to subtly force the cardinals to stop supporting Della Rovere and find a more favourable candidate for him? Or why didn't he simply stalled the election until a more favourable candidate appeared? These are all things he was in a position of doing, and the reason why he didn't do it, and instead went with helping Della Rovere can be better explained when considering the following factors: 1. You mentioned his grief, and his illness, which might have made him desperate, and while I don't think it was that exactly that made him desperate, I do think it counts as a factor into understanding his state of mind at that moment, and why he made that final decision. Cesare had gone through a rollercoster of events, and dare I say, emotions in less than 3 months. He lost his father, the constant and closest male presence in his life, as far as we know. He didn't had time to grieve him nor make sure he had a decent and respectful burial (it's possible he heard later what was said about his death and burial, and I have no idea how that made him feel) because he was also fighting for his life then. First against illness, then against his enemies in Rome. Not only that, other people and things depended on him. He was the head of the house then, and it fell to him the responsibility, among all that chaos, to keep the women and children of his family safe, as well as to make sure to get all the valuable possessions left in the Vatican and in his palace, before they were sacked completely by servants and others. This was an important step to ensure their survival in the coming months. Gioffre was there to help him, and he did helped, but you know, everyone looked at Cesare for leadership and protection, and he could barely leave his bed, so that surely must have added an extra layer of stress for him. But then, he succeeded in making Piccolomini pope, and it looked like the worst was over, things looked hopeful for him and the Borgia family. And then, suddenly Pius dies, only after 26 days of papacy. Again, if it was truly a natural death, there is no way Cesare could have predicted that, and just like that he was right back where he started. Having to navigate the messy political affairs of a papal conclave and its outcome, of which he and his family’s lives and future depended on. Cesare was resilient. Rodrigo raised his children to be resilient, and to not crumble at the face of adversity, to persist. But I guess we can agree this a lot for a person to process in such a short amount of time. So by the time the second Conclave happened, it would be reasonable to think Cesare might have been feeling overwhelmed, tired, in pain (he had gone through awful treatments), and overall just a bit shaken up mentally and emotionally, although he always tried to look strong and positive —it's interesting to notice it didn't seemed to have been in his nature to be a pessimist, only much later he is recorded as feeling more despondent, and saying Fortuna has left him *gets sad in spanish* — which made him more open to consider options he wouldn't have had under normal circumstances, I think. 2. As said above, Cesare seems to have had this trait in his personality of being resilient, it's one of the reasons why I think he survived for as long as he did (same with Lucrezia, I suppose), he had an instinct to not give up no matter how impossible the situation looked, of not being afraid to face adversities that came his way. He seems to have welcomed challenges, and it was when he felt most encouraged to fight and to thrive. When he was the prisoner of Della Rovere in the Vatican, then pope Giulio II, one of Giulio's men said to him: "signor duca, you have always been spirited." to which he is recorded as having said that: "quando più sono in adversità tanto più mi fortifico di anima. // the more I am in adversity, the more I strengthen my soul." So this is another factor to consider. It's possible he saw the situation with Della Rovere as just another adversity he had to face, and with his tenacity, intelligence, and most importantly, with time, he could overcome it. 3. Another possible factor, but this one is only my personal assessment after reading Alvisi and some of the documents he exposes there, is that both Rodrigo and Cesare display a difficulty in understanding not everyone was as cold-headed and pragmatic as they were. It's evident in their actions, they never had much, if any, trouble putting their personal dislikes aside, and working with their enemies, if it meant they would reach a certain goal they wanted, and/or if it avoided needless conflict or bloodshed. However, not everyone is capable of rising above their feelings, and in this case prejudices, and work like that with people they see as enemies. It was the case of Florence and Venice, for example. Every single conversation the Borgia men had with these two city-States made it painfully clear no agreement would ever happened between them. They would much rather damned themselves and their cities than to genuinely try to work with men they suspected of being marranos and who they saw as being beneath them. It was personal, deeply personal, and to a point just irrational, too. But Rodrigo and Cesare did not seemed to grasp that, like the idea of acting against one's own interest simply out of personal dislike or prejudice didn't register inside their minds, it was just preposterous to them (I agree! dsdjsdjsj). With the right terms, surely an agreement can be reached, no matter how they feel about us, that's what they seem to think, and it's a bit funny, and sad to observe. And if I'm correct here, then Cesare helping Della Rovere might have carried some of this mentality, too. Him thinking: yes, of course, Della Rovere hates me and my family, but not to his own detriment, right? (wrong, just as like in the cases of Venice and Florence, but he later learned that the hard way) and this thinking made him conclude they could work together, despite of any hatred. 4. And finally, the last factor, which I see it as the final nail the coffin, sort-to-speak: His impatience. In the middle of all this papal business, and him fighting for his life, Cesare was also receiving daily news from the Romagna, and after Pope Pius's death, the situation went from bad to worse, his dukedom was being attacked by the men he had ousted from those cities (instead of having had them executed, as it was the norm of his times) with the full support of Venice and Florence in doing so, and only a few cities, like Cesena, were able to withstand these attacks. This is what I think made him desperate. We have to keep in mind Cesare was a man of action. Sitting idle watching his project, one that seems to have been dear to him beyond just mere ambition, wasn't how he did things, and it had to be pure agony for him to be in a position where he couldn't do much. He was still ill, he couldn't organize his men well, he was pretty much trapped at the Castel Sant'Angelo since the one time he tried to leave Rome, the Orsinis almost caught him, and if they caught him, he was a dead man, him and everyone with him. And he didn't had papal authority, only with that would the attack of these cities stop and only with that could he leave Castel Sant'Angelo and finally do something, so he needed a Pope elected as soon as possible, too, even one like Della Rovere. This hurry, this agony, combined with the other factors mentioned above, very likely might have made him overlook some details about his particular situation, misunderstanding Della Rovere’s nature, and underestimating this man’s hatred for him and his family.

