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sylusjinwoon · 6 months

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{ 136 }

surround you.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ where ever you are | whenever you need me | just crawl in my arms | oh, and i'll hold you beside me }

jinwoo was still working, his time being taken up by his duties at the association. ever since he became stronger, leaving behind his former status as the weakest hunter and rising up to be one of the most powerful hunters the world has ever known, he had been keeping busy.

and you were left feeling the pinpricks of melancholy with his absence.

the longer he was away from you, the longer your forlorn emotions seemed to strengthen with each second that passes.

but you didn’t wish to burden your lover with such clingy thoughts.

knowing that occasionally, he will check on you by watching you through beru’s eyes, you forced a happy smile and occupied yourself with the former ant king. he keeps you company and reminds you of how much you mean to his king.

“our monarch truly cannot live without you! you are his sole source of happiness.”

you bask in beru’s praise, not minding the fact that he was practically spilling out each and every one of jinwoo’s thoughts pertaining to you. admittedly, his words brought you an immense joy-

yet at the same time, it only served to further increase your desire to see jinwoo again.

after eating a light lunch, you excuse yourself from the dining table, and you were grateful that beru had allowed you to have a moment alone. not wishing to cry in front of him, you close the door to your shared bedroom and let out a shaky sigh.

your eyes trail across the bedroom, faintly detecting jinwoo’s scent as they began to water just the tiniest bit in response.

you missed your boyfriend terribly.

wanting to surround yourself with something that he owned, you take quick strides toward the closet and open it. on one side of your walk-in closet, your clothes were hung up in a neat line while on the opposite side were jinwoo’s clothes. ignoring your line of clothes, you trail your eyes over the varying shades of greys and blacks that became a staple to jinwoo’s signature style. your hands were itching to find something, searching through each and every one of his outfits before landing on a specific article of clothing that jinwoo owned.

your hands were trembling, carefully taking out the long and heavy black trench coat. it was something you knew could completely envelope you with its sturdy fabric and sheer length-

which was perfect for you.

tossing aside the hanger, you clutch the coat tighter to your chest, allowing your nose to gently inhale at the fabric, smiling when you could still detect his scent.

the moment you wore the coat over your frame, you began to laugh at how comically large it was, completely engulfing you as you felt the ends of his coat trailing from behind you. you close your eyes while making your way towards your bed, simply basking in his scent as you imagined that jinwoo himself was here with you, his arms wrapped around you while keeping you oh so safe within his embrace.

you fall into bed with a sigh, still burying your nose within the fabric of his coat. and as you kept relishing in his lingering scent and the warmth the trench coat provided was when you finally fell into a peaceful slumber.

your snores could be heard from your bedroom, and you didn’t even realize that beru had pressed his head against your door the moment you had excused yourself. he listens to your every movement and calls out to his king to update him of your status.

my king, your beloved misses you a great deal.

i know, i’ll be home within the next 30 minutes.

beru had to fight back the urge to celebrate and shake you awake. he knew that you would be happy with his king’s return quickly approaching- but he was given strict orders by his king to always allow you to rest and never disturb you.

so it was with a heavy heart that beru continues to tidy up the house, only stopping once the sound of the door unlocking catches his attention, revealing jinwoo holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“my king… your beloved still sleeps.” beru tells jinwoo with a bow, earning a satisfied grunt from the shadow monarch as he places an appreciative hand on beru’s shoulder.

“lock the door for me.”

“of course, my king.”

with those last words spoken to his most loyal soldier, jinwoo quietly enters your shared bedroom, not wishing to awaken you.

yet when he sees the way you had fallen asleep, all while wrapping your frame with his signature trench coat, jinwoo couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling his heart turn soft at such an endearing sight.

he sets the bouquet on your nightstand, taking off his suit jacket and dress shoes, placing them to the side before joining you on the bed.

letting out soft coos of your name, he manages to hold you in his embrace without disturbing you, allowing his full lips to trace at your forehead while whispering of his love and utter devotion to you.

i love you.

i would kill for you.

i would die for you.

jinwoo continues whispering such loving phrases in your ear, and as he looks down to catch a better glimpse of your sleeping face, he could have sworn that you were smiling in your sleep. you murmur a bit, somehow managing to reach out to him, wrapping your arms around him as you cuddled your body even closer to his chest.

feeling satisfied, jinwoo proceeds to hold your form closer to him, not caring that you were using his coat as a blanket as he closes his eyes, allowing the feeling of peace and strange sense of homecoming to course through his veins-

for his home would always be right here, within the safety of your presence and loving embrace.

a.n. - so, i read the chapters where jinwoo beat the ever living shit out of hwang dong-su and thomas andre, and proceeded to fall madly in love with jinwoo all over again. using his signature trench coat as a blanket is a fantasy of mine, gods, i need this man to spoil me and protect / defend me like that, too 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung x you #sung jinwoo x you #solo leveling x reader #jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #.stories

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brittle-doughie · 7 months

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Introducing the Y/N plush! And the cookies and what they do with said plush!

The cookie in the second image are, shining glitter, pomegranate, chess choco twins, golden cheese, caramelon, custard the lll, black pearl, licorice, lychee, komiho, Affogato, lilac, onion, stardust, space doughnut, timekeeper, shadow milk, white lily, snap dragon, pitya, abyss monarch and fire spirit. And if your wondering, the two drawings took 6 hours total-)

The Earthbread Big Seller!

I can tell which of the two took you the longest. I would like to know what it says next to Snapdragon if you can!

“Amazing Y/N Plush! Collect your very own doll to keep. Be the first one on your block to own the amazing new Y/N Plush! Please do not fight over them!”

[A large line had formed at Butterbear’s shop! Cookies of the sea and sky have emerged too to get their very own plush!]

Many fans had considered Shining Glitter’s latest show to be one of her best! She couldn’t take all of the credit though, she had help!

She cuddled close the Y/N plush she had next to her mic stand. She can count on it to allow her to give it her all, as if Y/N themself was watching her!

Having her own plush hold up a mirror for her to help fix her hair up already made itself more useful to Pomegranate than a certain cookie in the CoD.

She took a quick look around before she took it with her to bed, dozing off with the plushie clutched tightly in her arms.

The Chess Choco duo loved that they now have an observer to their chess games in the form of their own Y/N plush! They didn’t expect one or the other to pull anything tricky, but it was nice to have some sort of reassurance that no sneaky tactics came into play!

They split the time in half with how much each of the two got to have the plush. It doesn’t stop disputes from breaking out that had Earl Grey stepping in from time to time!

One of Golden Cheese Cookie’s favorite things to do with her Y/N plush would be to dress it up in whatever amount of riches she can put on it the little doll.

One of her favorite outfits for it is one that makes the plush look like a resident of her own kingdom, complete with wings to match hers. Something she has planned for the real deal when she gets the opportunity!

Carameleon Cookie was so stoked to have a buddy to call his own within the forested areas close to the Silver Kingdom. It sure beats being alone all the time!

He can tell you that he isn’t too attached to the thing as he waits for the actual Y/N Cookie to come by. He just..doesn’t want to lose it, okay?!

It was good to have one of his loyal subjects always around to listen what he had to say! Even if it was just a plush version of them, Custard Cookie III could spend minutes just talking to the plush as if it were a real cookie!

It’s why he considers it as one of his best subjects in the kingdom! Right behind the real Y/N Cookie, of course!

Black Pearl’s Y/N plush is nothing short of the best thing to ever grace her waters. It was down to the very last detail the cookie of her dreams had.

She’d never tire of it, acting protective over the plush, something she’d be more aggressively so if the real Y/N Cookie was with her! The plush will look amazing within her dwelling!

Licorice Cookie didn’t care about Pomegranate’s venom spewing mouth these days, not when he has his bestest friend, the Y/N plush, with him!

He can truly confide his secrets and feelings towards the little plush, like his feelings towards Y/N Cookie, but it better not blab to you! He even uses the plush as a guardian for his diary!

Ha! Why wait in line for a plush when Lychee Dragon could just swipe it from that fumbler, Kumiho Cookie! She didn’t appreciate Y/N Cookie enough, so why not give it to a dragon that certainly will!

Kumiho was not having it though, angrily coming after the dragon for stealing her darling in plush form! She did not let Lychee’s lies get to her, she’s taking back that plush!

Affogato Cookie could just monologue all day to his plush on how he plans to take over the throne one day and Y/N Cookie will join him as part of that dream!

He’d promise nothing but the best life for you with a luxurious life with no worries or limits as he went to caress the plush’s cheek. The best victory would be to have you for himself while that Caramel Arrow Cookie watched! He can’t stop giggling to himself about it!

With how popular these plushies were getting, Lilac was particularly watchful of his. He already called it his own with the lilac scent and he’ll bring down anyone swiping his plush from him.

He always keeps it on his person, both as a precaution and that he has easy access to it to hold and cuddle close when he’s needy. It’s what he would’ve done to the actual Y/N Cookie.

Blackberry Cookie can always count on Y/N Cookie to help settle down Onion during one of her crying bouts, she enjoyed the company from them too. So it was a total win when she received a plush for herself and for Onion.

Onion always liked to go to bed holding both her doll and plushie to ensure a good night’s rest without the fear of a nightmare waking her up, for she trusts the Y/N plush to help her even in her dreams.

Stardust doesn’t mind sharing his Y/N plushie with his friend, Space Doughnut. After all, they share the same trait of seeing Y/N Cookie as a dear friend. Space Doughnut was just as trusting with theirs to Stardust as well!

Space Doughnut does get overly excited when they could play around with BOTH plushies, making Stardust laugh with a smile as Doughnut happily played the two plushies.

Was it really any surprise that Timekeeper Cookie wanted to be greedy and have a number of Y/N plushies? They’re her favorite, why wouldn’t she take them? It wasn’t like the original owners could prove anything against her.

Timekeeper Cookie cuddled herself amidst her plushies without a care in the world, relishing in seeing the face of the cookie she liked all around her. Though it wouldn’t hurt to try and grab a couple more to her collection…and then Y/N Cookie themself!

Shadow Milk’s puppet show was going to be wonderful with the guest of honor being Y/N Cookie themself! Almost! He was able to obtain a plushie from one of his clown faeries and he was absolutely adoring it!

The plushie is always going to be a part of his puppet shows, interacting with a doll of himself that he made. How romantic it would be if the two stuffed dolls danced and smushed together to replicate a kiss! It even made Shadow Milk himself blush at the thought of you and him possibly doing that too~

One of the faeries had gently opened White Lily’s glass case, placing down a Y/N plush they had gotten for her. She immediately grabbed it and clutched it tight close to her, a smile on her face being the indicator that she liked the plush already.

One of the faeries had gotten curious about what made this plushie so dear to her as she reached for it and tried to pull it out of her arms. She had to quickly reel her hand back when White Lily swiped at it, nuzzling the plushie closer to her body, shielding it from any further attempts.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie didn’t expect Snapdragon to enjoy their Y/N plush that much to the point that they whined for Pitaya to hand it over to them. While this was meant to be for Pitaya only, they didn’t mind it as they give it to the young dragon.

Snapdragon immediately swiped it up and flies around with the doll in their arms, babbling happily as they played around with the stuff toy. Pitaya couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was just like when Y/N Cookie would play with Snapdragon themself…

Abyss Monarch Cookie didn’t find themself going out much, especially for something as small as a stuffed plush. Yet there they were, having went out and gotten a Y/N to call their own.

This sense of adoration they start to feel for this plush was almost on the same level as they had for Y/N Cookie themself. They gently picked it up and spun slowly around with it, was this feeling a sign and not a temporary emotion? This feeling of…longing…

Fire Spirit was so stoked to have receive his own plush that he couldn’t wait to have simmer down first before messing around with it, too enveloped in his own that his hands start to emit smoke touching the plush.

He started to freak out when he open his eyes to see that he had turned the plush into a pile of ash, crying in anguish as he tried to salvage what he can. He went back to Butterbear Cookie with the news and he was generous enough to give him a replacement, warning him to be more careful next time!

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run ovenbreak x reader #crob x you #crob x reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

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Bankruptcy is very, very good

On THURSDAY (June 20) I'm live onstage in LOS ANGELES for a recording of the GO FACT YOURSELF podcast. On FRIDAY (June 21) I'm doing an ONLINE READING for the LOCUS AWARDS at 16hPT. On SATURDAY (June 22) I'll be in OAKLAND, CA for a panel and a keynote at the LOCUS AWARDS.

There's a truly comforting sociopathy snuggled inside capitalism ideology: if markets are systems for identifying and rewarding virtue, ability and value, then anyone who's failing in the system is actually unworthy, not unlucky; and that means the winners are not just lucky (and certainly not merely selfish), but actually the best and they owe nothing to their social inferiors apart from what their own charitable impulses dictate.

It's an economic wrapper around the old theological doctrine of providence, whereby God shows you whom he favors by giving them wealth and station, and marks out the wicked by miring them in poverty. And like the religious belief in providence, the capitalist belief in meritocracy is essential to resolving cognitive dissonance: it lets the fed winners feel morally justified in stepping over the starving losers.

The debate over merit and luck has been with us for millennia, and even the hereditary absolute monarchs of the Bronze Age had to find a way to resolve it. For the rulers of antiquity, the way to square that circle was jubilee.

Bronze Age jubilees were periodic celebrations in which all debts were canceled. Different kingdoms had different schedules for jubilees, but imagine some mix of "every x years" and "every time a new ruler takes the throne" and "every time something really portentous happens." To modern sensibilities, the idea that we would simply wipe away all debts every now and again is almost inconceivable. Why would any society practice jubilee? More importantly, how could a ruler get the wealthy creditor class to countenance a jubilee, rather than seeking a revolutionary overthrow?

The best answers to this question can be found in the scholarship of historian Michael Hudson, who has written extensively on the subject. Hudson doesn't just write for a scholarly audience, he's also a fantastic communicator with a real commitment to bringing his research to lay audiences:

https://michael-hudson.com/

Hudson's most famous saying is "debts that can't be paid, won't be paid." It's in this dense little nugget that we can find the answer the the riddle of jubilee:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#debt

Let's start with a simple model of debt and credit in an agricultural society. In agricultural societies, everything exists downstream of farming, which is the core activity of the civilization. If the farmers succeed, everyone can eat, and that means they can do all the other things, all the not-farming work of your society.

To farm successfully, you need credit. Farmers enter the growing season in need of inputs: seed, fertilizer, labor; they need still more labor during the harvest. Without some way to acquire these inputs before the farmer has a crop that can pay for them, there can be no crop.

No wonder, then, that the earliest "money" we have a record of is ancient Babylonian credit ledgers that record the debts of farmers who borrow against the next crop to pay for the materials and labor they'll need to grow it. Debt, not barter, is the true origin of money. The fairy tale that coin money arose spontaneously to help bartering marketgoers facilitate trade has no historical evidence, while Babylonian ledgers can be seen in person in museums all over the world.

Farming requires an enormous amount of skill, but even the most skillful farmer is a prisoner of luck. No matter how good you are at farming, no matter how hard you work, no matter how carefully you plan, you can still lose a harvest to blight, drought, storms or vermin.

So over time, every farmer loses a crop. When that happens, the farmer can't pay off their debts and must roll them over and pay them off with future harvests. That means that over time, the share of each harvest the farmer has claim to goes down. Thanks to compounding interest, no bumper crop can erase the debts of the bad harvests.

That means that, over time, "farmer" becomes a synonym for "debtor." Farmers' productive output is increasingly claimed by the rich and powerful. No matter how badly everyone needs food, the whims of the hereditary creditor class come to dictate the country's agricultural priorities. More ornamental flowers for the tables of the wealthy, fewer staple crops for the masses. "Creditor" and "debtor" no longer describe economic relations – they become hereditary castes.

That's where jubilee comes in. Without some way to interrupt this cycle of spiraling debt, society becomes so destabilized that the system collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

In other words: debts that can't be paid, won't be paid. Either you wipe away the farmers' debts to the creditor class, or your society collapses, and with it, the political relations that made those debts payable.

Jubilee is long gone, but that doesn't mean that debts that can't be paid will get paid. Modern society has filled the jubilee gap with bankruptcy, a legal process for shriving a debtor of their debts.

Bankruptcy takes many forms. The most important split in bankruptcy types is between elite bankruptcy and the bankruptcy of the common person. The limited liability company was created to allow people with money to pool their funds to back corporations without being responsible for their debts. This "capital formation" is considered "efficient" by economists because it creates the backing for big, ambitious projects, from colonizing and extracting the wealth of distant lands (Hudson's Bay Company) to spinning up global manufacturing supply chains (Apple).

Limited liability means that companies can take on debt without exposing their investors to risks beyond their capital stake. If you buy $1,000 worth of Apple stock, that's all you stand to lose if Apple makes bad decisions. Apple may rack up billions in liabilities – say, by abusing its subcontractor workforce – but Apple's owners aren't on the hook for it.

Economists like this because it means that you can invest in Apple without having to be privy to its daily management decisions, which means that Apple can accumulate huge pools of capital, "lever them up" by borrowing even more, and then put all that money to work on R&D, product development, marketing, and, of course, "incentives" for key employees and managers.

But limited liability also does a lot of work in the political sphere. Once an individual crosses a certain wealth threshold, they become an LLC. Accountants and wealth managers and financial planners insist on this. For freelancers and other sole practitioners, the benefits of forming an LLC are modest – a few more tax write-offs and the ability to get a business credit-card with slightly superior perks.

But for the truly wealthy, transforming yourself into the "natural person" at the center of a vast pool of LLCs is essential because it allows you to accumulate and shed debts. You can secretly own rental properties and abuse your tenants, accumulate vast liabilities as local authorities pile fine upon fine, and then simply dispose of the LLC and its debts. Plan this gambit carefully enough and the debtor LLC will have no assets in its bankruptcy estate apart from the crumbling apartment building, and its most senior secured creditor will be another of your LLCs. This lets the slumlord move an apartment block from one pocket to another, leaving the debt behind.

For the corporate person, shedding debts through bankruptcy is an honorable practice. Far from being a source of shame, the well-timed, well-structured bankruptcy is just evidence of financial acumen. Think of the private equity looters who buy a company by borrowing against it, pay themselves a huge "special dividend," then wipe away the debt by taking the company bankrupt (which also lets them shed obligations to suppliers, workers, and especially, retirees and their pensions). As Trump (a serial bankrupt who has stiffed legions of contractors and creditors) would say, "That makes me smart."

The apotheosis of elite bankruptcy is found in massive corporate bankruptcies, in which a corporation kills and maims huge numbers of people, then maneuvers to get its case heard in one of three US federal courtrooms where specialist judges rubber-stamp "involuntary third-party releases" that wipe out the company's obligations to it victims for pennies on the dollar, while the company gets to keep billions:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#morally-bankrupt

This process was so flagrantly abused by companies like Johnson & Johnson (which spent years knowingly advising women to dust their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talc, creating an epidemic of grotesque and lethal genital cancers) that it is finally generating some scrutiny and pushback:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

But the precarious state of elite bankruptcies has more to do with the personal corruption of the small cabal of judges who run the system than public outrage over their rulings; like that one judge in Texas who was secretly fucking the lawyer whose clients he was also handing hundreds of millions of dollars to:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

Certainly, we don't hear much about the "moral hazard" of allowing the Sackler opioid family to keep as much as ten billion dollars in the family's offshore accounts while walking away from the victims of their drug-pushing empire, no matter what bizarre tricks they deploy in pulling off the stunt:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

But when it comes to canceling the debts of normal people, the "moral hazard" is front and center. If you're a person who borrowed $79k in student loans, paid back $190k and still owe $236k, we can't cancel your debt, because of the message that would send to other people who want to (checks notes) get an education:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

The anti-jubilee side also wants us to think of the poor creditors: who would loan money to the next generation of students if student debt cancellation was a possibility? Of course, these are federally guaranteed loans, risk-free, free money for people who already have money, a kind of UBI for the people who need it least. The idea that this credit pool would dry up if you were limited to only collecting the debts that can be paid – rather than insisting that debts that can't be paid still be paid – elevates the hereditary creditor class to a kind of fragile, easily frightened, endangered species.

But the most powerful arguments against bankruptcy are rooted in the idea of providence. In an efficient market, anyone who goes bankrupt was necessarily reckless. They were entrusted with credit they weren't entitled to, because they lacked the intrinsic merit that would let them manage that credit wisely. Letting them walk away from their debts means that they will never learn from their mistakes, and that their fellow born-to-be-poors will learn the wrong thing from those debts: that there's an easy life in borrowing, spending, and discharging your debts in bankruptcy.

As it happens, this is an empirically testable proposition. If this view of personal bankruptcy as a personal failure is correct, then people who go bankrupt and live to borrow again should end up bankrupt again, too. On the other hand, if we accept the jubilee view – that debt is the result of accumulated misfortunes, often including the misfortune of birth into poor station – then bankruptcy represents a second chance with an opportunity to dodge misfortune.

In a new study from IZA Institute of Labor Economics's Gustaf Bruze, Alexander Kjær Hilsløv and Jonas Maibom, we get just such an empirical analysis. It's called "The Long-Run Effects of Individual Debt Relief," and it examines the lives of people for a full quarter-century after a bankruptcy:

https://docs.iza.org/dp17047.pdf

The study follows Danish bankruptcies following the introduction of continental Europe's first modern bankruptcy system, which Denmark instituted in 1984. Prior to that, the Danes – like most of Europe – did not allow for a discharge of personal debt through bankruptcy. Instead, a debtor who went bankrupt would be expected to have about 20% of their lifetime wages garnished to pay back their creditors, until the debts were repaid or they died (whichever came first).

After 1984, Denmark bankruptcy system imported features of US/UK/Commonwealth bankruptcy, including the ability to restructure and discharge your debts. Not everyone is eligible for this kind of bankruptcy: there's a bureaucratic system that verifies that people seeking bankruptcy discharge don't have a lot of assets that could go to their creditors.

But for the (un)lucky people who qualify for bankruptcy discharges, there's a fascinating natural experiment in which the fortunes of people who see debt relief can be compared to bankrupt people who couldn't get their debts wiped out.

It turns out that the Bronze Age has a thing or two to teach us. Here's the headline finding: people who discharge their debts in bankruptcy experience "a large increase in earned income, employment, assets, real estate, secured debt, home ownership, and wealth that persists for more than 25 years after a court ruling."

After people are given the benefits of bankruptcy, they are less likely to rely on public benefits. They get better jobs. Their families live better lives. Their creditors get some of their money back (which is all they can realistically expect, since "debts that can't be paid, won't be paid").

As Jason Kilborn writes for Credit Slips, "the benefits of debt relief are not only substantial but robust, as debtors learn their lesson (if there was one to learn) about managing their finances, and they capitalize (literally) on their fresh start."

Score one for the luck-based theory of wealth, and minus one for the providential meritocracy hypothesis.

Americans should take note of these findings. After all, Danes are insulated from the leading American cause of bankruptcy: medical debts. In America, breaking a bone or getting cancer or even kidney stone can wipe out a lifetime of hard work, careful planning and prudential spending. The US refuses to seriously grapple with this problem. The best we can come up with is the (welcome, but tiny) step of banning credit bureaux from trashing your credit score because of your medical debt:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/06/11/fact-sheet-vice-president-harris-announces-proposal-to-prohibit-medical-bills-from-being-included-on-credit-reports-and-calls-on-states-and-localities-to-take-further-actions-to-reduce-medical-debt/

Millennia ago, everyone understood that debts that can't be paid, won't be paid, and they created a system for discharging debts and freeing productive people from the tyranny of accumulated liabilities, to the benefit of all. Dismantling that system required us to invent an elaborate theological system and dress it up in economic language.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/17/lovilee-jubilee/#debts-that-cant-be-paid-wont-be-paid

#pluralistic #debt #debts that cant be paid wont be paid #jubilee #denmark #great danes #bankruptcy #second chances #scholarship #economics #iza #Gustaf Bruze #Alexander Kjær Hilsløv #Jonas Maibom #michael hudson

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martybaker · 3 months

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Over the rainbow

So I know we love torturing or at least inconveniencing retired Dream with new human ailments and realities, I love doing that as well, but the thesis of this was - what if Dream retired and he finally got to be at peace and all was well, actually 🥹

(started this for prompt First time for dreamling week but here we are over a week late)

————

“I’ve never been kissed,” Dream announces.

He’s settled on the far end of Hob’s sofa with his knees up, chin settled on top of them and arms loosely hugging his legs, somehow looking both comfortable and relaxed as well as like a model in the middle of a photoshoot.

Hob’s had a hard time not staring but when Dream says that line his eyes immediately snap to the vision on his couch, clothed in hues of beige, wrapped in Hob’s own softest cardigan, and he nearly spills the tea that he was bringing for a sip.

“Huh? What?” He asks dumbly, voice unnaturally high pitched.

Dream merely blinks at him and waits him out.

When the wheels in Hob’s brain start turning again he does try to parse that statement, but all he can come up with is: “But…you’ve had relationships? You had a wife and all, did you not kiss? Was it all like, metaphysical or-“

Dream rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Of course I’ve kissed my partners. Let me rephrase the statement. Murphy has never been kissed.”

Oh.

Dream’s talking about his new human body. His new self, that he named Murphy, a name to be used for dull but necessary identity paperwork that Hob obtained for Dream through rather illegal means.

It’s only been a little over a month since Dream turned human, but he’s been very…calm while settling into his new reality. The retirement was his own choice and he seemed to be perfectly content with his decision, despite the fact that he was forced to live with Hob in his messy little apartment while they figure something of his own for him.

Well, if.

Dream also seemed perfectly content in Hob’s space and showed no interest whatsoever in looking at flat listings.

Not that Hob minded. He would happily spend every minute every day with his friend, if it wouldn’t make him feel guilty about slacking on his job and his students. After all, Hob’s chosen career wasn’t just to keep himself busy, he really enjoyed teaching young impressionable minds about days past, keeping the history alive. Remembering.

But his joy in teaching was currently found lacking compared to the newfound joy of Dream in his home. Not just visiting, robed in dark colors, taking time off of his duties to spend a moment with Hob, but human, dressed in earthly colors, there in the mornings for shared breakfasts and still there in the evenings when Hob returned. Reading a book, slowly going through Hob’s vast vinyl collection, playing the piano, painting, knitting, molding clay. Pale blue eyes focused and clever hands at work, creating, always creating. He’s always been an artist and that part of him stayed true, despite the big change.

All things considered, Hob’s really been having a hard time keeping his foolish heart in check. And with Dream saying things like this, things like-

“This mouth has never been kissed.”

Hob’s eyes drop to Dream’s lips as soon as Dream says that, just to see them twitch in a pleased smile.

Hob stares at him, at a loss for words, while Dream looks back at him expectantly. Expecting…an answer? A reassurance?

Hob clears his throat. “Well…I’m sure it will be? It’s a very lovely mouth,” he says, unable to stop the blush coloring his cheeks.

Dream sighs a long suffering sigh and pets the couch next to himself. “Come here,” he commands.

There’s no ancient power of a monarch of the Dreaming behind it anymore, but Dream still keeps his regality, his head held high, a quiet gravitas to him. Not quite the same as when he was an Endless, but still there.

Confident, elegant, graceful.

And calm, like the still water of an indigo lake high in the mountains.

Hob blinks. What was the question? Oh, right, he was being summoned. He moves to sit next to Dream.

Dream turns towards him, leans in and closes his eyes.

Is he…?

Hob is frozen in shock once again. “Ahh, you, you want me to…?”

Dream opens his sky blue eyes again, staring into Hob’s soul. “Yes,” he says decisively.

There’s a beat when they just stare into each other’s eyes and then Dream closes his again. Waiting, alluring lips just a few inches from Hob’s.

But Hob’s having a crisis. They’ve never done this before! Dream’s never said anything about being…attracted to Hob, he’s never suggested, he never seemed interested that way.

One time, Hob got drunk and Dream had to drag his ass upstairs to bed, and Hob was just enough at his senses to remember that he slurred: “D’ya know what I like best about being immortal?”

“What,” Dream asked as he pulled Hob upwards, making sure he wouldn’t stumble on the stairs.

And Hob smiled goofily and said: “You.”

Dream just blinked at him. He didn’t say anything, not then, not when Hob got propositioned by the shopkeep when they were out together, browsing for new (old) records, not when Death was visiting and she teased if they changed their dates to weekly instead of centennialy.

Not when they were walking in a park, and Dream seemed to be watching a couple on another path on a stroll as well, holding hands.

Hob’s good mood made him act foolish, he reached out a hand in offering, but Dream… he just stared at it. Hob quickly withdrew it, running it through his hair, chuckling nervously. “I was just teasing,” he said weakly, but by that point he was sure his feelings were transparent and Dream’s lack of reaction was a clear signal.

Then again, maybe this was just harmless experimentation? Wanting to know what it feels like, being kissed as a human?

But Hob still hesitates. He feels too strongly about Dream to casually mess around without being wary of the consequences.

“Uhh, wait. I, are you sure? I don’t-“

Dream sighs and his patience with Hob apparently runs out because he pulls Hob towards him by his shirt, kissing him square on the lips.

Hob makes a surprised sound, but then he closes his eyes and falls into the kiss.

It’s unhurried and rather chaste, yet Hob’s heart seems to be doing its best trying to jump out of his chest.

Dream pulls away, slowly opening his eyes.

“How….how did that feel?” Hob asks, reminding himself that this was just an experiment. A one time deal.

Dream contemplates his answer. “Different,” he says.

“Different than when you were..Endless?

“Yes.”

“Good different or bad different?”

Dream frowns. “No such dichotomy applies,” he says, and then he leans back in again and Hob leans away.

He chuckles nervously. “Ahh, haha, hold on. You’re gonna make me think you like kissing me.” He tries to turn it into a joke, holding Dream lightly by his shoulders, trying to prevent him from darting forward again.

Dream glares at him. “And what, pray tell, is making you think I don’t.”

“Oh…really?” Hob lets go of one bony shoulder to pinch his own arm. Surely, he’s still asleep and this is just a …dream.

Dream’s glare turns even more unimpressed. “You’re awake,” he says, sharp, and as if to prove his point he kisses Hob again, more hungrily and passionately, biting at his lower lip, Hob’s hold too slack to hold him back.

They kiss and kiss and it’s far from chaste this time, Dream seems to have made it his mission to explore Hob’s mouth thoroughly, while his hands explore his chest.

Hob’s hand burrows into Dream’s hair, he isn’t able to hold back now, kissing back with vigor, treasuring Dream’s every gasp.

They’re both breathing hard by the time they part - by the time Hob has to pull Dream back by his hair to stop him from diving back in.

He can’t help but laugh. “You do actually need to breathe now, you know.”

Dream doesn’t seem too pleased with this reminder. He huffs, sitting back onto his heels.

Hob already misses the feeling of him in his arms.

He clears his throat. There’s a very important question to be asked first.

“Is it…just the kissing that you like?”

Dream tilts his head at Hob like a cat, measuring him. “You cannot tell?”

Hob shakes his head.

“You’re not very bright, Hob Gadling,” Dream says, and Hob would protest, he would tease back, but the words get stuck in his throat when Dream takes Hob’s hand into his own, putting it on his chest and making Hob feel his racing heartbeat.