Personally, I believe he should have stalled the Conclave for as long as possible, and waited a more favourable papal outcome for him. Sure, it involved other risks. The main one losing all of the Romagna, but here's the thing: the Romagna was basically lost to him anyways. That region belonged to the Church and to papal rule, and Cesare's control over it came from his position as Gonfaloniere of the Church, but imo, that wasn't a position he could have kept. Popes tended to appoint this position to men close to them, family members preferably, because it was an important and influential position, and they needed someone they could trust, and whose interestes would be aligned with them and their papacy. Maybe there is a precedent of a Pope letting the son of the previous Pope in this position, instead of changing it for someone inside their own circle, and nothing bad happened either lol, but no example comes to my mind right now. And in any case, I don't think they were quite in the same situation as Cesare. Cesare's situation was kind of unique, too. He was a beloved and popular ruler, and this little fact, whether he realized it or not, made him even more of a threat to any Pope who wanted to have full control over the Papal States. It created a conflict of power where the Gonfaloniere's influence in the Romagna would have been stronger than that of the Pope himself, which could lead to dangerous situations. With a decent amount of money, the right partisans, and the people's support (who always had anti-papal feelings to being with) Cesare, if he wanted to, could very easily strike up a rebellion against papal authority. No clever Pope, surely not Della Rovere, would have wanted to have that hanging over their heads. That's way too much power for a person to have over them and their papacy. So the Romagna wasn't something possible for him to keep, unless we consider other possbilities, but that's another topic, the point is: at least with a favourable Pope, one like Pius, Cesare could have tried to secure some cities, as well as some fortresses in the lines of the Romagna, Umbria and Tuscany regions. I think that's something he could have achieved with a favourable Pope, creating a new duchy for him and his family, not as Gonfaloniere, but as the Pope's vassal perhaps. But, maybe he didn't considered that, or maybe he had info that didn't came down to us which made this scenario not an option, or info which made him feel confident with his decision with Della Rovere, as usual, this is another theme where there's many things we will never know for sure, but I hope this helped a bit into shedding a light on this confusing, frustrating event in Cesare's life. (And I don't remember that scene, anon??? lol is that the one where Della Rovere is already pope, and he wants to humiliate Cesare further so he brings him naked and in chains to his rooms? and then proceeds to take advantage of the situation, forcing Cesare to kiss him? that one? that's the only scene that comes to my mind, and I have to say I felt pretty disgusted watching it. I guess it's another example of the poor taste of much of Fontana's writing, he really seems to like taking things to an extreme and always enter this sadistic, twisted territory with his characters that really is not my thing. On the other hand, it made me appreciate Mark as an actor even more, because it's not every actor who could have put that scene off, among so many others tbh, without looking utterly ridiculous, and failing to convey any emotions to the viewer. I felt very sad for Cesare there, in Fontana's world, Cesare was a victim of rape in the past, and in that scene with Della Rovere, he was again at a vulnerable position, without any power, and being force to kiss this man who had his life and his future on his hands. It's again, a extreme and sadistic take of the real psychological torture Della Rovere seems to have had enjoyed inflicting on irl!Cesare once he was pope Giulio II.)