Hob inhales, blushing.

“You…I…,” he sighs, searching for words. “I still have a lot to learn,” he offers, smiling at Dream.

“As do I,” says Dream.

It is marvelous seeing Dream like this. His words are confident but his heart beats wildly under Hob’s hand, pink colors his cheeks, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

He’s trusting Hob with this, with his very human body whose reactions he cannot temper, cannot regulate.

Hob chuckles, feeling warm.

He loves this, the marvelous feeling of finding out your crush likes you back, the feeling that’s always incredible, no matter the time and place, no matter how many times he’s experienced it. One of his favorite feelings, the ones that make life an amazing journey.

“I really thought you weren’t interested in me like that,” he says.

Dream sighs. “I…could not be.”

Hob’s heart aches.

He has to touch, now that he’s allowed, now that he’s invited to. He kisses Dream’s forehead, his cheeks, delighting in the sighs he earns.

He kisses Dream's neck and Dream tilts his head for better access, making Hob feel lightheaded and so full of happiness he can hardly contain it. “I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you now,” he warns. “I’ll kiss you a hundred times every day.”

“A thousand times” Dream says, and Hob laughs, scraping his teeth against alabaster skin, making Dream moan.

He smirks, gaining back his confidence now that he knows Dream means this. He holds him around the waist, pulling him closer.

“I did learn a certain thing or two over the years,” he says slyly, dipping Dream backwards, laying him on the couch. Dream sighs indulgently, wrapping his hands around Hob’s shoulders, holding him close.

“Want me to show you?” Hob asks, and Dream hums in confirmation, pulling him for another kiss.

Soft notes play from the old record player, outside warm spring sun rays melt the last reminders of winter, birds chirp their welcoming songs.

Hope is in the air.

Dream’s here, in Hob’s home, in his arms. The cold weeks when he was distant and quietly hurting and Hob could sense something was very, very wrong but didn’t know how to fix it now seem like a distant memory too.

Hob pulls back for a second, holding Dream’s head in his hands, savoring the moment.

“Will you stay?” he whispers.

Dream inhales, his hand shaking a little when he places it on Hob’s cheek, caressing Hob’s lips with his thumb.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he says, smiling.

————

#dreamling week 2024 #dreamling #dreamling week #the sandman #dream x hob #sandman #dreamling fic #my writing #dream of the endless #hob gadling #sandman fanfiction #the working title for this was Retired dream just chilling 😂#also i’m sorry i am bad at writing kisses i’m pretty sure i recycle the same 5 sentences when I write them 🥹 oh well #i too still have a lot to learn #oh also there’s a very light allusion to comic events at the end #perhaps I should tag that

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jinwoosungs · 2 months

Text

7/29/24 09:21pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

[ drabble ]

{ lucky i’m in love with my best friend | lucky to have been where i have been | lucky to be coming home again… }

you were utterly fascinated with the young man who lay next to you, lost in a blissful slumber as you admired his sleeping features. your fingertips ached with the urge to touch him, feeling them reach out to gently grace at his jawline in an almost reverent manner.

sung jinwoo had always been such an anomaly to you; you hadn’t the slightest clue as to how such a powerful, yet kind, man could have ever fallen in love with you.

you, who had loved him from the start-

(back when he was labeled as the weakest in the world.)

you, who had always believed that he had the potential to be so much more.

it was true that the love you gave to jinwoo was nothing short of unconditional. you loved him when he never once loved himself, always filling your days with self-deprecating rants as he sought comfort in your embrace.

even when fate had changed his life (for better or for worse, you couldn’t say for sure) when he was made stronger by becoming a player of the system, jinwoo never once left your side. regardless of how much he leveled up, jinwoo still relied on your love and care, always wanting you to help heal him while thanking you by littering your face with sweet kisses.

your heart swelled with love for him, unable to believe just how lucky you were to remain by his side. deep down, you knew that jinwoo could have chosen another to love; how he could have been with someone more suited for him while leaving you in the dust-

but that never once happened. by some miracle, jinwoo’s feelings for you never once changed, remaining just as strong as the day he first confessed his feelings for you all those years ago.

watching him sleeping so peacefully, (with his handsome features remaining oh so tranquil as he was lost in the land of dreams), you could feel your affections overflowing for him. a mischievous grin paints your expression, and you found yourself becoming a bit more playful tonight.

with a gentle hum, you lay across jinwoo’s broad chest, watching as a frown paints his features. giggling profusely, you lean up to press a series of butterfly kisses all across his face, earning a soft grunt from him.

“sarang…” jinwoo’s voice was hoarse, filled with a feign annoyance from being woken up so suddenly. he opens one eye to look at you, stormy grey meeting with your playful gaze as you simply smiled innocently at him.

“my precious monarch.” you continue to litter his face with kisses, earning a light chuckle from him as he wraps his arms around your waist, calling you a troublemaker before pressing a lingering kiss against your lips.

to say you melted against him would be an understatement, for upon feeling the sensation of his lips perfectly slotting against yours, you lost all coherent thought. jinwoo playfully bites down against your bottom lip before sucking at it in an apologetic manner, making you let out a soft moan in response.

“that’s what you get for waking me up.” his voice turns stern, but held no malice as he allows you to cuddle closer to him. you end up burying your head within his chest with a sigh, pressing your ear directly over his heart as you basked in its gentle beats.

“sleep, my love. then i’ll take you to somewhere nice when morning comes.” jinwoo promises you all while massaging at your scalp, purposely threading his fingers through your hair as you let out content purrs in response.

eager at the thought of spending more time with him, you let out one last giggle before basking in his warmth, feeling your eyelids grow heavier as you finally fell into a peaceful slumber while in his embrace ♡

end notes: new blog, new me, who’s this? lol but honestly, my original blog just made me feel overwhelmed for some odd reason, and i wanted to do something new. my original blog won’t be deleted, but all my new writings will be here from now on (⺣◡⺣)♡ thanks for joining me once more if you’re an avid reader of my works!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #writings 📖

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goldfish-afterhours · 9 months

Text

How the Genshin Characters Find Your Ring Size

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, Thoma, Scaramouche x Gn!reader

Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, fluff, comedy

Warnings: None

Diluc

Asks for the measurements of your hand and pretends it’s for another reason

The trees are now bare and it is getting chilly outside, so Diluc takes the opportunity to ask for your hand measurements for custom-made gloves

You raise an eyebrow when he asks for measurements instead of a size, but you get out a string measurer and measure anyways

Sneakiness: 7/10. Accuracy: 10/10.

“The glove maker prefers the most accurate of measurements for his craft. And it’ll be warmer if it’s fits better.”

Kaeya

Brings you home one of those plastic rings as a joke

You accept it graciously, playing into his bit and slipping it onto your thumb since it was so big. Kaeya shakes his head, saying it has to go on your ring finger

You roll your eyes but put it on your ring finger anyways

It’s one of those flexible rings so you can push the bands together so they touch, fitting perfectly on your finger

All he has to do is steal it back from you when you take it off to shower, and now he has the perfect reference to take to the jeweler

Sneakiness: 6/10. Accuracy: 7/10

“For Your Royal Highness, monarch of the entire universe, I present to you, the ring of destiny!”

Childe

I can’t imagine that this is the first time Childe’s bought any sort of jewelry for you

This man would love to spoil you, and I can see him buying you necklaces and rings even before he gets any ideas of proposing

You wear a ring on your index finger that he brought back from Inazuma a while back. The size is a a little odd, and the two of you have been talking about getting it resized to fit better

He’ll take you to the jeweller, who will insist on getting the measurements of all your fingers “as we do for all new customers to keep on file!”

They do not, in fact, do this for all new customers. Childe specifically asked them to, and now he has your exact ring size.

Sneakiness: 10/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“Wow, the customer service is pretty good here, right?”

Zhongli

Doesn’t know which size to get? That’s fine, he’ll buy all the rings that seem around your size

That is, if he had the mora. Since in terms of mora, he has no mora, Zhongli had to find another way to figure out your ring size without you knowing

Traces the outline of both yours and his hand on a piece of parchment, pretending it’s for an old ancient Liyue tradition that couples do that you’ve never heard of and neither has Zhongli until an hour ago

You don’t question it because Zhongli is always bringing up stories and traditions you’ve never heard of, so you just assumed this would be one of them

Sneakiness: 10/10. Accuracy: 7/10

“My love, with the silhouette of our hands etched together on this paper, we will be blessed by the spirits for eternity.”

Xiao

Poor boy doesnt know what to do and too prideful to ask someone else’s help in finding out your ring size

He’ll judge it on his own

Fine I’ll do it myself

The next time the two of you are holding hands, Xiao will spread his straight out against your palm

You’ll follow suit, and as much as Xiao is enjoying the romantic moment, he’s busy trying to memorize how your hand looked in proportion to his

Since he’s eyeballing it, the measurements are a little off and ends up buying a size too small

Sneakiness: 7/10. Accuracy: 2/10

“It’s nothing. I just…like holding your hand.”

Thoma

Has one of his many friends help

One of his friends is a peddler, and they parked their travelling stall on your route home from work

They call you over, praising your beauty and insisting you take a look at their wares, that someone who shines as brightly as you deserves the finest jewellery to match

Though the flattery was too much, you felt bad about just leaving so you try on one of the rings the peddler recommended

Seeing it didn’t fit, the peddler insists you try on a different size, until you found a perfect fit

Thoma’s friend then changes attitude, suddenly saying none of the wares were for sale anymore and shooing you away

You go home and tell the strange thing that happened to you today to Thoma, who just nods innocently and pretends he had nothing to do with it

Sneakiness: 8/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“Huh, that is weird! The world is becoming a stranger place, it seems.”

Scaramouche

Flat out asks you for your ring size

When you tease him, asking what it was for, he’ll mock you, saying you’re really flattering yourself thinking he was going to propose

But when you ask him for the real reason, he’ll open his mouth to respond but no sound will come out

His head goes blank and he can’t think of a reason, and his face just turns redder by the second

You tell him your ring size, and teasingly remind him not to get you a halo ring <3

Sneakiness: 0/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“D-Don’t look so smug! If you don’t want it, then forget it.”

#my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #Diluc #Kaeya #Zhongli #Childe #Xiao #Thoma #Scaramouche #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios

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loveindefinitely · 8 months

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ PRINCESS TREATMENT — price + gaz x reader

01 — THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

featuring. kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. fem!reader, fmm, friends to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence, frequent mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, discussions of mental health

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

If you had to say when, exactly, everything changed, you’d put it down to a single monarch butterfly.

Walking down the tight alleyways of Las Almas, the sky a four o’clock black, a lone street light casts a gentle yellow over your frame. The air is stagnant, the warmth of late spring mixed with the type of humidity that only comes before a storm, your boots clicking against the stone beneath your feet.

With a leather jacket wrapped tight around you, you fall into the rhythm of it all. It’s just before five in the morning, and you know that you should be heading home any minute, but you find yourself rejecting the idea.

Everytime you leave for the night, just to breathe, to live for no one but yourself, it gets harder and harder to make your way back through your bedroom window. You know the guards are getting antsy, too, your payoffs for their silence on the issue becoming less and less worth it. Not when it’s becoming an ultimatum between some quick cash and a slow death.

You wish you were given that choice. Mightn’t even care which option you happened to receive.

It’s quiet, in these parts. No sign of the city that had been ruined by mercs, no sign of the destruction that had once lay beneath one man’s boots.

Instead, this city now sits in the firm grip of El Sin Nombre – the way it had once been, and if your family has it how they want it, the way it shall forever be.

Underneath your breath, you hum, a tune you’d picked up from the local radio. Every morning, you listen to the daily news reports, the weather, the latest celebrity gossip. Without fail, El Sin Nombre is never mentioned. Neither are the missing persons, the families torn apart by the woman you call boss.

The end of the alleyway is coming up, the main street ahead barren of people, except the odd homeless person or fitness nut getting their morning fix.

Just as you’re about to turn around and manually move your feet back to your home, the smallest of movements catches your eye, right by a potted plant sitting at the street corner. You’re not sure how, or why, it catches your attention – but it snags it, hook line and sinker.

Quickly looking both ways, you take a cautious step towards what appears to be a small aloe vera plant, stopping in your tracks when you realise what’s perched upon the tallest of the stems, its burnt orange wings fluttering with the small breeze.

A butterfly.

It hasn’t spooked – not yet, not with your careful movements – and it seems so insignificant. So small, with the family homes lining the streets, the independent stores setting up for the day.

With you, your massive life, your massive boots to fill.

And it just sits.

Flaps its wings.

A shot sounds.

Jumping back, your eyes catch the butterfly taking off into the sky, its sun-kissed wings taking it as far away from the horror as possible. Exactly as you should be doing.

Screams echo around you, another bullet sounding, and then another, and another –

Hand resting at the gun sitting in your thigh hollister, you whip your head towards the sound, the yelling, the rushed Spanish leaving people’s mouths. Gringos. El Sin Nombre. Death. Stay down.

Taking a sharp right turn onto the main street’s footpath, another shot fires, this time much closer. Much more real, tangible. Hand fully fisting around the handle of your pistol, you take the corner to the sidestreet – the source of it all – with quiet ease.

Multiple cartel members – expendable pendejos, Valeria would say – have guns not unlike your own, aimed at two separate men hidden behind a parked car. They’re crouched behind it, peaking and launching their own retaliating shots, hitting either shoulders or necks.

They fire off quick, dirty shots, one bursting through the car’s windows, shattering the glass, before lodging in one of the mens’ head. He falls, blood and brain matter splattering on the brick wall behind him. None of the others even spare him a look.

“Get ‘im!” A deep, rough voice calls – British, assertive, mature – the one furthest from you. He’s adorning a boonie hat, pulled down to cover the tops of his ears, facial hair decorating his jawline and upper lip.

They both seem to be exerting themselves, clearly having done a lot of activity and planning before the current scene. Nearly all of the civilians are out of the area, the two foreigners taking care to not harm any of the innocents.

Certainly a step up from the cartel.

There’s four left, all taking shots at the car, some bullets ricocheting off of the flat metal. Back to the opposite wall, you take out your pistol, switching off the safety with a single brush of your thumb. Keeping it extended in front of you, both hands holding it, you make your way silently closer to the confrontation, keeping behind them all.

The second foreigner – tall, all slim muscle, radiating warmth and self-assurance – takes a sweeping step away from the car, delivering final head shots to all but one.

Clawing against the ground, trying to gain his footing, pistol flung metres away from him, he lets out groans of agony. He’s been shot in the knee, it seems like – yeah, definitely been shot in the knee, by the way he screams when he tries to rise on it.

Doing quick head checks, the younger foreigner keeps his gun raised at a safe level, before walking over to the wounded member.

The lone soldier grunts when the lithe man smacks the butt of his gun against his temple, his head twisting with the force of it. You can tell he’s being kept alive.

“Fuck, Cap,” the younger man hisses, hooking his thumb in his vest, throwing his head back slightly. In the streetlight, from your close distance, you can see a droplet trail down his Adam’s apple. Collect at the hollow of his throat, glisten in the dim light.

The other, ‘Cap’, presses his hands against his knees, using the momentum to stand, wiping the back of his glove against his mouth. Quickly scanning his surroundings, you dart behind a small, abandoned street stall, crouching as you do so.

No shots are fired – you consider it a win.

“C’mon, we gotta get ‘im to exfil,” he grunts, and when you move back to watch them in full view, you see him jog over to stand next to his partner. Leaning down, he pulls his arm around the unconscious man, lifting him up with the younger’s help. They swing his arms around the necks of them both, their hands keeping him upright between the two.

“Ale and Rudy are gonna have our asses for the stray shots,” the black-haired one groans, but there’s a relieved smile stretching over his face. “Hopefully this guy has the intel they want.”