#ask answered #anon ask #cesare borgia #césar borgia #house borgia in history #i would answer asks a lot quicker if tumblr had a better editing system............#goddd this was awful to write and to post #and i'm sure not matter what i did #it's gonna break some paragraphs *cries*#you know i think many enter into a moral panic when dealing with the borgia family #(which i'm really not here for and i find it utterly boring and most of time incorrect)#while i just enter into a political panic #the political mistakes get to me i have to say #so wherever i get to this part of their history; apart from my feelings for cesare and his house; i suffer #i just want to correct it and to throw any and all ancient writings about octavian's life to cesare's face ok #rodrigo just had to name him cesare didn't he #this is rodrigo's fault!#😂😂😂

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ab1tofsp1ce · 3 years

Text

A Warmer Refuge

CHAPTER 2: For Both Our Sakes

Masterlist HERE

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.9K

Warnings: N/A

Description: The voyage to Kistern really hasn’t seemed to go according to plan...

He remained silent for a long while. We both did. It wasn’t until we jumped into hyperspace that I made the first sound between us. It was an involuntary yelp, and I caught my mouth with my hand as the universe melted around us into nothing but streaks of light. I’d never seen anything like it, only learning about what it was like from Reten’s descriptions. But those could’ve never prepared me for… The pilot’s seat spun around, and for the first time since the cantina, the Mandalorian was facing me, presumably looking me dead in the eyes. He was leaning forward on his knees slightly, and I wondered at that moment what I looked like. I caught a blurry outline of my reflection in his helmet. “Kistern is three or four days travel, even in hyperspace. The fresher is in the hold across from the ladder. Don’t go anywhere else in the ship. You’ll sleep in that seat,” he gestured to the passenger’s chair I was sitting in. “I’m assuming you brought food with you?” He looked at me expectantly, and I nodded quickly. He then stood up and made his way past me to the door of the cockpit. It was then that I realized I hadn’t even said a word to him yet. “Hey! Um, I just – thank you…” I stumbled over my words. He paused, looked back at me, and gave a curt nod of acknowledgment before the doors opened and he made his way down to the hold. I melted back into my seat, shivering slightly. This was going to be the longest three days I’d ever lived through.

I quickly grew sick of hyperspace travel, both physically and mentally. The Mandalorian had seemingly disappeared, but there was a room off the hold, directly under the cockpit, that I assumed he had gone into. It was for the best, in fact, because it meant he didn’t see how long I spent in the fresher vomiting. In all honesty, I didn’t really think it was the hyperspace travel that was making me sick. My heart was tight in my chest and I had to use what remaining energy I had to stop myself from crying. I would never return home. In fact, I no longer had a home. I had no people, no family, nothing tethering me to the ground. Hyperspace was quieter than anything I had ever experienced before. On Yak’ish Temeen, there was always noise – animals, plants, water, wind, people… anything to fill the silence. But out here (wherever here was), it was empty. I noticed this when I finally collapsed back into the passenger’s seat, drained of any energy I still had. It made me feel hollow, and I could’ve sworn I could hear my own heart in my chest. I felt my eyes droop, my body sinking into the seat. It had been days since I had slept properly. A whole year, if I were to be truly honest. But after that day Kalbier approached me with the proposition of leaving Yak’ish Temeen, I spent the next three nights tossing and turning under my tent, weighing up my options. The silence made these memories sound louder, echoing in my head. The door sliding open startled me out of my trance. He made his way to his seat, checking the navcom and a variety of other instruments. As always, he didn’t turn to me when he spoke. “Are you feeling better?” My cheeks flushed violently. He heard me. That entire time I was spewing up the contents of my stomach he could hear me. I looked down at my fumbling hands. “Um… yes. Sorry… about that.” “Nothing to be sorry about.” He turned his chair slightly to look at me over his shoulder. “But here’s to hoping it’s not a frequent occurrence.” He turned back, facing out to space. “For both our sakes.” I tried not to let that statement faze me. I was exhausted of embarrassing myself in front of him, so instead I lay back in the seat as nonchalantly as possible. The Mandalorian let the silence settle for a while, both of us watching the smashing light particles smear past the windscreen like rain. “I’m going to get some rest. Let me know if there are any problems.” That last bit concerned me a bit. I tried not to overthink about what sort of problems we could encounter in dead space. Instead, I distracted myself by watching him lean back in the pilot’s seat, and from where I sat I watched his helmet lean slightly to the right, resting on the back of the seat. I knew that most likely from this position, if he had his eyes open he would be able to see me staring at him. But, in all honesty, it was the only real chance I had to look at him without feeling threatened by being stared down in return. I began to wonder why he hadn’t removed his helmet. Surely, now that we were safely in hyperspace he could take it off; it must be uncomfortable sleeping in that thing. But I said nothing on it, not wanting to disturb him (or, honestly, even talk to him). Maybe I would ask him later. So here I was, less than three years after I first heard the word Mandalorian, now sitting in one’s ship. I smiled quietly to myself, because if you had told me that then I would’ve immediately questioned what kind of crime I could have possibly committed to end up being captured by a bounty hunter. Genuinely, I would’ve sooner believed I would end up a criminal than move to another planet. And there it was again. That pulling feeling around my heart. I had planned my whole life around the idea that I would live that one life forever. Leaving Yak’ish Temeen would’ve meant leaving behind my family, my people, my way of life… Wrapping my arms around myself, I looked down at the tattoo on my arm. I would never get to complete it. Never get my crest. Never get married… well, at least not traditionally. I sunk into myself, curling up in the chair. Sleep had never felt easier.

I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep, but I presumed that what woke me up was what woke us both up; being suddenly thrown out of hyperspace. Unfortunately, I had not been wearing a seatbelt, but it seemed neither did the Mandalorian, as we were both abruptly thrown out of our seats. Whilst he caught himself on the console in front of him, I barely managed to stop myself falling to the floor. “Are you okay?” He turned back to me, still clutching onto the dash. “Yes. Yes, I’m – I’m fine.” My breath was shaky, and I could feel my heart thumping through my chest. “What was that?” He turned back towards the windshield. “I have no idea.” We both sat in our seats and, to avoid another disaster, I buckled my seatbelt. In front of us I could see a planet to our right, surprisingly closer than I would’ve thought. Apparently, he had seemed to make that same summation. “What are we doing here…” he murmured to himself, studying the dials and navcom in front of him. Then, I heard him curse something under his breath. “Something’s not right with… with the hyperdrive. Stay here.” He spun out of his seat and closed the distance to the ladder faster than I could blink, his cape whipping behind him. I was alone now, adrenaline still flushing in my ears. I didn’t like the sound of this… especially if he seemed concerned. For a few moments, there was only the distant sound of him rummaging around somewhere in the hold. But then he called out my name, which I didn’t even know he remembered. “Come down here! I need your help.” My help? I suppose I am a mechanic, but he didn’t know that, did he? Maybe Kalbier had told him… I undid my seatbelt and shuffled down the ladder to see he had disappeared down a vent in the center of the hold’s floor. “Over in the compartment on the left side of the ladder,” he said, not emerging, “there is a box of tools.” I quickly stumbled over to it and opened it, taking out the heavy metal toolbox and placing it on the floor. “Now, I want you to grab the hull cutter from in there,” he said, sticking his head from the vent and reaching his open gloved palm in my direction. “It’s the one with the –” I placed the tool in his hand. He froze for a second, clearly not expecting me to know which one it was. “Yeah, that one. Uh, one moment.” He ducked back under the vent. I frowned to myself, slowly shuffling over to the edge as he got to work. What could be doing down there that would require a hull cutter? I would’ve never used them in the centrifugal power boxes. That is, I couldn’t imagine what down there could have a hull cutter used on it. I peeked down into the vent, watching him work away at a power box. For a moment, I bit my tongue, but then came to the conclusion that it would be doing neither of us any good if I didn’t help where possible. “Um… I wouldn’t use the hull cutter for that… especially in such close proximity to –” I was thrown off by how he suddenly turned back to look at me from his crouched position in the vent. “… to those reactor wires…”. He straightened himself up, regarding me for a moment. “You think you can take a look at this?” His tone was genuine, even laced with a hint of surprise. “Uh… I mean… I can try?” Apparently, despite my clear apprehension, that was all he needed to hear. The Mandalorian hoisted himself out of the vent, stood up, and gestured for me to take a look. Awkwardly, I lowered myself into the vent, and I could immediately tell even from the smell that something wasn’t right; was that… smoke? I looked at the wires in front of me, then studied the fuse box to my left that had already been opened. There were some wires missing… oh goodness… there were more than just wires missing. Stabilizers, three different electromagnetic hinges, and countless other pieces were simply… gone. It was a wonder we were able to jump into hyperspace in the first place, and a miracle that we weren’t hurtled out of it and right into another planet or something. The speed we would’ve exited at before, with all those pieces missing – it explained why we were so close to that planet. “I need a…” I studied my surroundings. What did I need? What could I possibly do with a few tools that could solve a problem like this? “I need a hyperdrive attenuator if you have one. And a jumper bypass.” I stuck my hand up from the vent and felt leather brush it as he placed the two tools in my hand.