“If he doesn’t,” ‘Cap’ returns, a humoured look written all over his face, “We’ll have their asses.”

Intel. They want… intel. On the cartel, on El Sin Nombre. Something you have in spades. In fact, you were probably the closest thing to a gold mine when it came to information of the Las Almas cartel. Wouldn’t even need torture to get you to speak.

You’d heard of Alejandro and Rodolfo. They were considered legends by the townspeople, the men who nearly took down the cartel. The true face of the Mexican Military – not the paid off army.

It was a shame, really, how much of their story wasn’t told.

Being shot if either name left anyone’s mouth made it a difficult one to retell. Especially to you – the Cartel’s Princess – a woman hated for nothing more than her last name.

Your step-father and ‘boss’ refused to speak of them, either. Your limited knowledge pertained to the fact that they were direct enemies of El Sin Nombre, and shared a complicated past with Valeria. You’d asked, once, what happened.

You’d never asked again.

The sun is rising, the hints of morning brushing over the deserted side street. They seem… ethereal, in this light, exhausted from work but cheerful from a job well done. At ease with each other, even with blood decorating their skin, boots covered in red.

You remember when you’d first tried to run away, fourteen and too naive to plan it beforehand, before you knew to slide cash into the guards’ belt. It had been seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds before a bullet had grazed your thigh, and you were brought back to your house. You still have the scar – both physically, and mentally.

Having to learn that running away was never a truly feasible option was a hard reality at such a young age. Sheltered, too – you didn’t understand the true way of the world. What life was like without a bounty on your head and blood money decorating your neck in the form of a pearl necklace. Hands chained with bracelets of pure gold.

The cool metal grows clammy with your own distraught, your index finger hooking around the trigger.

When you were younger, you wanted to become a journalist. You dreamt of the ability to make things known – uncover the dark secrets your family loved to hide. A servant to the public – in the most damning of ways, a true way of protecting without the need for blood on your hands. The only black metal in your hands would be that of a pen; considerably more deadly than a weapon could ever be.

You aim your pistol.

Oh, to be free. To not have to wake up every day, dreading, hating yourself for the sins of your family. Your livelihood. Freedom in not having to choose between being a bystander, or meeting the death of a traitor.

That butterfly, gods, that butterfly. It took itself wherever it wanted – got to experience the world at its own pace. Live for the sake of it, gifting the Earth for the pleasure of it all.

Grateful for just a week of substance. A week of survival.

What you’d do for just a week.

A shot fires, and you don’t move an inch from the drawback. You just stand, watching, as a body falls, and two guns are instantly aimed at you in turn.

Just a week.

Letting the gun slide from your hand and hit the floor, you raise your hands, palms facing the two. They don’t shoot – that’s all you could’ve hoped for. Being reckless was part of being in the cartel, and your very blood ran because of it.

“You want intel?” You ask, loud enough to carry to them, taking a bold step forward. With the sun not having risen, a chill settles into your bones, the tight, silk nightdress you adorn during sleep the only thing protecting you as the breeze brushes open your jacket. “I have it.”

The youngest moves to lower his gun, but a side eye from ‘Cap’ has him raising it again. The way they stare you down has your chest rising and falling in dramatic movements, and for the first time this night, you second guess yourself.

It’s the only chance you’ve ever gotten – you think, reminding yourself – and you will accept it with open arms. Just a week.

Taking careful, precise steps closer, you keep your palms facing them and face a stubborn neutral. You’d been trained in a lot of areas, sparsely, but there was no doubt in your mind that you wouldn’t be able to take either of them in a real fight. Diego had spoiled you with riches and luxury, not sparring and gunslinging.

“Wait –” the younger stretches out his hand, looking to the other with an expression. Like he’d seen a ghost. “She’s…”

“I know,” the other breathes out, his tense stance easing slightly.

As you stand, just a metre or two away from them, you look between them both. Calculating, watching, you slide off your leather jacket and drop it to the ground – showing that you have no other weapons, no bombs strapped to you.

Just a silk, blood red nightdress, an empty hollister, and black leather boots.

“You guys were pretty loud when you said you needed intel,” you narrow your eyes, flitting between them both. They shroud you in their shadows; tall, muscular – military. But not… regiment. Different, more sinister, maybe, more important. “And I saw you kill my auntie’s men.”

They both lower their weapons. Partly stupid, partly an insult. “You’re the Cartel Princess, aye?” The younger raises his brows, looking over you with studious brown.

“I left my tiara at home,” you snark. The younger smirks, approving of your response. Maybe you wouldn’t have to be stepped all over, to be taken in by them.

Jerking his head to the dead body laying between the both of them, the older levels an unimpressed gaze your way. “Was that necessary?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest and righting his posture, looking down at you.

“He was a dick anyways,” you roll your eyes, finally lowering your own hands to rest at your hips. “He tried to offer up his daughter ‘cause he was in debt.”

Both of their jaws go slack.

You shrug.

“Where are you guys going anyways?” You ask, bouncing on the heels of your feet, hands held together behind your back. Looking around, your mouth pulls into a small frown at the shattered store windows. You’d try and leave some money for them when you got back.

The smaller one lets out an almost shocked chuckle. “This isn’t – you’re not hitchhiking.”

Rubbing at the roof of his nose, the one with the boonie hat looses a thick sigh, before giving you an exhausted look. “You’re lucky Alejandro has been after your arse for years. Gaz, get ‘er gun.”

“Yes, Sir,” he jokes, roughly saluting the man before grabbing your weapon. Sliding it into his own holster, he loops his elbow through yours, and starts dragging you down the street, the other walking a bit ahead of you both.

“This went way easier than I thought,” you mutter, realising just how… simple it had been to get them to take you. No cuffs, surprisingly, and no sedatives.

Gaz, as the other referred to him as, looks down to you with a friendly smile. “Most of us know your face. Alejandro and Rodolfo have been looking for you – something about you being ‘one of the good ones’.”

“I’ve never met them,” you admit, a small crease forming between your brows. “I’ve heard of them, but… why do they care about me?”

“Apparently,” the one up ahead darts his blue eyes back to you, “You do, in fact, have ‘intel’. And…” He trails off, before shaking his head. “You’ll see when we get back to base. I think he’ll be quite happy.”

Gaz groans with a laugh. “Hate when he’s giddy. They’re so loud.”

Falling back a little, ‘Cap’ hits his subordinate lightly up the back of his head. “You’re gross. Exfil’s just off to the right.”

“Reminds me of Amsterdam,” Gaz says wistfully, his elbow still linked around yours. This might just be the oddest way to be taken in by a supposed ‘enemy’ ever. Definitely up there.

Turning, you see a black SUV parked off to the side, the windows tinted to the nth degree. You can’t see anything within them except your own reflections, the winding streets behind you three. Looking to Gaz, you ask, “Where’s my carriage?”

He gives an incredulous look. “You’re serious?”

You and his partner answer at the exact same time, the same tone, “No.”

Opening the door to the back, Cap urges the two of you in, before getting into the passenger seat. The cushions are black, too, and comfortable as you situate yourself by the window, Gaz taking the middle seat. So much for space.

“John –”

“Kate, they’ve been after her for years. We owe ‘em.”

A woman, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, looks at you through her rearview mirror. She seems… displeased about your presence.

“You’re making us a bigger target,” she hisses, shooting him an annoyed look. “If they aren’t already trying to gun us down, they’re about to go nuclear!”

“Auntie and daddy don’t like missiles. Said it’s cheap,” you chip in, folding your knee so your ankle rests on your opposite knee, folding your hands in your lap. Damn, you think, You chipped your nail polish. Only lasted a day.

Silence fills the vehicle.

You hum that radio’s tune once more, and Kate exhales a deep, calming breath. Like she’s one step away from whipping out her own gun and shooting you all dead. And then herself.

“Can you turn on the heater? It’s kinda cold,” you ask, hands rubbing at your bare arms. Should’ve put your leather jacket back on before they took you.

“John,” Kate grits out, “I am two seconds away from –”

A shot fires, then two, then three. In one movement, you grab a hold of your pistol from Gaz’s hollister, switching off the safety once more and holding it to your chest. Kate instantly switches on the ignition, accelerating hard enough to have your head hitting the back of your chair with a squeak.

Gaz unwinds the window to his left, furthest away from you, and starts firing at where a dozen or so members stand at the main street, firing off shots at the car. Bracing yourself against the back of the driver’s seat, you take aim.

True as the way the sun is set to rise, you land multiple shots through vital organs, some lucky ones blasting right through their heads. Your wrist aches from the strength of your hold around your weapon, a break from childhood coming back to haunt you. You don’t stop, however, not when you’re nowhere near your breaking point.

Within seconds, Kate drives the car out of their view, dodging potholes like a professional.

It’s five minutes later, when you’re out of the main business streets of Las Almas, that your back hits your seat once more, eyes fluttering shut as you flick the safety back on.

Gaz does the same, his shoulder bumping yours with the width and sheer height of him. You feel small, between him and the door, but not unsafe. Quite the opposite, actually, with the way he sliced through those men with buttery gunmanship.

The silence, this time, is electric. A buzzing in the air, an excitement flowing through your veins.

And then, it hits you.

“Oh, shit,” you whine, dragging your hands over your face and sloping in your seat, lips forming a disgruntled pout.

“What – what happened? You good?” Gaz asks, leaning forward, placing his hand on the back of Kate’s headrest to look over you. His arm is corded with muscle, the sleeves of his shirt pulled up to his elbows, allowing a decent view of his military-grade skin.

You sit your head against the window.

“I left my favourite nail polish at home. And my favourite earrings,” you mumble, upset.

Gaz coughs, then sits back in his seat awkwardly. “...Right. Can’t you just. …Get more? If you’re cooperative, Ale–”

You punch him in his throat, and he wheezes, tears sprouting in his eyes as he coughs. “You don’t get it,” you glare at him, before patting his back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hit so hard.”

It’s only then that you realise John and Kate are speaking quietly up the front, low enough to not be heard by the two of you.

“Who do you guys work for, anyway?” You ask, when Gaz stops coughing, instead swallowing mouthfuls of water from the skin in his pack. He stops to stare at you.

“You ask this… now?” He questions, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind.

You shrug. “Even if you guys were mercs or something, I probably would’ve asked to be taken. Wait –” You pause, eyes going wide, mouth going slack, “You aren’t mercs, are you? Please say you aren’t.”

“We’re Special Ops. Dunno how much the old man wants me to say, so, there you go,” Gaz shrugs, pulling on his gloves. His gaze remains on yours as he does so – pulling them off by the tips of his fingers, revealing slender hands. They look oddly graceful, for a seasoned operator, and you can see the tendons pull when he takes off the other.

The sun is high enough to paint the sky in streaks of yellow and orange, swirling with the night’s dark blue. Clouds decorate the canvas like swipes of cotton, the beginnings of what looks to be a perfect Spring day. As you look out the window, watching as you pass the streets of your city, you feel an odd seed of doubt.

Not for what you’re doing – but for what you’re leaving. All of the bodies lining the streets under cartel cloths, never getting to do the very thing you’re experiencing. So many families torn apart without the option of freedom.

The glass is cool against your cheek as you drum your fingers over your lap, the tap tap tap of that song in your head looped.

“You don’t look like your pictures,” Gaz says, then, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you studiously. He appears so relax, seated beside you, tall enough to have his head nearly hitting the roof of the car.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t realise this was a Tinder date.”

He laughs, the sound melting down your spine like the cocoa body butter you favourite. Maybe he was right about the cooperation thing – you could play nice if it meant you got to have your routine.

“I just mean,” he starts, before rolling over the words in his mouth, looking out the window before making eye contact once more. His eyes are so brown. “You’re a lot less… snobby-looking.”

You bite out a sharp laugh in shock. “Excuse me?”

He raises his hands, now, a direct copy of how you’d appeared when you first made eye contact. His smile is devastating as he says, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just meant you have a lot more personality than expected.”

“Thought I was the type to be docile and pretty?” You quip, pulling your hair to rest over your shoulder. “How typically… male of you.”

Placing a hand over his heart, he pretends like he’s been wounded, expression twisting into one of pain. “Ouch, Princess. Way to hit a man where it hurts.”

“I know of many other places that’ll hurt,” you mutter, side-eying him. “Don’t test me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Majesty,” he returns.

The car starts increasing in speed, then, at a harshly quick rate – enough to have both you and Gaz sitting up straighter, checking out your windows and tightening your grips on your guns.

Price turns, twisting where he sits in the passenger seat, looking out the back window. He curses under his breath, before looking between the both of you.

“We have company.”

author's note. please leave a comment or quote reblog if you enjoyed!! i hope you all enjoy this journey with me :) xx

taglist. nothing to see here.

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teojira · 4 months

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Just a thought! Godzilla who tolerates human and mothera who absolutely adores the human and wants to keep it like a little pet is so funny to me

[I want a baby. We are two titans.] [Headcanons]

Summary: Mothra has a soft spot for you and Gojira takes it upon himself to see you, a human. He will not fall victim to your charms.

Word count: 700+

Pronouns: Gender neutral!

Warnings: None that I can possibly think of! Do lmk if I need to though!

A/N: First Goji and Mothra request!! Thank you so much!! I hope these are okay anon! Kinda made it to where it's the set up lore for this request bc that's where my brain took me lmao.

You're not particularly of note, you're nothing, sorry to say it special. No secret heritage, no secret connection to Monarch before meeting the moth titan, but when you find yourself face to face with her, you feel calm and safe.

She's radiating warmth and comfort and quietly as she can squeaks at you, trying to bid you closer to her.

A bad idea really, extremely bad idea but she just looks so soft and loving, so you walk up to her and gently rest a hand on her head, running your fingers through her fuzz.

It's clear She's very sweet on you, she can't always be by your side, having to do her duties as the queen of monsters but she will visit, she also somehow knows where you are at all times.

After the first encounter, Monarch realized they could use you to help locate her so you now have a decent cushy life as the Mothra whisperer among the two twins, the Ziyis.

Dr. Chen is absolutely fascinated to hear about your connection to Mothra, she's one of your main friends in the company who comes to visit you often.

Mothra never lingers for long, but she comes by to visit and rests with you awhile, allowing you to pet and climb on her if you wish, though she makes panicked noises if you accidental stumble, she doesn't really have alot of arm to catch you so girl is NERVOUS.

You're her little human, she'd hate to see you get hurt, regardless if she knows she can fix it.

Goji knows where Mothra is going, to see a human, and he's very against, trying to growl and grunt his point of view to Mothra, but she will have none of it. He rolls his eyes and thumps his tail, trying to emphasize that it is a bad idea and it'll get her hurt.

Mothra has never listened to a man and will not do so now, so she continues her visits with you, coming to him smelling of human.

At this point, he's gonna come see you himself, Mothra is beautiful, caring and a more peaceful titan.

Goji is not, which is why he has no issues with breaching the water next to the Monarch base and coming to find you.

He does take SOME care to not needlessly destroy everything around him, staying in the water and just standing there menacingly as fuck, everyone freaks the fuck out until Mothra follows him, resting on his back, her appendages wrapped gently on Gojis scales.

That's when they figure to send you out, neither Kaiju are attacking, but they know very clearly of Mothra's soft spot for you, so it's a insurance that she'd step in against her husband if he goes rouge.

So they send you out, you humming a village song that Dr.Chen taught you, alerting Mothra of your presence.

She flaps her wings excitedly, leaving her spot on Goji to get to you, her wings enclose the two of you, her way of giving you a hug.

Goji grumbles but gets closer, moving to lay his chest on the ground so he can get a good look at you.

You're so, squishy looking, kinda stupid looking as well, with your big eyes trained on him in fear.

He brings his snout closer, his breath making your hair blow around your face.

Mothra let's out a noise, probably a warning to her King to not do anything stupid.

You can see his visibly roll his fucking eyes at her and then he trains his eyes on yours, directly making eye contact.

He then exhales, the gust of wind knocking you over from the force, he laughs. He honest to god LAUGHS AT YOU.

You can't help but laugh back, from nerves and the fact that he seems so eerily human in this instant.

Mothra slaps him with one of her arms, shaking her head at him, speaking in a language you're sure only exists between them.

Goji uses the tip of his tail to give you something to prop yourself up against, you didn't scream of fear, he hasn't been shot at yet, he figures you're alright, for a human.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

#godzilla x reader #mothra x reader #godzilla x kong: the new empire #teddy asks ♧#teddy loves kaijus ☆#godzilla #mothra #platonic

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mmgwritings · 1 year

Text

RUIN ME, RUIN US

Characters: Kaz Brekker / Dreg ! Reader

Prompts: “I… I want you to touch me,” Kaz admits, while staring up at the ceiling, "There" cheeks reddening in an increasing show of embarrassment. (prompt created by @dumplingsjinson)

Warnings: Smut; Canon divergence; Obviously, I didn't proofread again; Masturbation; Oral Sex; NSFW; Really Long Text Sorry!

The streets were packed with people. Dazzled tourists, ravkan peasants, privileged and neglected children fought for space in the alleys with merchants, prostitutes and pickpockets - all the same, all too happy with the promises of the holiday. Nachtspel was an event during the Kerch year, in Ketterdam the party lasted for more than a week if you looked for the right club to spend money on frivolous pleasures.

This year people commented that the festival would last a month due to the visit of King Nikolai of Ravka, a tall man with a sarcastic smile who every now and then Y/N would bump into in the Slat - a place where kings didn't belong, that much she knew... at least not kings with a good reputation. The visit of the Ravkans was a promise of prosperity, King Nikolai and his entourage were in Ketterdam to bargain a spice trade line with the Council of Tides, a way of linking Ravka, Kerch and Shu Han in a triple alliance.

But it's interesting to think that King Nikolai is smart enough to also bargain with the real monarch of Kerch: Kaz Brekker. Y/N had not yet been in Ketterdam years ago when the Fold was destroyed, when a certain Ravkan prince needed the help of a small gang of thieves. But she heard about all this from Jesper, the Dregs' sharpshooter and part of Kaz's small retinue: the Crows. She also heard about the former king of Ketterdam, Pekka Rollins, and how Kaz made him beg, how he took everything from Rollins: clubs, indentures, friends in politics. Everything.

Well, almost everything. Kaz Brekker remains a mystery.

Y/N met Kaz a few days after arriving in Ketterdam, when he walked into the teashop she tended to. He needed a new waitress for the Crow Club, a seemingly simple job if the additional skill of the position wasn't listening to the conversations of some customers. She accepted, and here she is three years later. And she's dangerously involved with Kaz.

It all started very simply, they barely realized that they were spending too much time together. Y/N in the lounge, taking care of drinks or delivering envelopes to Kaz's office, or sharing a quiet living room in the Slat after everyone went to sleep.

One thing led to another over the years. A whispered conversation after the two drank too much, a longing look exchanged as they left for their posts at the Crow Club, a sleepless night on the building's terrace. But the moment they really realized, admitted, actually, having feelings for each other was when they realized that they needed each other.

For Y/N, their relationship was experienced at two peaks: the calm and comfort of knowing that they both loved each other and the turbulence and insecurity when dealing with Kaz's traumas. Y/N saw the way Jesper and Wylan, Nina and Matthias' relationship bothered Kaz, he wanted to be able to offer Y/N the same level of intimacy.

And that's why they've fought countless times. Silent wars where Kaz reluctantly tried to break up and Y/N pretended not to hear her boyfriend's stupid arguments. When Kaz tried to get away from her in vain, because Y/N always found a way to bother his heart with smiles, jokes and words of affection.

Kaz knew Y/N was patient. She was the best in his world. But, he knew that he needed to become a better man for her. What kind of relationship is this where he couldn't touch her without almost throwing up, fainting?

Y/N realized, just like she notices all the little things that make Kaz human, that he was trying to be more physical. Sometimes he would touch her hand gently, his fingertips gliding across her palm as if she were made of the most fragile glass. Other times he sat next to her on the window sill, too close that she felt his heat. Or when he suddenly decided that they would share the room, the same bed.

That was a difficult moment: Kaz gradually tried to stay close to her, until finally he managed to rest his arm on her throughout the night. But, all of this was done when he was fully dressed. Long-sleeved shirt, thick pants.

The kisses? Impossible. These took longer to go from merely touching lips to touching tongues. Let alone get lost in the moment. A kiss from Y/N would leave Kaz feverish, on the precipice between fainting from anxiety or lust. Sometimes he didn't even know if his trembling hands were a good or bad thing.

But it's over. Kaz, when properly warned, could get carried away. Y/N and Kaz occasionally had make-out sessions, one that left them panting, sweaty and craving for more. Wishing they were like all the other normal people, the ones they heard sighing in the dark alleys when they came back late at night from some mission. Those who occasionally locked themselves in the Crow Club bathroom and came out with a flushed face.

Would today be anything different? Y/N wondered as she went up to her room. Earlier, when she was still in stock at the Crow Club, Kaz spent time with her keeping her company while she counted the products. Y/N could tell he was a little nervous, but she didn't pressure him into saying anything.

So, he finally said a curt "Meet me in the bedroom later" and left for the office before Y/N could ask anything. And here she was, walking into the room and finding the sight of a Kaz Brekker sitting by the window, his eyes vacant into the night.

"Hey, how are you? Where's everyone?" Y/N said, taking off her coat and placing it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. When she arrived at Slat she noticed that it was strangely empty, even for a festival the house always had one or two people in the common rooms.

"Out" muttered Kaz "I gave them the night off." Then he finally looked at Y/N and there was something strange, it was as if he had never seen her in his life, as if he didn't know how to approach her.

"Cool… But, what happened to you? Did you want to tell me something?" Y/N said, approaching him slowly. Kaz sighed and held out his arms, an invitation for her to touch him, to hug him.

Y/N smiled, a gesture mirrored by Kaz, before surrendering to her arms. She was a little shorter than him, barely reaching her shoulders, the perfect height to fit in. Kaz placed a small kiss above her ear, a kiss that ended up trailing to her temple, her cheek, her jaw, the corners of her lips.

And then the famine came. The desire for more, much more. Kaz kissed Y/N's lips, a warm touch. Her hands, which had been clasped behind Kaz's back, moved up to his arms.

And then Kaz's tongue touched Y/N's parted lips strongly, a request, a promise. His tongue was everywhere: first sliding tentatively across her lips, then massaging, then sucking. It was so much more than they'd tried before, Y/N thought, as he nibbled on her bottom lip, pulling her closer into his arms, squeezing as if to make sure she was real.

Y/N didn't need to think much, she didn't want to stop and ask Kaz if everything was okay because, a second later, she felt one of his hands on her ass, groping. They had too many clothes on. Kaz wore a dark, velvety green vest over a white shirt with long sleeves buttoned over the wrist. The pants were black and made of thick material, the ones he usually wears in the invention. Y/N was already wearing a long blouse, the pants she wore were masculine enough to not receive more than two glances from Crow Club customers. But now, she wished there weren't so many layers between them, that the cloths would disappear.

Y/N's hands came up to Kaz's face with a caress, she wanted more than anything to slide her fingers through his hair… so she did, and he allowed it. His kisses were making her dizzy, fervent.

"Kaz," she whispered as he occupied his lips with a new target, her neck. The hands on her ass tensing in search of more, more closeness. "Slow down, Kaz," she protested.

Kaz listened and then stopped, looked at her with dark eyes, his face flushed and his lips red… lips that Y/N would never get tired of kissing. "I want you" he said "I want you to kiss me until you're sick of it, I want everything… more"

Y/N's heart lost a beat and then pulsed quickly. That was the kind of thing he said in her delirium, when she dreamed and woke up wishing she could just embrace the man who slept next to her. What else could she do upon hearing this request? She kissed him like she had never kissed him before, her fingers threading through his hair, down his neck, to his face.

A sloppy kiss because they've never done it before. Hands roaming each other's bodies more than they dared before. Kaz was all hands. Tightly squeezing her ass or reaching up to her waist, pulling her closer.

Then, one of Kaz's hands went to Y/N's hair, deftly removing the ribbon that held the curls in a messy braid, while his other hand went down to her right thigh, lifting her leg slightly so that he could get closer... Saints, she wanted to be able to melt and merge with Kaz.

Y/N could barely breathe between the kisses, Kaz's lips were all she wanted, she wanted them all over her body, for him to mark her. Then he pulled her towards the bed, bumping into the table, tripping over the carpet and laughing a little at his clumsiness.

She sat on the bed and looked at Kaz, her face flushed and a slight smile on her face. The street light that entered the room bathed him in a warm, golden light, Kaz had never seemed more alive than at that moment. He was the most beautiful person Y/N had ever seen in her life. He looked so carefree as he rested one of his knees between Y/N's legs, his hand tenderly caressing her face and brushing away stray strands of hair from the front of her forehead.

"You're so beautiful", Kaz murmured, his lips resting a soft peck on the tip of Y/N's nose.

"I can say the same", said Y/N. Pulling him to the middle of the bed so he was on top of her. "There are so many beautiful things I can tell you now. But none of them compare to you, Kaz Rietveld."

She kissed his cheek, then his nose, his chin, his mouth. Her hand, the one that wasn't busy cupping Kaz's face, slid down his back, feeling the muscles beneath his clothes tense slightly, then, at the base of his spine, she pushed him slowly until their body was pressed together. Too many clothes, Y/N thought.

Kaz must have had the same thought, because he deftly slipped his fingers between the top buttons of Y/N's blouse. Beneath it there was nothing but skin flushed with desire.

Well, they've seen a bit of each other's nudity over the years they've shared a room, but it's never been this explicit. So raw. Kaz's eyes slid over Y/N's breasts, his fingers following his gaze to her nipples, touching tentatively, seeing how far they could both go. When her only response was a sigh of pleasure, Kaz opened the rest of her blouse and clumsily pulled the fabric from her body.

Mouths, hands, sighs, moans. Kaz offered and received caresses as he rested his mouth on Y/N's nipples, his warm tongue sliding, sucking and nibbling mercilessly. Y/N's hands didn't know where to hold on in the material world, they were in his hair, keeping him as close as possible, on his shoulders, on his arms, pulling him for more.

Kaz realized that his favorite sound was her moans. It was a sound that reverberated through his body like an overwhelming storm that made his heart palpitate heavily, that made his brain melt and that somehow, caused a pleasant pressure to rest in his groin.

Y/N was lost, she didn't know she was so sensitive there. Or maybe this is just Kaz's effect, his talent. When his mouth was on her nipples everything was perfect and horrible, she felt out of control, completely at Kaz's mercy.

When he stopped kissing her was the moment she hated him, but when he looked at her with a shy look on her face, Y/N loved him more than anything. What happened? Y/N wanted to ask, but there was no time, Kaz let out a low, guttural sound when he moved over Y/N, she felt, through all the layers of clothes that still separated them, Kaz's cock pressed against her.

A shiver ran up her spine. Y/N kissed him hard, tongue lashing over Kaz's lips, her nails scratching his arms, pulling him, feeling him. A wave of pleasure coursed through her body as her sensitive nipples came into contact with the raised embroidery of Kaz's vest. She opened her legs wider to accommodate him between her and Kaz's hand went to her ass, pulling her towards his crotch.

Suddenly, Y/N pushed Kaz away. Turning his body so she was on top, she then quickly took off her pants. She's sick of so many clothes.

Kaz was in awe, looking at her body as if it were some kind of miracle, as if some saint was descending from heaven with an offer too good to be true. Or like a demon, leading him to a path of no return. For the first time in his life he felt nothing bad happening, no repulsion, no aversion at the thought of touching someone. He just wanted more from her, wanted to take everything from her, touch her everywhere, but more than anything, he wanted her to touch him.

Their relationship was always smooth, they never talked about sex or about anything other than kisses, but they both wanted the same feeling of fulfillment that all other couples had. So, it was not without shyness that Kaz, completely vulnerable to Y/N, looked at her with pious eyes and pleaded.

"I... I want you to touch me," Kaz admits, while staring up at the ceiling, "There" cheeks reddening in an increasing show of embarrassment.

It was selfish of him to ask that. It was malicious, negligent, narcissistic, asking for pleasure when she was the one who should be adored. But Kaz was never much for bending, he was never pious.

Little did he know that it was what Y/N wanted most.

She smiled and kissed Kaz, her light fingers opening the buttons of his pants, slipping down to his cock. The feeling was very different from what she had imagined, Kaz was warm, soft, firm and… big. Very.

Kaz let out a strangled sound, his hands that rested on her waist fluttered slightly. "Everything is fine?" she asked, the movements of her hand stopped completely, but she didn't remove it.

"Yes," he sighed, closing his eyes in pleasure.

Y/N then moved her hand slightly up and down, gently squeezing the base, sliding the tip of her thumb over the tip of his dick. Feeling the cum spread in his hand. Kaz was discreet, he was trying not to get carried away, she realized, but she could hear the light moans that escaped his lips, she could tell that he was really enjoying it when he tensed his jaw, when he squeezed her ass.

Daring the limits, Y/N lowered Kaz's pants further, finally seeing him completely. It was definitely not what she had imagined. Kaz was very thick, the tip was a dark pink color that glistened with cum and had some prominent veins. She wondered what it would feel like in her mouth.

When Y/N gave Kaz a peck on the crotch, just above the pubic hair line, she looked at him as if asking if she could continue. His eyes were moist, as if it was a difficult task to contain all of his impulses.

“Please,” he begged, one hand caressing Y/N’s cheek. "Please don't stop" he moaned.

She then tried putting just the tip of his dick in her mouth, her tongue testing the taste of his cum, then, tentatively, she saw how much it all fit.

It wasn't much. She didn't have that much experience, she couldn't take his entire dick in her mouth without feeling like she might choke. So, she took turns sucking and licking, from the base to the tip, then, when she saw that he liked it, she held his balls and massaged them lightly. But she never stopped moving her hand in a tempting gesture.

Kaz was getting carried away. When he became very impatient with Y/n's slow movements he begged to be rough, when he felt her tongue passing over the tip, sucking, and looking at him, he let the moans, previously low, sound at ease. Damn anyone who listens.

Please, please, please, he said. Hip thrusting, his dick entering her mouth even more. Beg, Y/N wanted to say, beg for more and maybe I'll let you cum, fill my mouth with it, let you see how you ruin me.

So, when she felt his hip thrusts become more sloppy, when his moans were lost between his panting, Y/N sucked hard on Kaz's cock and felt, in the back of her throat, his cum pooling on her tongue, sliding down her chin.

When his orgasm ended, he was panting and feverish, his hair messy, beads of sweat sliding down his forehead, his cheeks pink. He was a beautiful sight. He was a beautiful mess.

As for Y/N, she was strangely shy under Kaz's longing gaze, feeling cum slide down her chin and drip onto her breasts. "Beautiful" Kaz said, standing up and placing a sloppy kiss on her lips, his tempting tongue lashing into her mouth, both of them tasting him.

"All mine", he whispered, as he pulled her to saddle him. Y/N felt his dick brush against her pussy. "And I want all of you. I want you to ruin me, ruin us."