The more I worked, the more it dawned on me just how bad the problem was. This ship had almost definitely been ransacked, and the Mandalorian didn’t seem to be able to offer any explanation as to how or when this had happened. Whoever had done it was smart though… remove all the most valuable bits, ones that could easily be sold on their own, but could still allow the ship to get far enough away that the owner wouldn’t be able to come back and hunt you down. Someone on Yak’ish Temeen had clearly made quick work of this ship and, judging by the path they’d created in their robbery, they had managed to enter from the underbelly of the ship from where it had been parked. If the situation were any less dire, I would’ve marveled at our current dynamic. I was giving orders to a Mandalorian, asking him to go up and check something on the console or hand me a tool. But after a while I emerged with the bad news. “This ship is… it’s really not in good shape. We’re lucky we made it this far because –” and, as if right on cue, the ship shook violently, throwing me back down onto the floor of the vent. The hold flashed red, and beeping noises blared all around us. “Here, quick, we need to get into the cockpit.” I looked up to see the Mandalorian extending his hand down to me, and I wondered if there was an earnest expression under that helmet. I took his hand, and he hoisted me up and out of the vent with such ease that I almost fell back into it. Back in the cockpit, both strapped into our seats, I began to see just how bad it was. Those fragile pillars that had been unknowingly holding the ship together were now falling apart all at once like dominos. Fear had emboldened me now, so I said what I was thinking. “We need to land, now, or this’ll become impossible to solve.” “I – this thing is barely responding” grunted the Mandalorian, presumably referring to the navcom. “I don’t even know where we are, let alone the name of this planet.” “And if we don’t land this ship, we’ll never get the opportunity to find out.” I hadn’t intended that to sound so harsh, and I would’ve been scared of him turning back to confront me about it if he wasn’t so preoccupied wrestling to control the ship. He didn’t even reply, but seemingly agreed with my assertion, because he began landing procedures. “It’s going to be a bumpy one and we’re too high up for me to tell if there’s a safe place to land. This could end badly so strap in.” I certainly didn’t need the verbal confirmation of that, but I said nothing, only gripping onto the side of my seat.

The closer we got to the upper atmosphere of the planet, I felt the ship shake harder and get hotter. I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, silently praying that this wouldn’t be the way I left this universe. For a few seconds it got hotter and hotter, and then when I opened my eyes I could see we were beginning to get low enough to see the ground beneath us. If we weren’t falling out of the sky I would’ve been enamored by the beauty of this planet. It was lush in its colors, with snaking rivers and distant lakes. The forests were dark and immense – I’d never seen anything like it before. I snapped out of my transfixion when I remembered we’d need somewhere to land, and I began scanning the ground that we were hurtling towards. “Over there!” I pointed to an open field on the edge of the forest, still holding onto my shaking seat. “Got it!” He said through gritted teeth. I watched as he wrestled with the steering, the ship jolting slowly but surely forward towards the clearing. I watched the ground loom under us – 300 feet, 200 feet, 100 feet… “Hold on – ” said the Mandalorian as he gripped onto the dash. “I’m going to slow us down for landing but there may be an impact.” I gripped tighter to my seat, closing my eyes desperately. I felt gravity push from beneath me as the ship began to slow, and then –

CRASH

A shock wave jolted through my body, accompanied by the sound of cracking metal. For a moment I sat there with my eyes still squeezed shut, listening to the sound of heat expanding and creaking the joints of the ship around us. “Not the worst landing I’ve experienced,” was all he said, laced with a tone of relief and humor. Humor? That was one word I had never thought I would use to describe the words of a bounty hunter. “Come on,” he said, rising from his seat with admittedly less composure than usual. “This ship won’t fix itself.” It was nice to see he was human in some ways, although he was far more level-headed than I was. In a far calmer hold I could now better assess the full damage we had taken, but it didn’t even take my skill to see what was wrong. I went back to the main vent in the hold, clambered in awkwardly and lay down so as to assess the damage more thoroughly. “We need to replace those missing parts if we wanna get off this planet,” I said, as if he needed my confirmation. He didn’t answer, and when I slide back out, I saw him standing over me at the edge of the vent looking down to where I lay in this dark and oily pit. I realized what I must look like to him right now. I almost certainly had soot and grime on my face, because it coated my hands. I was sweaty and hadn’t gotten my hair out of my face, so it was probably matted. I went pink at the thought. “Make a list of what we need, and what repairs you can do. I’ll try and use the navcom to find a civilization nearby… if there is one.” He lingered for a moment, and I wondered what he was looking at under that mask; the oil dribbling out near my feet, the wires hanging lose out the side of the vent, or my grubby face…

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