#mmgwbrekker #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Text

the vow - i

summary: you’re betrothed to the future king of Guilder and a fearsome knight is assigned to protect you. medieval au

knight!simon ‘ghost’ riley x princess!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), age gap, violence, arranged marriage, infidelity

next part masterlist

a/n: @/dinalgo on tiktok posted some hc art of knight!ghost and i’m obsessed, so here’s my interpretation of that except I refuse to write in old English, also points if you catch the references I threw in

The sun shines brightly through the large window, the breeze blowing the trees outside your room, for a small moment, the world is quiet, just the songs of morning birds chirping on the balcony fill your ears, there’s no noise, no worries.

The moment is quickly ruined by the sound of your maids bustling into the room, arms full of clothing and various tools, you turn your gaze to them slowly,

“Princess, good morning”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, please use my name”

“The Prince requests that we refer to you by your title m’lady”

“Well we wouldn’t want to upset him would we” Your tone is sarcastic as you make your way over to the women, one of them fixes your bed while the other prepares a bath, setting out your clothes. You step into the warm water, soothing a rag over your muscles to clean yourself before one of the ladies takes over, dumping water over your head to wash your hair. You sit for a few minutes in the water, allowing them to work around you,

“You’re quiet this morning”

“Mm not much on my mind I’m afraid”

“You’re not excited for the festivities?”

“The feast should be nice, I don’t care much for the rest”

“Don’t talk like that” The older woman scolds, Clarice had known you since birth tending to you as a young girl, always by your side while you grew up in court, more a mother to you than your actual mother. “The Prince is handsome, a worthy adversary”

“Yes handsome, but also rude, stubborn, cold, everything I despise”

“With time you will grow to love him”

“I surely doubt that” You scoff

She furrows her eyebrows at you, “There, now let's get you dressed”

She helps you out of the bath over to the other maid, Beatrice, you had known her for less time, her position assigned to you when you came to the court after your engagement was announced. Your Father was the king of Florin, and you as his only child had the unfortunate position of being in an arranged marriage to the Prince of Guilder, the Monarchs of the country being old and weary, their son was to be crowned before the year ended and he needed a wife. Your countries had been at war for years, the violence only ceasing when your engagement had been announced, you had been in Guilder for a week now, hold up in the castle away from the public eye, today was the day that your engagement would be formally announced, a festival for your sake being held on the castle ground, thousands of people crammed inside the grounds all trying to get a look at you and the Prince, the idea made your stomach turn.

Your early years had been spent wandering the grounds of your families castle, the tall stone walls becoming a home after the years you spent in them, you felt sick for your old life, your freedom, you could run around the gardens, ride the horses whenever you wanted back home, but here, every action of yours was watched, criticized, you were told how to look, where to be and when, every part of your life was in the control of the Prince and your Father, you hated it.

You had gotten dressed, your breaths feeling tight due to the corset you wore, another freedom you yearned for was being able to wear clothing of your choosing, now everything was blue and green, the colours of Guilder, always tight on your chest to emphasize your figure, your hair was done up in a knot, a few loose strands falling to tickle your neck and cheeks.

“Beautiful” Clarice says, a soft smile on her face

“I look like a peacock”

“You do not, you’ve grown into such a beautiful woman, my little princess” Her hand is soft on your cheek, you smile at the tender action, always finding comfort in her. “Now, we must go, you’re needed downstairs”

You struggle to take a deep breath, silently cursing the fabric binding your chest as you make your way through the wide halls, they were lined with various adornments, some tapestries, a few swords hung beside scattered candles, it felt cold here, no comfort in the walls, everything was jagged and silver.

“Now, the Prince will introduce you, then the jousting will begin”

“Is anyone from Florin going to be in the duels?”

“I’m not sure my dear, there’s plenty of men from across the countries”

You nod, looping your arms through hers as you walk side by side, you stand at the large opening that leads out to the balcony above the castle grounds, everything is decorated in the countries colours, it’s so formal, you feel like a stranger in your new home, everything so similar yet so different, you had no family here, no friends aside from Clarice, you give her a soft smile before unhooking your arm, waiting for the Prince to announce you before walking out.

You step out onto the balcony, the warm sun hitting your skin, there’s a symphony of clapping and whistling, you look down at hundreds of people, all staring back at you, you wave to them,

“Sit down” The Prince speaks, you turn to him, his face is stoic, there’s no softness in his features, you abide, sitting down in the tall chair next to him. They begin the jousts, two by two the men file out, setting up on their horses, the Prince turns to you with every new competitor, explaining who they were and where they were from, including his personal opinion on the men.

You see a tall man enter the field, his armour pure black, his horse the same, he’s larger than the rest of the competitors, his helmet shaped like a skull, his chest plate donning an emblem you didn’t recognize.

“Who’s that one”

The Prince leans over the balcony to get a better look, eyes squinting in an effort to make out the symbol,

“I’m not sure, must be some farmboy playing make belief”

You respond with a small oh, the knight approaches the balcony, his hand reaching to remove his helmet, the light hits his face, streaking colours through his blonde hair, you can make out a few scars on his face, even from your distance you can see the deep colour of his eyes, his face is firm staring up at you, you’re frozen in your spot, staring back at him, he raises his lance toward you, without thinking you reach behind you, grabbing a ring of flowers held together by a ribbon, and throwing it onto his lance, it falls to the base, the flowers close enough that he could smell their aroma, he says nothing, not even a nod, he simply puts his helmet back on and moves to mount his horse.

You step back, your eyes stuck on him as you return to your seat,

“What was that?”

“Sorry?”

“You gave him your favour”

“Thought the farmboy could use some luck against Ser Michael”

“Ah, yes” The Prince goes on to ramble about the accomplishments of the opponent, his success in battle, how much he admired his bravery, but you aren’t listening, your focus completely taken by the shadowy knight galloping toward the centre of the pit, his lance raised as he thrusts it into his opponent, throwing him off his horse. The crowd erupts in cheers, you swallow thickly as you watch him get off his horse, moving toward you, he kneels in front of you,

“Simon Riley your highness”

“Where do you hail from Ser?” The Prince stands, your eyes are focused on him as he bows his head

“The North, but I am no Ser”

“You’re not a knight? You wear the armour of a knight”

“The armour belonged to my father”

“And where is he, your father?”

“Dead 10 years ago your highness”

“And tell me, why have you come”

“I come to prove my honour, to serve you”

“Very well, you may go”

You watch a few more rounds of jousting, growing bored with the same thing happening, they announce the final duel before urging the groups to attend the feast, you make your way down from the balcony, towards the high tables in the gardens, your eyes roaming over the groups of people, struggling to find a familiar face in the crowd.

“So what did you think?” The Prince asks

“About what?”

“The jousting” He scoffs

“They were all quite good”

“What about that Simon Riley”

You whip your head towards him, “I thought little of him, why?”

“Well he was rather large don’t you think, I might add him to my guard”

“Add him to mine” You speak before thinking

“Why would I add him to yours”

“I have no guard, no one to protect me”

“Well, I’ll arrange for you to choose a guard tomorrow then, perhaps then you’ll finally feel at ease here”

You nod your head, turning quickly from him, you greet the King and Queen, making small conversation about the state of the castle, the blooming bouquets of blue poppies that adorned the various pillars, your eyes are drawn to Simon, his dark appearance a stark contrast to the brightly dressed patrons that mingle around the grounds, you watch him disappear around a corner, it’s not until the Queen calls your name that you realize you had been staring at him the whole time.

“Sorry your majesty, my brain has been a fuzz all week, what did you ask?”

“That’s alright dear, with all the excitement I can hardly focus myself, I was just wondering if you had decided on a dress for the wedding”

“Oh, not yet, you’ve brought so many beautiful options I haven’t been able to decide”

“I understand, we have the best dressmakers here, but do make time to choose, we wouldn't want to delay such an important decision”

“Of course”

She smiles at you, looping her arm through her husbands as they walk on, you stand there, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of everything happening around you, you had only a week until you were to be wed and you had every decision already made for you, your fiancee and his mother picking out every detail of the wedding down to what bouquet you’d be carrying, they had decided that you would hold a large grouping of the blue poppies you see everywhere, the royal flower of Guilder, no part of the wedding made notice of your heritage, all traces of Florin erased from the ceremony, you were to be wed according to Guilder law rather than the customs of your home.

They had arranged for your father to attend but no one else, claiming that there simply wasn’t space for extra people to join, they had cut you off from your old life completely, forcing you to conform to their way of life, moulding you into the perfect Queen, obedient and meek, you despised it, you longed for your freedom from the confines of the castle.

When the feast ended and you had spoken to all the nobility you needed to, you were escorted back to your quarters, the silence of the large stone walls consuming you once again, no birds singing, no rushing of maids, just you and the night sky. It was late, the dark consuming the outer land in a blanket of shadows as you stood on your balcony looking over the moonlit gardens, that was the only good thing about your new home, a perfect view of the perfect gardens, every shrub perfectly manicured, bending and winding in a maze that led to a small fountain in the centre, each flower a shade of green and blue. Truth be told you didn’t think much of the colours before moving but now, you despised them, every shade a sharp reminder of how you didn’t belong, the colours mocked you as they invaded your eyesight, you huffed a breath to yourself, eyeing the grounds below for any sign of guards.

There was one roaming the grounds, you thought you could easily avoid detection if you were quick, you grab your robe wrapping yourself in it, a small attempt to keep yourself warm from the cool air of the night as you creep towards your door. They were heavy, large slabs of wood, you open in slowly to avoid any creaks, slipping through the opening and rushing down the hallway, there was a small door meant for staff that you entered, making your way down the thin stairs and peering through the door outside, the guard has his back turned, you inch the door open and slide through, quickly moving towards the gardens. You walk under a large arch of shrubs, the smell of the flowers invading your senses, bushes of wolfsbane, oleander and wisteria fill the gardens, all beautiful but deadly, a worthy metaphor for your new home, you roam the isles of the garden, lost in the hidden openings and similar corners.

After a few minutes, you find yourself in the middle, a tall fountain in front of you, it’s stunning, the intricate details of the stone swirling as the water crashes into the pool, you sit in the grass, listening to the sound, letting it relax you, finally a break from the quiet that wasn’t the screaming of citizens, or the demeaning words of your future mother-in-law. You close your eyes, the grass tickles your skin as you relax, breathing in the fresh air, you hear a small rustle in the grass, breaking you from your state, you turn your ear to the noise, calling out quietly to see if anyone was there. There was no reason for anyone to be in the gardens at this hour, in fact, the Prince practically forbade it, you stand slowly, following the rustling noise, peeking around a corner you see a quick movement turning the corner, moving faster you approach it, your heartbeat heavy as you near, you turn to find the culprit and let out a small gasp, a small white rabbit was sat, chewing on some shrubs, you kneel down extending your hand towards it.

“Come here little guy, these gardens aren’t safe for you” It hops toward you, nearly touching your hand before it turns on its heel and sprints away, you furrow your brows in confusion,

“They aren’t safe for you either Princess”

Your breath stops, you feel the looming figure behind you as you slowly stand, you heartbeat now thrumming in your ears, you turn to face him, he almost melts into the darkness of the garden, his armour pitch black,

“You should get back inside”

Goosebumps cover your skin, your breaths shallow as you stare at him, you back up slowly, turning around to move through the gardens, you turn around the corners, trying to find your way out, your feet carry you through the grass, you follow the lights inside the windows, trying to get out. You rush towards the exit, eyes focused on the light as you collide with the guard, stumbling into him,

“I’m sorry”

“Princess? What are you doing outside?”

“I just needed some air” Your breathes are shaky as he scans your face,

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, completely, just need to go back inside I think the air was a little too cold”

“Well hurry in then” He nods, stepping aside to let you pass, you move past him hastily, opening the doors inside you make your way back up the stairs, you enter your room and release a breath, rushing towards your balcony to try and catch a glimpse of him. Your eyes scan the gardens, the night doing its job of concealing anything within the green walls, you see nothing, no movement anywhere, it's like he wasn’t even there, you think you imagined him, his deep voice ringing in your ears as you lay in your bed.

The next morning was calm, you woke early to the sound of your maids making their way inside, Clarice helping you dress and doing your hair while Beatrice makes your bed, tidying the room.

“Exciting day today” Clarice says

“What do you mean?”

“The Prince has arranged for you to pick a guard, I suppose he fears a possible war and wants you safe”

You nod at her, “I don’t believe the Prince fears for my safety as much as you do” you whisper, she shushes you, her eyes darting to Beatrice to make sure she didn’t hear, “Bite your tongue child”. You let out a small giggle, amused by how concerned she is, allowing her to finish your hair before you make your way to the throne room, you enter through the massive doors to a room of scattered men, all donning their house armour, you look around and see no sight of the dark knight. You stand atop the small set of stairs, looking down at the men as they announce themselves one by one, giving you their names and listing all their accomplishments, victories in battle, how they were undefeated in jousting in their home. You’re bored after an hour of their bragging, your mind oblivious to the fact that you have to choose one of them to be around you for hours at a time, an older man stands to speak but is interrupted by the sound of the doors opening, everyone turns their heads at the sound, their eyes widening at the sight of the tall man clad in black, he keeps his helmet on as he enters, only removing it to kneel before you.

“Simon Riley m’lady”

“Not Ser?”

“I beg your pardon”

“Everyone else here is a knight, why are you not?”

“I’m the last remaining member of my house m’lady, we’re a forgotten house”

“I expect my guard to be knighted”

“I may not hold a title Princess, but I assure you I would lay my life down for you” He turns his head to look at you as he speaks, and you release a strained breath,

“You may all leave” You address the room, Simon stands, “You stay” You look to him and he nods, the room is consumed in silence as the other men exit, leaving you alone with him, “Why were you in the gardens last night?”

“I needed to clear my head”

“It’s forbidden to be on castle grounds after dark”

“And yet you were there” He looks up to you, you swallow a thick gulp.

“You’ll be assigned to me, keep me safe”

“Thank you, Princess” He bows his head,

“And don’t wear your helmet inside, it’s unnerving”

He fights the smile that creeps up on his lips as you turn away from him, exiting through the back of the room, you make your way to the Prince's quarters, his guards stand outside the door.

“Princess” They greet you

“Hello, I need to speak to the Prince”

They look to each other and back to you, “He’s busy I’m afraid”

“It’s a matter of staff” You try to push past them but they stop you, you furrow your brow at them, one takes a moment, knocking on the door.

“My Prince, the Princess wishes to speak with you” He shouts through the door, you hear shuffling through the door, the Prince mumbling something before he steps to the door, opening it, he’s half-dressed, his hair a mess, you watch him peer backwards, mouthing something and it all clicks in your head, you feel your chest tighten.

“What did you need my love” The name feels like a stab to your chest,

“I’ve chosen my guard, Simon”

“Simon?”

“The black knight from the feast” You watch the gears spin in his mind

“Yes very well” He turns away,

“He needs to be knighted”

He sighs, “He holds no title?”

“Not yet no”

“Fine, inform him that he should be in the throne room by nightfall, I shall do it then”

Before you can respond he closes the door, the shuffling and giggles behind the door resuming, you spare a polite smile to the guards, turning away and making your way to your quarters.

You sit at the small table in your room, your eyes watching through the window as people wander the grounds, you call for Clarice who meets your side in an instant,

“Please inform my guard he is to be in the throne room after dinner”

“Very well Princess” She smiles at you before leaving, you sit quietly in your room, daydreaming about being outside in the fields, exploring the ponds around the castle grounds, being anywhere but here. The time passes quickly, a servant knocks on your door to inform you that dinner was prepared, you make your way down to the dining hall, the air of the room feeling colder as you sit down, dinners were the same, just you, the Prince and the Queen, the King being in poor health was kept in his room, only brought out for special occasions. You sit and eat, picking at the meal in front of you as the two of them discuss wedding preparations like you aren’t there, they don’t ask for your input, deciding on things alone, after a few minutes you stand to excuse yourself,

“You’re done eating?”

You stop in your tracks, “Not particularly hungry this evening”

“Well, I should see you in a few moments in the throne room then,” He says, turning back to his conversation, disregarding you.

You make your way to the large room, the walls high, large windows separating the spaces in them, you stare at the ceiling, it’s ridiculously tall, with large chandeliers hanging from the crossing beams, there are pictures hanging on the wall, you stride past them not bothering to spare them a glance as you hear the doors open, The Prince walks in beside his own guard, Simon trailing behind them, your gaze softens as you look at him, he kneels in front of the Prince, removing his helmet, you’re close enough now that you can properly make out his features, the sharp line of his jaw, the scar that crosses through his eyebrow, and his eyes, dark and rich, his hair falling slightly across his forehead as he bows his head. The Prince declares a few words, taking a sword from his guard and tapping it onto Simon's shoulders, the knight stands to his height, he towers over the Prince, having to look down to meet his eyes, he swears a few words, giving his oath to the Prince before everything is settled. The Prince nods, stepping away and leaving the room, Simon turns to you,

“Ser Simon” You nod

“Princess”

You stand there looking at him, words unable to make their way from your lips, you simply turn and leave, his eyes following you as you exit making your way up to your room, he trails behind you, his helmet under his arm as you reach your door, he stands with his back to the wall, his eyes focusing around the halls as you enter your room. You step in and close the door, your back falling against the hard wood as you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bracing yourself against the door, you take a few seconds to gather your thoughts before moving further into the room, stripping yourself of your dress to put on more comfortable clothes, feeling like you could properly inhale without the burden of a corset.

You spend an hour alone in your room, pacing around trying to occupy your mind, the pale walls doing little to aid your efforts, you think to yourself for a minute, your legs carry you across the rooms towards your door where you stand for a moment, collecting yourself before opening it,

“Princess, is there a problem?” He asks

You shake your head, you’re entranced by his gaze, “Where is your family Ser?”

“My family?”

“You come here holding no title, no accomplishments, who are you?”

“I’m no one”

“Nobody is no one”

He smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling, “I come from England Princess, my family owned a farm before the war, and now I am here”

“And your family, what of them”

“Dead m’lady”

Your face drops, your heart thumps with empathy, “I apologize for my words, I had no idea”

“How could you have”

“Yes well, how did you come to be in the country?”

“I’m not sure, I left home one day and just kept going until I arrived in the countryside”

“And you chose to stay here?”

“It’s beautiful here”

“It seems that way”

“Seems?”

You stumble over your own words, careful to not give yourself away, “I simply mean it’s not my home”

“You’re not from here”

“No, I come from Florin”

“I have never been”

“Well I hope you get to see it one day, it’s beautiful, tall cliffs with waterfalls, every part of it breathtaking”

He watches you speak with deep interest, hanging on to every word that falls from your lips, “You miss it?”

“More and more every day” You admit

“And you can’t go home”

“Not if I am to be Queen” Your smile fades

He nods, you turn your gaze to him, oblivious to the fact that he’s been staring at you the entire time, his eyes memorizing every feature of your face, every smile line and ridge, you turn from him quickly, nervous under his stare.

“It’s late Princess, you should be in bed”

You turn back to him, a polite smile on your face as you walk back into your room, your hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment, wishing you could keep talking to him. You lay in your bed wide awake, the words exchanged with Simon the first conversation you’d had that didn’t concern the details of your marriage, he was the first person to ask about your feelings, your home, you figured he must’ve just been being polite, too nervous about getting sent away to say anything different to you.

Simon stands guard over your room while you sleep, turning away any guard who tried to take his position, intent on ensuring your safety within the confines of your room.

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yurimother · 1 year

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Yurikuma Arashi

• School • Drama • Sci-Fi • Enemies to Lovers • Multiple Couples

In a world divided between humans and hyper-intelligent, man-eating bears, Kureha attends an all-girls school and holds onto a simple wish—to spend the rest of her life with her classmate and soul mate, Sumika. But after a secret rendezvous ends in tragedy, Kureha vows to never back down on her love and put a bullet in any bear she meets.

Streaming on Funimation (Sub/Dub)

YuruYuri

• School • Slice of Life • Comedy • Multiple Couples

Four students decide to occupy the room of the defunct tea ceremony club, dubbing it the ‘Amusement Club.’ While the Student Council does its best to eliminate this club, their endless energy, happiness, and comedy will keep audiences smiling all season long!

Streaming on Crunchyroll (Sub)

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#lesbian #yuri #girls love #lgbt #gay #lgbtq #gl #queer #anime #manga #sapphic #wlw

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sylusjinwoon · 6 months

Text

{ 138 }

butterfly kisses.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

the moment jinwoo came home from his duties as a hunter, you knew that he was upset.

his eyes were still glowing a vibrant purple the moment he unlocks the door to your shared apartment and slams it shut. you greet him as per usual, waiting just a few feet away from the door with a gentle smile on your face like the adoring lover that you were-

yet the moment his harsh gaze met with your eyes, you were taken aback by the sheer coldness in them.

it was during moments like these that you received a harsh reminder of just who your boyfriend was. he was chosen as the next shadow monarch, seeming to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders as he fought for those he wished to protect.

but the rest of the world had yet to realize just how amazing your beloved was, which had to play a part in his stressful expression at this very moment.

momentarily paralyzed by his piercing gaze, you found yourself unable to move, sensing his powers of darkness coursing through your very veins as he kept his icy gaze honed in on you. only when he sees the momentary fear in your eyes does his expression soften just the tiniest bit.

he greets you by saying your name, hands already giving the top of your head gentle pats as he disappears into the restroom. you remain rooted on the spot, not moving until you heard the sounds of the shower running.

letting out a gentle sigh, you run your fingers across your hair before going into the kitchen. you already had jinwoo’s portion of dinner warmed up and ready for him, yet you knew that he wouldn’t have much of an appetite when he was angry like this. with careful movements, you place his dinner in a container, making sure that it was as neat as possible before refrigerating it.

throughout the entire duration of his shower, you spent the time cleaning up the kitchen; doing mundane things like washing the dishes and cleaning the countertops with a wet handkerchief. even when you heard jinwoo stop showering, listening intently as the sounds of his footsteps padded into your shared bedroom, you lingered in the kitchen and waited several minutes.

only when you were confident that jinwoo was already settled in bed did you finally decide to join him. your own footsteps were calm and quiet, not wishing to startle your beloved boyfriend when he already seemed to be so on edge.

with a soft smile, you open the door of your shared bedroom to see jinwoo staring blankly at the ceiling. his eyes no longer glowed against the darkness, its shade returning to its usual, stormy grey hue. he hears your footsteps and trails his eyes over to where you stood, still hiding behind the door.

he chuckles while lifting up his hand, motioning at you to come join him in bed.

“what are you doing, you dork? come over here so i can hold you in my arms. after how shitty and stressful my day was, i could use some cuddles.”

jinwoo’s voice was filled with love and adoration now, and you could tell that he was feeling infinitely better after his shower, taking the time to destress as he allowed his aching muscles to bask in the warmth of the hot waters.

letting out a happy giggle, you give him a nod while entering your shared bedroom. closing the door from behind you, you finally reach the bed-

but avoid laying down on your side of the mattress completely, choosing instead to lay above his broad chest. jinwoo’s eyebrows were raised in a questioning glance, yet he remains utterly still, allowing you to do whatever you wished to do to him.

with a sigh of his name, you allow your fingertips to brush over his damp, ebony locks of hair. you continue to massage his scalp, basking in his grunts of pleasure before peppering his features with sweet, butterfly kisses.

your soft touch was often filled with an unfamiliarity to jinwoo, for most of his time spent as a hunter left him feeling the immense pain that came with fighting. every fist to his face causes the veins to burst as he could taste the coppery blood within his mouth. every tackle felt when monsters and beasts alike lunged at him was enough to break his very bones-

yet your kisses were enough to show him the beauty of a simple touch; he was able to experience a different side of physical touch felt against his skin without the crescendo and promise of pain.

you were treating him as if he were still the weakest hunter in the world, your kisses against his skin being no heavier than dew. instead of ruining this gentle and intimate moment with words, jinwoo remains silent while basking in your butterfly kisses.

as your lips trailed over his skin, the soft touch was nothing short of your absolute worship of him. you treat your beloved with such an aching softness that made jinwoo’s breath hitch in response. from kissing his cheek, to trailing your lips against his temple, to finally pressing a lingering kiss upon his closed eyelids-

you never once stopped treating him with a gentleness that was still so foreign to jinwoo.

if you could, you would have spent the entire night littering your boyfriend’s face with such kisses, yet his annoyed grunt and the way he held your chin in a vice grip was what ultimately made you stop.

when he forces you to look at him, his gaze was a lazy one, grey eyes darkening slightly due to how dilated it had become in response to the pure love he felt for you.

“what gives? you keep on missing my lips like that, then you know i’m gonna get mad.”

jinwoo’s tone was relaxed, and when he gently leans in to kiss your lips, you could do little but sigh in response, basking in the feeling of perfection the moment he slots his lips against yours. he keeps you distracted by the kiss, deepening it ever so slightly when he holds your body close to his chest before laying you back down against the plush mattress.

you continue to kiss him, feeling your hair remain fanned out against the pillows as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer to you as jinwoo remained in a lip lock with you.

only when the need for air proved to be too much did jinwoo finally pull away from you. he smiles down at you while leaning forward to press a kiss against your forehead.

“thanks for cheering me up, honey. let’s sleep now… i’m exhausted and desperately need you in my arms in order to sleep.”

you nod in agreement with a soft giggle, feeling jinwoo lay back in bed as he took your compliant body within his arms. his embrace was a secure one, and you just knew that he would do everything in his power to keep you in his arms all night long tonight.

the room silent, with only the sounds of your soft breathing permeating at the air. you listen as jinwoo sighs one last time, letting out a yawn while pressing a kiss against your hair.

“goodnight love.”

“goodnight, my beloved monarch.”

you feel his smile against your hair before he lays down against the bed, pressing your back against his chest as he fell into a deep sleep while spooning you. being surrounded by his warmth, you couldn’t stop your eyes from feeling heavy, unable to focus nor stay awake as you fell asleep within the arms of your soulmate.

a.n. - lmaooo at this rate i will never be able to stop writing for jinwoo sung. save meeee, i love him too much to stop 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung x you #jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #solo leveling x reader #.stories

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gard3nias · 5 months

Text

Amor tam pulcher | KTH - masterlist

❁pairing: taehyung x oc

❁description: if he could, he'd write poems on how pretty she looked, on how perfect she was. He'd probably make the next Catullus or even better, he'd dare say. Everyone would love to read about her and how she makes him feel. He even wonders how she isn't loved, worshipped in fact, by everyone but he's glad he's the only one whom she hops to whenever class is dismissed, the only one to have her cheeks explore all possible shades of red, the only one whose arms she'd willingly fall asleep in between.

❁genre: romance, fluff, smut, angst

❁wc: 82.59k

❁date: 30/03/2024

❁warning: mature content, mdi

❁notes: strangers-to-lovers, teen love story, lots of fluff, smut, senior!taehyung (taehyung is like super smart), junior!oc (academic weapon, she loves herself an excellent academic performance), a lil angst, taehyung is head over heels for oc, nature lovers (oc loves flowers, taehyung loves butterflies), countryside (looks like Italy because that is the only type of countryside I know and love), oc has a lovely family, taehyung has daddy issues, jimin and jungkook are taehyung's besties( they also have other two girls as best friends); oc has a girl best friend (childhood best friend) and three boys as best friends); oc is so fucking prettyyy, like girl pretty (pretty privilege a bit)

❁chapters (status - ongoing) ⇀ updates every two Saturdays, 10 AM CEST

❀ ❛prologue❜ - 1.52k

a memory; taehyung is staying over oc's place and trying not to lose his mind for her ⇀ «A love that drives me crazy, a lovely crazy, a sexy crazy, an amazing crazy»

❀ 01 ❛love is all around❜ - 4.24k

oc moved to town; oc meets her childhood friend, cleo; lovely family lunch ⇀ «If only you knew how special it feels to be special to someone...»

❀ 02 ❛ying yang❜ - 4.28k

oc and cleo hang out all day at a field; oc meets cleo's cats; oc and cleo childhood flashback ⇀ «Always thought my match would look like me but two pieces of the same puzzle can't be equal»

❀ 03 ❛the exploratory stage❜ - 5.48k

oc and cleo go shopping; cleo gives oc a tour of the town; oc and cleo go to jimin's restaurant and cleo gives oc a description of tae and his friends ⇀ «This is who I am now or maybe who I always was but forgot to be»

❀ 04 ❛just like old times❜ - 6.70k

oc's first day of school; she makes new friends and goes home to simp on taehyung through his social; taehyung comes back from his holidays ⇀ «He's pretty. No wait! Heavenly. Gorgeous. God's favourite for sure... and mine too»

❀ 05 ❛a monarch butterfly❜ - 4.17k

tae's back to school; came back home from jk's beach house; he goes shopping with adrielle, his friend; all the friends are driven to school by jk ⇀ «They say mental exhaustion is greater than the physical one and yet I feel dead up there and no different when it comes to my body»

❀ 06 ❛venus❜ - 4.82k

tuesday; tae sees oc for the first time in the bus and admires her from afar; the whole day in school he thinks about her; jk is the only one to notice this is starts 'investigating' oc ⇀ «Whenever she walked in, time would slow down and my pupils would expand, all for me to sip in her majestic beauty without missing anything»

❀ 07 ❛a laurel❜ - 4.92k

tuesday of the following week; tae is hanging out with his friends at adrielle's place; adrielle wants to become the school's president; tae stalks oc's instagram ⇀ «Like you a little, don't want no riddle. Say it, say it back, oh, say it ditto. Can't wait 'til the morning, so say it, ditto»

❀ 08 ❛fuck you!❜ - 6.10k

thursday; daphne is in her physics class and she can't understand shit; she has a little mental breakdown and takes it out on her friends ⇀ «I see her in the back of my mind all the time like a fever, like I'm burning alive»

❀ 09 ❛en route❜ - 5.07k

friday; daphne wants to impress tae; daphne and tae sit next to each other in the bus; ⇀ «If only he knew... if only she knew...»

❀ 10 ❛who we are, what we do❜ - 6.01k

saturday; love for routines; shopping; hanging out with cleo; lunch with the two families; video call between the five friends ⇀ «They say not to believe what you see online. "The beauty you could find there is so surreal that it can't be real", they say. But what happens when it's standing just a few feet away from you, glowing like the moon on a starless night? How do you withstand it?»

❀ 11 ❛an overly ambitious hedonistic seductress❜ - 6.04k

sunday; the five friends meet up for their school project; daphne suspects there is more going on between cleo and nick; little gossip time with asher ⇀ «Chiquitita, tell me the truth. I'm a shoulder you can cry on. Your best friend, I'm the one you must rely on»

❀ 12 ❛the butterfly, the cricket and the wing-man❜ - 4.49k

sunday; while the five friends meet up for their school project, tae and his meet for the electoral campaign; jk is so unserious; maknae line interaction; they have dinner at adrielle's place; jk is drunk asf and his friends make fun of him before they go home ⇀ «Life itself has nothing to give you. Lay in your bed all day and you'll get the point. Life starts making sense and having a shape when you start doing something, when you meet the right people»

❀ 13 ❛the Titanic❜ - 7.31k

wednesday; second week of october; the electoral campaign is officially on; tae and his team are stressed out because of it; in the meantime, Daphne undertakes her physics test; it doesn’t go well so her friends work something out for her ⇀ «There's a monster in the water. It clawing into the ship. I'm sinking»

❀ 14 ❛from five to ten❜ - 11.44k

wednesday; second week of october; daphne and her friends have a picnic together; they travel by train; daphne is happy after the failed test; taehyung stalks her Instagram and realises she started following his main ⇀ «'Temptare', handle, try, test»

❀ 15 ❛bold, red and underlined❜

❀ 16 ❛it's Daphne!❜

❀ 17 ❛hesperiidae❜

❀ 18❛opposites attract❜

❀ 19 ❛peek-a-boo (boo boo)❜

❀ 20 ❛caramel macchiato❜

❀ 21 ❛monarch and blue morpho butterflies❜

❀ 22 ❛rosy cheeks❜

❀ 23 ❛caramel macchiato❜

❀ 24 ❛butterflies, flowers... and butterflies❜

❀ 25 ❛whistling missile❜

❀ 26

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clarakiki · 6 months

Text

The spring revel

Thranduil x reader

Summary: Spring has come upon the Elvenking's realm and you know exactly how to celebrate it.

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Warnings: afab reader, no use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and the reader and Thranduil being drunk, explicit smut, children (? not yours just yeah, they're there)

Notes: Hello my loves <3. Coming back to you with many firsts in this fic. It is my first time writing for Thranduil (I have a Lotr phase and can't get him out of my head) and my first time writing smut. So please excuse if it's not that great, I will get better I promise. I appreciate your comments and kudos and I hope you'll enjoy <3

You dance under the trees.

The air is warm and sweet, the torches glow with golden fire and the wine is flowing freely. The lush green canopy hides the night sky above, making it feel like you are in a great hall.

The spring revel has come upon Eryn Lasgalen, and you are drunk and happy and free. Your bare feet feel the soft grass and cool rock and your short dress sticks to your body while you dance around the hill.

Other elves twirl and jump around you, they take your hands and laugh with you. Tonight the line between monarch and subject blurs. The lively music of pipes and flutes makes your head spin.

At the head of a great carved table, which bends under the weight of fruit and soft bread and carafes of deep red wine, sits your husband, The Elvenking, and for once he seems to be enjoying himself. Upon his regal brow rests a crown of flowers and leaves and his lips are curled into a smile. His wine cup is never empty.

Perhaps that is the reason he lets the group of elf children prance around him. Some are singing to the music and dance around happily, some climb on his lap and look up at him with their big bright eyes. One child has dared to touch his crown and braid his hair. For once he lets them, for tonight is a time of celebration for everyone, both a king and a child.

The round ends and you can finally go rest for a moment. Your spent legs carry you towards your own throne, one set next to your husbands. It is a beautiful thing, spun from intertwining branches and adorned with carved writing. Budding blooms decorate the headrest.

With a sigh you plop yourself, rather ungracefully, into your seat. Before your husband can get a word out, the child sitting upon his lap starts: “Please my lady, come and dance with us.” The little boy pleads and others join him.

“Did you not ask your king to dance with you?” you ask, teasing them a little, for you know the answer.

A choir of intermingling voices answers you, one over the other accusing their Elvenking of refusing them. You laugh quietly at their distress and at your husband's tired sigh. “Alright, dear children, I promise I will come and dance with you. But you have to promise me, to ask your mothers first and then to go to bed on time.”

The little faces light up and soon they are all scrambling to find their parents.

“You saved me, my love,” Thranduil laughs, a rare sight. “How was your dance? You seem already spent.” You know he is only joking and you decide to retaliate.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” you exaggerate. “It would be better, however, if a certain elf joined me for the next song?” It is meant only as a jest but he surprises you with his answer.

“Be good to me and I just might,” he voice is low and rich and it does things to you.

“Are you too deep in your cups, or are you teasing me?”

“Believe me, I know how to hold my liquor and I am totally serious,” he smirks and drinks from his cup. You want to kiss the smug look off of his face. You might just do that later tonight. No, you will.

“I shall hold you to that promise.”

“I have never doubted that, dearest, however I believe you already have a different partner for the next round.” He points towards the crowd and suddenly the elf children come running back to you.

You stand up, grab the chalice from Thranduil’s hands and take a deep swig of wine. It is rich and bitter and your face scrunches at the taste. “I will dance with you tonight,” you warn your husband and let yourself be pulled away by a throng of laughing children.

—

The night has given away into the early hours of morning when you get back to Thranduil. The crowds have thinned, the music slowed and the elf children finally went to sleep.

“My love,” Thranduil says standing up, when he sees you.

You come together like it’s second nature now. He embraces you around your middle and you hide your face in his chest. He smells sweetly of wine and flowers. You would drown in it if you could.

He cups your face in his big hands and you look up into those cold cold eyes, warm only for you. “Are you ready to fulfil your promise?” you ask, voice low.

He smiles at you like he does at no one else and your heart melts at the sight

“My king!” you exclaim drunkenly. “Let us dance around the hill one last time and after that I am ready to go to bed,” mumble the end of the sentence into his shoulder, your eyes already droopy. You feel him shake his head at your antics, but then he swoops down and kisses your forehead. You shiver at the gentle gesture.

Thranduil, with you half leaning on him, leads you by your hand among the elves. A single lonely flute plays a slow melody, you feel entranced by it. The music and your husband's icy eyes lull you into a sleepy daze.

You twirl in his arms and reach up to inhale his sweet scent, kissing his white throat. He hums above you and winds you to him even closer.

The air is warm and sweet and spring has come.

—

You are led back to your rooms by your husband, leaning on him, drowsy from both the dancing and the wine.

You let yourself be lowered on the grand bed and look up at him with droopy eyes. “I want to kiss you,” you do not know if it's the wine giving you this courage or your sleepiness.

Thranduil smiles at that, and it’s incredibly soft, and obliges you. He tastes like always, rich and full. “I love you,” you mumble into his lips.

“And I you,” he answers, when he pulls away from you, setting himself gently above your thighs.

You don’t like that he is so far away, so you grab his hips and try to pull him back to you. “Please,” you whine. “Please-.”

“Use your words darling, you know I can’t read your mind,” he tuts above you, while starting to undo the lace on the front of your dress.

“Please touch me, I need you,” the fire is burning in your belly and you feel like you might burn if he doesn’t do something. Anything.

“Let me get you out of this dress first,” he promises and smirks, pleased with himself. His hands are careful, but sure, and soon the silky fabric of the bed covers caresses your skin.

Then he stands up to undress himself. Reaching to take off his crown, he is a sight, naked, his brow adorned by flowers. Pale smooth skin and ice blue eyes. You swear he’s never been more beautiful than he is now.

“Come here, my love,” you say and he does. He lays over you and kisses you hungerly. You moan into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his silky hair, finding some of the braids the children left there.

“Let me take care of you, dearest,” Thranduil whispers in your ear and you shiver at the thought. He trails kisses down and down until he reaches your thighs and licks and bites there until you're squirming under him, his strong hands pinning you down by the hips.

“No more, just touch me,” you whine and pull at his scalp harshly.

To your horror Thranduil stops all together. He pulls himself up, your hands still in his hair. Above you he looks like a mythical being, one you should not have the honour to touch.

“You have gotten so bold since we met. Commanding you king.”

With his slight smile and a teasing tone he brings you back to earth. “But you love that about me, my king,” you smirk at him.

“That is true, yes, but if I am to comply to you, and truly touch you like you want me to, you shall, let me tease you a little. As a treat,” oh, he sounds so proud, high and mighty. Yes he shall tease you, but you shall repay it tenfold.

With a satisfied smirk on his lips he returns to his task excruciatingly slow. He works you up again, lapping at your thighs, biting the skin there and holding you to the mattress by your waist. So the moment he does, finally tastes you with his tongue, it feels like you're going to burst. Dragon fire burns under your skin, unvanquishable, everlasting. Only he, Thranduil can save you.

He is savouring your taste, as if it was sweeter than any wine he’s ever tasted. He builds you up to your peak slowly, taking his time, until tears of pleasure sting your eyes. The dam brakes, when you come from his mouth alone. It is deliciously painful.

Thranduil wipes his chin with his hand and lays next to you, circling his arms around you. You kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips, reaching down to touch him. “Meleth nin,” he moans and you watch as his brows scrunch up and his blue eyes roll in pleasure.

You smile for yourself and kiss his neck, biting and sucking. The white skin goes dark quickly under your lips. In the end you don’t have the heart to deny him, and so you don’t tease him much. Still, he doesn't last long at all, for he was already bursting from eating you out. With a few final strokes he moans loudly and comes in your hand.

You kiss for a time after that, but you both are too sleepy to continue properly. Thranduil, ever the gentleman, offers himself to go find a towel to clean you with. You would so like to watch him, as he prances around the room in all his glory, but you can’t hold your eyes open. You feel his gentle touches and hear his loving words, but at that you are already half asleep. The last you know is your husband pulling you to his embrace, holding you head to his chest.

You slumber as the dawn breaks.

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil fluff #Thranduil smut #The Hobbit #Lotr #fluff #smut

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brbsoulnomming · 1 year

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

----

Towards the end of the summer after his freshman year, he finds out that his soulmate must be a year younger than him, because he gets I'm not nervous about starting high school, and that - hmm. It takes Eddie a bit to figure out how to reassure him around that. High school sucks, and he's guessing it's probably going to suck for his soulmate as much as it does for Eddie. The only saving graces are that Eddie was actually able to get a DnD club started, and Kyle Housen - the absolute shithead who was the most popular boy in school, the king of all the jocks who sent his followers out like ringwraiths to torment anyone who was different - is graduated and gone.

Eddie actually is looking forward to being able to breathe easier without him around.

So that's what he tells his soulmate - find something you enjoy doing, stick with your friends, and remember if there's someone in the grades above you who's really annoying, they'll be gone before you are.

That means a lot to me shows up on his chest after that, and Eddie runs his fingers over it again and again, not thinking about who his soulmate was talking to or what they were lying about, just that Eddie means enough to them for them to make sure that appeared on his skin.

It gets him through the rest of summer and into the first few weeks of his sophomore year, until he realizes that while Kyle Housen may have graduated, some of his little sycophantic friends didn't, and a few of them are more than happy to take over the torment of the freaks.

It makes Eddie's blood boil.

"It makes absolute total fucking sense the way rich kids and jocks and all the society conforming jackasses just run this school, like little violent monarchs," he says to one of the members of Hellfire as he throws himself down onto their lunch table, purposefully making himself sound as sincere as possible so it'll get picked up as a lie. "I love this whole the king is graduated, long live the king shit they've got going on."

Eddie doesn't expect an immediate answer. He doesn't usually get one, especially when he springs stuff on his soulmate in the middle of the day. But he doesn't get one that night, or the next day, or the day after that.

And just.

What the fuck? Is his soulmate one of them? Eddie'd just assumed - a kid that had to lie about his injuries, parents never around, feeling lonely, cheating the system to talk to his soulmate before they even met - had to be a fellow freak, right?

Shit.

He thinks about saying I care that you're one of them, but he knows that isn't a lie, and it wouldn't appear on his soulmate's skin.

He doesn't say anything.

Eventually, I'm not sorry things are the way they are shows up, curled in tiny letters around Eddie's ankle, but it doesn’t make him feel better.

It makes him remember that his soulmate is talking to someone - or maybe multiple someones - when they do this, someone unaware that what he's saying are lies. The same thought that had made him feel special before now makes him think a little harder, makes him realize that his soulmate is friends with these people. These people who agree with the things that his soulmate is lying about, who think that his soulmate believes them - that's who he chooses to spend his time around?

Part of him knows it isn't fair. It's not his soulmate's fault that Eddie had built up this idea of him - a fellow outcast, maybe in a small town like this, going through the same things Eddie was, just waiting to graduate and leave it all behind, go somewhere bigger and louder and better.

But most of him is just too damn hurt. Most of him doesn't want a soulmate that says the kind of things his soulmate says, surrounded by people who think they aren't lies, and who love him for it.

Most of him can't stomach the thought that his soulmate is just like the people who have it so damn easy at school, and seem determined to make his life more miserable anyway.

The silence on his skin is as deafening as it is telling, and he starts to wonder if maybe his soulmate can't stomach the thought of it being someone like Eddie, either.

One night, so what if I don't think we should just wait until we meet our soulmates? appears on his side, and Eddie runs his fingers over and over and over it.

And says nothing.

"Haven't heard you talk about your soulmate in a while," Uncle Wayne says casually a week or so later.

Part of Eddie'd been expecting Uncle Wayne to bring it up somehow, but the other part was doing his best to ignore it entirely, leaving him entirely unprepared for what to say. He can't say that he doesn't want to talk to his soulmate any more because he found out they're probably some popular rich kid stomping around whatever school they're haunting - it's true, but it sounds stupid and petty.

He can't lie, either, though, because then it'll show up on his soulmate. So he says nothing, mulishly pushing his peas around his plate.

Uncle Wayne watches him. It's probably pretty easy to figure out that something went wrong with Eddie's hairbrained little scheme, so he isn't too surprised when his uncle hums softly.

"Some people are very different at thirty than they are at fifteen," he says, his gruff voice gentle. "Sometimes, teenagers are little jackasses with no impulse control."

Despite himself, Eddie huffs out a laugh. He considers that for a long moment, then reluctantly admits, "I guess that's probably why most people don't try to talk to their soulmate early." He smashes some peas with his fork. "….I guess it's probably not fair the other way, either. If you have this great idea of them way before you meet them, and they're really different."

Uncle Wayne gives another hum. "Sounds pretty wise, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Eddie points out, just to be contrary, but he eats the peas he'd been playing with, and he does feel a little better about all of it.

Time goes on.

He and his soulmate don't talk anymore, but that doesn't mean things don't occasionally appear. It's not often - which makes Eddie wonder if his soulmate just doesn't lie often, or if he's specifically avoiding lying as much as possible to avoid talking to Eddie - but it does happen.

Little things, mostly, lies about doing homework, about being sober, about not driving without a license. Teenage stuff, the same stuff Eddie lies about, and it lulls him into a sense of boring predictability. He perfects playing the guitar, he turns Hellfire into a sanctuary for those like him, he finds an alternative revenue source that gives him even more of an advantage over the shitty jocks than being scarier than them had, and he counts the days until he can get out.

Until the summer before his senior year.

I'm not in love with her, geez!

Eddie stares at it for longer than he should, the sting of tears biting at the corner of his eyes and feeling so goddamn angry about all of it. Not only is his soulmate some popular rich kid, but he's straight, in love with some girl, fuck.

Maybe Eddie isn't meant for a romantic soulmate. Maybe platonic is all he'll ever get, maybe someone like him doesn't -

Fuck this.

Fuck everything.

He throws himself into guitar playing, into making his next campaign for Hellfire bigger and better than anything he's ever done before.

Just one more year, and then he's gone.

In Eddie's senior year, Steve Harrington - Hawkins High's current reigning royalty - and his right hand man Tommy Hagan have some kind of falling out. Eddie honestly doesn't give a shit what or why. He keeps an eye on the situation only enough to know if they're gonna have some kind of civil war shit that could bleed shrapnel onto his flock. But Hagan doesn't seem to have the constitution to challenge for the throne - or maybe he lacks the numbers, considering Harrington doesn't seem to be hurting much as he swans around the school with Nancy Wheeler at his side - and whatever their mess is stays in a building tension amongst the popular crowd.

It's kind of nice, actually. There's less gossip about Hellfire for a little while, until the masses adjust to the new status quo. Hagan seems meaner, somehow, but he also seems less confident now that he's not at Harrington's side. It means his comments are more cruel, but there's less of them, so whatever, it balances out.

His soulmate tells more lies that year than Eddie's seen in such a short period of time, and something in his stomach twists tighter and tighter.

Yeah, of course I'm all right, why wouldn't I be?

It's nothing.

I'm sure they'll find her soon.

I'm fine.

Taglist: @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186

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Part 4

#steddie #Steddie fiction #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #wayne munson #soulmate au #light angst

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